A Bride For The Playboy Prince. Sandra MartonЧитать онлайн книгу.
had never given him access to her emotions and she wasn’t about to start now. Bitterness and vitriol were luxuries she couldn’t afford, because she might not have much—but she still had her pride. She opened her eyes and met the sapphire glint of his, only now she barely noticed their soft blaze—just as she no longer saw the beauty in his olive-skinned features. All she saw was duplicity and deceit.
‘Just go, Luc,’ she said.
He hesitated and for a moment she thought he might be about to come over to the bed and kiss her goodbye, and she tried to tell herself that she would slap his cheating face if he attempted that—because how was it possible to want something and to fear it, all at the same time? But he didn’t. He just turned and walked out of the bedroom and Lisa slumped back on the pillows and lay there, listening to the sounds of his leaving. The front door clicked shut and she heard the thud of his footsteps on the pavement before a door slammed and his powerful car pulled away.
She lay there until she needed to go to the bathroom and then padded across the room to where her discarded green panties lay and beside them a small, cream-coloured card, which must have fallen from his trouser pocket.
She picked it up and stared at it and a feeling of self-disgust rippled over her shivering skin. She’d thought it wasn’t possible to feel any worse than she already did but she was wrong. Oh, Luc, she thought. How could you? He had taken her to a party and had sex with her afterwards—but had still managed to bag himself a calling card from the beautiful Hollywood actress she’d seen at the wedding.
Compressing her lips together to stop them from trembling, Lisa crushed the card between her fingers and dropped it into the bin.
‘JASON THINKS YOU’RE PREGNANT.’
Lisa almost dropped the toddler-sized dress she had been in the process of folding and slowly turned her head to stare at her sister. They were sitting side by side on the carpet as they sorted out Tamsin’s clothes, deciding which ones would still fit her for the cold winter months ahead. But now the tiny dress dangled forgotten from her fingers as she looked into green-gold eyes so like her own. ‘What...did you say?’
Brittany appeared to be choosing her words with care. ‘Jason says you’ve got the same look I had when I was carrying Tamsin. And I’ve noticed that you’ve stopped wearing your own dresses, which struck me as kind of strange.’ Brittany gave a little wriggle of her shoulders. ‘Since you’ve always told me that wearing your own dresses was your best advertisement. And you’ve never been the kind of woman to slop around in jeans and a loose shirt before.’
Lisa didn’t answer as she put the dress down and picked up a tiny pair of dungarees, knowing she was playing for time but not caring. She didn’t owe Brittany an explanation. Or Jason, for that matter. Especially not Jason—who was so fond of judging other people but who never seemed to take the time to look at his own grasping behaviour.
But Jason’s scrounging was irrelevant right now, because somehow he had unwittingly hit on the truth and passed it on to her sister—and the hard fact remained that she was starting to show. At just over sixteen weeks Lisa guessed that was inevitable. Unless she was still in that horrified state of denial which had settled over her at the beginning, when the countless pregnancy tests she’d taken had all yielded the same terrifying results—but at least they’d explained why she’d felt so peculiar. Why her breasts had started aching in a way which was really uncomfortable. Eventually, she had taken herself off to the doctor, who had pronounced her fit and healthy and then smilingly congratulated her on first-time motherhood. And if Lisa’s response had been fabricated rather than genuine, surely that wasn’t surprising. Because how could she feel happy about carrying the child of a man who no longer wanted her? A man who was about to marry another woman?
‘So who’s the father?’ questioned Brittany.
‘Nobody you know,’ said Lisa quickly.
There was a pause. ‘Not that bloke you used to go out with?’
Lisa stiffened. ‘Which bloke?’
‘The one you were so cagey about. The one you never wanted anyone to meet.’ Brittany sniffed. ‘Almost as if you felt we weren’t good enough for him.’
Lisa bit her lip. It was true she’d never introduced Brittany or Jason to the Prince—and not just that she had been worried that Jason might attempt to ‘borrow’ money from the wealthy royal without any intention of ever paying it back. She’d known there was no future in the relationship and therefore no point of merging their two very different lives.
And she didn’t want to bring Luc into the conversation now. If she told her sister that she was expecting the child of a wealthy prince, Brittany would inevitably tell Jason and she wouldn’t put it past him to go hawking the story to the highest bidder. ‘I’d rather not discuss the father,’ she said.
‘Right.’ Brittany paused. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Do?’ Lisa sat back on her heels and looked at her sister blankly. ‘What do you mean, do?’
‘About the baby, of course! Does he know?’
No, he didn’t know—though she’d done her best to try to contact him. Lisa chewed on her lip. Even that had been another stark lesson in humiliation. She had tried to ring him on the precious number she still had stored in her phone—but the number was no longer in service. Of course it wasn’t. So she’d summoned up all her courage to telephone the palace in Mardovia, somehow managing to get through to one of his aides—a formidable-sounding woman called Eleonora. But Eleonora had stonewalled all her attempts to speak to the Prince and, short of blurting out her momentous news on the phone, Lisa had eventually given up—because how could she possibly disclose something like that to a member of Luc’s staff?
And if she was being totally honest, she had been slightly relieved, thinking perhaps it was better this way. He was due to marry another woman. Someone called Princess Sophie—a woman who had never done her any harm. How could she ruin her life by announcing that an impulsive one-night stand had resulted in another woman carrying his baby? Damn Luc Leonidas, Lisa thought viciously. Damn him for not bothering to tell her about his impending marriage before he’d jumped into bed with her.
‘No,’ Lisa said, steeling herself against the curiosity in her sister’s eyes. ‘He doesn’t know and he isn’t going to. He doesn’t want to see me again and he certainly doesn’t want to be a father to my child. So I’m going to bring this baby up on my own and it’s going to be a happy and well-cared-for baby.’
‘But, Lisa—’
‘No, please. Don’t.’ Lisa shook her head, feeling little beads of sweat at the back of her neck and so she scooped up the great curtain of curls and waved it around to let the air refresh her skin. She looked pointedly at her sister, her gaze intended to remind her of the harsh truth known to both of them. That a child brought up in a home with a resentful man was not a happy home. ‘I’m not asking your opinion on this, Brittany,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m just telling you how it’s going to be.’
There was a pause. ‘Is he married?’
Not yet.
‘No comment. Like I said, the discussion is over.’ Lisa gave a grimace of a smile as she rose to her feet. ‘But you’ve given me an idea.’
‘I have?’ Brittany looked momentarily puzzled.
‘Yes. I keep saying that you’re much cleverer than you give yourself credit for.’ Lisa narrowed her eyes, her mind suddenly going into overdrive. ‘And if I’m going to spend the next few months getting even bigger, I might as well do it in style.’
Brittany’s green-gold eyes narrowed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means that although I’ve had a few extra orders since I went to that