Z had always considered Thanksgiving a time to kick back and relax, enjoy some turkey and all the fixings and watch sports on TV. He’d never considered the media shitstorm currently whirling around the townhouse as something even in the realm of possibilities.

“How did they find out?” Es asked, her gaze locked on the TV screen in front of them. “We haven’t told anyone. No one knew except my father and the physician. Even the people who knew we’d be trying, like my dad’s staff, didn’t know about the positive test.”

“I don’t know.” Z shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. “The paparazzi must’ve been following us around and put two and two together.”

That was the only rational explanation he could come up with for the fact that he and Es’s pictures were plastered all over every network tabloid show across the country. The headlines read everything from “An Early Christmas Present for the Princess” to “The Poor Boy and the Princess Make a Baby.” If that wasn’t bad enough, the phones had been ringing off the hook with news outlets calling for a statement from the expecting mom and dad. Z might be comfortable behind a weapon, but he sure as hell had no desire to get in front of the camera.

Es’s PR team was buzzing around the place, reconfirming Z’s worst fears—there was no way to get out in front of this situation now. The best they could hope for was to ride the wave to a positive conclusion.

For her part, Es seemed perfectly comfortable with it all. Then again, she’d been born to life in the public eye. He hadn’t. She chuckled and placed her hand on his arm. “Don’t look so grim. This is actually perfect timing. We can announce our engagement before the holidays and get it out of the way. We’ll say it was a whirlwind romance.”

Z wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know. I’m not really ready for all this yet.”

Es snorted. “What did you expect would happen when you married a royal? Don’t be so naïve.”

“I’m not naïve,” he said, feeling oddly defensive. “I guess I just thought I’d be able to stay in the background and let you and the baby take the spotlight. I’m not really cut out to be a public figure. I’ve got too many skeletons in my closet.”

“Hmm,” one of the PR guys said, giving a derisive snort. “Well, if your past is anything like your wardrobe, we’re all in trouble, honey.”

“Hey.” Z scowled down at his casual black T-shirt and jeans. He wasn’t expecting to go out and work today. “What’s wrong with my outfit? It’s clean and it’s comfortable.”

“It’s also boring and hardly befitting for the future husband of a princess.” The guy walked around Z, assessing him from all sides. “Body’s not bad. Hair’s a bit scruffy. Face is good if we can get you to stop glowering at everyone. It’ll be a challenge, but I can work with it. What time’s the interview again?”

A woman behind the guy called, “Seven o’clock tonight.”

“Interview?” Z took a step back. “I never agreed to any interview.”

“Good thing, too. We can’t have you mucking it all up even worse than it already is, now can we?” the guy said, his thumbs flying across his phone screen as he typed. “I need to get on this if I’m going to get you ready in time.”

“Get me ready? You’re here for Es, not me.” His frown darkened. “And I won’t muck anything up.”

“This team is here for the royal family, of which you will soon be a part of, big boy. Best get used to it now.” The guy clicked off his phone and walked away before Z could respond.

Grumbling under his breath, he moved in closer to Es’s side where she sat in a stylist’s chair while she was primped to within an inch of her life. She looked paler than before and Z didn’t like it one little bit. He leaned closer to whisper, “Are you okay?”

Es flashed a wan smile. “Yeah, just a tad nauseous again.”

He walked over to the credenza and pulled out a fresh baggie of saltines from his store of snacks he kept stashed around the townhouse then carried them back to Es. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know. Breakfast, I suppose.”

“That was over five hours ago.” Z checked his watch. “The doctor said you should eat every two hours. What about your pills?”

“I’m fine,” she said, nibbling on a saltine. “And I don’t need a pill. I don’t like taking them during the day. They make me sleepy. Quit fussing.”

“It’s my job to fuss,” he muttered. “By the way, I told these people I don’t want to be the spokesperson tonight.”

“Fine.” Es took a sip from the cup of tea her assistant handed to her, then nodded, a bit of color returning to her cheeks. “You can stand by my side and play the strong, silent type. You’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

“How can I not? What if this all goes to hell?”

“We won’t let it. Silvester might have his supporters, but I’ve got a lot of people on my side too. The PR team won’t let you make a fool of yourself because that would reflect badly on me and they love me.” Es winked. “Just do what they say and wear what they tell you to and everything will work out, I promise.”

