Leah Ashton - His Pregnant Christmas Princess

The casually spoken compliment did not go unnoticed, and Ana fought the blush that crept up her neck. She kept on talking in an effort to ignore it. ‘I just thought it was weird,’ she continued. ‘I thought he should know I wouldn’t do something so dramatic on a whim.’

Rhys didn’t say anything, but equally he didn’t get up, even though she’d now also arranged her cutlery in the ‘finished’ position.

‘He was incredibly calm on the phone before. If someone did that to me, I’d be really angry. Wouldn’t you?’

Rhys shrugged, non-committal.

‘He was all kind and patient and supportive. And you know what’s also weird?’ Ana didn’t wait for an answer—not that she expected one. ‘He didn’t seem particularly hurt. He made the conversation all about me —about how I must have felt so stressed, and overwhelmed, and how so much has happened in my life in the past twelve months, blah-blah-blah…’ She sighed. ‘Not that I want him to be feeling terrible, but I expect I would. I mean, I know I would if the man I loved didn’t turn up to our wedding.’

Ana looked down at her fingers as she absently traced the curved edge of her dinner plate. Her nails still looked immaculate, yesterday evening’s French manicure remaining perfect and unchipped.

‘It actually makes me a bit angry, really, that he was so calm,’ Ana realised. ‘If he cared about me, he’d…well, care more.’

‘Maybe he prefers to keep his emotions close to his chest,’ Rhys said.

Ana’s gaze jerked up to meet his gaze. ‘Or maybe he’s just continuing to be the perfect fiancé he always has been.’

She knew she didn’t make it sound as if that was a good thing.

‘You don’t want a perfect fiancé?’ Rhys asked.

‘No one’s perfect,’ Ana said. ‘But Petar has done everything in his power to pretend to be. Today I finally stopped lying to myself. Petar is prepared to do anything to become a member of the Vela Ada royal family. He’s never loved me.’

Despite acknowledging to herself that she didn’t love her fiancé, and subsequently realising today that Petar didn’t love her either, saying it out loud made it all real.

And that hurt.

Her gaze fell back to her plate as hot tears prickled.

‘It was always too good to be true,’ she said. ‘A man like Petar would never have wanted someone like me if I wasn’t a princess. Even today, after I’ve humiliated him, he’s still doing everything he can to change my mind. The way he’s reacted is supposed to be endlessly understanding and romantic, but really it’s all a total farce.’

Rhys murmured something that sounded a bit rude under his breath, but Ana didn’t quite catch it.

‘Pardon me?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

Ana straightened her shoulders and then pushed back her chair, ready to stand.

‘Wait,’ he said. He met her gaze and held it. ‘You made the right decision.’

‘How do you know that?’ Ana asked. ‘Because I can tell you know you did—even if you haven’t realised it yet,’ he said. ‘And also, a guy who is sitting back in Vela Ada, rather than doing everything in his power to find you, to try to change your mind? Well, he’s not the right guy. He doesn’t deserve you if he won’t fight for you.’

After her day—and the confusing maelstrom of guilt and hurt and disappointment that continued to whirl within her—it was the perfect thing to hear.

And he was right. She could regret hurting people, but she couldn’t regret finally coming to her senses.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and it would have been so easy to lose herself in the depths of his blue-grey gaze. In the gaze of a man she had no doubt would fight for the woman he loved. But instead she stood, and then added, ‘…Mr North.’

IT TOOK HOURS for Ana to fall asleep.

Her thoughts weren’t particularly coherent as exhaustion warred with her overthinking, but they centred mostly on her immediate family: her mother and grandparents. How must they be feeling?

Her mother had sent her several text messages, but she’d responded to only one, just to reassure her she was okay and would be home in a few days’ time.

Her mother would be devastated. She’d fought for years for Ana to be acknowledged by the royal family, and now that she had been, her mother was convinced Ana’s life was perfect. Petar had been a natural progression of that perfection—the living embodiment of all of her mother’s dreams come true.

Ana could see now that she’d bought into it too—that she’d allowed herself to be swept up in Petar and the idea she was living a fairy-tale happy-ever-after.

Their engagement, and then agreeing to a televised wedding—it had all been part of Ana’s fantasy life. The life that her mother had always dreamed of for her only daughter.

Maybe that was why she’d allowed it to go so ridiculously far, despite her reservations—which she had had, no matter how well she’d repressed them. Maybe she’d just wanted to make her mother happy.

But that felt like such a cop-out. Ana was her own woman. She alone was ultimately responsible for dating Petar, for accepting his proposal and for actively organising her own magazine-spread wedding.

She’d done all that, and now, as she tossed and turned in a strange bed in the mountains of Northern Italy, she was no closer to working out why…

Thanks to the heavy blackout curtains in her room, it was dark when Ana eventually woke from a dreamless sleep. She had a shower, got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and headed out into the kitchen.

It was mid-morning, and the curtains that had covered the walls of windows last night had all been pulled aside, revealing the remarkable view the house offered of the surrounding Dolomites. And what a spectacular view it was—all snow-capped mountain ranges and emerald tree-filled vistas that rolled and dipped. Even though it was November, the sun was bright today, showcasing the stunning view in perfect, postcard-worthy light.

However, Ana didn’t spend a particularly long amount of time admiring the view, as just at her left she had an alternative view on offer.

Rhys North, jogging on his treadmill.

His back was to her as he ran, his attention focused on the view in front of him.

He wore a loose sleeveless T-shirt that revealed arms and shoulders heavy with muscle, and knee-length jogging shorts. All his clothing was dark with sweat, which possibly should have been unattractive, but somehow Rhys managed to make sweat seem virile and strong.

He must have heard her, because he punched a button on the treadmill’s console and slowed to a walk.

He turned to catch her gaze over one shoulder. ‘Just need to cool down,’ he said.

Ana walked up to him. ‘Good morning,’ she said.

He grinned a greeting. ‘Good morning to you too.’

‘Sorry about last night,’ Ana blurted out suddenly. ‘I shouldn’t have rambled on about all that stuff. You’re my bodyguard, or my hotelier or something—’

‘Security consultant,’ Rhys interjected helpfully, with another grin.

‘Okay,’ Ana said. ‘ Security consultant. But that definitely doesn’t require you to play psychologist or counsellor. I’m sure you didn’t want to hear all the messy details of my relationship.’

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t mind.’

He pushed another button and the treadmill came to a stop. He then unselfconsciously used the bottom of his shirt to clear his brow of sweat, the action revealing what seemed like hectares of muscular abdominal ridges.

Oh, my.