Bound by Their Royal Baby
Author
Nina Milne
Reads
18.8K
Chapters
15
A date to remember… and send them down the aisle! Read on in this royal pregnancy story, the second book in Nina Milne's Royal Sarala Weddings.
HER PREGNANCY CONFESSION…
Before Princess Marisa makes Saralan history as her country's first ever queen, she decides to throw caution to the wind. Online dating? Why not! It's a chance to have the unadulterated fun and anonymity she craves, at least temporarily. And when she meets guarded CEO Kieran, she's swept away by the frisson of electricity she feels… But now Marisa must find Kieran and tell him that their night together has bound them — forever!
PROLOGUE
PRINCESS MARISA OF SARALA looked across at her friend and shook her head emphatically. ‘Absolutely not. No way. Not happening.’
‘Just hear me out,’ Caro said, her green eyes sparkling as she topped up their glasses with the cocktail that she had assured Marisa was ‘mostly juice’. Though to be on the safe side Marisa was drinking the bright orange concoction slowly, appreciating each sip that mixed the sweetness of passion fruit with the tart taste of lime and a definite kick of something.
Marisa sighed. ‘OK. I’ll listen but I am not doing it. I am not joining a dating app.’ That was a given.
‘So, these are the facts,’ Caro said. ‘Fact number one. Your life is about to completely change. Correct?’
‘Correct.’ But it was a change she wanted with all her heart, though truth to tell she was still in shock at recent events. Just weeks ago, her younger brother, Rohan, had taken an unprecedented step in Saralan history and tradition and decided to abdicate his position as heir to Sarala, a small but prosperous Indian island that had been ruled by the royal Kamodian dynasty for centuries, passing from male ruler to male heir.
‘Fact number two. Right now on Sarala legal bigwigs are racing around working out how to upend tradition, drag Sarala into the twenty-first century and allow a female to become heir to the throne. Said female being you.’
‘Also correct.’ Marisa sensed most of them weren’t happy about it—come to that, her parents weren’t exactly happy about it either. Her whole life her parents had wanted her to be someone different from who she was and that had made their relationship complicated enough throughout her childhood. But then everything had been made worse when Marisa had messed up big time.
Even now remembered humiliation shuddered through her, along with a jolt of regret, a wish she could go back in time and change her own reckless actions. But she couldn’t and those actions had cost her so much: she’d lost her parents’ respect and she had spent the last ten years trying to regain it. But she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded, sensed their doubts as to whether she was capable of, worthy of, being heir.
Worry touched her, anxiety at the question she barely dared voice. What if they were right? What if she couldn’t do this? Wasn’t up to the job? Marisa knew her parents loved her, but she knew too that they loved Sarala more. Past events had proved that. If she messed up again, she’d be out. Again. Exiled. Again.
Enough—the past needed to be left in the past.
The most important thing now was that her parents had agreed to give her a chance and she would prove to them that she could do this. Could be heir and could eventually rule the kingdom as a good, just, fair ruler. Could take Sarala forward, make it a prosperous, happy place.
Caro waved a hand in front of her face. ‘Earth to Marisa! Can I continue?’ Without waiting for an answer, she did exactly that. ‘While legal matters are being attended to, you have come to stay in London, staying out of the limelight, and now you’re having dinner with me, one of your oldest friends and ex-sister-in-law, during this, your last week of freedom.’
‘Corr—’ Marisa broke off. ‘No! That’s not how I see it at all.’ Though trust Caro to be dramatic; she was after all a renowned actress, with a string of prestigious awards behind her. Which was why Marisa had insisted on having dinner in Caro’s house and had made sure she’d slipped in unobserved.
‘The opposite, in fact. I want this, Caro. My whole life I have felt how unfair it was that, despite being older, I couldn’t be heir to Sarala. Maybe I wouldn’t have minded if Rohan had really wanted the job, but he didn’t. You know that.’ Or maybe Caro didn’t. Despite having once been married to Rohan, a marriage that had been utterly disastrous, Caro had never really understood Rohan. ‘I want this. For me, this is freedom.’
Caro shrugged. ‘Fine. Wrong choice of words. I meant this is the last week where you can fly under the radar, do something as plain old Princess Marisa, sister to the heir of Sarala. It’s your last chance to actually go on a real date without public scrutiny.’
‘There’s no way I am going on a dating app as myself; the people of Sarala would not be impressed with their princess being on a dating app.’
‘OK. We’ll set your profile up as a “normal”, non-royal person. Your date need never know you are a princess. Come on, Marisa, it’ll be fun. Something to store in your memory bank. What can possibly be wrong with that?’
Marisa opened her mouth to point out all the answers and then paused to truly consider the question. Did Caro have a point? Her life was about to change in ways she could barely fathom, and she would never be able to fly under the radar again.
Aware that she’d been silent a while, she looked up to see Caro grinning at her. ‘Look. I’ve already set you up with a profile.’
‘Caro...’ But her protest sounded half-hearted even to herself. She sighed. ‘Fine.’
‘Perfect.’ Caro beamed at her. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
Kieran Hamilton looked across at his friend and business partner, and shook his head emphatically. ‘No. Absolutely not. No way. No. End of discussion.’
‘It wasn’t exactly a discussion,’ Mark pointed out. ‘I made a suggestion and—’
‘I said no. So there is no need for a discussion.’
‘Because you’re worried I have a point?’
‘No. Because I don’t want to waste your time.’ Kieran tried a smile. ‘Mark, I appreciate you mean well, but I have absolutely no wish to go on a date, so there is no point in me joining a dating app.’
‘Not now or not ever?’ Mark asked.
It was a fair question, albeit not one Kieran wanted to think about. ‘I’d be a fool to say not ever, but I can’t imagine ever having a relationship again.’ Not after the death of his wife. Aisla. Memories threatened to overwhelm him. Loss. Pain. Grief. Four years on and there was still the same searing, rending pain of guilt. Kieran wouldn’t, couldn’t try to replace Aisla; he owed her and their unborn child more than that.
‘I get that,’ Mark said, his voice gentle. ‘But I’m not proposing a relationship. I’m suggesting a date. One evening, a small taste of life, a strings-free dinner in a nice restaurant with a woman. Then you can get back to your reclusive hermit-style life in the depths of Scotland. What harm can one dinner do?’
‘I like my reclusive life.’ Belatedly he unfolded his arms, reminded himself there was no need to be defensive. There was nothing wrong with his life. He’d bought a house that needed a massive amount of renovation in the middle of nowhere and that was how he’d spent the past eighteen months. Ever since the company he and Mark and Lucy had started had taken off, when he had felt he could leave without letting them down. Once he’d left, he’d needed something, a project that exhausted him physically so he could at least sleep some nights, without the recurrent nightmares. It was only at Mark and his wife Lucy’s insistence that he visited London at all.
‘I get that too. All I’m suggesting is that you put yourself out there for one night. It won’t mean anything. You can be abundantly clear when you arrange it that it’s just a dinner. Hell. You might not even get any hits.’
‘Ha-ha-ha!’ This from Lucy as she walked in holding three beers. ‘You’ll get plenty of hits.’ Her expression became serious. ‘Do it to make Mark happy. Make us happy.’
Kieran sighed, glanced at Mark and realised that Lucy had a point. He knew they worried about him. They’d all been friends for years, since meeting at university. So, he conjured up a smile, a rueful shrug of his shoulders.
‘Fine. I’ll do it.’
Lucy clapped her hands. ‘Great. Now leave it to us.’
