Page 62 of Pregnant With His Majesty's Heir

Last night Lucien’s confidence in her, his support, had made her feel good about herself. As if, should she wish to, she could do anything she set her mind to. Just as her mother had told her when she was little. Just as she’d told herself time and again, as she’d fought against being ground down by her family’s dismissiveness.

Breathing deep, she clicked on the attachment and saw story after story.

The first couple, from the local press in Vallort, were fairly mild. Curiosity over her identity. A couple of photos from last night. Reference to Lucien’s broken engagement and speculation over her role in his life.

But then came the rest, from foreign press and social media. A barrage of blaring headlines that hit her like physical blows. A few painted Lucien as a callous playboy.

Ilsa Heartbroken as Lucien Flaunts New Lover!

And there was a photo of Ilsa looking stoic. But most focused on Aurélie. She read them with increasing horror.

Lucien’s Red-Hot Redhead!

King Flaunts Mistress!

Tragic Ilsa Ousted by French Floozy!

Bile rose in her throat as the stories grew more and more lurid, with speculation that she’d seduced Lucien out of his betrothal with phenomenal sex. One sordid flight of fancy painted her as a whore who’d connived to get access to a royal fortune.

She slammed the laptop shut. Lucien was right. She didn’t want to read this.

It could only get worse when they discovered he planned to marry her. That she carried his child.

Aurélie swallowed, battling nausea.

She was caught. Even if she broke her promise to marry him, the press would follow her. There’d be stories about her child, probably even more cruel ones, if she left Lucien and returned to France. The press would never go away. The stories would continue for years, about the King’s child and Lucien’s ex-lover.

She looked at her hands, clenched on the laptop.

It made sense to stay.

But that wasn’t why she’d remain.

She’d do itbecause she loved Lucien.Had fallen in love with him that first night, no matter how improbable that seemed.

Everything she’d learned about him since—his honesty and sense of duty, his positivity and kindness, his wry sense of humour and camaraderie—just strengthened her feelings. Aurélie didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay at his side, raising their family.

For good or ill, this was her world now. She lifted her head and took in the spectacular view down the valley to the capital city, ringed by snowy mountains. Her gaze moved around the room to centuries-old carved bookcases filled with a mix of leather-covered books and modern office binders. The decorative plasterwork ceiling and huge antique rug that contrasted with and yet complemented the series of modern photographic studies on one wall.

Lucien had stepped into the Kingship, making his own changes along the way.

Start as you mean to go on.

Aurélie shoved the chair back from his desk, ignoring the laptop, and turned to the door. She had a lot to do before this afternoon’s tutorials.

‘She’s where?’ Lucien couldn’t believe his ears.

‘In the centre of the old town. She walked through the pedestrian zone with a pack of photographers on her heels. Now she’s in a bookshop. I’ve organised some security to be there when she comes out, to keep the press back. But their numbers are growing.’

‘A bookshop?’ Lucien scowled. ‘What was so urgent she had to go out today of all days to buy a book?’

His secretary cleared his throat and offered his phone. ‘From what I saw there was no urgency. She took her time.’

Lucien stared at the small screen, the short film clip of Aurélie strolling through the city’s most exclusive shopping zone. She looked pale and the high set of her shoulders gave away her tension, but her pace was slow and she took her time window shopping.

His heart rose to his throat and he had to swallow jerkily to find his voice. ‘She’s gone there deliberately.’ Certainty swelled behind his disbelief.

‘Then she’s a brave woman.’

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