Princess's Nine-Month Secret

  “The princess is pregnant.”

  With the Italian’s baby!

  For a stolen night of freedom, ever-dutiful Princess Halina throws caution to the wind and succumbs to the seduction of notorious Rico Falcone. Yet the consequences of their insatiable passion land Lina in royal disgrace. When she’s hidden away to conceal her shocking secret, ruthless Rico storms the palace! He’ll do anything to legitimize his child—he’ll even make Lina his wife!

  Indulge in this passionate pregnancy romance!

  Restlessly Halina plucked a sketchbook and a few charcoal pencils from the table. She’d always enjoyed sketching, and now she had endless hours to hone her skill. Not that there was much to draw but craggy rocks and sand dunes.

  A sudden commotion from outside her room had Halina stilling, the charcoal barely touched to the paper.

  “You cannot, sir—” Ammar, one of the palace staff, exclaimed, and then the door was thrown open so hard it rocked on its hinges, swinging back and hitting the wall.

  Rico Falcone stood there, dressed in desert camouflage fatigues, his sharp cheekbones flushed, his eyes glittering with fury. Halina’s mouth dropped open and she found she couldn’t speak.

  “You,” he said in a low, authoritative voice, “are coming with me.”

  Ammar burst in behind him. “You cannot take the princess.”

  “The princess is pregnant with my child,” Rico returned evenly, the words vibrating with taut anger. “She is coming with me.” His tone left no room for disagreement.

  One Night With Consequences

  When one night...leads to pregnancy!

  When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire, it’s impossible to think past the morning after!

  But with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test, and it doesn’t take long to realize that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!

  Only one question remains:

  How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?

  Find out in:

  A Night of Royal Consequences by Susan Stephens

  A Baby to Bind His Bride by Caitlin Crews

  Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence by Jennie Lucas

  Contracted for the Petrakis Heir by Annie West

  Consequence of His Revenge by Dani Collins

  Princess’s Pregnancy Secret by Natalie Anderson

  The Sheikh’s Shock Child by Susan Stephens

  The Italian’s One-Night Consequence by Cathy Williams

  Look for more One Night With Consequences coming soon!

  Kate Hewitt

  Princess’s Nine-Month Secret

  After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, Kate Hewitt now lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories, she loves reading, baking and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com.

  Books by Kate Hewitt

  Harlequin Presents

  The Innocent’s One-Night Surrender

  Moretti’s Marriage Command

  Inherited by Ferranti

  Conveniently Wed!

  Desert Prince’s Stolen Bride

  One Night With Consequences

  Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir

  Larenzo’s Christmas Baby

  Secret Heirs of Billionaires

  Demetriou Demands His Child

  Seduced by a Sheikh

  The Secret Heir of Alazar

  The Forced Bride of Alazar

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  To Laurie. Thank you for being such a fantastic editor! Warmest wishes, K.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM SHEIKH'S PREGNANT CINDERELLA BY MAYA BLAKE

  CHAPTER ONE

  IN THE END it was surprisingly easy to escape. Abdul, the royal bodyguard posted by the hotel suite’s door, dozed off around ten o’clock, his head nodding onto his chest, and Halina Amari, Princess of Abkar, slipped by him on her tiptoes, holding her breath.

  She’d never done anything like this before, never once tried to escape whatever narrow confines she’d been put in—although she’d certainly tested the boundaries and stretched her wings as much as she could, which was very little indeed. But tonight she wanted to fly.

  This might be her last chance. The world was closing in, getting smaller and smaller thanks to her father—and Prince Zayed al bin Nur, her fiancé. The realisation of how close she’d come to being even more of a prisoner than she already was made her heart leap into her throat. And as for Olivia...

  But she couldn’t think about Olivia, not now, during her one bid for an evening’s freedom. Halina hurried down the hall of the elegant luxury hotel in Rome towards the lift. Abdul stirred and she pressed herself against the wall. She could hardly believe it had been so easy, but why not? The door to their suite had been locked from the inside, the guard posted outside as a matter of form. Her mother had been trying to keep people out, not in. No one had expected her to escape. She could barely believe it herself.

  The doors whooshed open and Halina stepped into the lift, her heart pounding, her palms slick. What was she doing? She’d spent every one of her twenty-two years hidden behind high walls—the palace, the convent school in Italy and then the palace again. Waiting, always waiting, for the fiancé she’d never met to regain his throne and become a suitable suitor. Waiting for her life to begin, or at least something to happen.

  Three days ago, Zayed al bin Nur had mistakenly kidnapped Olivia Taylor, her sisters’ governess and her school friend, thinking she was Halina herself.

  Rumour was he’d married Olivia out in the desert before realising his grievous error. Zayed had sent a message to her father, assuring him that he had not in any way harmed Olivia, for which Halina was heartily relieved. But the whole episode had made her realise how precarious her own position was. How limited her own freedom. And it had infuriated her father, Sultan Hassan, who had sent Halina to Italy with her mother, away from Zayed’s clutches.

