Revealed: A Prince and A Pregnancy by Kelly Hunter Page A

didn’t know what to think, but he stood as well.
    ‘Whose needs?’ Had Simone been a cat she would have spat at him. ‘Yours?’
    ‘The monarchy demands it.’
    ‘I care nothing for your monarchy.’
    ‘So I see. Some days I don’t care much for it either.’ The older man’s shoulders sagged and he seemed to age at least ten years. He turned towards Rafael, every weary movement a silent apology. ‘I had hoped to do this differently,’ he murmured. ‘But every other avenue was closed to me. I want you to know that.’
    ‘Speak your piece,’ said Rafael. He had a bad feeling about this. Simone’s open hostility. Gabrielle’s alarm when he’d mentioned Etienne de Morsay. De Morsay’s vivid blue eyes drilling holes in Rafael. There was something familiar about him. Something Rafael struggled to place.
    He watched in silence as the older man drew himself upright. Finally, he spoke.
    ‘My name is Etienne de Morsay. Husband to Mariette Sulemon of the Ardennes—lately deceased. Son of Francisco de Morsay—also deceased. Grandson of Pieter. Great grandson of Alain. I am reigning monarch of the territory of Maracey, bordered by Spain, and you, Rafael Francisco Pieter Alexander, are my son.’
    Rafael stared at him. Hard. Those eyes. That big,sparse frame. Heaven help him, that face. He saw an echo of that face, that frame, and those eyes every morning when he looked in the mirror. He shook his head. No.
    ‘Yes,’ said Etienne.
    ‘No. Harrison Alexander is my father.’
    ‘No,’ said Etienne gently.
    Rafael took the blow in silence. Such a deep and destructive blow. Did Harrison know? Did Gabrielle? The knife inside him tightened. Gabrielle had known. And Simone…Simone had known too. Anger took hold, brutal and burning as he turned towards her and saw knowledge in her eyes. ‘You knew.’ His voice shook. His pain roared. ‘You knew .’
    ‘No.’ She looked to be on the verge of tears. He was so sick of women and their tears and their duplicity.
    ‘You knew. That’s why my company suddenly became acceptable after all these years of silence. That’s why you deigned to spend time in my bed. You thought I was a goddamn prince!’
    ‘ No! Rafael, I swear—’
    ‘You wanted to leave,’ he said harshly. ‘So leave.’
    Simone stared at him, dark stricken eyes in an unnaturally pale face as she reached out a hand towards him. ‘That’s not how it was.’
    ‘Don’t,’ he said sharply. If she touched him, he would break. ‘Don’t touch me. Just go.’
    ‘You’re a fool, Rafael Alexander Pieter whoever the hell you are,’ she said raggedly as she dropped her hand and reached for her handbag instead. She drew herself up with a glittering gaze that accompanied both him and de Morsay. ‘Both of you, fools.’
    He watched her stalk away, beautiful in her anger, the emptiness left by her departure fuelling his.
    ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ said the man beside him.
    ‘Who the hell asked you?’ Anger found a new target, the right target, this time. ‘Who are you to tell me what I should do?’ Anger ruled him. Despair rode him. ‘Let me tell you something, you right royal bastard. You’re no father of mine. I don’t care what you can prove by blood. I don’t know you. I don’t care about you. And I have no intention of ever being your son.’
    Simone’s luggage was gone from the car by the time the valet brought it around to the front of the hotel. She’d collected it not ten minutes ago, the hotel employee told Rafe. She’d had the doorman call for a taxi. She had seemed to be in something of a hurry. The young valet eyed Rafael anxiously, as if sensing something of the roiling emotions beneath the contained façade.
    The young valet paled and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and asked Rafe if he’d done the right thing.
    ‘That’s fine. No problem,’ muttered Rafael before retrieving the keys and heading for his car. He knew the name of the hotel Simone was