Scandals Of The Crown: The Life She Left Behind / The Price of Royal Duty / The Sheikh's Heir

He stopped a member of the household staff who was walking quickly through the corridor. “Do you know where Angelina Carpenter is?”

The woman gave him a hard look. “Princess Carlotta’s nanny?”

He supposed he deserved the look. As he was across the palace from where he was meant to be staying, half dressed, his hair likely standing on end. The sheikh looking for the nanny.

He did not care. “Yes.”

“I believe she left this morning. Princess Carlotta wanted her son to go back to Italy as soon as possible and Angelina naturally accompanied him.”

“Grazi,” he said through his teeth.

The woman nodded and turned away. Taj’s stomach tightened. Angelina had left. She had left him. She was gone. Again.

He knew where to find her now, of course. He could go after her. He wanted to.

Taj tightened his hand into a fist, gritting his teeth, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest. He would not be made a fool of. Not again.

He’d had her. He’d had her virginity. And now he would go on. He would not go after her.

He ignored the sour feeling in his stomach and walked down the corridor, making his way out of the grand palace without pausing to greet anyone.

He vowed he would not think of her. Not again. Too much of his life had been wasted on Angelina Carpenter.

No more.

Chapter Four (#u3deddbef-46f5-59cf-a22b-7d90f6eda70b)

She felt awful. More awful than usual. And she’d pretty much felt awful for the past two months, since she’d left Taj lying in her bed and packed her bags as quietly as possible. So feeling worse really was something.

At least she knew why now. Those two pink lines didn’t lie.

Misery washed through her. She’d made a mistake. A big one. And now there was nothing left to do but try to call Taj and tell him. It was her responsibility. Did sheikhs have listed phone numbers? She wasn’t certain.

She put her head in her hands for a moment, then straightened from her near-fetal position on the bed and took her phone from her nightstand. Dissolving into a puddle wasn’t happening.

The past two months hadn’t been great. She’d missed Taj. Missed him desperately. But the facts hadn’t changed. He didn’t love her. And she was perilously close to loving him again.

She’d tried to throw herself into taking care of Luca. Getting him adjusted to his new life in Santa Christobel with Carlotta and her fiancé, Rodriguez. That had helped. When they’d arrived, she’d been called on a lot while the new royal couple had been learning to deal with one another.

And Rodriguez had been scared to death of Luca at first.

But things were changing now. They needed her less and less.

And now she’d found out that she had a child who needed her even more than her little charge. Her own child. And Taj needed to know.

She let out a low whine and surfed through the contacts on her phone. She found the number for Rodriguez’s personal secretary, a number she had just in case there was an emergency and for some reason neither Rodriguez nor Carlotta could be reached.

She hit Send.

“Hi. This is Angelina.”

“Is everything all right with Luca?”

“Everything’s fine. He’s with his parents today I…I was wondering if you knew how to get a hold of the palace in Rahat.”‘

“Taj?”

Taj’s stomach tightened, his heart beating hard. It was Angelina. He knew it with certainty. Not because he recognized her voice, though he did, but because only she made his body react in the way it was reacting now. It was a near supernatural connection. One he would have scoffed at had he not felt it personally.

“Angelina?”

“Yes. I’m…I need to talk to you.”

He tightened his hold on the phone. “You are talking to me. What is it?”

“I…I shouldn’t have just left that morning. I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t as though I have wasted much time thinking about it.” A lie. He had thought of nothing else. No demons had been exorcised that night. It had not brought back his desire for other women. If anything, he was less interested than he’d been before. Angelina seemed to fill him, surround him.

Angelina Carpenter was an addiction he couldn’t seem to kick.

“I’m certain you haven’t,” she returned, her voice sounding muted. “But whether or not you’ve thought of me at all…well, that doesn’t really matter. I’m not calling to confess my undying love.”

“Of course not.” He ignored the fierce seizing in his chest.

“I’m pregnant.”

He dropped the phone. It crashed onto the marble floor and he prayed fervently that he had not lost the call as he bent to pick it back up. “You’re what?” he asked, his tone rough.

“I’m pregnant.” The silence hung thick between them, the only sound in the room the beating of his heart, his harsh intake of breath. “You’re the father, by the way. That’s why I called.”

“I know I’m the father,” he bit out. “What do you suppose I think of you?”

“It wouldn’t be an insult, I suppose. How many lovers have you had since we parted?”

“None,” he snapped.

“Oh.” She sounded shocked. Subdued.

“You must come here.”

“I figured as much. I’ll have to tell Carlotta and…and Luca.” She sounded sad about that. Sad to be coming to him? Or sad to leave her charge?

“We have to get married,” he said.

“I figured that, too.”

“You sound very calm.” It maddened him that she could be so calm. So unaffected. As though the world had not just tilted on its axis. As though she had not just agreed to marry him.