Carrying A King's Child

She pulled her shirt on and then tucked her underwear into her purse and started for the door. He watched her walk out. Part of him wanted to run after her and make her stay so he could talk her into trying a relationship or maybe even marriage. Another part wanted to scoop her up and run away with her to some Pacific island where no one would know their names, far enough away from his family and everyone they knew.

But Emily was a brave sort of woman, and running had never been his style, either, so he had no choice but to get dressed and head down to the car.

His father didn’t speak to him the entire way to the airport. Rafael III had wanted the throne enough to try to convince his ex-wife to come back, but Rafe’s mother wasn’t interested in doing anything to help out her former husband. To say the two of them had a strained relationship was putting it mildly.

They were a prime example of how getting married to the wrong person didn’t make for a happy family. Rafe had the childhood to prove it.

During the ride, his cousin Juan Carlos spoke too much. Telling him what was expected of the next king of Alma.

Juan Carlos had been orphaned and seemed to be fixated on the monarchy as a way of proving to himself and the rest of the family that he could carry on his parents’ legacy. Perhaps if Rafe’s parents hadn’t divorced and been horrible to each other, he’d have felt the same way about the family honor.

Rafe freely admitted to himself that if Emily’s pregnancy became public knowledge it would create a scandal that would make protecting that legacy even more difficult. But Rafe tuned Juan Carlos out and tried to figure out what he expected of himself as a man.

Three (#ud4afa1ee-3426-5d08-b5d6-7090015dc2e2)

Key West was a tourist town and there was no getting around that. The atmosphere was laid back and everyone had a sort of hungover look. There was something about being on the edge of the ocean that inspired indulgence in sun, sand and drinks.

Emily sat on the front porch of her flamingo-pink and white cottage with her feet propped on the railing, desperately needing to absorb that laid-back attitude. She’d left Miami and Rafe behind. She’d done what she’d set out to do, namely tell him he was going to be a father. That had gone well—differently than she’d expected, but the end result was the same. She was back here.

Alone.

“Em. Your mom asked me stop by,” Harry said as he walked around the side of the house.

He was tall, at least six five, and wore middle age well. His reddish-blond hair had thinned a little but was still thick enough, and he wore it cut short in a military style. His beard was equal parts red, blond and gray, and he had an easy smile. He was the closest thing she had to a dad. So she was glad to see him.

“Why?” Emily asked. Though she knew why her mom had sent Harry. If anyone could make her forget her troubles it was the jovial bar owner.

“She thought you might need some company. She’s on her way back to port but won’t be here until tonight.”

Emily sighed. “I don’t really want any company.”

“Figured you might say that, so I brought you a cup of decaf and a blueberry bagel. We can both sit here and eat and pretend we’re alone.”

Decaf.

Seemed like a little thing, but she always drank full-on caffeine. Now she knew that her mom had spilled the beans about her being preggers. Harry handed her a bakery bag from Key Koffee with the bagel and the coffee.

“You know?”

“I know. It was that slick guy from South Beach, right?”

She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “He’s not that slick.”

Harry laughed. “They never are. Talk to me, kiddo. Do I need to take my .45 and head to Miami?”

She opened her eyes and lifted her head. “You would have made a really good dad,” she said, smiling at him.

“I think I have been to you,” he reminded her.

“You have. But no to the .45. Besides, you’d have to fly to Europe to find him.”

Harry took a bite out of his everything bagel and settled down on the top step, turning sideways with his back against the railing to face her.

“Europe? He seemed American to me,” Harry said.

“He’s Rafael Montoro IV. Part of...I’m not sure what to call him. But his family was royalty in a tiny Mediterranean country called Alma. They were kicked out decades ago but now they want them back. He’s the oldest son and heir apparent to the newly restored monarchy.”

“Complicates things, doesn’t it?” Harry said.

“You have no idea,” she said. “But I didn’t expect him to do anything when I gave him the news. You know?”

Harry took a sip of his coffee and then gave her one of those wise looks of his that she hated. He knew when she was lying, especially to herself.

“Okay, fine, I wanted him to be, like, we’ll do this together. Instead, I got...he was sweet but clearly torn. He can’t let his family down. And he and I only had one weekend together, Harry.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes,” he said.

“It wasn’t enough for the guy who fathered me,” she said. “Please don’t tell Mom I said that. But really, that complicates everything. I’ve always thought I was okay with the fact that I don’t know who he was, but this baby...” She put her hands on her stomach. “It’s making me realize I’m not.”

Harry didn’t say anything. And after a few minutes Emily looked away from him and back to the foot traffic on the street near her house. What could he say? He was her substitute dad who’d stepped up when he didn’t have to. Harry must have thought that she was making a mess where there didn’t need to be one.

“I get it, kiddo. It’s hard to not want the best for your baby. We all do that,” he said. “Try to fix the problems in our past so that our kids don’t have to experience them.”

“Did you do that for Rita and Danny?” she asked. Harry had two kids who were both more than fifteen years older than her and lived in Chicago. They came down for two weeks each spring to visit Harry.

“I tried. But I ended up making my own mistakes and they have done the same. It’s all a part of being human,” he said.

“I’m getting Zen Harry this morning,” she said. But his positive attitude helped take her mind off Rafe and the sadness she’d been feeling.

It wasn’t that she’d expected anything else from him, but that she’d wanted something more. She shook her head as she realized that what she’d wanted was to be wanted.

For him to want to stay with her.

It was unrealistic, but a girl could dream.

“Well, I do have all this wonderful advice and no one to share it with,” Harry said with a wink. “You’ll be okay, kiddo. You’ll make decisions and choices and some of them are going to be fabulous and others you’re going to regret. But I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“You’re going to love that baby of yours, and in the end that’s all that really matters.”

“You think so?”

“I do. Your own mom did that for you. Look how you turned out,” he said.

“Not bad,” she admitted. She liked her life. She could have followed her mom into a similar career—she was a marine biologist—but Emily liked being on the land and not out at sea. She had a degree in hotel and restaurant management and one day hoped to open her own place. She knew she had a good life, but a part of her still missed Rafe.

Another part of her knew she just missed the idea of Rafe. So far every time they’d been together they’d ended up in bed. It wasn’t as if he was even a friend.