Читать книгу The Spaniard's Pregnant Bride - Maisey Yates - Страница 10
ОглавлениеALLEGRA WAS CONVINCED that things could not possibly get worse than they already were. It didn’t matter how many times she had wished over the past few weeks that her period would come. It refused to come. It did not matter how fervently she prayed that there would only be one pink line on the test that she took at home that morning. There were two.
It did not matter that she was engaged to be married to a prince and that she was supposed to give birth to his royal heirs. Because he was not the man she had slept with. No, she had slept with only one man, and she had no idea who he was.
She had gone over a great many options in her mind since making the unsettling discovery that morning. The first being that she could quickly fly to wherever her fiancé was and seduce him.
There were several reasons that wouldn’t work, not the least of which being that she couldn’t spend her entire life lying to a man about the paternity of his child. Also, Raphael wasn’t stupid. He was a prince, and he required an heir. An heir who was his by blood. That meant that he would undoubtedly be doing paternity tests to establish whether or not the child was actually his. And, since Allegra knew it wasn’t, there was really no point at all in considering that kind of subterfuge. But she had. For a moment. Only because the alternative was going to blow her life wide apart.
Ultimately, she had decided on blowing her life apart. Because there really was no other option. And so, she was here at her brother’s office in Rome, ready to confess all to the one person who might not kill her where she stood.
Though, before she actually engaged in confession she thought she might try a soft introduction.
“Did you enjoy the party?” she asked.
Renzo looked up from his work, one dark brow raised. “Which party?”
“Right. I forgot. You go to a lot of parties. The one that you took me to.”
“It was very good. What little I stayed for.”
“You were there for a while.” She tapped the top of the desk with her fingertip, carefully not looking directly at Renzo.
“Yes,” he said, pushing his chair away from his desk and moving into a standing position. “Why are you questioning me? Is there some kind of unflattering tabloid story? Photographs?”
“Could there be?” she asked.
“I am me, Allegra. It is always a possibility.”
“I suppose that’s true.” It occurred to her that she may very well end up as a tabloid spectacle too. All these years of behaving, of fantasizing about misbehaving, but never stepping out of line, and she had potentially created the biggest scandal of all.
“You have something to ask me. Do it. And you can be on your way. You can shop. I imagine that’s why you’re actually in Rome.”
He could imagine it all he wanted, it didn’t make it true. She was here to speak to him, because she had to find out what he knew about the masked man at the party in Venice.
“You know almost everyone important,” she said. She knew in her gut that the man she had been with was important. He had that air of authority about him. That sort of personality that commanded the attention of everyone in the room.
“Almost everyone,” he said dryly. “Presidents. Kings. Why do you bring that up?”
“Because I... I just was curious. There was a man at the party.”
“You should not be inquiring about men, Allegra,” he said, his tone warning. “Especially since I believe you are already engaged.”
“Sure. Technically. But I’m just curious about this one.”
“And that is enough for me to know that if I tell you anything our father may well separate my head from my body.”
“You don’t care about that,” she said. “I know you don’t. You don’t go to great lengths to please them. In fact, you don’t try to please them at all. Stop pretending that you care when you don’t.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh. “All right. Ask away.”
“He arrived late. He was wearing a mask that looked like a skull, dressed all in black.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Renzo’s lips. And then, he did something that Allegra rarely saw him do: he laughed.
“What?” she asked, fury rioting through her. She was having a crisis and he was laughing at her. “What’s so funny about that?”
“I’m very sorry to tell you that I believe your head was turned by Cristian. I know you will loathe that. As I know you loathe him.”
Ice slipped down through her, chilling her, making her feel ill. “No,” she said. “That was not Cristian.”
“Protest all you like, but it was. Perhaps it’s for the best that Mother and Father have arranged your marriage? It seems that left to your own devices you have terrible taste.”
“No,” she said, getting more furious. “There is no way that that was Cristian Acosta. I would have... I would have... Turned to stone.”
“Just by looking at him?” Something strange crossed over her brother’s face.
“Yes,” she said.
Obviously he would find out eventually. They all would. Unless... They didn’t. Perhaps, Cristian did not have to know.
Raphael would have to know, there was no way around that. Their engagement was off. And her life would be all the better for it. But, if the man she had been with was truly Cristian, then he would no more believe it than she did.