Except three hours later, Z felt even more unsure than he had earlier that afternoon. He’d been groomed and combed and styled to within an inch of his life and felt incredibly uncomfortable in this weird double-breasted Armani suit in expensive gray Italian wool. He longed for his traditional black and white but had the sickening feeling those days were long gone.

The guy from earlier walked by and gave a loud wolf whistle before shoving a small blue velvet box into Z’s hand. Confused, Z opened it to see a delicate diamond and ruby ring, with a large deep-red center stone surrounded by shimmering white diamonds on a platinum band.

“Where did this come from?” he asked.

“The king,” the guy said. “It belonged to Princess Esme’s mother. After she passed away, the king wore it on a chain around his neck in remembrance of his beloved wife. Isn’t that the sweetest story you’ve ever heard?”

Z swallowed hard, resisting the urge to tug his tie loose and undo a button or two. The reality of the situation settled upon him, heavy as a boulder. This was really happening. Not just the interview, but the proposal, the future marriage, the future kid. Yes, he’d signed the contract and agreed to the deal. And yes, he’d gotten Es pregnant, but until just now, the gravity of it all hadn’t really registered. Their situation had been private—just theirs. Now they were going to share it with the rest of the world. And the rest of the world demanded a level of glitz and glamor he just wasn’t sure he could provide.

As he stared down into that small blue box with the glittering jewels inside, it became clear that this was more than a simple wedding. He was no gem expert, but he’d hazard to guess this ring was worth more than everything he owned. It had to be really old, too, maybe centuries old. He wondered how many previous Prylean princesses might have worn it and under what circumstances they’d married. Love matches were the exception in royal circles, at least from what he’d read, so he and Es’s situation couldn’t have been that unusual in her circles, no matter how odd it felt to him sometimes. Then again, most days he still felt like an outsider looking in at all the political intrigue and publicity that Es seemed to take in stride. He might be her bodyguard and protector, but when it came to this stuff, she was definitely his guardian.

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before heading to the room they’d set up for the interview. Es was already in there, her stylist buzzing around her, doing last minute touch-ups. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her, not now. Not tonight. So he raised his chin and put on a brave smile.

“You look lovely, princess,” he said, leaning in to sneak a kiss on her cheek while the stylist was working on the other side of Es’s face. “A bit pale though. Do you need anything? I’ve got mints and crackers and even a few chocolates in my pocket. I can run upstairs and get your pills, too, if you need them.”

“I’m fine.” She patted his hand. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh.” He showed her the box from the king. “They told me it belonged to your mother.”

She sniffled and blinked hard. “It did. Wow. I’ve dreamed of this moment since I was a little girl, but I never expected it to happen quite like this.”

A pang of disappointment shot through him at the sad note in her voice. “I’m sorry, princess. You probably pictured yourself with some tall, dark, diplomatic guy who would know all the right things to say and do in these situations.”

Es placed a finger against his lips and his whole body tingled with awareness. The warmth in her pretty hazel eyes made his chest squeeze with affection. “No. I pictured myself with a man who was smart and loyal and trustworthy. You’re perfect for the job.”

“Okay,” the production manager said. “Places, everyone. We go live in sixty seconds.”

Z and Es were escorted over to a beige silk divan and seated side by side, her hand clenched in his and her smile serene as she stared directly ahead into the camera.

For Z’s part, all he could think about was how much he longed to be back home in the swamps of Florida, trekking through mud and gator-infested water. Anywhere but where he was, really.

“Right,” the production manager said, holding up his hand and counting down his finger. “Live in five, four, three, two...Go!”

The reporter rattled on and Es answered question after question. Z nodded when it seemed appropriate and kept his smile plastered in place, his attention firmly affixed on the glowing red light atop the camera pointed in his face. Later, he couldn’t have told anyone what was said, or even what he did. Somehow, he managed to get the ring on Es’s finger and kiss her while the crew around them clapped. By the time they were finished, people patted him on the back and even the guy who’d dressed him seemed impressed with what he’d done.

Z’s attention, however, was focused solely on Es. She’d been his rock throughout the whole interview, his anchor in a sea of uncertainty. That thought should have unsettled him, but for some reason, it only made him feel closer to her. Sure, none of this was real. But the sense of security he felt in her presence was no joke. It reminded him a bit of how he’d used to feel with his mom. It was a welcome memory.

“I think I learned more about you in those sixty minutes than you’ve told me the entire time we’ve been together,” she said afterward as she toed off her shoes then sighed in relief. “We’ll talk more later, after I change out of these things. I’m eager to know more.”