The Bad Royals Box Set: The Complete Royally Unexpected Series, page 145
I can’t be with the Prince. I know that now. It would be bad for the baby. I can’t let my child grow up with its face on newspapers. I need to give it some kind of stability, and I can’t do that here.
But I can have a connection with my grandmother. I can love this child with every bit of my heart and give it the best possible chance at a good life. For the first time ever, I understand my mother’s perspective.
Grandma was right—I wasn’t a burden, and my baby isn’t one, either.
Those realizations all hit me one after the other between the time the doctor told me I was pregnant and now, when I stand in front of the Prince and tell him the truth. They’ve only grown stronger as the minutes have ticked by.
I know what I need to do. I know I need to leave—not just for myself, but for the baby. So it has the best chance of a good, stable life.
I need to leave for the Prince, too. To save him from controversy, and to stop old wounds from splitting open. He can tell me that he’s moving on, but I know he still aches for his fiancée. Those shoes are too big for me to fill.
Right now, though, he’s staring at me like I’ve sprouted another head. Shock doesn’t even begin to cover it. The lips I love to kiss open and close again. His throat clenches and releases as he swallows, and his palm moves to rub the center of his chest.
“You’re…You’re pregnant?” He frowns, confusion written over every inch of his face.
I nod. “Yeah. About five weeks, apparently. So…The visitor’s cottage.”
“I thought you said…”
“I was wrong.” I inhale slowly, preparing myself to make the speech I’ve rehearsed all morning. Squaring my shoulders, I face the Prince. “I’m not expecting you to go public about it, and I’m prepared to keep you out of the baby’s life, if you prefer. I’ll go back to Farcliff to raise the baby. That way, the media attention will die down, and I’ll go back to my anonymous life. It’ll be better for the baby. No pressure. No controversy. No prejudice.”
Wolfe starts to say something, but I hold up my hand.
“I’m not giving this baby up. I’m not going to be ashamed of it, and I’m not going to do anything except love it and provide the best possible life I can for it.”
He stares at me, blinking two or three times. His eyes drop to my stomach, then slowly climb back up again. Wolfe nods, a slow breath passing through his lips. He rubs his forehead with his middle finger, gaze drifting off into nothing.
“You don’t want me involved?” His voice is small. Faraway. He’s hurt.
Ouch. My heart. This is harder than I thought it would be.
I take a deep breath, turning to glance out the window. “When I woke up this morning, there were a dozen reporters waiting outside my house. I had to rush to the car like some criminal hiding my face. That’s not the life I want for me or my child.”
“I wouldn’t want that life for you either,” Wolfe says slowly. “Those journalists are animals. Vicious, bloodthirsty jackals who only want to get a headline.”
I nod. “I’ve made arrangements to head back to Farcliff. My grandmother will come with me until she’s well enough to go back to the Summer Palace in the spring.”
“You’re leaving?” Pain cracks through his voice, sending agony spearing through my heart. Why is this so much harder than I thought? Leaving doesn’t seem so simple when the Prince looks like I just stabbed him in the chest.
I square my shoulders and nod. “If I stay, the rumors will only get worse.”
This morning, as I got ready, I decided I needed to go. Not just for the baby, but for me, too. I can’t stay in Nord, seeing the castle and the newspaper stories about the royal family without feeling my heart break. And I know the Prince and I can’t be together, so I have no choice.
But now, as I watch the Prince’s face crumple, it doesn’t feel right. I thought he’d understand. I thought he’d appreciate me leaving and not dragging him into a messy controversy. I thought he’d want me to go. I know how much he hates the media. How much Abby’s death hurt him. I thought I was doing him a favor.
Inhaling deeply, Wolfe takes slow steps toward me. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close. His hand climbs up my spine and tangles itself in my copper locks, and the Prince holds me tight.
My resolve weakens. He smells like home. His embrace feels like heaven—and I’m supposed to leave it behind?
The Prince pulls away, cupping his hands on either side of my face. “Is that what you want? You want to leave?”
“It’s what’s best for me and the baby…and you.”
His breath trembles. Brows draw together as his gaze shifts from one eye to the other. “But is it what you want?”
“Wolfe…”
“You can’t say my name like that—like it means something to you—and pretend you want to leave.”
“What choice do I have? What are you going to do, marry me? Keep me locked up in this castle and call me your princess for the rest of my life? That’s not what I want for my life, Wolfe. You know that. I want to be able to stand on my own.”
Dropping his hands from my face, the Prince backs away. He nods, turning his face away from me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s too much to ask of you. You have a business and a life in Farcliff.”
“It’s better if I leave. It makes things easier for you, too.”
“How would you know that?” His eyes cut to mine.
I don’t answer. What can I say?
The Prince inhales deeply, rapping his knuckles on the desk. He chews his lip and finally nods. “You’re right. It’s safer for you in Farcliff. I already lost Abby.” His eyes lift to mine. “I can’t lose you, too. I’ll make sure you have everything you need for the baby.”
Why does that hurt to hear? He says it like I’m asking for his money. Like I came here begging for a few coins to rub together.
I shake my head. “I don’t want your money, Wolfe.”
