Leah Ashton - His Pregnant Christmas Princess

He had wanted Ana. It had been a primal thing, a primal need—something he hadn’t experienced in so very long he hadn’t thought it was possible any more.

Sure, he’d looked at women since Jessica died, but he hadn’t needed a woman. He certainly hadn’t planned to be celibate for so long, but casual sex just didn’t appeal—in fact, it felt somewhat disloyal to Jess just to sleep with some random woman.

Although he could just imagine Jess telling him he was an idiot, and could practically hear her voice telling him it was impossible to cheat on a dead person.

Jess had always been pragmatic. She never would have expected or wanted him to be single for the rest of his life.

But sex with Jess had been special. He’d slept with a few women before Jess, but it had never been with them as it had been with Jess. With other women it had been fun, but it hadn’t been all-consuming. And now he’d experienced more , he didn’t want to return to less .

And tonight… Tonight those moments with Ana had felt like more . Different from Jess, but equally intense. And that intensity had shocked him.

He hadn’t been looking for it, and certainly hadn’t expected to discover it with a woman he was being paid to protect.

And, more important, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to want someone other than Jess. If, even after all these years, he was ready.

‘Mr North?’ Ana prompted.

‘At your service,’ Rhys said, with a deliberate grin. ‘How can I help?’

Her gaze travelled over his face, but it wasn’t the sensual exploration of before—now it looked as if she was trying to work out what was going on. Clearly his smile was not entirely convincing.

‘Where are Adrian and Dino?’ she asked.

‘In the guest house,’ he said.

‘The guest house ?’ Ana squeaked, her eyes wide. ‘Why would you have a guest house? You said you don’t have many guests.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t have any guests. It was here when I bought the place. The house only has two bedrooms—I guess the previous owner liked his own space as much as I do.’

‘So we’re alone ?’ Ana said, her voice still just a little higher-pitched than usual.

Her obvious discomfort helped Rhys relax a little. For some reason knowing they were both less than thrilled to be alone together helped.

Ana had had a big day—and, given she still called the guy she’d jilted her fiancé, maybe she was still in a relationship. Either way, pursuing anything with Ana given her current circumstances—regardless of the fact he was working for the palace—would be extremely uncool.

So maybe right now wasn’t the time to be concerned about his wants and needs or whatever. There was no maybe , actually—there was no need at all.

Because nothing was going to happen between him and Ana.

* * *

Rhys ate dinner with Ana—which she hadn’t really expected. But they didn’t speak much while they ate, which suited her. The reality of the day required silence for her brain to begin to process it.

Had she really begun today planning to marry one man in Vela Ada and ended her day in a different country with another man altogether? Had she really done that? How had that happened?

Rhys had apologised for the lack of ‘fancy’ food. He’d heated up some lasagne he’d said he bought from a lady down in Castelrotto—the nearest town to Rhys’s property—and cooked some frozen potato wedges in the oven, but it had been fine. Ana hadn’t been in the mood for ‘fancy’ anyway. She didn’t really feel she deserved it, given she’d probably caused the waste of the hundreds of fancy meals planned for her wedding reception.

She’d forgotten to ask Petar about that. She hoped that at least some of the food had been somehow repurposed. Maybe for a homeless shelter? Or maybe gifted to the army of staff who had worked at the reception venue?

Anyway, Ana did know that the reception hadn’t gone on without her. She had naively hoped that maybe everyone had headed to the palace anyway, after it had been announced that the wedding wasn’t happening. She’d imagined a great big party, everyone having a fabulous time without her, dancing to the live band, drinking all the very expensive champagne.

That idea had made her feel a little better—at least if the party had gone ahead, then she hadn’t ruined the day for everyone . There’d been something salvaged from it.

But, no. Petar had said everyone had just gone home after they’d worked out that there really wasn’t going to be a wedding.

‘What would they have been celebrating?’ he’d asked, incredulous.

Which was a fair comment, Ana acknowledged.

What she hadn’t said in reply was: They could’ve celebrated me realising just in time that marrying you would be a terrible mistake.

Ana imagined a ballroom full of people, all dancing in celebration of Ana the Runaway Princess, maybe with balloons and streamers…

‘May I ask what you’re smiling about?’ Rhys asked.

He’d pushed his seat back a little and relaxed into it. His plate was empty, his cutlery neatly placed diagonally.

Ana covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I shouldn’t be smiling,’ she said. ‘I hurt a lot of people today.’

Not only Petar, but her mother too. Her grandparents. Her friends.

‘But you were smiling,’ Rhys prompted. ‘You have been for several minutes.’

How hadn’t she noticed him looking at her?

She didn’t know how to answer his question. As she’d said, she shouldn’t be smiling. She shouldn’t be feeling happy . She should be feeling bad. Guilty.

‘Why do you think I’m smiling?’ she threw back at him.

He folded his arms in front of his broad chest. ‘I have no idea,’ he said calmly. ‘That’s why I asked. I was curious.’

‘I’d rather not say,’ she said quickly. Then added, keen to change the subject, ‘Where in Australia are you from?’

‘Melbourne,’ he said.

That was it—no further elaboration. They fell into another silence.

Ana realised that Rhys was waiting for her to finish her meal before leaving the table, which was very polite of him. She knew she should tell him he didn’t need to wait for her—given she had so unexpectedly turned up at his doorstep, she could hardly expect him to be an attentive host. But she didn’t.

She liked having Rhys sitting at the table with her. She liked him , she realised. On a day that was definitely a low point in her life, he’d managed to make her smile—more than once.

Sure, she’d freaked out a bit when she’d realised they’d be alone in his house together, but it was clear now that nothing was going to happen between them. She hadn’t been able to interpret his expression when she’d first walked into the kitchen, after her call with Petar, but it had certainly held none of the heat from before. But it wasn’t that stony emptiness he seemed to so easily switch to either—that expression that gave nothing away.

If anything, she would have said he looked sad.

But that didn’t seem to fit with this strong, handsome, confident man—and she’d seen no evidence of sadness since.

She must have imagined it.

‘My fiancé seems to think I just have cold feet,’ she said suddenly.

Rhys’s expression was instantly uncomfortable. ‘You want to talk about your fiancé with me ?’

Ana shrugged. She needed to talk to someone . ‘You asked why I was smiling. I thought you might be interested.’

‘That was because you have a nice smile—not because I want to know the details of your relationship.’