The Improperly Pregnant Princess

Easton declined Devon’s offer of his arm for support. The king had no intention of appearing as an invalid.

He found his heart beating faster as the elevator halted. It was exciting to meet the granddaughters he hadn’t seen since they were children. Especially the one who, he hoped, held the future of his kingdom in her hands.

The doors opened on a marbled foyer. What an elegant place, Easton thought, noting the two-story-high ceiling and the curving staircase to his right.

“Your Majesty!” He would have recognized Charlotte DeLacey Carradigne anywhere. The tall, slim woman in the designer suit had hardly aged in twenty years.

She curtseyed gracefully. Easton caught her hand and pulled her up. “My dear, you look splendid,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t waited so long to pay you this visit.”

“You’re as handsome as ever. So much like Drake.” She flashed him a smile tinged with sadness. After so many years, he could see that she still mourned her husband. “You look a little pale. Was it a long flight?”

“Long enough,” he said. “And a colder winter than usual in Korosol. Charlotte, let me introduce my secretary, Eleanor Standish. She’s not staying here, but she’ll make sure my room’s settled the way I like it.”

“Of course.”

The housekeeper appeared as if by magic and whisked Ellie away. “Have the guards bring the suitcases to suite A,” he heard her say, and then he was alone with his daughter-in-law.

“Where are the girls?” Easton asked.

“Waiting in the Grand Room, right across the gallery.” Charlotte clasped her hands together. “That is, Amelia and Lucia are here, and CeCe’s on her way.”

The king felt a twinge of irritation at this tardiness. “Cecelia isn’t waiting for me?”

“She’s monitoring a severe storm in the Pacific that could impact a couple of our ships,” Charlotte explained. “Your granddaughter takes her duties very seriously.”

“That’s a good sign,” Easton said, his annoyance soothed, as they crossed a long corridor hung with paintings and large photographs.

“A good sign?” asked his daughter-in-law.

“We’ll get to that,” the king said.

COMMUNICATIONS FROM DeLacey’s ships in the storm area had been disrupted. Despite all their satellites, international weather sources couldn’t pinpoint the storm’s latest activity.

“What good is all this technology, anyway?” CeCe moaned, leaning back in her chair. Since she was alone in her office, no one answered.

The morning had been filled with one frustration after another. Her mother had called twice to urge her to get home before the king arrived. And, in truth, there was little CeCe could do to help her valiant captains, other than validate any decisions they made.

Still, she felt obligated to stick it out. At least this way, if a decision was made that derailed scheduling and angered a client, CeCe would take the blame on herself. It seemed only fair.

A beep from the computer startled her. For a moment, she couldn’t remember what that meant.

Puzzled, she minimized the maritime weather page so it disappeared from the screen. Instantly, it was replaced by the grinning face of Shane O’Connell.

“You can see me, but I can’t see you,” he said. “Turn your video on!”

CeCe had made so little use of the videoconferencing program that she’d almost forgotten it was installed. Annoyed and intrigued at the same time, she straightened in her chair and finger-combed her bangs. Then she clicked on Send Video.

Shane’s grin broadened. “Hey, you look pretty darn good for a digital image.”

“What’s going on?” There must be a new development in the Wuhan negotiations. “I thought everything was set.”

“For the ad campaign?” Shane’s dark eyes narrowed. “Whoa, lady.”

“I meant for brunch tomorrow,” CeCe said. “Forget the ad campaign.”

“You seemed pretty keen on it yesterday.” His expression shifted into confusion, or maybe that was the effect of the pixels. They sometimes rearranged themselves jerkily, giving the impression that she was watching stop-action animation instead of a real person.

Except that Shane was very, very real. His voice had a fierce vibrancy even through the computer speakers, and CeCe got the shivery sense that he was right here in the room with her.

Close enough to touch, yet out of reach. Just like in life.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” She couldn’t tell him about her grandfather’s visit, so she explained, “We’re having some bad weather at sea. What’s this call about, Shane?”

“Us,” he said.

Her heart nearly stopped. Surely she’d misheard him. “I beg your pardon?”

“When your mother came in, we were on the verge of talking about what happened that night at my apartment,” he said. “It’s time to finish the conversation.”

Not now! CeCe thought. Not with her mother’s silent nagging pulling at her mind, and worry about the storm making her feel guilty about taking even a moment for herself. “Forget that night. It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Shane repeated. “Does that mean I can expect you to drop by my place again, say, tonight?”

CeCe stared at him, trying to make sense of his comment. “What are you talking about?”

“You say that what happened doesn’t matter. So it won’t matter if we get together again, will it?” he replied, his eyes daring her to argue. Or maybe that was once again, the effect of digital imperfections. “We’re both consenting adults and whether you want to admit it or not, we enjoyed ourselves.”

“Life isn’t about having fun,” CeCe snapped, although it was difficult not to be amused by Shane’s outrageous remarks. Something about the man appealed to her even when he infuriated her.

“Lighten up,” he said. “Let me bring out the best in you. Or the worst. Whatever. Shall we say, seven o’clock, my place?”

“I have plans,” she said.

“So do I,” he admitted. “I didn’t figure you’d agree.”

“You louse!” CeCe couldn’t help laughing. “You have a lot of nerve!”

“So are we past it?” he asked.

“Past what?”

“That circling-each-other-and-snarling business,” Shane said. “What happened, happened. We’re both consenting adults and we both enjoyed it. No harm done.”

“Well…” CeCe swallowed. It seemed awfully abrupt to break the news about her pregnancy over the Internet. Besides, the connection might not be secure.

Then there was the matter of her grandfather’s visit. She couldn’t tell Shane yet, even if she wanted to.

A tap at her office door was followed by Linzy’s entrance. “Miss Carradigne? Did you see the latest weather bulletin?”