wouldn’t make the same decisions her mother had. Her child would be wanted. Her child would be loved.
She looked up to find the king very close, having taken a couple of steps towards her, obviously to provide some support. But already the shock and self-pitying thoughts that had assailed her were fading away, crushed by the growing strength of her determination.
Anna pushed herself to her feet and met his blue gaze, watching in some satisfaction as surprise rippled across his roughly handsome features. ‘I don’t care what you say.’ Her voice this time was heavy with certainty and almost as hard as his. ‘I’m keeping this baby. And I will never get rid of it. This baby is mine.’
A deep blue glow sparked in his gaze. ‘I haven’t said anything, and if you think I’m going to order you to get rid of it, then you’re sadly mistaken. This baby is mine also and of course you will be keeping it.’
Somewhere inside her something instinctive and old as time warmed in approval and satisfaction, but she ignored it. A wave of emotion was building in her, part shock, part anger, part joy and a few other things that she couldn’t untangle. It made her heart race. The numbness had receded and so had the light-headedness and nausea, leaving behind it nothing but flames. She was on fire, burning up with reaction and nowhere to direct it.
Nowhere but at him.
‘Are you sure about that?’ she shot back heedlessly. ‘When you don’t have time for the child you already have?’
The blue spark in his eyes became a flame, joining the ones already burning inside her, the intense tangle of emotion coalescing into something much hotter and much more definite.
He was so close and his scent was around her, his big, hard body right in front of her. And she could feel the heat of him, the fire that burned inside of him despite his icy exterior. The same fire that burned inside of her, and suddenly she was hungry. It had been weeks since she’d touched him, weeks since she’d been anywhere near him, and it felt like too much. She was so lonely and here he was, his heat burning away the dark.
The baby wasn’t real, not in this moment, and the future impossible to contemplate, but he was real and he was hot. He was strong and powerful, and he filled up her entire world.
She lifted her hands to touch him but he caught her wrists, his fingers like manacles of fire on her delicate skin, his strength overwhelming.
‘Adonis.’ His name came out, part prayer, part plea, part command.
And the blue flame in his eyes leapt high.
‘Please,’ she said.
His fingers tightened, and that was the only warning she got as he lowered his head and took her mouth.
There was no thought, only action. Only the fierceness of the anger he couldn’t control, no matter how hard he tried, and it came thick and hot, leaping high as she challenged him, flinging a truth at him that he didn’t want to hear. And then when her silver gaze had caught fire, that anger had exploded into a deep and instinctive desire.
He didn’t know what had changed, whether it was simply their chemistry reacting in proximity to one another, needing only a spark to ignite it, weeks of denial turning into wildfire, or whether it was something deeper.
Something to do with her carrying his child and the decision he’d made as he held her in his arms on the flight through the darkness to his island, his mind already sorting through possibilities and plans after the doctor’s shock revelation. He could have laid her on the seat next to him, but the strong sense of possessiveness that had gripped him on hearing the news, the same possessiveness he’d felt the night he’d first taken her, wouldn’t leave him. This time he didn’t resist it and kept hold of her instead.
He had been angry—no, more like furious—with himself. Because it was no one’s fault but his that this had happened. He was the one with the experience and he was the one who knew that even with condoms there was a small failure rate. And there was nothing to be done about it. It had happened and the fierce protectiveness that had rushed through him, as strong as the possessiveness, wouldn’t be denied, no matter what justifications he gave himself.
He knew what he must do. Nothing was certain until after the twelve-week mark