He saw her as a spoiled, selfish child, and nothing more. If she turned up pregnant, he would never connect the woman he’d had up against the wall with Allegra.
Her stomach turned. Cristian. It didn’t seem possible. How could she... How could she have ever...
A question she had asked herself over and over again, even before she had discovered the identity of the man she had been with.
And so she made a decision then. She was not going to tell him. What good would come of it? He would either want nothing to do with her and the baby, or he would want everything to do with them. Frankly, she preferred the former, but feared the latter.
“Never mind,” she said. “Clearly I was being silly.”
“Clearly,” Renzo said, going back to his work.
Allegra’s mind was made up. She would break off her engagement, and seeing as she was already going to be disgraced, she would embrace it fully. She would raise her child alone.
She would ask nothing of Cristian.
* * *
“Your sister’s broken engagement seems to be making headlines.” Cristian poured himself a drink and turned to face his friend.
Anger that was somewhat unequal to the situation rioted through his blood. He had put his own reputation on the line, introducing Raphael to the Valentis. Vouching for Allegra as a future spouse.
He and Raphael were not really friends, more acquaintances. A hazard of being nobility, especially in these times when titles and the like were sinking into obscurity and obsolescence. But still, he had been the one to make the introduction. The one to suggest the union.
Out of respect and gratitude for the support the Valenti family had always shown him, more than anything else. He should have known she would ruin it.
It had only been a matter of time before Allegra had blown her life up completely. She had always seemed on the verge of it. A shimmering flame even while she sat, trying to look serene at parties and family meals.
He had always seen it. That restlessness. That dissatisfaction. But he’d hoped she’d find herself safely married to a prince and not...well, headline news.
A woman with her temperament was always in danger of being tabloid fodder, and he’d tried to warn her. She was too headstrong to listen.
He had hoped the promise of Raphael would keep her in line. Had hoped it would keep her secure.
It apparently had not.
“The cancellation of a royal wedding is always going to be a major deal,” Renzo said.
“I suppose that’s true.”
Cristian remembered, clearly, her behavior the one time he had been at dinner when Raphael was in attendance. The one time he had seen the two of them together. She hadn’t had a clue what to do with him, and he clearly hadn’t the inclination to handle her.
Raphael was a prince, and accustomed to deference. Allegra didn’t seem to know how to give it and had remained sulky and silent throughout the meal.
She’d been very young then. He’d hoped she might mature.
Perhaps it’s for the best.
He knew all too well how marriages made for political gain could end up. And how unhappy a young bride who wished to have some freedom might crumple beneath the weight of expectation.
But she is not Sylvia. And he isn’t you.
Yes, undoubtedly Allegra could have made good on this marriage. Had she any notion of just how good she had it.
“Thank God the reasoning behind the breakup has not come forward yet. But it will,” Renzo said, standing and making his way across the office, helping himself to the alcohol as well.
He frowned. “What’s the reason?”
“She’s pregnant.”
Something about that hit him hard and low. The image of her growing round...of her holding a baby in her arms...he despised it.
Which was ridiculous. She’d been set to marry Raphael in a few months’ time, and she would have been pregnant by him soon enough. Why it should feel such an assault now, he didn’t know.
He gritted his teeth, fighting against the rising tension in his body. “Not with her prince’s child, I take it?”
“No. She refuses to tell our parents, or me, who the father is. I have never even seen her with anyone. I don’t even have a guess.” He frowned. “I worry about the circumstances behind it, frankly. Unlike me, Allegra has never been particularly wild. I have concerns she was taken advantage of.”
It was strange to hear Renzo’s assessment of his sister. Cristian had always sensed wildness in her. And he wouldn’t be surprised if she had been conducting something of a double life behind the backs of her family members all this time.
The idea made his skin feel too tight for his body. That all the time she’d sat there at the dinner table during evenings he’d spent with her family, pretending to go along with her parents’ plans, she was going out. Letting men touch her. Kiss her.
Have her.
“Has she not?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone innocuous.
“No. She has no experience with men, as far as I know. As far as I knew,” he corrected. “In fact only recently she was asking me quite breathlessly about a man she saw at the masked ball we went to a month or so ago.”
Cristian gritted his teeth, a strange tension taking him over. “Was she?”
