Royal Babies: Claiming His Secret Royal Heir / Pregnant with a Royal Baby! / Secret Child, Royal Scandal

‘Because it proves we have physical compatibility. That’s important in a marriage.’

His words acted like the equivalent of a bucket of ice-cold water and she slammed her hands on her hips. ‘So that kiss was a deliberate ploy? A way to make the marriage more acceptable to me?’

‘It wasn’t a deliberate ploy, but it wasn’t a mistake either. Mutual attraction is a benefit in a marriage. A bonus to our alliance.’

A benefit. A bonus. Any minute now he’d tell her there was some tax advantage to it too.

Sheer outrage threatened at his use of their attraction as a calculated move to persuade her. More fool her for believing he had been as caught up and carried away as she had. This was the Playboy Prince, after all.

‘Well, I’ll bear that in mind, but given that you have found “physical compatibility” with hundreds of women, I’m not sure it counts for much. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and freshen up.’

* * *

Frederick resisted the urge to put his head in his hands and groan. Then he considered the alternative option of kicking himself around the private jet.

Kissing Sunita had not been on the agenda—but somehow her beauty, her vulnerability, her honesty had overwhelmed him, and what he had meant to offer as comfort had turned into the type of kiss that still seared his memory, still had his body in thrall.

Dammit. He would not let physical attraction control him as it had his father—that way led to stupid decisions, poor judgement calls and people getting hurt. Yet during that kiss his judgement could have parachuted off the plane and he wouldn’t have given a damn.

Then, to compound his original stupidity, he had morphed into a pompous ass. Words had flowed from his tongue as he’d fought the urge to pull her straight back into his arms and resume proceedings. What an idiot. And then there had been her reference to his past. The truth was, even back then Sunita had been different from his so-called ‘hundreds of women’.

He looked up as she returned to the room, her brown eyes cold, her expression implacable as she headed back to her chair and reached down into her bag for a book.

Hell. Now what? This was not going to plan and he didn’t know how to retrieve it. Did not have a clue. He was so far out of his comfort zone he’d need a satnav and a compass to find his way back.

‘Sunita?’

‘Yes.’

‘That kiss...’

‘I think we’ve said all that needs to be said about it. As far as I am concerned, I plan to erase it from my memory banks.’

‘Fine. But before you do that I want to clarify something. You mentioned my “hundreds of women”—for starters, that is an exaggeration. Yes, I partied hard and, yes, there were women, but not as many as the press made out. But, any which-way, those days are over and they have been for a long time. I was never unfaithful to any woman and I plan on a monogamous marriage.’

Clearly his default setting today was ‘pompous ass’, so he might as well run with it.

‘So you’d be faithful for the duration. For decades, if necessary?’

The scepticism in her tone rankled.

‘I am always faithful.’

‘But your relationships have only lasted a few weeks at a time—that’s hardly much of a test. Variety was the spice of your life.’

‘Very poetic. Let’s take it further, then—I believe it’s possible to have variety and plenty of spice with one woman.’

‘Then why didn’t you ever try it before?’

Damn. Poetic and sharp.

‘Because short-term suited me—I didn’t want physical attraction to develop into any expectations of marriage or love. I never offered more than I could give and the same goes now. I can offer marriage and fidelity, but not love.’

‘I still don’t buy it. Most people are faithful because of love—if you don’t believe in love what would motivate you to be faithful?’

‘I will not repeat my father’s mistakes. He went through women like a man with a cold does tissues. Any beautiful woman—he thought it was his right to have her, whether he was already in a relationship or not, and it led to a whole lot of strife and angst. So I will not plunge Lycander into scandal and I will not hurt my children or humiliate my wife. That is nothing to do with love—it is to do with respect for my country and my family.’

‘OK.’

Sympathy warmed her eyes and the moment suddenly felt too weighted, too heavy, and he cleared his throat. ‘I thought you might want to know more about Lycander—after all, it will be your new home and your country.’

‘I’d like that. I do remember some of what you told me two years ago. Rolling countryside, where you can walk and smell the scents of honeysuckle and almost taste the olives that you grow. You made the olive groves come to life.’ She hesitated, and then asked, ‘What happened to your business deal? The one you hoped would go through two years ago?’

Her words caused him to pause. Sunita had been one of the very few people he’d spoken to about his dreams. Ever since he was young he’d been focused on breaking free of his father’s money—sick and tired of the constant reminders that he relied on his father’s coffers for his food, his clothes, the roof over his head.

Then, at twenty-one, he’d come into the inheritance of a run-down, abandoned olive grove. And as he’d walked around it had been as if the soil itself had imparted something to him, as if the very air was laden with memories of past glories, of trees laden with plump lush olives, the sound and whir of a ghostly olive press.

That was where it had all started, and over the years he’d built an immensely profitable business. Two years before he’d been in the midst of a buy-out—he’d succeeded, and taken his company to the next echelon. That had been the deal he’d been celebrating—the reason he’d handed over the state function to Axel, the reason Axel had died.

Guilt and grief prodded him and he saw Sunita frown. Focus. ‘The deal went through.’

‘So who runs your business now?’

‘A board of directors and my second-in-command—I have very little to do with it any more.’

‘That must be hard.’

‘That’s how it is. Lycander needs my attention, and its people need to see that they come first. The principality isn’t huge, but we have beaches, we have vineyards, we have olive groves. I know I’m biased, but our olives are the best in the world—they have bite...their taste lingers on your tongue—and the olive oil we produce is in a class of its own. As for our grapes—I believe the wine we produce rivals that of France and Spain. Lycander has the potential to be a prosperous land, but right now it is a vessel of past glories. My father increased taxes, lowered the minimum wage—did all he could to increase the money in the royal coffers without a care for the effect.’

‘But couldn’t anyone stop him?’

‘No. In Lycander, the ruler’s word is law—he has the final say on the governing of the land. Of course there are elected advisors, but they have no legislative power and the monarch can disregard their advice. So effectively everything hinges on having a ruler who genuinely cares about Lycander and its people.’

‘That sounds like a whole heap of responsibility. For you. And to wish upon Amil.’

‘It is, but I think it needs to be seen in context. In the past, when everything worked, it was easier—right now it is harder. But I will make sure I set things to rights. I know what needs to be done. I will make the laws fair, I will reduce taxation rates and I’ll stop tax evasion. I want the divide between the wealthy and the poor to be bridged. I—’

He broke off at her expression.

‘You can pick your jaw up from the ground.’

She raised her hand in admission. ‘OK. Busted. I am surprised. Two years ago you were passionate about your business, but you didn’t mention politics or social beliefs. Now your enthusiasm, your beliefs, are palpable.’

The all too familiar push and pull of guilt tugged within him.

‘This isn’t about my enthusiasm or my beliefs. It is about Axel—it’s about fulfilling a promise. The people and the country suffered under my father’s rule. The real reason there was no rebellion was that they knew one day Axel would succeed him, and that kept the unrest at bay. Axel had a vision—one that I will make happen.’

That had been the promise he’d made in his very first speech and he would fulfil it.