A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding. Sandra Marton

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      But maybe she no longer had a right to play judge and jury when now she found herself in a situation which was wrong from just about every angle. She stared into Luc’s face but saw no affection on his rugged features—nothing but a grim determination to have things on his terms, the way he always did. And she couldn’t afford to let him—because if she gave him the slightest leeway, he would swamp her with the sheer force of his royal power.

      ‘I think we’ll have to disagree on the level of my craziness,’ she said quietly. ‘Because you must realise I can’t possibly marry you, Luc, no matter what you say—or how many inducements you make.’

      His sudden stillness indicated that her reply had surprised him.

      ‘I don’t really think you have a choice, Lisa,’ he said.

      ‘Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. There is always a choice. And mine was to have this child alone and to love it with all my heart. It still is.’

      ‘But I am the father.’

      ‘I know you are. And now that it’s all out in the open you must realise that I shan’t deny you access to your child.’ She smiled up at him. ‘We’ll keep emotion out of it and try to come to some satisfactory arrangement for all of us.’

      He didn’t smile back.

      ‘You seem to forget that you carry a prince or princess,’ he said softly. ‘And it is vital they should grow up on the island they will one day inherit.’

      She met his gaze. ‘I didn’t realise illegitimate offspring were entitled to inherit.’

      A muscle began to flicker at Luc’s temple because this conversation wasn’t going according to plan. His marriage proposal had been intended to pacify her and possibly to thrill her. To have her eating out of his hand—because women had been trying to push him towards the altar most of his adult life and deep down he had imagined Lisa would be no different. He’d thought she would be picturing herself walking down the wide aisle of Mardovia’s famous cathedral—a glittering tiara in her curly hair. Yet all she was doing was surveying him with a proud look and he felt the slow burn of indignation. Who the hell did she think she was—turning down his offer of marriage without even a moment’s consideration?

      For a split second he felt powerless—an unwelcome sensation to someone whose power had always been his lifeblood. He wanted to tell her that she would do exactly as he demanded and she might as well resign herself to that fact right now. But the belligerent expression on her face told him he had better proceed with caution.

      His gaze drifted over her, but for once the riot of curls and green-gold eyes were not the focus of his attention. He noted how much fuller her breasts were and how the swell of her belly completely dwarfed her tiny frame. And inside that belly was his child. His throat thickened.

      She looked like a tiny boat in full sail, yet she was no less enticing for all that. He still wanted her and if circumstances had been different he might have pulled her in his arms and started to kiss her. He could have lulled her into compliance and taken her into one of those changing rooms. Drawn the velvet curtains away from prying eyes and had her gasping her approval to whatever it was he asked of her.

      But she was heavy with child. Glowing like a pomegranate in the thin winter sun—and because of that he couldn’t use sex as a bargaining tool.

      ‘Get your coat,’ he said. ‘And I’ll take you home.’

      ‘I haven’t finished what I was doing.’

      ‘I’ll wait.’

      ‘There’s no need. Honestly, I can get a cab.’

      ‘I said, I’ll wait. Don’t fight me on this, Lisa—because I’m not going anywhere.’ And with this he positioned himself on one of the velvet and gilt chairs, stretching his long legs in front of him.

      Lisa wanted to protest, but what was the point? She couldn’t deny they needed to talk, but not now and not like this—when she was still flustered by his sudden appearance and the announcement that he’d called off his wedding. She needed to have her wits about her but her brain currently felt as if it were clouded in mist, leaving her unable to think properly. And that was dangerous.

      He had taken out his cell phone and was flicking through his emails and giving them his full attention, and she found herself almost envying him. If only she were capable of such detachment of thought! The figures in front of her were a jumble and in the end she gave up trying to make sense of them. How could she possibly concentrate on her work with Luc distracting her like this?

      She shut down her computer and gave him a cool look. ‘Okay. I’m ready,’ she said.

      She sensed he was exerting considerable restraint to remain patient as she carried the jug and water glass out into the kitchen, set the burglar alarm, turned off the lights and locked the door. Outside, the drizzle was coming down a little heavier now and his driver leapt from the car to run over and position a huge umbrella over her head. She wanted to push the monstrous black thing away—uncaring that the soft rain would turn her hair into a mass of frizz—but she stopped just in time. She needed to be calm and reasonable because she suspected that she and Luc were coming at this pregnancy from completely different angles. And if she allowed her fluctuating hormones to make her all volatile, he would probably get some awful Mardovian judge to pronounce her unfit to be a mother!

      She sat in frozen silence on the way to her apartment and a feeling of frustration built up inside her when he made no attempt to talk to her. Was he playing mind games? Trying to see which of them would buckle first? Well, he had better realise that this wasn’t a game—not for her. She was strong and resolute and knew exactly what she wanted.

      But when they drew up outside her humble block, he surprised her with his words.

      ‘Have dinner with me tomorrow night.’

      ‘Dinner?’

      ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘We need to discuss what we’re going to do and there’s nothing in the rulebook which says we can’t do it in a civilised manner.’

      In the dim light Lisa blinked. She thought about the two of them making an entrance in the kind of fancy restaurant he would no doubt frequent—the handsome Prince and the heavily pregnant woman.

      ‘But if we’re seen out together,’ she said slowly, ‘that would be making a fairly unequivocal statement, wouldn’t it? A prince would never appear alone in public with a woman in my condition unless he was willing to be compromised. Is that what you want, Luc?’

      His eyes glittered as he leaned towards her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what I want. I want the world to know that I am the father. You have my child in your belly, Lisa. Do you really think I intend to relinquish my claim on my own flesh and blood?’

      The words sounded almost primitive and they were filled with a sense of possession. They reminded Lisa of the full force of his power and the fact that he had grown up with very different values from her. ‘Of course I don’t!’ she said. ‘We can meet with a lawyer and have a legal agreement drawn up. You can see your child any time you like—within reason. Surely you can have no objection to that?’

      His eyes were cold and so was his voice. ‘I think you are missing the point, chérie. I intend to marry you.’

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