The Prince's Love-Child

‘My brother’s child is being baptised. Would you like to come?’

She blinked her eyes very quickly. A baptism was a private and very sacred thing, and he was asking her…her…‘Are you…are you sure?’

‘I wouldn’t ask you unless I was.’ He ran a fingertip reflectively down over the bare silk of her shoulder. ‘You will need something to wear, of course. We shall go shopping later, yes?’

It was as if someone had given her a gorgeous present and then snatched it away again, and Lucy froze. ‘You’re saying that you don’t think I have anything suitable?’

There was not a flicker of reaction on his face. ‘Cara, you always look meravigliosa.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘There is no problem.’ He chose his words carefully. ‘But it will be—of necessity—a very lavish affair,’ he said slowly. ‘And I would like to buy you an outfit.’

‘You think I’m going to turn up in jeans and a sweatshirt?’ she demanded.

‘Of course I don’t!’

‘Well, then—I can buy my own outfits,’ she said stubbornly.

‘Yes, I know you can.’ He moved his head away to look down at her, his black eyes like jet as he chose his words in a way calculated not to offend her sweet but misplaced pride. ‘Let me put it another way,’ he said softly. ‘You are my lover, Lucy, and tradition dictates that as my lover I am allowed to spoil you. I want to spoil you,’ he added huskily.

And this, too, was all part of the game, she realised. If she accompanied him then it was imperative that she look the part. It didn’t matter if she dressed with style and panache—her budget was far too limited to allow her to be able to compete with other women at a Royal gathering.

And she wanted to go. Badly. If she allowed stubborn pride to rear its head then he might refuse to take her. And if she held out to wear one of her own outfits—then wasn’t there a chance she might let him down?

Besides—if she was being one hundred per cent honest—then wasn’t there a wistful Cinderella side to every woman—that wanted someone to wave a magic wand and transform them from an ordinary woman into a princess? Well, that was just what Guido was offering to do, and as long as she didn’t expect the Cinderella ending then why not just go with the flow and enjoy it? What else was she going to do? Tell him no and have the relationship peter out?

The thought of that hurt far more than she wanted or had expected, and she shrugged her shoulders, as if the unwelcome stab of reality wasn’t poking brittle fingers at her heart. ‘Very well, Guido,’ she said slowly. ‘I accept.’

‘You test me, I think, cara,’ he observed evenly.

‘Oh?’

‘A man does not offer a gift to have it treated as though it is some kind of punishment to be endured.’

‘A gift should be offered without ties or expectations,’ she returned sweetly. ‘Didn’t you know that?’

‘Do you always have a smart answer for everything, Lucy?’

‘I certainly hope so.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘If it is submissive gratitude you desire, Guido, then there must be any number of women who would be only too glad to provide it.’

And she was right, maledizione! He enjoyed much more than just her lovemaking because she challenged and intrigued him—he could not now dispense with those qualities when it suited him.

He put his hand between her thighs and heard her gasp. ‘I am going to make love to you again,’ he said, on a note of husky intent. ‘And then I am going to take you out and dress you from head to foot.’

Lucy let him whisk her around Manhattan, unable to shake the slightly surreal sensation of feeling as though she was appearing in a film as Guido took her from shop to exclusive shop. Stuff like this didn’t happen in real life, she told herself dazedly.

But it seemed that it did.

First came the lingerie—stuff like she had never seen before: drifts and drifts of delicate silk, trimmed with lace so fine that it seemed to have been spun from gossamer. A brisk, efficient Frenchwoman measured her, and it transpired that Lucy had been buying the wrong bra size off the peg for years!

‘We’ll take them both,’ drawled Guido carelessly as she vascillated between a matching set in electric blue trimmed with cerise satin and a more conventional pure white outfit—which was, she thought with a fleeting wistfulness, exactly the kind of thing a bride might covet for her trousseau. ‘And the black.’

‘Guido, no!’ protested Lucy as the saleswoman tactfully withdrew from the room.

‘Guido, yes,’ he argued, with a smile of satisfaction.

‘I won’t be wearing more than two sets of underwear in a weekend!’

‘But after the weekend you will, and I want to see you in it all. And out of it,’ he said, his voice dipping into a note of erotic promise.

Of course she couldn’t possibly argue after that—because his words implied that their affair was going to run and run when they got back from Mardivino.

She silenced the cruel little voice in her head which asked her just how long she was prepared to dedicate her life to a relationship which was doomed to go nowhere.

In a succession of luxurious shops he bought her an outfit for the christening, plus the most gorgeous hat she had ever seen, two evening gowns, daywear, negligees, and a cashmere wrap.

‘Sometimes the evening breeze which comes down from the mountains can chill the skin,’ he murmured. ‘Especially skin as fine and as fair as yours, Lucy.’

He ran his fingers lightly over her bare arm and Lucy began to tremble. Tersely he asked for the garments to be wrapped and delivered and then took her back to his apartment and made love to her all over again. He was wild for it, and so was she, and the sound of her ecstatic cries rang round his vast bedroom as she lay shuddering in his arms afterwards.

But once the storms of passion had abated Lucy felt different. Something had changed, or at least in her imagination it had, and she wondered if she had given away something of herself in her shamefully easy acceptance of his gifts. Her independence, maybe?

She snuggled into the crook of his arm, for he was sleeping, and her own eyelids began to drift down.

I will only wear the clothes on Mardivino, she vowed.

And after that I’ll go back to being me.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ubde2bfc0-ad63-5ed2-ba60-0c34f30e9d78)

‘LOOK down now,’ said Guido, above the sound of the engines. ‘And you will see the mountains of Mardivino.’

Lucy did as he said, though she was so distracted by his proximity that she might as well have been looking at the skyscrapers of a city for all the impact the breathtaking scenery made on her.

Was it the fact they were now most definitely moving into his exclusive territory that was making her feel very slightly disorientated—or just the rather daunting prospect of what might lie ahead? With an effort she forced herself not to think about the sexy and sophisticated Prince who sat beside her on the luxury jet, and to drink in the beauty of his homeland instead.

Beneath her lay a bewitching-looking island which sparkled like a jewel set in a blindingly blue sea. In the distance she could see the mighty peaks of the mountains he had mentioned, and as the plane circled she could see beaches and brilliant white buildings clustered together, like a handful of pearls.

‘Wow!’ she breathed. ‘Is that a city there?’

He smiled. ‘It’s Solajoya—our capital. I don’t know if it qualifies as a city, as it’s pretty small—though it does have a cathedral.’ 44

‘Then it’s a city,’ said Lucy firmly.

Guido leaned over her to stare down. How long since he had been back? He had paid fleeting visits to see his father, of course, but he had not been back since his younger brother Nico had surprised them all and married the English girl.

At first it had been considered the most unsuitable of liaisons, and Guido had been expecting an explosive firework response from his elder brother Gianferro. But Ella seemed to have won him round, and Gianferro—against all the odds—had accepted her into the bosom of the family. And now she had secured her place there permanently, by giving Nico a son and heir.