His Royal Love-Child

“You know this, huh?”

“You may not be the playboy the media paints you, but you’re experienced enough to know what you’re doing. You make me crazy just being with you.” She didn’t want to beg, but she was close. “If you want me, too…at least a little…I want you to be my first lover.”

“I want you a great deal more than a little,” he growled, his eyes shooting blue flame at her. The hottest kind of flame and she felt singed to the depths of her soul.

“I’m glad, Marcello, because I want you a lot, too.”

“Our relationship remains strictly private. I will not allow the media into my personal life, which means others cannot know about us, either.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.”

Danette abruptly returned to the present. She hadn’t had a problem with the secrecy then…. but this was now and she did have a problem with it. A big problem. She just wasn’t sure what she could do about it.

If anything.

She loved him and that love demanded a role in his life that stretched beyond a secret affair. Maybe if she told him her feelings he would acknowledge his own and they could move to the next step in their relationship.

It wasn’t that she thought he lacked confidence. If he knew he loved her, he would say so, but his heart was locked up tight behind the wall he’d built after Bianca’s death. Danette had managed to knock out chinks here and there, evidenced by the fact that their relationship had lasted so long and how much time they spent together doing stuff besides making love.

While he refused to tell her how many women had come before her, he had let slip that none of them had lasted beyond a very brief liaison. He had been with her for six months and made no indications he was even thinking about moving on.

There was also the fact that he frequently made love to her without protection. He’d done so again the night before.

The first time it had happened, she’d been shocked by her response. Since she had decided as a teenager not to have children and risk passing on her spinal deformity, she should have been really upset by his lapse. But her first reaction to the realization he’d forgotten the condom had not been dismay. Far from it: she’d had a piercingly sweet image of a little boy with her eyes and Marcello’s smile.

She had experienced a craving for that child that was so great, it had been a physical pain in her chest.

Nevertheless, she’d brought up the option of her going on the pill, but Marcello had been adamant it was not necessary. He knew from one of the many discussions they had on every topic under the sun that she had some family history of breast cancer, and therefore concerned about the possible increased risk from long-term use of the pill.

She’d agreed to allow him to continue to be responsible for the birth control and had not raised the issue again the next time he forgot. Instead she’d researched the probability of passing her severe idiomatic juvenile scoliosis onto her children. She’d discovered that, far from what she’d feared, there was actually no known genetic predisposition for what had happened to her.

She couldn’t dismiss the very real fact that her mother had been afflicted with a less severe case. Even so, she’d all but convinced herself it was a risk worth taking. She refused to allow her childhood disease and what it represented to stand between her and Marcello.

Right now, she had to weigh the fact that he talked like the future was uncertain for them against the fact that he forgot to use birth control almost as often as he remembered. No man took that many risks with pregnancy when he hated the idea of spending his future with the woman involved.

Marcello wasn’t the irresponsible kind. If she got pregnant, she knew he’d want to marry her. He had a strong sense of moral and family responsibility. Both of which would require that his child not be born illegitimate. In turn, that must mean he was considering a future with her, even if he was leery about admitting it to her, or even to himself.

It might be a subconscious thing on his part, but his actions spoke loud and clear about where he was at with her emotionally. At least she hoped they did. No amount of wishful surmising on her part could replace hearing the words from his lips.

His wife’s death had devastated him. She’d quickly realized that he didn’t want to risk that kind of pain again, but she could have told him that love did not respect the fear of being hurt.

Just look at her. She had come to Italy licking her wounds. She’d been grateful for the job that Angelo had gotten her so that she could get away from her memories. And she’d been convinced that the last thing she would allow herself to do was to get embroiled in another relationship. Only, that was exactly what she had done and she’d gotten in deeper with Marcello after two weeks than she had in months with Ray.