Flashes of the ball played back in his mind. A beautiful, lush figure. Tight, wet heat. A kind of indulgence he had not had in years.
“Yes. She was chagrined to discover that the man who’d caught her eye was you.”
Cristian set his glass down, his pulse thundering in his temples. It was not possible. But he had to ask. He had to know.
“What was she wearing?” His heart was thundering hard now, his blood roaring through his veins.
“A mask the same as all the other women. She had some purple in her hair and a purple dress. A dress our parents absolutely did not approve of.”
Cojeme.
It could not be. The first woman he had touched in years... And it was Allegra Valenti. And she was... Well, she was pregnant with the Acosta heir.
While the concept of a dukedom was somewhat outmoded, his own was still functioning. With whole swaths of property and farmland left to his management, and hundreds of families dependent on his continuing bloodline.
He was the last, and he’d known he could not let that stand. Now, he didn’t have to.
Apart from that, he was part of Allegra Valenti’s double life. Part of her sin. And such sin it had been. The kind that haunted his sleep with flashes of memory so erotic and sweet he woke up on the verge of release every night.
“Where is she?” he asked, an edge of desperation in his voice.
Renzo frowned, realization dawning slowly over his friend’s face. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“No more than I like it,” he said his tone hard. “Where is she?”
“Holed up in one of my apartments in Rome.”
“I need to speak to her. Now.” He had no time for subtlety. If his suspicions were correct, there would be no keeping secrets anyway.
Damn. They could not be correct.
Renzo’s expression turned suspicious. Dark. “I assume that afterward you will be speaking to me.”
“We can only hope not.” Then Cristian turned and walked out of his friend’s office.
He had to see her and put all of this to rest. It cannot be. He refused to believe it. But he would have to see her, so that he could know.
He had to prove to himself, once and for all, that Allegra was not his mysterious lover from the masked ball. It could not be her. That little brat could not be the woman who had touched him, who had aroused such heat and fire in his blood.
Impossible.
He refused to believe it was true. And he would prove that it was not.
* * *
Allegra was doing her best to avoid the media. But sometimes she would forget. And then she would turn on the TV and be assaulted by the news, or open up her computer and go to the wrong webpage and see yet more headlines.
It was horrible. Seeing her painted as the person she simply wasn’t. Bold enough to call off the engagement to the prince at the eleventh hour, without a care for his feelings or for the future of his country.
She wasn’t very bold at all. And she really did care about leaving everything in the lurch. And if Raphael had feelings, she’d never seen them. Not that that excused her.
When she’d given in to her fantasy and taken a lover at the ball, it hadn’t been with the mind that she would abandon her upcoming marriage. It had been with the idea that at least one thing would be her choice. A stolen moment that would always be hers, and hers alone.
Well, now it was everyone’s.
The world knew she’d broken off the wedding. Her family knew she was pregnant. It was only a matter of time before speculation began flying about that too.
Strangely though, as ownership of her and her mistakes became the world’s, she felt more and more like her life belonged to her. She had decided, firmly, to keep the paternity of the child a secret.
It was her key. Yes, she had let everyone down. Yes, her parents may well cut her off—they seemed to be making a decision on that score still. But apart from all that...her life was suddenly filled with possibilities it hadn’t been before.
She had always known she would be a mother. But part and parcel to that had been being a royal wife. As a princess, her life would never truly be hers.
But now for the first time, it just might be. At least she had choices. Even if they weren’t infinite. At least she would only have to answer to herself. To her own mistakes.
Even her relationship with her child...it would be her own. And maybe it wasn’t the most ideal thing to try to find yourself as a person while you were finding yourself as a mother, but it was still better—more—than she would have had as Raphael’s wife.
A knock on her apartment door sent her scrambling out of her seat on the couch. No one had rung in downstairs, requesting permission for entrance. Which meant it must be an employee of her brother’s building.
God bless Renzo for allowing her to hole up here. He might be angry with her for her choices, but at least he understood, in some ways.
He had never been very well behaved, after all.
She walked over to the door and opened it, then her heart fell into her feet. “Renzo isn’t here, if you’re looking for him.” She tried to keep her face straight as she stared into the dark, uncompromising gaze of Cristian Acosta.
He couldn’t know. He couldn’t. She refused to believe it.
