he moved his hand away. “Sam Junior.”
“So you think it’s a boy?”
“That’s the beauty of it. It works for a boy or a girl. Samuel or Samantha. Either way we call it Sam.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “It would seem you have it all figured out.”
He pinned his eyes on her, his gaze so intense she swore she could feel it straight through to her bones. “I’m a man who knows what he wants, Your Highness.”
His eyes said he wanted her, but she knew he was probably only teasing. But if Gunter hadn’t reappeared at that very second, she might have melted into a puddle on the doorstep.
“Is all clear,” Gunter said, stepping onto the porch and gesturing her in. As Sam closed the door, Anne knew that Gunter would stand on the porch, in a military stance, unmoving until it was time to leave.
“Ready for that tour?” Sam asked and she nodded. Although, honestly, there really wasn’t that much to see. The front room had just enough space for a couch, glider and a rickety television stand with a TV that was probably older than her. The kitchen was small but functional, with appliances that dated back to the dark ages. But if the flame under the pot on the stove, and the hum of refrigerator, were any indication, they were both still working. The loo was also tiny, with an antique sink and commode and an antique claw-foot tub.
Next he took her into the bedrooms. The smaller of the two was being used as an office and the larger was where Sam slept. As they stood in the doorway, Anne couldn’t help thinking that the last time they had been in a bedroom together they had both been out of their brains with lust for each other. It seemed like so long ago, yet she recalled every instant, every detail in Technicolor clarity.
“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess,” he said.
The bed was mussed and there were clothes piled over a chair in the corner. The entire house had something of a cluttered but cozy feel. And though the entire square footage was less that her sleeping chamber at the castle, she felt instantly at home there.
“I was under the impression your family had money,” she said, feeling like a snob the instant the words were out. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“That’s okay,” he said with a good-natured smile. “The money came from my grandfather’s side. My grandmother grew up here. After her parents died, she and my grandfather would spend weekends here. After my grandfather died, she moved back permanently and stayed until she died.”
“I can see why she moved back,” she told him as they walked back to the kitchen. “It’s really lovely.”
“It’s not exactly the castle.”
“No, but it has loads of charm.”
“And no space.”
She shrugged. “It’s cozy.”
“And it desperately needs to be updated. Did you see that tub?”
She gazed around. “No, I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
He looked at her funny. “You’re serious.”
She smiled and nodded. She really liked it. “It’s so. peaceful. The minute I walked in I felt completely at home.” She could even picture herself spending time here, curled up on the couch reading a book or taking long walks through the woods. Although, until the Gingerbread Man was caught, that would never be allowed.
“I’m glad,” he said, flashing her the sexy grin that made her knees go weak. “Would you like something to drink? I have soda and juice.”
“Just water, please.”
He got a bottle from the fridge and poured it into a glass with a wedge of lime. As he handed it to her, their fingertips touched.
“Something smells delicious,” she said.
“Chicken soup. My grandmother’s recipe.”
Not your typical summer food, but that was okay. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
He grinned and wiggled his brows. “I am a man of many talents, Your Highness.”
Oh, did she know it. Although under the circumstances many of those talents were best not contemplated. “What else can you make?”
“Let’s see,” he said, counting off on his fingers. “I can make coffee. And toast. I can heat a pizza. Oh, and I make a mean tray of ice cubes. And did I mention the toast?”
She smiled. “So in other words, you eat out a lot?”
“Constantly. But I wanted to impress you and I figured the soup might be good since you haven’t been feeling well.”
It was sweet of him to consider her temperamental stomach. He was so considerate and … nice. And oh, how she wished things could be different, that they could at least try to make a go of it, try to be a family. She wanted it so much her chest ached. It was all she had been able to think about since their talk in his office the other day. He was, by definition, the man of her dreams.
But some things just weren’t meant to be.
“I think maybe it was stress making me feel sick,” she said. “Since I told you about the baby, I’ve felt much better. I’ll get nauseous occasionally, but no more running to the loo. I’ve even gained a few pounds, which I know will make my physician happy.”
“That’s great.” He lifted the lid off the pot of soup and gave it a stir with a wooden spoon. “The soup is ready. But would you prefer to talk first and get it out of the way? So we can relax and enjoy dinner.”
“I think that would be a good idea.”
He gestured to the front room. “Shall we sit on the sofa?”
She nodded and took a seat, and he sat beside her, so close that his thigh was touching hers. Was this his idea of platonic?
He had given no indication that he would be difficult, or make unreasonable demands when it came to the baby, but she still wasn’t sure what to expect. Sam, in contrast, sat beside her looking completely at ease. Did the man never get his feathers ruffled? When she had fallen apart at the ball he had snapped into action and rescued her from imminent public humiliation. When she told him about the baby he had been calm and rational and even sympathetic. She had never seen, or even heard of him ever losing his temper.
She, on the other hand, always seemed to be irritated and cranky about one thing or another. She could learn a lot from Sam. Although, if he knew the truth, if he knew that this little “accident” could have easily been prevented, he might not be so understanding. She would just have to be sure that he never found out.
“Before we get started,” she said, “I just want to tell you again that I appreciate how well you’ve taken all this. I know things could potentially get complicated at some point, with custody and financial issues, and even different parenting styles. I just want you to know that I’m going to try my best to keep things civilized. I know I don’t have a reputation for being the most reasonable woman, but I’m going to try really hard.”
Sam’s expression was serious. “Suppose I thought of a way to make things exponentially easier on both of us. On all three of us, actually.”
She couldn’t imagine how, but she shrugged and said, “I’m all for easy.”
“I think you should marry me.”
He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that the meaning of his words took several seconds to sink in. Then she was sure that she must have heard him wrong, or he was playing some cruel joke. That any second he was going to laugh and say, “Gotcha!”
“I know it’s fast,” he said instead. “I mean, we barely know each other. But, for the baby’s sake, I really think it’s the logical next move.”
My