  Halina was glad for the escape; she’d never wanted to marry Zayed, a man she’d never even met, and she certainly didn’t want to be kidnapped—although she doubted her fiancé was fool enough to try the same trick twice. But the walls around her were closing in.

  After this, her father would make sure she was even more restricted, more guarded, than she already was. And that was something Halina could not stand. After twenty-two years of waiting, she wanted to live...even if just for a night.

  The lift doors opened and from the hotel’s opulent ballroom she heard the tinkling sound of piano music and crystal, the
low murmur of cultured voices. When she and her mother had arrived that afternoon, she’d seen the notice in the hotel’s lobby about the private party, a charity function hosted by some CEO, a glittering event for all of Italy’s richest and finest. Her mother had given Halina a sympathetic smile.

  ‘One day, such parties will be for you,’ she’d said, steering Halina towards the lift. ‘When you are wed. But as for tonight, a quiet night in while we wait for your father’s further instructions.’

  Halina had never been to a proper party. Since she’d turned eighteen she’d attended a few dire state functions, endless banquets with fussy old dignitaries, but never a party. She’d never worn a cocktail dress, flirted or drunk champagne. And that was what she wanted to do tonight—to be normal just for a little while, a young woman having fun, enjoying life.

  Of course, there were a few obstacles to be overcome. She’d managed the first—escaping her room. She’d pleaded a headache and hidden in her room until her mother had gone to have a bath before making her getaway.

  The second obstacle was clothes. She didn’t have anything appropriate to wear. Fortunately the hotel had an upscale boutique, and after hurrying across the lobby Halina slipped into the elegant shop and picked the first suitable dress she saw—a knee-length sheath in black satin, simple, stark and very sexy. She found sheer stockings and high heels as well, and charged it all to her hotel room. She’d think about the repercussions later. Hopefully her mother would never look at the bill.

  Holding the elegant bag with its embossed silver logo and thick cord handles, Halina snuck into the bathroom off the hotel’s foyer and changed in a stall, her hands shaking as she stuffed her plain shift dress into the bag from the boutique. Was she really doing this? Was she crazy?

  She’d always enjoyed pranks and dares, and had forever got into good-natured trouble at school. But this...this was something else entirely. If her mother discovered her...if her father found out... Halina trembled to think of their disappointment and wrath. Her parents were both genial, but they’d never had to deal with such direct defiance from her or her sisters. Still, she had to try. She’d just have to live with the potential consequences, whatever they were.

  The door to the bathroom opened and Halina held her breath, one hand on the latch of her stall, fingers near to trembling. She couldn’t be discovered now, not when her evening was just about to begin.

  She heard the click of heels and from beneath the stall she saw the stiletto-shod feet of two women as they stood in front of the bank of sinks.

  ‘Did you see him?’ one of the women asked in Italian, in which Halina was fluent, as the other unzipped her make-up bag. Halina peered through the crack in the stall’s door and saw the women, sleek and elegant, their lips pursed and eyes narrowed as they gazed at their glossy reflections.

  ‘Falcone? Yes, he’s just arrived,’ the other woman answered with a toss of her head. ‘The man’s cold. Sexy as anything, but with a heart of ice. He’s finished with his latest mistress, you know. Gave her the usual diamond bracelet as a payoff and now he’s completely blanking her. She was crying her eyes out by the buffet.’

  ‘That French supermodel? She didn’t last more than a week.’

  ‘They never do.’ The other woman capped her lipstick in one decisive movement. ‘Would you fancy him?’

  ‘Everyone fancies him. But would I go for him?’ The woman tilted her head, considering. ‘He must be fabulous in bed, based on everything I’ve heard, but I don’t think I could warm up to someone that cold. One of his mistresses said that afterwards he always asks the woman to leave. And I mean, right afterwards. He’s booting them out only seconds later.’

  ‘There could be worse things.’

  ‘And he insists on no personal questions at all. No asking, no answering, nothing. He just doesn’t care.’

  ‘But as long as you know that...’

  ‘So it really would just be sex,’ the woman finished with a sigh. ‘And apparently that is amazing. That supermodel said she’s been ruined for life, and it’s only been a week.’

  Halina’s head whirled at the kind of gossip she’d never heard before. Whoever Falcone was, he sounded both appalling—and intriguing. Fabulous sex? She’d never even been kissed.

  ‘Oh, well,’ the first woman said as she zipped her bag up. ‘Someone said he’s already looking for his next mistress tonight—he doesn’t like to have long in between paramours.’

  ‘Mere minutes, it seems,’ the other woman quipped. ‘Well, it won’t be me.’ She sounded glum rather than determined.