Though, standing there, looking up at him, and those coal-black eyes, she wondered how she hadn’t known it was him the moment he’d walked into that ballroom.
He’d looked like Death come to collect then. And he looked like it now.
His black brows were locked together, as was his hard, square jaw. His lips, usually the softest-looking thing about him, were pressed into a grim line.
He filled the space, and he wasn’t even in it yet. So tall, so impossibly broad. He made her feel small. He made her feel weak.
He made her feel like he was looking straight through her.
That brief moment of hope was crushed beneath the weight of that stare. That knowing, intense stare. For just a second, she’d had freedom.
And now, there was Cristian.
“I am not,” he said, his tone hard, uncompromising. Like everything else about him.
“Well, did you come to congratulate me on my upcoming marriage? Because if so—”
“Quiet,” he said, brushing past her and into the apartment. “I am not here to play games with you. Were you ever going to tell me?”
“About...” Her throat was completely dry and excuses were swirling around her head like foxes chasing their tails.
“The baby,” he said.
“I... I don’t...”
“I know,” he said, his lip curling slightly. “I know that you were the one. And I know you found out that it was me, so do not stand there looking like a wounded innocent.”
She frowned. “I am not an innocent. As you have no doubt deduced.”
“There is no star in the East, so you must not be.”
She crossed her arms, as if it might put a barrier between them. “Nice of you to check for divine symbols before you came.”
“So you admit that you knew. You admit that you knew that I am the father of your child.”
“I admit no such thing.” She crossed her arms, wishing that she could fold in on herself. Wishing that she could disappear completely.
“And yet, you said that I should know that you aren’t an innocent. How else would I know if I weren’t the one to take your innocence?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The simple fact that I’m pregnant? Honestly, Cristian, it could be anyone’s. I’m a known whore.”
“Enough,” he said, his tone firm. “What is the point of this fiction, Allegra?”
“The point of this fiction is that I don’t want to deal with you. I don’t want to deal with this. I... I would never... I would never have touched you if I’d have known that it was you.”
“But it was.” There was a dark light in his eyes, but it looked nothing like triumph. It was a grim sort of determination. He was no happier about this than she was. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“I don’t want you,” she spat, feeling desperate. “I don’t. I had no idea that it was you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself by believing even for one moment I thought it was you, Allegra. You are nothing more than a spoiled child. One who threw away a future that would have been infinitely preferable to this one. You have never understood what you had. You have never understood all your parents have done for you.”
“If I don’t, then Renzo doesn’t either. And yet, you seem to be able to continue in association with him without lecturing him every thirty seconds.”
“Renzo has taken over the running of your father’s company. He has not shirked his duties.”
“Or, you have a double standard.”
“If I have a double standard, then it is not a different double standard than that held by the rest of the world.”
She flung her hands up into the air. “Congratulations then, you’re as infinitely terrible as the majority of the population.”
Silence settled between them. It was not an empty silence. It was full. Of anger, of something else that she did not want to identify.
“If there is one thing I have learned, Allegra,” he said, his superior tone maddening, “It’s that you cannot outrun consequences. It doesn’t matter who your father is. It does not matter how much money you have. Consequences will catch up to us all.”
“Especially when you don’t use a condom,” she shot back.
Perhaps she wasn’t blameless in the lack of contraception, but he was the man. Surely he should have been responsible for that. She had been a virgin, besides.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“You made it clear you didn’t want me to speak!”
“You didn’t protest,” he said.
She growled. “You don’t have to do this. I was prepared to deal with this by myself.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “What is your definition of dealing with it?”
“I was going to have this baby and raise it as a single mother. It isn’t as though I don’t have assets. My parents are upset, but they’re hardly going to cut me off.” She was bluffing. Her parents were infuriated and she had no idea what they would do at this point.
“You think?”
“Well, even if they do, Renzo won’t.” Honestly, she wasn’t entirely certain about her parents. They had not spoken to her since she had told them the news.
But her parents had been so deeply enmeshed in every aspect of her life for so long, she couldn’t really imagine them fully disowning her. She had no idea what her mother would do with her time. But then, maybe that had more to do with the impending royal wedding than an actual desire to spend any time with Allegra. Allegra didn’t want to think about that.
“Frankly, I don’t care whether or not your parents are planning to disown you, or whether or not your brother will support the child and you. You are not doing this alone.”