“That baby is mine, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“And what happens when the media finds out? It’ll be a lot worse than one article and a few paparazzi outside my house.” I shake my head. “This has to be a clean break, Wolfe. I have to leave. You have to let me go.”
“So that’s it, then? You inform me you’re the mother of my child and then tell me it’s over?”
“What’s over, Wolfe? Sneaking around behind closed doors? Pretending we’re not together whenever we leave this room?”
Tension ripples between us. I square my shoulders as pain shatters across my chest. This morning, leaving seemed logical. The best, most painless thing to do. Better for me, and the baby, and the Prince.
But right now, with him looking at me like I’ve just ripped his heart out of his chest, it doesn’t seem so good. I turn away, staring at the wall. My eyelids burn, but I refuse to cry. I will not cry. I can’t. If tears fall from my eyes, my resolve will weaken.
I need to leave. I need to be on my own and have my independence. I need to keep my child’s life free from controversy and the pressure of the media.
When my mother died, I vowed I’d take care of myself no matter what. That I wouldn’t rely on anyone. I wouldn’t be a burden. How can I turn around and stay here? How can I put this problem on Wolfe’s shoulders? How can I ask anything from him except to let me go?
And why does it make me want to cry until it hurts to breathe?
I turn to look at him in all his muscled glory. Crisp, white shirt tailored perfectly over his broad frame. Dark, slightly curly hair. Pale amber eyes like warm honey that made me fall in love with him the moment I saw them across from me.
In three steps, I could be in his arms. I could nuzzle against his skin and tear his clothes off, begging him to take me right here. I could ask for his forgiveness and tell him I’ll stay. He doesn’t have to marry me, or admit to being with me, or claim to be the father of my child. I’ll be happy with whatever scraps of attention he’s willing to give me if it just means being near him for one more minute. One more second.
But my feet stay glued to the floor, and my pride keeps me from dropping to my knees. I lift my chin up, knowing I can’t ask him to take care of me. I can’t beg him to love me. I can’t let him carry me through life when I know I can walk on my own.
My mother showed me exactly how strong I need to be to do this. I’ll take care of my baby, even if it kills me just as it did her.
This child isn’t a burden. It’s not a controversy, or a scandal, or a royal bastard to be splayed across the kingdom’s headlines.
This baby is my gift, and I’ll cherish it, even if it means saying goodbye to the Prince.
“Will you let me meet the baby, at least?” Wolfe’s voice is low. His brows are drawn together and damn it, my heart just shatters right there in my chest.
I won’t cry. I can’t cry. I need to be strong, to follow this through to the end and make sure I do what’s best for my child.
I should say no. I should tell him it’s a bad idea—his every move is tracked and photographed. How could we do it without fresh headlines being penned?
Call me weak, but I just can’t make my head shake. Instead, I just dip my chin down. “Maybe.”
Wolfe’s hands ball into fists as his teeth grind together. Amber eyes pour all their hurt and pain and anger into me, and I accept it all. I drink it up, because on some level, I think I deserve it.
Then he blinks, and the emotion is gone. “Okay. If that’s what you want. Goodbye, Rowan.”
I watch him walk out of the office, leaving the door open so I can listen to his fading footsteps.
27
WOLFE
I’m shell-shocked. I walk through the castle and find myself in the back gardens, staring at the frost-covered branches without feeling the chill in the air.
I’m going to be a father, but Rowan doesn’t want me to be involved.
Fate is laughing at me. It’s the only explanation.
Abby died in my arms, and I didn’t even know she was carrying my child. She probably didn’t know either. Her heart just stopped, and I couldn’t do a thing to save her.
Rowan’s carrying my child, too, but she’s taking it away from here to choose a better, more normal life. Twice I’ve loved. Twice I’ve let myself open up to a woman. Twice they’ve carried my child.
And twice, I’ve lost.
I would fight for Rowan. I’d beg her to stay, but deep down, I think she’s making the right decision. What kind of life can I give her?
Luxury, sure. All the finest clothing and food and wine she can imagine. A private tutor for our child and a big, expensive wedding.
Not her own business. Not her independence. She’d have to give up the things she cares about most just to be with me.
I wander through the castle gardens, powerless and alone. Broken-hearted. Resigned.
It was foolish of me to think I could have it all with Rowan. It was naive of me to believe I could have love and happiness. I already know what life is like. It beats you down and kicks you when you hit the ground. It batters you, day after day, until all you can do is blindly put one foot in front of the other.
Rowan was just a reminder of everything I’ve lost. She was a flash of happiness in my sad, gray life.
Of course she’s leaving. Why would she stay?
I walk until my fingertips turn blue, and finally head back inside. Winter will be here soon, and I’ll have to stay inside and think about everything I’ve lost. Everything I failed to protect.
Isn’t that what happened with Rowan, too? I was too much of a coward to ask her to be with me officially. I was too afraid, and the rumors got to her first. The media stood outside her door, and she felt unsafe, because I wasn’t there beside her. I couldn’t even give her the decency of a real relationship.
Now, she’s making the only choice she can, for herself and our child. She’s leaving.
