He grimaced. ‘The day of Rodrigo’s death.’
She’d thought of that, too. She nodded once.
‘So what was your plan?’ He returned to his questioning, his voice cold.
‘I barely had a plan.’
‘You chose not to tell me about the baby,’ he pointed out.
Babies,she wanted to scream.
‘So then what?’
‘I—I’m going to go home. To New Zealand,’ she whispered.
His face was carefully blanked of emotion but something stirred in the depths of his eyes. ‘I see. And then what?’
‘Then I’d take care of… I’d…never bother you again. You’re free to keep going with your life, just as it’s been planned out for you.’
‘Were you ever going to tell me about the baby?’
‘Of course I was,’ she said. ‘I’ve spent my whole life not knowing who my father is, there’s no way I’d inflict that on another soul.’
He took several steps closer, then thrust his hands onto his hips. It drew her attention to his taut physique. She had to look away again quickly.
‘When were you going to tell me?’
‘Eventually.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
She bit into her lower lip, then stopped when his eyes dropped to the gesture.
‘When you were married,’ she whispered. ‘And had a baby—a royal heir.’
He let out a slow breath, dragged one hand through his hair and then cursed. ‘You’re serious?’
‘It seemed best for everyone.’
‘Best for our baby not to know me?’
She flinched. She hadn’t expected him to feel that way.
‘That is my child,’ he gestured towards her, ‘and that child is a Prince or Princess of Castilona. Their place is here.’
Her skin paled. It was everything she’d been most afraid of—that he would take her baby and raise him or her with his perfect princess wife. But now there weretwobabies to consider. She dropped her head a moment, sucking in air.
‘Our babies’ place is with me,’ she struggled to say.
Silence crackled in the room. She waited on tenterhooks for him to sayYes, of course. To sayanythingthat would calm her anxiety. But he held the silence, simply staring at her until her stomach was in too many loops to function.
‘When did you find out?’
She closed her eyes on a wave of feeling. ‘Does that matter now?’
‘When?’ His response was taut, flattened by stress.
What was there to gain from obfuscating? ‘A couple of days after the last time…’
