The Prince's Pregnant Bride / Billionaire Baby Dilemma: The Prince's Pregnant Bride. Jennifer Lewis

that it had happened before the funeral feasts were even finished?

      He blew out a hard blast of air. He’d expected her to squeal and slap him. To defend her virtue and hurl angry words in his face. To hate him.

      Which was his intention. Then she wouldn’t want him to do his duty and marry her. He’d be off the hook.

      Instead she’d seemed to… enjoy the kiss.

      He shook his head, trying to shake loose a sensible thought. Maybe she’d faked it. As a royal wife—especially his brother’s wife—she must have had plenty of practice faking pleasure when she didn’t feel it.

      Still…

      The way her fingers had clawed at his back. How her mouth had opened to welcome his, her sweet breath hot on his tongue. He’d even heard a tiny moan, like the cry of a bird, newly uncaged, escape her throat before he came to his senses and pulled back.

      His stiff suit barely hid the reaction she’d provoked in his body. His blood seemed ten degrees hotter and his fingertips prickled with stray urges. Probably the urge to rip off that expensive gold dress and sink into the soft flesh beneath.

      He hurled a curse. How could he think such a thing about his brother’s wife? He hadn’t wanted to come back here, and this was a perfect example of why. He lived a nice, sensible life in L.A.—well, by L.A. standards—where things like this just didn’t happen.

      Still… he’d dated more than his fair share of women and he’d never been kissed like that before. Curiosity mingled with the lust thickening in his blood. There was clearly a lot more to Lani Rahia than he’d expected.

      That night, AJ sat three seats away from Lani at an official state banquet observing his brother’s passing. Dressed in mourning blue, with an elaborate gold necklace that probably weighed more than she did, she looked every bit the royal widow.

      Ears pricked, he listened for her voice. She barely spoke, though, only offering polite morsels of conversation when necessary. When he glanced her way, her lips were pressed together, as if trying to keep something in—or perhaps, after this afternoon, to keep something out.

      He attempted to hold up his end of the conversation with an elderly member of the royal guard who shamelessly checked international cricket scores on his phone in between courses. By the time dessert was served, AJ had resolved to corner Lani and ask her what happened this afternoon.

      His plan was thwarted when Lani vanished halfway through the fish course. There was some commotion, and a footman went to help her to her room.

      He turned to his mother, seated diagonally across the table. “What’s going on? Where’s Lani gone?”

      She patted her lips with a napkin. “Not feeling well. Poor Lani’s taken Vanu’s death so badly. She’s been in and out of bed since he disappeared.” She reached over and patted his arm. “I’m glad you care. She’s a sweet girl.”

      AJ cleared his throat. “I’m sure she is.”

      “Perhaps you could go look in on her after dinner.” A thoughtful smile crossed her lips. “Just to see if she’s comfortable.”

      “I’ll do that.” Had grief caused her unexpected response earlier? He shuddered with revulsion at the sudden idea that she’d mistake him for his dead brother. Did her disappearance from dinner have anything to do with their unexpectedly passionate kiss?

      Either way, he wanted to know more.

      Lani slammed her bedroom door closed and leaned against it. Alone. It wasn’t easy to get even one minute by yourself in a royal palace. Nausea rose inside her like a wave, and she planted her feet on the floor to ride it out. Was it guilt that drove this sickness to surge and torment her day and night?

      Or something else?

      She listened for footsteps. No sound except the evening song of insects in the gardens outside. Now was the perfect time. Everyone in the palace was either eating at the banquet, or waiting on the diners. Even her mother-in-law, who hovered over her day and night, wouldn’t leave her guests until the meal was done.

      Lani crept across the room and switched on the light in the adjoining bathroom. It gleamed with the rich gold-veined marble and the solid-gold taps Vanu had installed. He’d loved to luxuriate in the bath while she massaged the knotted sinews of his arms and back. It was still hard to believe he’d never glare at her from across the room and hurl an unreasonable demand again.

      Guilt snaked through her. She shouldn’t think such thoughts about the dead. It was bad luck, if nothing else.

      She crept into the small private changing room where she kept her personal items. Buried among the tampons she knew no one would disturb was a prize she’d gone to great lengths to obtain.

      She held her breath as she fished inside the box and felt for the packet. Her fingers stung with fear as they rested on its plastic cover. She glanced over her shoulder before she pulled it out, then she ripped open the packet and reached for the printed instructions inside.

      Another wave of nausea blurred her eyes and made her clutch at the nearby wall, fingernails scraping on the hard, carved stone. Then she drew a deep breath. Better get it over with.

      Hold stick in stream of urine. Place on level surface for thirty seconds. Plus sign indicates a positive result. Minus sign indicates a negative result, she read from the package.

      Stomach clenched and hands shaking, she followed the instructions, then paced the large bathroom while she waited for the results. How odd that she’d wanted a child so much when they first married. Dreamed of holding her son or daughter in her arms and lavishing him or her with kisses and smiles.

      Then when Vanu had revealed himself to be heartless, soulless, she’d prayed to remain empty so no child would have to grow up with a father like him.

      It was easy; Vanu rarely touched her. If anything, he seemed repulsed by her body, by her very femininity. They hadn’t been intimate for at least two years until that last night, when she’d told him exactly what she thought of him, and he’d taken her by force.

      Tears sprang to her eyes and she swiped at them with the back of her hand. The pink stick must have revealed its answer by now, but she didn’t dare look. If the result was negative, then she’d done her duty as a royal wife and could maybe even slide back into the realm of ordinary people. If not, she could be the mother of a future king, a duty that would bind her for the rest of her life.

      At first it hadn’t occurred to her that she could be pregnant. Vanu had taken to berating her for her infertility and inability to produce an heir. He took pleasure in taunting her with this, even when conception was technically impossible because they never had sex. She’d almost started to believe his lies.

      When he went missing she suffered bouts of sickness. At first she’d assumed them to be guilt-related. If she hadn’t confronted him, he wouldn’t have stalked off into the night. She’d told no one she was responsible for his disappearance.

      As the weeks went on, her illness had been accompanied by other disturbing symptoms—moodiness, sensitive nipples and a slight thickening at her waist. No one else had noticed, but she could no longer pass these things off as “guilt” and she knew for sure they weren’t from grief, as others might have suspected.

      She grabbed the stick and pulled it close, willing herself to be strong. A tiny pink cross filled the circle on the handle.

      She was pregnant—with Vanu’s child.

      She sank against the wall, breath coming in shallow gasps. What now?

      A loud knock on the door made her jump. She shoved the stick into a pile of towels and rubbed the tear tracks from her eyes. “Who is it?”

      “AJ.” His gruff voice penetrated the heavy wood.

      “I’m, er, unwell.”

      “I know. That’s why I came.”

      “Thanks,