Born Royal. Alexandra Sellers

felt the baby’s whisper of protest as adrenaline pumped into her blood. Julia paused, her hand automatically moving to her abdomen. She stroked for a moment and took a deep calming breath.

      “Okay, Bertrand.” Julia’s other hand lifted gracefully, the palm pressing outward, as if to hold back the wave she felt coming towards her. Julia glanced at Valerie. “What’s your point?”

      “Princess, all hell has broken loose this morning, which is no surprise. My private line alone has already logged over a hundred calls from journalists. We’ve had to call in half a dozen relief staff for the palace switchboard to cope with calls from citizens. And this is only a trickle compared with what’s to come,” Bertrand told her.

      “Then the sooner we issue a statement, the better, surely?”

      “We’re even getting calls from Tamiri citizens.”

      “Screaming how appalled they are, I’m sure!”

      “No. For once, Montebello and Tamir have synoptic vision on an issue. The truth is, Princess, everybody wants to believe it.”

      Julia sucked in too much air too suddenly and started coughing. When the fit was over she stared at her press secretary.

      “The citizens of both countries are thrilled at the prospect of a marriage that will put an end to this feud once and for all,” he informed her. “As a public relations coup, on top of the military action, it’s pretty damned good. He knows his stuff, Rashid.”

      This made her furious.

      “No doubt. I don’t know what Rashid Kamal has in mind, but he means us no good, you can be sure. No Kamal can be trusted.” She had a sudden sharp memory of his black eyes, burning into hers. Kiss me. Kiss me.

      Valerie leaned forward. “Are you absolutely certain that he isn’t serious? It’s an extraordinary risk to take if he’s not. Where would he be if you publicly said yes?”

      A little shock went through her. “Are you suggesting—no. No, of course he’s not serious! A Kamal marry a Sebastiani? Impossible!”

      Valerie and Bertrand looked at her oddly. But neither wanted to be the one to point out a more impossible fact—that a Kamal had made a Sebastiani pregnant.

      “I imagine the point of this exercise—” she waved at the newspaper “—is that Rashid Kamal gets to look like a knight in shining armour. I’m pregnant. He offers marriage. I turn him down. He’s squeaky clean.”

      Her conscience tugged at her a little as she spoke. The Kamals had been characterized as monsters all her life, but Rashid had not seemed like that to her when she met him. If he hadn’t been a Kamal, she would even have called him… But her mind wouldn’t go there.

      “Wouldn’t it be wiser to find out for certain what’s in his mind before we jump to any action? Everyone’s been very worried and stressed lately, Princess, afraid that another bomb was going to go off, or they’d be inhaling poison in the streets. It’s not going to hurt them to feel for a few hours that they’ve seen the end of animosity and the beginning of peace.”

      Julia eyed Bertrand suspiciously, wondering what was in his mind.

      “I don’t accept that the majority of the citizens of this country or of Tamir are rejoicing in the thought of such a marriage, however many calls there have been. But if they are, Bertrand, recollect that it is I who will tear this cup from their lips when the moment finally comes. I’d like to do that sooner rather than later.”

      Bertrand gave her a steady look. “With respect, Princess, you’ll need to talk to Prince Rashid. I could start the ball rolling by calling my opposite number at the palace.”

      “I’m not going to talk to him,” Julia said, keeping her voice as level as she could.

      “Princess, that’s crazy. You—”

      Julia got to her feet, catching the other two off guard. They scrambled to follow.

      “All right, Bertrand, you can call the palace in Tamir,” she said. “And tell Prince Rashid from me that if he says any more about this supposed marriage to the media or anyone else, I’ll…he’ll…”

      The threat, if it was one, was interrupted. There was a hurried knock, and then the office door burst open. One of the junior secretaries came in, wide-eyed and almost babbling with poorly suppressed excitement.

      “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I thought I should—um…they’ve just notified me that he’s here! He’s actually in the palace. Prince Rashid! And he—he wants to see you!”

      “Bertrand, go down to him, please,” Julia commanded, in a low, trembling voice he had to strain to hear. “Will you explain that we are going to issue an unqualified denial of this story, and ask that he support that with a statement of his own.”

      “Princess, wouldn’t it be better—” Bertrand began.

      “No, it wouldn’t!” she cried, feeling goaded beyond her endurance. “Allow me to be the judge, please! Tell him whatever you like about why. Just make it very clear that I am not going to see him.”

      “Predicting the future is a risky business,” chided a deep masculine voice from the open doorway. Julia, Bertrand, Valerie and the junior secretary all whirled.

      In the doorway, beside an embarrassed and apologetic member of King Marcus’s staff, stood Rashid Kamal, smiling like an angel of vengeance.

      “See? Wrong already,” he said.

      Chapter 2

      They both stood silent, half the width of the room between them, gazing at each other. Those watching the pair felt a curious sensation, as if they themselves, and the room, had somehow ceased to exist in the same reality.

      Rashid’s mocking smile died as he took in the sight of her. He wondered when her face had become his icon of survival. There had been times in the past few months when he’d come up against the real possibility that he wouldn’t succeed in his mission, wouldn’t even survive it. He realized only now how often in those moments his thoughts had been of Julia. Julia and his child.

      Julia licked her lips and swallowed. A huge relief flooded her, taking her completely by surprise. He was alive. Until this moment she hadn’t realized how much of a tragedy it would have been if he were not.

      As if embarrassed to be intruding, the others began to shuffle uncomfortably. Reality suddenly returned. Their gaze unlocked.

      “We have things to discuss,” Rashid said, entering the room and acknowledging the staff in one friendly but imperious nod. With wonderful noblesse oblige, he held the door for them to leave. And to Julia’s annoyance, her staff all instinctively obeyed, leaving her alone with the enemy.

      A dangerously attractive enemy, for whom she was already proven to have a fatal weakness. With whom she had made a total, complete, and utter fool of herself. She shifted uncomfortably, then reminded herself where she was. This was her own private office.

      “Are the Kamals now laying claim to this palace, as well as Delia’s Land?” she demanded with icy sarcasm.

      Rashid looked at her in level scrutiny, ignoring her outburst. He took a step closer. “How are you, Julia?” She seemed well, with softer curves than when he had last seen her. But the shadow in her eyes as she looked at him was the same.

      The scent of her perfume was a sudden, sharp reminder of that wild night when passion had nearly wrecked all his careful plans. In the months since, he had found ways to explain what had happened. His reaction had been a simple side effect of the dangerous enterprise he had been about to embark upon, he had told himself. Men going to war had always been prey to such reactions—the universal unconscious compulsion to leave some trace of his genes in the world before he left it had seized him, that was all.

      But that did not explain his reaction to her now—the need to hold her,