She walked out the door and gently closed it. He waited a minute and then sat at his desk. Once he was sure no one was outside the door, he called the number Anna had given him. Pierre answered on the first ring. Leo said fast, “Pierre, I need you to drive to the royal hospital and ensure Francesca Goodrum does a pregnancy test, and if that is positive, I need her to take a paternity test.”
Pierre’s voice was hesitant as he asked, “Paternity test, Sire?”
Fair. He should probably explain. He massaged the back of his tense neck. “She says she’s pregnant with my child. I need to be sure before we proceed.”
“I’m on it, Sire.”
“Good man.” Leo stood and peered out the windows to the ocean below. Anna was walking alone on the beach, her dress a different hue than the sea. “I’ll be back to the palace in a few days. Any developments I want you to report right to me, and not Anna Camila on this.”
“Yes, Sire,” Pierre answered.
He hung up and went to his room, changed into a short-sleeved polo, and headed downstairs.
The staff was chipper and talking to themselves, and he ordered coffee from them before he strolled outside in the sun.
For the rest of the day he would enjoy himself with Anna, and tell her Francesca’s possible condition as soon as he knew for sure. If it came to pass, then he would promise to never cheat or hurt her in any way ever, including publicly, again. This would play out badly on the news and she would need to be prepared.
He had to protect her from his own mistakes.
He would explain once he had all the facts from the doctor in a day or two. As he made it to the beach, he heard Anna splashing her feet in the ocean and saw her flats kicked up on the sand—Anna didn’t seem to care that her dress was getting wet.
He bent down to take off his shoes when his phone rang in his back pocket.
He checked it and his heart stopped.
Pierre was to handle this. Francesca shouldn’t interrupt his honeymoon with Anna. Leo stepped back. “Francesca, my new secretary will join you at the hospital. Please call the royal palace at the number I just sent you.”
She sighed and said, “I wish you could be here.”
This wasn’t good. While Anna was still a mystery, he’d never hurt her with another woman, especially Francesca. “Francesca, I’m a married man now.”
Francesca’s voice was thick as if she was crying. “Doesn’t change how I feel. I love you, Leo.”
Or she loved his money. One day she’d be someone else’s wife. Perhaps he’d tell Pierre to find some other noble desperate to marry and send Francesca off. His ancestors would have gotten rid of mistresses that way. His voice was tight as he said, “Goodbye.”
He hung up the phone and put it in his back pocket, then took off his shoes and folded up the hem of his pants so he wouldn’t get wet in the surf. Anna laughed while water sprayed against her legs and he noticed how perfect she was in the damp fabric.
How had he not seen those legs in the skirts she’d worn?
Clearly he’d been blind because she was molded much better than any model he’d ever entangled himself with.
From now on, he’d never be so stuck up that he missed what was right in front of his nose.
She turned around when he neared. A wave smacked against her back, but she didn’t even flinch. She brushed her salty hand on his face. “You look pensive. Is everything okay?”
One day soon he’d tell her. He had to. But first he’d solve his own mess, so he laced his fingers with hers and said, “It is now that I’m with you.”
Anna blinked sea water from her lashes. High tide was rolling in—he should have brought her a towel. “What kind of emergency do you have Pierre dealing with?”
Her mouth had a blue tinge due to the cold temperature of the water. She needed to get out before she caught a chill. He walked her toward the beach as he asked, “What?”
She followed until their toes dug into dry sand. “You called me once in the middle of the night to ensure your horse was ready to ride early in the morning.”
He led her toward their shoes and handed hers to her, not that she’d put them on. Her feet were as sandy as his. Leo showed her a small water valve to clean them. “I’m spoiled, Anna Camila. I always have been.”
She turned it on like she was some servant still and motioned for him to wash his feet first while she said, “You’re a prince destined to be a king. I guess that’s expected.”
His wife needed to understand she was to be queen. He tapped her lower leg and positioned her calf in the stream of water. “Anna, I need to talk to you about something.”
