The King's Bride By Arrangement - Annie West Page 0,53

signalled more than Paul’s birthday. As if people knew that, after years of austerity, things were looking up.

Eva enjoyed herself, especially the two waltzes with Paul, clasped close in his embrace as if he’d never heard of royal protocol and simply wanted to envelop her. Her heart still hammered too fast after the sheer delight of swirling through the glittering crowd, lost to the joy of being in his arms.

But reality had intervened soon enough. It had been in the supper room, when she’d been confronted with a plate of tiny pancakes topped with smoked salmon and gleaming caviar.

She’d tried to tell herself it was the heat and the press of the crowd, but for a moment she’d felt nausea well. Instantly she’d retreated, excusing herself for the quiet of a withdrawing room, taking slow breaths and dampening her nape and wrists with cold water.

She was fine now. No more nausea. It was probably just nerves.

Except she’d been in St Ancilla five weeks and still hadn’t had her period.

Usually that wouldn’t bother her. Eva’s cycle was notoriously irregular. Which meant she was worrying about nothing.

Except this time there was just a possibility she was pregnant. Condoms weren’t a hundred percent effective.

Heat danced in her veins as she remembered Paul straining against her. His hoarse shout of elation as he’d powered into her and she’d been swept up into bliss.

Yes, pregnancy was definitely a possibility.

But not, she told herself, probable. And the more she fretted...who knew? Could stress delay her period?

She needed to take a pregnancy test.

She wasn’t able to leave the palace, walk into a pharmacy and ask for a test kit. The world would know within hours.

Instead she’d contacted her best friend and asked her to buy one and send it to her. A courier had arrived with the parcel while Eva had been dressing for the ball. She’d been torn between the need to discover the truth straight away and the knowledge that she’d never maintain the façade of calm she needed at the royal event if she discovered she was pregnant.

Or if she discovered she wasn’t. Eva was honest enough to realise part of her would be disappointed at the news she wasn’t carrying Paul’s child, despite the complications a baby would create.

Tonight, as soon as she returned to her suite, she’d take the test.

Decision made, she stood straighter before the mirror, taking time to smooth a stray lock of hair, fixing it back into the low-set knot behind her head. She smoothed the glittering silver dress with hands that barely trembled. On her head sat the gorgeous tiara Paul had loaned her.

Wearing this dress and jewellery, she looked the part of Paul’s bride-to-be. All she had to do was keep her composure a little longer and she could escape to her room.

Eva hadn’t counted on the pair of women gossiping at a side entrance to the ballroom.

They stood with their backs to her, yet their voices carried down the otherwise deserted corridor.

‘Do you think it’s true, that she really was trawling night clubs looking for a one-night stand? That she’s the sort who’s never satisfied with just one man?’

‘It’s possible. That photo...’ A shrug of plump shoulders. ‘On the other hand, you noticed what she’s wearing, of course.’

‘It’s an amazing gown. I’ll give her that. She dresses well.’

‘Not the dress, the tiara. My sister-in-law used to be a lady-in-waiting to the old Queen. If I remember rightly, that’s the tiara she told me about. The one that’s never been worn by anyone but the Queen of Ancilla. Now, I ask you, would he give her that to wear if he knew she was some little tart he can’t trust to keep her legs together?’

Eva faltered to a stop, stunned. Not by the carelessly vicious gossip but by the news she was apparently wearing something that rightly belonged to the country’s Queen.

Could it be true? Why would Paul let her wear it in that case? They were due to end their engagement soon. Such a gesture could only dredge up more speculation about them.

Her heart thundered and her skin prickled all over as she tried to make sense of the gesture. But this wasn’t the time or the place. Any minute now, the gossips would turn and see her.

Too late. Her half-formed thought of heading back the way she’d come died as the women both sank into deep curtseys.

There, stepping out of the ballroom in front of them, was Paul, the scowl on his face as black