Page 13 of Twelve Nights In The Prince's Bed

His brows lifted. ‘I cannot imagine we have anything else to discuss.’

Poppy rolled her eyes, an expression that he evidently hadn’t expected, because his gaze narrowed and surprise briefly flitted in the depths of his pupils. ‘You know that’s not true.’

Perhaps he did, because a moment later, with a look of resignation, he gestured towards the doorway that led from the foyer into what appeared to be a living area.

‘Fine. Let’s talk, then.’

But he didn’t move, and in order to step in the direction he’d gestured, Poppy had to therefore walk past Adrastos, and even passing within two inches of his tall, masculine frame had her pulse skittering wildly, memories slamming into her so she gasped and quickly looked away, digging her nails into her palms and willing her brain to engage, to take over, so other parts of her body didn’t start calling the shots.

I want you to kiss me, and this time, I want you to not stop.

Had she really said that to him? She was in awe of her bravery, and stupidity. All of this was her fault. And now she’d gone and made it all so much worse...by doing the only thing she could think of that would ultimately fix it.

Poppy had come here to talk, but, having never been in Adrastos’s house, she couldn’t help the curiosity that flooded her as she stepped into his living room and looked around. The décor was similar to the palace, only a little less intricate, more modern. There was a distinct lack of personal touches—no photographs or artwork on the walls, no candles or flowers. It was like a five-star hotel, she thought with a small frown, the kind of place one could walk into and out of without a thought.

‘Have you spoken to anyone today?’ She turned slowly to face him, her mouth parched once more as he rolled up the buttoned shirt sleeves to reveal tanned, toned forearms.

‘I have,’ he said with a dip of his head. ‘The prime minister, about a trade deal with Argentina, my valet too.’

She fought the urge to roll her eyes again. ‘I mean about last night.’ Then, with an embarrassed whisper, ‘About us.’

‘No, Poppy,’ he drawled. ‘That has not been on the top of my priority list.’

‘Your mother hasn’t called you?’

He frowned. ‘Not yet.’

‘She will,’ Poppy muttered.

‘I take it she has called you?’

‘Her, Eleanor, Anders,’ she said, tapping her fingers to enumerate the list as she mentioned each name. ‘I’m surprised the King himself didn’t beat a path to my door to find out what the heck we were thinking.’

‘I would struggle to give an explanation to that question,’ he said grimly.

‘Me too.’ She pressed her teeth into her lower lip. ‘But we did sleep together, and there are photos that make it pretty obvious. We can’t change what happened, so we have to manage the consequences.’

‘Consequences?’ His brows shot up and he stared at her with pale skin, a look on his face that Poppy didn’t understand. He swore then, moved closer, wrapped one hand around her forearm. ‘You’re not telling me you’re pregnant?’

Poppy’s heart did a funny little skip and she immediately envisaged the children they could have—their children—and an emptiness opened up in the centre of her being. A real family. Her own family. She quickly shook her head. ‘Surely you know it’s way too soon for that?’

‘Of course,’ he muttered, closing his eyes. ‘I am not an idiot. And yet last night, I acted like one, well and truly. I cannot believe I was so stupid, so ignorant.’

She lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips. ‘I’m on the pill,’ she said gently, shocked to realise she almost wished that weren’t the case. ‘I have been for years.’

‘But you’re not sexually active.’

She didn’t correct the tense he’d used. ‘That’s not the only reason people go on contraception,’ she said with a lift of her shoulders. ‘You can rest assured, the chances of me having conceived your baby are very, very slim.’

‘But not impossible.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, no, but very unlikely.’

His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed. ‘Is this what you wanted to discuss?’

‘No. Until you mentioned it, the idea of a pregnancy hadn’t even occurred to me.’

‘Then what can I do for you, Poppy?’

---