The Earl's Pregnant Bride

The Earl's Pregnant Bride
Christine Rimmer

THE STICK TURNED (ROYAL) BLUE…And now the princess is in a pickle. Because the night that Genevra Bravo-Calabretti and the new Earl of Hartmore, Rafael DeValery, turned to each other, it was for comfort upon the death of his brother–the man who was about to propose to Genny. It was not supposed to change their lives forever.But it had. For Rafe, it cemented his awareness that he'd been in love with Genevra since forever. And for Genny, it made her realize that Rafe was not the second-chance brother, but the one who'd held her heart all along…now all she had to do was convince him of that. Hopefully before the new heir(ess?) to the estate arrived…

“I’ll take care of everything.” His gaze never wavered.

Her stomach lurched. “What does that mean?”

“We’ll be married.” He said it without a pause, without the slightest hesitation.

And she wanted to cry again—partly from another, stronger, wave of relief. And partly because, really, it was all wrong.

Once, she’d dreamed of marrying his brother. It had to be beyond inappropriate simply to switch brothers. And since those four magnificent days two months ago, Rafe had made something of an art form of avoiding her. A man you marry shouldn’t spend weeks dodging you—and then, at the mention of a baby, drop right to his knees and propose.

* * *

The Bravo Royales: When it comes to love, Bravos rule!

The Earl’s

Pregnant Bride

Christine Rimmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oregon. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com (http://www.christinerimmer.com).

For Tom and Ed.

I miss you both so much.

Contents

Cover (#u963c6589-2ba4-50ff-b76d-130adb6f2b8e)

Excerpt (#u6039ad2d-61fe-5a5f-a7f1-f11a47db2932)

Title Page (#ued368ae2-a5ee-5660-a040-31727b3ec319)

About the Author (#u39b2a77f-18ae-5903-99b6-31b1abf76063)

Dedication (#uc39dabf1-8c8e-5d6b-a18a-3e2cde021ae4)

Chapter One (#ulink_ca6f6cf3-9ca1-5ad4-821e-19a060c06198)

Chapter Two (#ulink_5fd0b6c0-ad5b-55a9-93b0-a0b074da5463)

Chapter Three (#ulink_264401d4-a09b-5a04-9788-f895b54bb1c4)

Chapter Four (#ulink_367c5f35-cc94-5330-afec-84643a26ef92)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_4248bac6-e0c7-5435-8ca8-0d0403a6b79b)

Genevra Bravo-Calabretti, princess of Montedoro, heaved the lightweight ladder upright and braced it against the high stone wall.

The ladder instantly tilted and slid to the side, making way too much racket as it scraped along the rough old stones. Genny winced and glanced around nervously, but no trusty retainer popped up to ask her what she thought she was doing. So she grabbed the ladder firmly, righted it and lifted it, bringing it down sharply to plant it more solidly in the uneven ground.

Breathing hard, she braced her fists on her hips and glared at it, daring it to topple sideways again. The ladder didn’t move. Good. All ready to go.

But Genny wasn’t ready. Not really. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready.

With a very unprincesslike “Oof,” she dropped to her bottom in the dry scrub grass at the base of the wall. Still panting hard, she wrapped her arms loosely around her spread knees and let her head droop.

Once her breathing evened out, she leaned back on her hands and stared up at the clear night sky. The crescent moon seemed to shine extrabright, though the lights from the harbor below obscured most of the stars. It was a beautiful May night in Montedoro. She could smell roses, faintly, on the air.

A low moan escaped her. It wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair. She ought to be out with friends in a busy café or enjoying an evening stroll on her favorite beach. Not dressed all in black like a lady cat burglar, preparing to scale the wall around Villa Santorno.

Useless tears clogged her throat. She willed them away. She’d been doing that a lot lately, pulling herself back from the brink of a crying jag. The worry and frustration were getting to her. Not to mention the hormones.

She didn’t want to do this. She felt ridiculous and pushy, in addition to needy and unwanted and more than a little pathetic.

But seriously, what choice had he given her?

“I am not going to cry,” she whispered fiercely as another wave of emotion cascaded through her. “Absolutely not.” With the back of her hand, she dashed the moisture from her eyes.