I find my brothers in the billiards room. Silas looks relatively fresh, considering he was out until all hours last night. Jonah glances up at me from the felt-covered table. He takes a shot, then straightens.
“What happened to you? You look like death.”
“Feel like it, too.” I slump down onto a chair, dropping my head in my hands. “She’s leaving.”
I expect Silas to come out with some snarky comment. A callous jab at my sad little feelings. Instead, I feel a palm on my shoulder and I see my youngest brother looking down at me with nothing but sympathy. “Sorry, brother,” Silas says, his voice quiet. “Is it because of the article? All that will blow over. The newspapers just needed a headline—it’ll be forgotten by next week.”
“She’s leaving because the article is true.” I look from Silas to Jonah. “She’s pregnant with my kid.”
Jonah leans his pool cue on the wall, roughing his hand through his hair. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Silas takes a seat beside me, blowing a breath out. “What are you going to do?”
“Let her go,” I reply. “What else can I do?”
“Um, not do that.” Silas frowns. “You care about her, right?”
“What can I offer her, though?”
Jonah scoffs, then spreads his arm around. “All this? A royal title? Riches beyond her wildest dreams?”
I shake my head. “A gilded cage. She’s spent her entire adult life building up her architecture business. She’s been independent since she was young. She doesn’t want to be coddled and taken care of.”
“Everyone wants to be coddled and taken care of,” Silas says, snorting.
“Not Rowan. The media will eat her up, just like they did to—”
“Don’t say Abby,” Jonah interjects. “Stop blaming yourself for her death. She had an arrhythmia. Her heart malfunctioned. No one could have predicted it and even if she’d been in a hospital, it’s not certain they could have saved her.”
I shake my head. “It’s not about Abby. It’s about me. I just don’t deserve a woman who has as much spirit and heart as Rowan.”
Silas and Jonah exchange a glance. After a long pause, Silas squeezes my shoulder again. “Why don’t you go back to the Summer Palace? Clear your head for a while. At least there won’t be reporters crawling all over the place. You’ll have some privacy.”
Swallowing past a jagged lump in my throat, I glance at my brother. “Maybe I should have stayed there to begin with. I only came back to be with Rowan.”
“Does she know how you feel?” Jonah asks.
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want a relationship with me. She was pretty clear about it. She said it was best for her, the baby, and for me if she left. No need to save face. Less controversy. Less mess.”
“Just because she thinks that doesn’t mean it’s true,” Silas says quietly.
I glance at my brother, surprised to see he cares. He’s typically moving from one woman to the next, not worried about love or relationships. I didn’t even think he knew love existed—but he’s staring at me with understanding in his eyes.
Do I even really know my siblings? We’ve all been through our own battles, but I’ve been so focused on my own failures and pain that I haven’t taken the time to see them for who they are. I’ve been drifting on my own, wrapped up in my own grief. Silas isn’t just a party animal. Penelope isn’t an ice queen. Jonah isn’t the calm, logical person he appears to be—he has scars of his own. Don’t we all?
Just goes to show how fucking useless I’ve been. I couldn’t help Abby, and I don’t even know my own brothers and sister.
Rowan was right to want to leave. It’s the best thing for all of us. I’m better off on my own, away from people I can’t help.
Sighing, I nod to Silas. “You’re right. I’ll head back to the Summer Palace until spring. At least I’ll have some time to clear my head, and Chief will be there to keep me company.”
As I stand up, I feel the weight of my past on my shoulders. I’ve failed so many people, so many times. Even my siblings—haven’t I failed them, too? I don’t even know them. I don’t know their pain.
It’s better for me to leave. Nodding to my brothers, I stalk out the door and call for Eyvar to make arrangements for my departure. I’m going back to the Summer Palace, and I’m not coming back until I know I won’t hurt anyone else.
28
ROWAN
I stare at the castle staff member at the door to the office, trying to make sense of what he just told me. Wolfe is gone. He left without saying goodbye.
That’s his right, I guess. Just yesterday, I told him I intended to leave Nord this week and go back to Farcliff. Why would he stay here?
But for him to turn around and just leave? Like I’m nothing? Like the past six weeks didn’t even happen? He didn’t even tell me?
That hurts more than I can say, but I put on my best, professional face and thank the man for the information. I glance around the tiny office, thinking only of Wolfe.
There, on the desk, where we made love. How he scraped his teeth across my neck and drank me in with those eyes full of fire. The window where we stared out at falling snowflakes, feeling blissfully in love and unaware of the bombshell that would hit us.
All the while, I was carrying his child.
And he’s gone without a word.
It…hurts. Aches down to my marrow.
Slumping down in a chair, I drop my head in my hands. Logically, I know this is the right decision. If I stay, I force the Prince to either deny his connection to me or make it official.
I don’t want to enter a relationship with someone under those circumstances. Even if he wanted me to become part of this family, I wouldn’t want to feel like it was forced. Isn’t that just a recipe for disaster? The perfect place for resentment and bitterness to grow?
By leaving, I remove that choice. I make sure my child is protected from the reporters who just want a headline. I can live life on my terms. I can keep my business.