  With a swish of skirts and a click of heels the two women left the bathroom. Halina exhaled a huge sigh of relief. She was alone again—and it was time to make her own exit. She stuffed the bag with her own shift dress behind the toilet, hoping it would stay hidden for the evening until she was ready to return to her suite.

  She hadn’t quite figured out how she was going to return—would Abdul, her guard, still be asleep? And, if he wasn’t, could she make something up about having taken a walk, gone for some fresh air? She’d just have to and hope Abdul—and her mother—bought her lie. This was her one night to shine, or at least twinkle a little.

  Halina stepped out of the stall, her eyes widening at the sight of her reflection. The dress hugged her curvy figure, leaving little to the imagination. She’d never, ever worn something so flagrantly sexy. She’d never worn a dress so beautiful, so bare. She felt practically naked. The sheer stocking made her legs look long and slim, as did the sparkly black heels. She had no jewellery or make-up, and she’d have to leave her hair down, tumbled about her shoulders. She wouldn’t look nearly as sophisticated as the women she’d just been spying on, but it would have to do.

  One night. An hour, even. All she wanted to do was circulate among people, drink champagne, chat and maybe, maybe, flirt a little. And then she’d creep back to her bed. But for an hour—or two—she’d have fun. She’d live.

  With her head held high, Halina walked out of the bathroom. She wasn’t used to the heels and she stumbled for the first few steps before she got the hang of it, swinging her hips, sashaying a little. It buoyed her confidence, as did the admiring look from the man behind the concierge desk. She didn’t even think he recognised her from when they’d checked in earlier in the day.

  She followed the signs for the party and then paused as she saw a man on the door checking a guest list. She hadn’t thought of that. The prospect of being turned away before she’d even put a toe inside the opulent ballroom made everything inside her shrivel with dismay and disappointment. She couldn’t let that happen.

  A couple glided past her, pausing in front of the man. Halina watched, nibbling her lip as they gave their names and he ticked them off his list. Another couple came by, and Halina watched as they followed the same procedure before going in.

  Could she sweet talk her way in? She had a flair for the dramatic, but only in the safety of home or school. She’d never tried to charm a stranger, but she supposed she’d have to try.

  Just then the man with the guest list caught her eye. He raised his eyebrows, managing to look both inquiring and a bit disdainful. ‘May I help you, miss?’

  Halina opened her mouth, her heart beating hard. ‘Well...’ she began, trying desperately to think of some credible reason why her name wasn’t on the list but why she should still be allowed entrance to the party. ‘As a matter of fact...’

  The man’s polite smile started to turn cool. ‘Are you a guest tonight, miss...?’

  Halina stared at him wretchedly. It was going to be over before it had even begun. Then she heard a voice from behind her, low and dark and rich.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ the man said. ‘She’s with me.’

  * * *

  Rico Falcone was looking for a woman, and he knew from the tightening in his gut that he’d found her. A startled gasp escaped the woman in qu
estion, her rosy lips parting as she whirled around to face him, dark hair flying about her shoulders in luxuriant waves and curls.

  He’d caught a glimpse of her as he’d walked down the hall and his attention had been snagged immediately. A lush, curvy figure poured into a tight silk dress. Long, tumbling dark hair that she’d left loose and wild, like an open invitation. When she turned he saw dark-brown eyes widen, the colour of mahogany extravagantly fringed with soot-dark lashes.

  ‘I...’ she began in a breathy voice.

  ‘Cara,’ Rico purred, sliding a hand around her waist and enjoying the feel of his hip bumping hers. ‘It was so good of you to wait for me.’

  ‘I... I...’ she stuttered again, looking shocked. Was she playing the innocent or was she just slow? She was obviously a gate crasher, so Rico would have expected her to play her part in this charade with a bit more alacrity. Never mind. He didn’t bed women for their brains.

  ‘Very good, Signor Falcone,’ the man said, and ticked his name off the list, officious little nobody that he was. Rico moved into the room, his arm still around the woman’s waist. She didn’t resist, he noticed.

  ‘Champagne, I think,’ he murmured, and snapped his fingers. A waiter hurried forward and Rico plucked two glasses from the proffered tray before handing one to his next mistress. He’d already decided on that, although he didn’t think she’d last too long. They never did. ‘So. You obviously don’t have an invitation to this party, but what is your name?’ It was just about the only information he required of her.

  ‘H—Lina,’ she said, her fingers clenched tight around the stem of her glass.

  ‘Lina?’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘You sounded as if you were going to say something else.’

  She smiled sweetly, her eyes flashing dark fire, intriguing him. ‘Lina will do for you.’ So she had some spirit. He liked that, as long as she didn’t start getting notions, thinking she could control him. Make him care. A few of the women he’d bedded had made that error, and it had been very tedious indeed. He’d had to make short work of them, when he would have enjoyed their attentions for a little bit longer.