“No one will believe that we slept together. Nobody.”
He chuckled, a dark sound that wound its way through her body, wrapping itself around her veins, heating her blood. He had never affected her like this before. Usually, when Cristian heated her blood it was because he made her angry. This was something else. A shared memory of the two of them that she didn’t want.
“We did not sleep together,” he said, his voice filled with grim humor. “We had sex. Against a wall.”
Heat stung her face. “No one will believe we did that either.”
“Why? Because of my impeccable reputation?”
“For a start.”
“But no one has to know how it happened. Obviously, when we present this to the world it will be in a much different light. You will, of course, tell your parents that you have fallen in love with me, and it was your great passion and deep feelings for me that inspired you to compromise your engagement.”
She sputtered. “They will be more inclined to believe that you impregnated me in a public hallway without knowing my identity.”
“Is that so?”
“No one will believe that I love you. Everyone knows how we feel about each other.”
“That’s fine. It isn’t my reputation that will suffer as a result. You were the one who was engaged. You are the woman. Therefore, all of the judgment will be heaped on top of you.”
She snorted. “It’s already being heaped upon me. In case you hadn’t checked out a headline recently.”
“It may surprise you to hear this, but my life does not revolve around reading news stories concerning your exploits.
“Why should I read the tabloids? I went to Renzo instead and he knew much more than any of the so-called breaking news.”
She recoiled. “Does that mean that... Does Renzo know?”
“Renzo is not an idiot. I assume that once I began questioning him about what costume you had worn to the ball, and then stormed out after the revelation of your pregnancy—combining that with your inquiries about me earlier—he was able to do a bit of simple math.”
“But you’re still alive,” she said, confident that if her brother truly knew that she had made love to Cristian, Cristian would, in fact, be dead.
“Of course. I’m sure it only makes sense to him that I had no idea it was you. He knows that under normal circumstances I would never consider touching you.”
Rage and wounded feminine pride poured through Allegra like a toxic elixir. “Well, he must be very proud that your standards are so high. I’m so sorry that my identity was a disappointment to you. However, we both know that you quite enjoyed what happened. In fact, you enjoyed it so much that it was extremely brief.”
His top lip curled. “You enjoyed it no less for the brief nature of it.”
“So confident?”
“I have a very strong memory of how intensely you came around me, Allegra,” he said, his voice rough. “You cannot fake that.”
“Women,” she said, her voice trembling, “can fake things.”
“Women can only fake things if their partner is stupid, or inexperienced. I am neither.” He took a step toward her. “I felt you. I felt you trembling. I felt the waves as they washed through you. I felt your pleasure as keenly as I felt my own. Do not pretend it was somehow less than satisfying now that you know my identity.”
“It’s so important for you to have your male ego stroked, and yet you can barely stand the sight of me. That’s sort of twisted, Cristian.”
He laughed, dark, merciless. “I never claimed to be anything else.”
“You don’t want me. I doubt you want the baby.”
“Oh,” he said, “that’s where you’re wrong. I need the baby.”
“If you need him for some kind of ritual sacrifice then you’re definitely out of luck.”
“No, thank you. My life has quite enough death in it without adding any more, thank you. That was very poor humor.”
She looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me now. You don’t mean it.”
“Why do you need the baby?”
“Because. For as humbly as I present myself, I am in fact an aristocrat. A duke.”
“I did know. Your arrogance announces it before you walk into a room.”
“Then you must surely understand that I require an heir. A legitimate heir. My child cannot be born a bastard, Allegra. Neither can I afford to miss this opportunity.”
“Our...baby is an opportunity?”
“Certainly it is an opportunity for my bloodline. I am a widower, and thanks to those circumstances I have failed to produce an heir. As I am now in my thirties, it becomes yet more and more important. Of course, my own father produced his heir quite by accident. But in spite of the fact that my mother was nothing more than a washed-up model, he still did the right thing by her, by me and by the dukedom dependent upon the bloodline continuing. I can do no less. Don’t you agree?”
“What exactly are you proposing?”
“Exactly that. I am proposing.”
“What?” Her heart was thundering so hard, her blood pouring through her ears. She felt like she was underwater. Could hardly breathe, could scarcely hear anything.
“Allegra Valenti, you are having my baby. And you will be my wife.”
