Maisey Yates - The Queen's Baby Scandal

She stiffened, straightening her shoulders. “I am Queen Astrid von Bjornland. And I do not know anyone by that name. You are mistaken, sir.”

“And I am not blind. Your hair down, a bit more makeup and a bit more skin is hardly a convincing disguise, my Queen. If you wished to truly fool me you will have to try much harder than that.”

Irritation crept up her spine, irritation that he was not minding what he said in front of her guards. Irritation that he was here at all.

“Leave us,” she said, gesturing toward the guards.

The room cleared, every man leaving at her behest. At least she commanded authority over her own guards. There was that.

“Does every man in your life defer to you in such a manner?”

She met him full on, making her expression as imperious as possible. “Not just the men.”

“I am no one’s puppet,” he said.

“I did not need you to be a puppet.”

There was no point in lying to him. He wasn’t stupid. It was entirely too clear that they had met before. And there was something… Something between them, an electricity that arced across the space. There was no pretending anymore. She simply had to find out what he wanted and provide him with that, and try to end this encounter as quickly as possible.

“I need my freedom,” she said. “I am queen, and there are a great many people who don’t respect my position. I did what had to be done.”

“You tricked me into getting you pregnant.”

“I seduced you. I didn’t trick you. You went along with everything happily.”

“You said everything was all right. You said it was fine to have sex without a condom.”

“I said it was fine. And for my purposes it was. I sincerely hope that you don’t treat every hookup in such a casual manner when it comes to protection.”

“I don’t,” he said, the words gritted out through his teeth.

“Just with me, then. But still. I did not trick you. The fact that you assumed fine meant what you wanted it to mean and went along with it speaks to how foolish men are where sex is concerned.”

As if she would have been capable of making a more rational decision in the moment.

“I want my child,” he said.

“It’s my child.” Hers. Her child to love and to raise as she saw fit. To support and protect. And give all the things her parents never had. “By law. I can declare my child fatherless, and I have done so.”

“That might be a law, Queen Astrid, but it is not reality. I am the father of your child whether you speak it or not. And I am not one of your citizens.”

“No. But you are in my country. Which is where my child will be born. And my child is one of my citizens.”

“You underestimate me. You are so arrogant because of your position. You have no idea who you are dealing with. You feel that you face opposition? Do you truly understand what opposition is? It is not a disgruntled cough during a meeting that makes you feel as if someone might be challenging you. No. I will give you so much more than that. If you would like to learn about opposition, I will give you a study in it.”

“You should know that I don’t respond well to threats,” she said, her tone like ice. “Indeed, I don’t respond to them at all.”

“You don’t respond to empty threats. Because that is all the red-faced, posturing men that you’ve dealt with in the past have ever issued. But I will tell you, my Queen, my threats are never idle. They are very real. I might be a bastard of ignoble birth, but the power that I possess is very real indeed. What will the public think if I were to claim my child?”

“Why?” she asked. “It is my understanding that a man in your position will want nothing to do with the child. And that is one reason I selected you, lest you think that I meant you any harm or wanted anything from you.”

“You assumed you knew what manner of man I was based on the press and what they had written about me, and that was your first mistake. Tell me, Astrid, what does the press say about you? How true is it?”

“The press has never had occasion to write about a scandal of mine. And I knew full well going into this that I was inviting that. You cannot scare me.”

“You have imagined the wrong sorts of headlines, I think. I doubt what you want is a long-term custody battle looming over your head. The problem here is that you imagined me as a prop. A means to an end, but what you failed to see as you read all of those headlines, as you examine all those photos of me in the articles and imagine me touching you. Imagine me claiming that body of yours, and we both know you imagined it. That you got wet thinking of it late at night in your bed. You forgot what I am.”

Astrid drew back, her heart thundering. Because he was so close to the truth, it cut her close to the heart. He wasn’t wrong. She had imagined him as a chess piece. Capable of strategy, certainly, but she had also imagined that she could see ahead to every move he might make. That she understood what sort of man he was, and what he might want. But his standing here had proved already that he was not anything like she had anticipated.

She had thought of him as a barbarian, as a conqueror so many times. But in a vague, fantastical sense. In a sexual one. She had not thought in concrete terms about what it would mean to go up against this man.

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