His Pregnant Princess Bride. Catherine Mann

interest in running a football team. He took a businesslike, numbers approach to the job and wed that with his personal interest in football. Like Gervais, he had a position in his family’s multinational corporation, but football was his obsession.

      “Gervais, I’d love to stay and chat, but we have another meeting to get to. We’ll be in touch,” his former college roommate promised.

      “Perfect, Beau. Thank you,” he said, offering him a sincere handshake. Beau’s eyes were on the princess even if he didn’t ask the obvious question. Beau was an all-business kind of guy who never pried. He’d always said he didn’t want others sticking their noses in his private life, either.

      The eyes of the whole damn team remained on the princess, in fact. Which made Gervais steam with protectiveness.

      He barked over to his half brother, the head coach, “Dempsey, don’t your boys have something better to do than stand around drooling over a woman like pimply teenage boys?”

      Dempsey smirked. “All right, men. Back to practice. You can stare at pretty girls on someone else’s time. Now, move!” Henri Reynaud, the Hurricanes’ quarterback and Gervais’s brother, shot him a look of half amusement. But he slung his helmet back on and began to make his way into formation. The Bayou Bomber, a nickname Henri had earned during his college days at LSU, would not be so easily dissuaded from his obvious curiosity.

      Dempsey scratched some numbers out on his paper. Absently, he asked, “What’s with the royal visit?”

      “We have some...unresolved issues from our time in England.”

      “Your time together?” Dempsey’s wicked grin spread, and he clucked his tongue.

      He might as well come clean in an understated way. The truth would be apparent soon enough. “We had a quiet...relationship.”

      “Very damn quiet if I didn’t hear about it.” Crossing his arms, he did his best to look hurt.

      “You were busy with the team. As it should be.”

      “So you have some transcontinental dating relationship with Europe’s most eligible princess?”

      “Reading the tabloids again, Dempsey?”

      “Gotta keep up with my players’ antics somehow.” He shrugged it off.

      “Well, don’t let her hear you discussing her eligibility. She’s military. She might well be able to kick your ass.”

      “Military, huh? That’s surprising.”

      “She said male royals serve. Why not females? She just finished up her time.” Which had seemed to bother her. He understood well about trying to find where you fit in a high-profile family.

      “Carole Montemarte, the Hurricanes’ press relations coordinator, will have a blast spinning that for the media. Royalty for a girlfriend? Nice, dude. And she chased you clear across the ocean. You are quite the man.”

      Except that didn’t make sense. She’d ignored his calls after he left the country. Granted, what they’d shared blew his mind, and he didn’t have the time or energy for a transcontinental relationship. So his calls had been more...obligatory. Had she known that? Was that the reason she’d ignored him?

      So why show up here now?

      He sure as hell intended to find out.

       Two

      Limos were something of the norm for Erika. Part of the privilege of growing up royal. This should feel normal, watching the sunset while being chauffeured in the limo Gervais had sent to retrieve her from her hotel. Half of her childhood had been spent in the backseat of a limo as she and her family went from one event to another.

      But today was anything but normal. As she pulled at the satin fabric of her dress, her mind began to race. She had never pictured herself with a brood of children like her sisters. Not that she didn’t want them, but this was all happening so fast. And with a man she wasn’t entirely sure of. Just the thought of Gervais sent her mind reeling. The thought of telling him about their shared interest made her stomach knot. She began to wonder about what she would tell him. How she would tell him. News she could barely wrap her brain around. But there were secrets impossible to keep in her world, so if she wanted to inform Gervais on her terms, she would have to do so soon.

      Tonight.

      And just like that, Erika realized the vehicle had stopped. Reality was starting to set in, and no amount of finery and luxury was going to change that. She had chosen the arctic-blue dress because it reminded her of her heritage. Of her family’s Viking past. Of the strength of her small country. She needed these reminders if she was going to face him.

      Try as she might, Erika couldn’t get the way he looked at her out of her mind. His eyes drinking her in. The memory sent a pleasurable shiver along her skin.

      The chauffeur opened the door with a click, and she stepped out of the limo. Tall and proud. A light breeze danced against her skin, threatening her sideswept updo. Fingers instinctively flew to the white-crusted sapphire pin that, at the nape of her neck, not only held her hair together but also had been in her family for centuries.

      Smoothing her blond hair that cascaded over one of her shoulders, she took in the Reynaud family compound in the meeting of sunset with the moon, the stars just beginning to sparkle in the Louisiana sky. Though she had to admit, the flood of lights leading up to the door diminished the starlight.

      She lifted her gaze to the massive structure ahead of her. Greek Revival with white arches and columns—no other word than massive, and a girl who grew up in a palace wasn’t impressed easily.

      As she walked up the stairs to the home, the sureness from touching her family heirloom began to wane. But before she could lose her nerve and turn back, the limo pulled away and the grand door opened in front of her. This was officially happening.

      Though the lights outside had been clinical and bright, the foyer was illuminated by bulbs of yellow. The warmth of these lights reflected on what appeared to be hand-painted murals depicting a fox hunt. American royalty.

      A servant gestured for her to walk through the room on the left. Gathering the skirt of her dress, Erika crossed the threshold, leaving behind the foyer and its elaborate staircase and murals.

      This room was made for entertainment. She had been in plenty of grand dining halls, and this one felt familiar and impersonal, with wisps of silk that told their secrets to the glass and windows.

      Erika had always hated dinners in rooms like this.

      Quickly scanning the room, she noted the elaborately carved wooden chair and the huge arrangements of flowers and the tall marble vases. But Gervais wasn’t here, either.

      She pressed on through the next threshold and found herself in a simpler room. It was clear that this was a family room. The opulent colors of the grand dining room softened, giving way to a creamy palette. The kind of colors that made Erika want to curl up on the plush leather sofa with a good book and some strong tea with milk.

      The family room sported an entertainment bar with Palladian windows overlooking the pool and grounds. But if she turned ever so slightly she could also see an alcove that appeared to lead to a more private section.

      The master bedroom and bath? She could envision that space having doors out to the pool, a hot tub, perhaps. She bit her lip and spun away.

      It was not as if she was here to gawk at furniture. She had to tell a man she barely knew that they were having a baby. And that the press would have a field day if she and Gervais didn’t get a handle on this now.

      And there. She saw him. Chiseled. Dark hair, ruffled ever so slightly. His lips parted into a smile as he met her gaze.

      Nerves and something else jolted her to life. Pushed her forward. Toward him and that wolfish smile.