Propositioned By The Prince: The Prince's Pregnant Bride. Jennifer Lewis

one knew what to think or how to behave. Least of all Lani. AJ was giving her the cold shoulder, too. She understood that he was in an awkward situation, but it was upsetting to suddenly feel as if she couldn’t talk to him.

      She wandered along the hallway slowly, not looking forward to the meal. Terrified of any further news of Vanu’s miraculous survival.

      When she arrived in the dining room, she saw Priia sitting in her usual chair, sobbing, while AJ wrapped his arms around her.

      All the servants hung their heads and ducked their gazes as she passed.

      “They found his body.” AJ looked up and mouthed the words softly, then tugged his gaze away immediately.

      Relief welled inside her like a flood. “Oh, no,” she managed, trying to sound upset. Her hands started shaking and her heart pounded. She wanted to jump up and down or shout because she’d been so afraid of being Vanu’s plaything again. Happy tears sprang to her eyes and she let them roll down her cheeks.

      She resisted a sharp urge to ask for details to make his death real, but managed to restrain herself. What did it matter how he died, as long as he was really gone for good.

      AJ looked up at her tears, then glanced away. Priia’s sobbing was merciless, inconsolable, as it had been in those first days and nights after Vanu disappeared.

      “I’m so sorry, Mama,” whispered Lani. She stroked Priia’s hand. “It was too much of a miracle to hope for.” Her own tears splashed into her mother-in-law’s lap and mingled with Priia’s, despite their very different motivations.

      “At least we’ll have his child,” rasped Priia. Lani’s eyes widened. Apparently in her grief she was forgetting that no one knew about the pregnancy. She glanced around. The servants had tactfully left the room. Still…

      AJ’s brow was lowered and his expression dark. He wouldn’t meet her gaze.

      “The child will give us something to live for,” continued Priia, through her sobs. “It does seem cruel that we have to go through mourning him again. I was finally coming to terms with his loss, and now…” Her shoulders shook.

      Lani squeezed her hand. “We’ll just have to go on as best we can.”

      “I’ve got some phone calls to make.” AJ’s voice was gruff. Lani looked up, startled, as he strode from the room. She wanted to run after him, to ask him for details about Vanu’s death—perhaps to reassure herself that this time he really was dead.

      She also wanted reassurance that everything was still okay between them.

      Her stomach contracted and a wave of nausea rose through her. Her first in several days. She had a grim feeling that everything had changed between her and AJ. That Vanu’s unexpected reappearance, even in death, had somehow ruined everything.

      AJ stormed along the palace corridor, blood pounding in his brain. How had he ever thought this could work? Had he really believed he could step into Vanu’s shoes—precious Vanu, the beloved eldest son who could do no wrong—and take over?

      Ridiculous. He must have been totally addled by lust. It was hard to blame himself because, after all, Lani was undeniably one of the most beautiful women on earth. He’d let desire interfere with his common sense and even convinced himself that she had feelings for him.

      But of course she hadn’t fallen madly in love with him right after her husband’s death. She was still in shock, especially with the pregnancy messing up her hormones. He’d come on way too strong and she’d reacted as she felt she was supposed to. Just trying to be a “nice Rahiian maiden,” when all along she was carrying a torch for Vanu.

      He shoved into his room. The room he’d spent his childhood in and been glad to leave. Which seemed ungrateful, since not many people would complain about spacious chambers in a royal palace. But they’d felt like a prison to him once, and now the decorative carvings started to look like bars again. He’d almost—almost—been trapped into living someone else’s life.

      He picked up the phone and pushed the third button on his speed dial. His producer, Jerry. When Jerry answered he didn’t mince words. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Sooner if I can get a flight.”

      “But I thought your brother turned up dead.”

      “He did.”

      “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that so crudely. I’m sorry for your loss.”

      “I know. It’s okay.” Being honest that you were glad someone was dead was one of the last taboos left.

      “Doesn’t that mean that you need to take over?”

      “You can’t take over from a living god, and I’m not going to walk in his shadow the rest of my life. I’ve got a good life in L.A. and I’m coming back to it.”

      “Isn’t there some tradition that you have to marry your brother’s wife?” Jerry’s tone didn’t hide his curiosity—the same kind of prurient interest that had sent the media chasing down to Rahiri to ogle them.

      “There was, but I’m breaking with it. Why should she be forced into marrying someone she doesn’t care about?” Not to mention giving her late husband’s baby to him to raise. His chest tightened.

      “That is a bit heavy. Still, you two looked good together on Entertainment Tonight.”

      “Jerry, you and I know better than anyone how easy it is to create an illusion with a camera.”

      “Too true. Well, if you’re ready, we’ll soon be right back at it. Give me a call when you hit town and we’ll hash through some details.”

      “Perfect.”

      AJ put down the phone, a mixture of conviction and regret mingling in his heart. What a vivid fantasy it had been, for a few brief days. King AJ and his lovely family, ruling the island paradise he’d finally come home to.

      Way too sappy to put in a movie, so why would he think it could happen in real life?

      He jerked open the closet door and grabbed an armful of clothes off the rack. Shoved them right into his suitcase. He didn’t need servants to fold and fluff everything for him. He’d gotten along just fine without them for over a decade and he was damned if he’d turn into a spoiled fop like Vanu.

      He went into the bathroom and swiped his toiletries off the marble shelf and into a plastic bag. A scan of the room confirmed that he’d removed all traces of his brief presence.

      Now to confront Lani.

      His chest ached. He’d so much rather have slipped away without seeing her again. Experience had proved he didn’t have much self-control around her. Getting to know her hadn’t helped, either. Did he really have to find out that she was warm and thoughtful as well as gorgeous? It would have been better if he’d left right after the funeral.

      He would have preferred as well not to know how responsive and exciting she was during sex. If that’s how she performed with a man she was being forced to marry while still mourning her husband, imagine what she’d be like if she was really in love?

      Don’t. There was no point in thinking about what-ifs. He was not going to participate in this arranged marriage charade any longer.

      He zipped up his suitcase and pulled out the handle. Soon he’d be marching along the corridors at LAX, a free man again.

      Finding Lani wasn’t easy. He walked all over the palace, asking everyone he met for almost an hour, tension building in his muscles, before he finally tracked her down on a stone bench by a reflecting pool in the garden.

      She glanced up, startled, as he approached.

      “Don’t worry. I’m not staying.” He almost growled the words, then regretted his hostile tone. This whole mess wasn’t really her fault. She’d been bullied into it, the same way he had.

      He glanced at the round