The Billionaire Prince’s Pregnant Fiancée by Leslie North
20
Clara was almost light-headed with relief and joy. The evening had gone fantastically. She felt appreciated by the Fervian royal family, supported by the other island royals... and most of all, loved by Erik, who had doted on her all night. He'd been both physically and emotionally affectionate, not in any tacky way, but with little touches and warm smiles, and such an obvious delight that she was by his side. Her heart felt ready to burst.
The music turned slow, and Erik winked at her. "Wait right here," he said, then strode up to the stage where the musicians were set up. The singer relinquished the microphone. "I just wanted to sing a song for the woman I love," he said, to a chorus of "awwww" from the audience. With that, he broke into a slow, sweet, amazing love song, just for her. She felt ready to turn into a puddle on the floor. It was just like the night they'd met, only more intense. Because now, she knew that she loved him, and that they were going to be a family. She had never felt so embraced and accepted, and lucky, in her life.
When the song was over, the crowd applauded, many murmuring that they hadn’t realized that he was actually excellent with music, and Erik acknowledged it with a small smile before going to her side. "C'mon," he encouraged, as the band started playing another ballad.
She didn't question, just followed his lead as he nudged her down a hallway, through a pair of French doors, into a courtyard with a fountain. She could smell the flowers—something night-blooming and fragrant—and she could see the stars, like pinpoints of diamonds in the dark sky. It was all so beautiful.
The music was being piped out into the courtyard. He enveloped her in his arms, and they started to sway together. She sighed, snuggling her cheek against his chest. "I love you," she murmured.
He pressed a heated kiss against her temple. "I love you, too." They danced like that, in each other's arms. Then he pulled back, studying her intently. "I wanted to give you something."
She smiled. "I feel like you've given me everything already," she said, stroking his jaw. "What else could you possibly give me?"
"This." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. When he opened it, he revealed a gorgeous diamond engagement ring, delicate but stunning. Her eyes went wide. It wasn’t the one that the royal jeweler had given them. It was different and perfect.
"Oh my God, Erik. That is beautiful!"
He got down on one knee, and she felt her heart catch in her throat. "The first time, I told you we should get married," he said, slowly, his eyes intent on hers. "The second time, I gave you a plastic ring. The third time, we chose a ring that held no meaning to either of us." He kissed her knuckles gently. "This was my mother’s. I spoke with my father, and he agreed: she'd want you to have this." He paused for a beat. "If you'll have me."
She felt tears start to prickle at the corner of her eyes, and she let out a watery laugh. "Of course I'll marry you, you crazy man."
He laughed, then slipped the platinum band on her finger. It fit like it had been designed for her. She sighed, watching the stones sparkle in the light of the full moon. "I wish I could have met her," Clara said softly.
"I like to think she'll be watching over us and the baby," he said as he got to his feet and then wrapped his arms around her again. "The royal council wants the wedding to be soon—by the end of the month. But I told them I would only go through with it that quickly if we are both absolutely sure."
She bit her lip, thinking about it. They'd been rushed, true. But she felt like she knew Erik. That was what mattered... that they'd be there for each other. So why wait? "It'll be a big royal wedding, all pomp and circumstance, I suppose," she mused.
He nodded, looking embarrassed. "At least that should silence some of the critics."
"Don't worry about me. I'm tougher than I look," she promised.
He smiled, and the heat of his gaze made her skin tingle. "You're one of the strongest, most capable, most amazing women I know," he said. "And I love that about you."
"Still—I don't mind going through a royal wedding," she said, then patted her stomach. "I'm starting to show, a little. And various, erm, other things," she gestured vaguely to her chest, "are getting bigger. I don't think I'd be able to fit into this dress next week."
"Personally, I think it looks great on you." He leered humorously, and she gave him a gentle shove, chuckling.
"They're going to ask why we're getting married so quickly, big ceremony or not," she pointed out.
"Let them," Erik said. "We'll be in England by the time it becomes a big deal, anyway."
She blinked. "Wait. What?"
He reddened. "I mean... let me back up." He took a deep breath. "I want to support you, as a husband. In your dreams, and your passions. I want to help you in whatever ways I can. I know that you're independent, and that you don't want to be spoiled or pampered..."
"Erik," she said softly, "just spit it out."
He cracked a grin. "I want to pay for your education," he said. "To Oxford."
She gasped, her heart pounding against her rib cage as she clutched him. "Oxford? Really?"
"I’ve probably ruined your scholarship path," he said. "And to be honest, you're going to be the one who will be the most help to Fervia when it comes to statecraft. I'm deliberately stepping back from it. It's never interested me, and I've felt guilty and useless for not pursuing it more. I thought it would comfort my father after my mother died... I wanted to prove that she hadn't spoiled me, that I could still be a valuable member of the family, that she hadn't failed by encouraging me in my music. But then I realized I came at it wrong. I don't need to force myself to be something I'm not just to prove a point, especially when it could cause more damage than good. I can still contribute to Fervia. Just not the same way as Pelle, or my father." His smile was gentle, like summer sunshine. "Or like you."
She swallowed hard. Part of her was so used to having her dream out of reach that the whole thing felt surreal. Part of her, the one that had always kept her miserable, said it was too good to be true. "I don't want to take advantage..."
"I'm your husband," he said, cupping her face in his hands. "Or at least I'm going to be. I'm not spoiling you. I'm helping you invest in a future that will help countless people. And you'll help me, too. We'll lean on each other. Isn't that what marriage is supposed to be?"
A tear tracked down her cheek—one of happiness. "Yes," she said. "That's what it's supposed to be. Thank you, so much, for giving me my dream."
He kissed her, his mouth slanting over hers, until her skin was flushed and her head was dizzy. Then he held her close, and she could hear his heart pounding under her ear. He was just as affected as she was, and it made her almost giddy.
"So if I get back in, and while I'm studying my butt off, what are you going to be doing?" She froze. "You... are coming with me, right?"
"Of course I am! You're not getting rid of me that easily," he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll be married. Where you go, I go. Although in this case," he added ruefully, "that's strangely truer than I would've thought."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
He shifted his weight, looking both excited and sheepish. "I... um, am going back to school, too."
"You are?" she asked, shocked.
"To Oxford, if they'll have me—which, back when I was looking into graduate school, they did. I imagine they'll still be open to it." He looked happy and dazed—like she felt, she realized. "I never thought I'd be able to get my Master's in music composition. Always thought it was frivolous. But it's something I really love. So I'll be with you, studying my butt off as well."
"That's brilliant," she enthused, hugging him tightly. "You can hear it in your voice. This is perfect!"
"And don't worry—even with classes, I plan to be a hands-on father," he assured her. "It'll mean juggling for both of us. But plenty of other new parents have done it and survived," he added. "We'll make it work."
"Yes," she said. "Yes, we will."
"You know," he said, as they started to head back to the party, "as beautiful as this ring is… I still really like that little ring I got you in London. Thankfully, one of the castle staff found both rings and returned them to me. The jeweler already took back the first engagement ring, but the plastic…"
She laughed. "I'll wear it," she promised.
"I know we need to have the big public wedding, political optics and all that, but I was thinking... maybe we could have a private wedding, as well. Something just for you and me, with maybe a few friends and family," he said slowly. "Maybe when our little girl is older. She could be the flower girl?"
Clara wanted to cry at the sheer sweetness of the idea. "I like that," she said. "I like that a lot."
