He lost count of the number of uniformed staff who passed him and nodded their welcome; some spoke a greeting in English, some in Isola Verdian. No one questioned who he was or why he was there—it felt as if everyone had been informed of his presence.
He stopped to admire not one, not two but three real Christmas trees in the hallway that must have been ten feet tall but still reached nowhere near the height of the dome. Decadently decorated in purple and silver garlands and festooned with tiny fairy lights, they would have given the Seattle General Hospital’s famous festive tree display a run for its money, never mind his scrappy and woeful plastic tree he hadn’t even bothered to get out last year. The smell was divine and threw him back to happy times with his family. Before...
Once upon a time he’d exceeded their expectations. And now they didn’t even know where he was. In a palace! Go figure. How would his parents react to the news they were going to be grandparents? Would he tell them? Would they care?
His head suddenly swam with images of a toddler sitting here, opening presents. Christmas was never going to be the same. Would he even get to see his child for the holidays?
Damn sure he would.
When he reached the huge wooden iron-studded front door he was stopped by a security guard. ‘Mi scusi, Dr Beaufort?’
‘Yes, I’m Dr Beaufort. Is it okay for me to go out of here? And, more importantly, will I be able to get back in?’
‘Of course, sir. You have security clearance. Wait, please.’ He ducked into an office and came out brandishing a card on a lanyard. ‘Here’s your swipe card and ID.’
ID for walking around a house? How would he ever get used to this? How would his child?
He imagined growing up here in such opulence, with such gravitas and history. With the weight of responsibility always, always at the forefront of your mind. Being separate from everyone, being observed and scrutinised the way Giada had been all her life. He didn’t want that for his child. He wanted normality—whatever that was. He wanted the freedom he had been given...and he wanted...yes, he wanted to be a better parent than his had been.
He followed a gravel path round to the rear of the building, meandering through a walled kitchen garden stuffed with blooming winter vegetables that gave onto the colourful parterre complete with the fountain he could see from his suite. Then a more formal garden with neatly clipped boxwood hedges and perfectly groomed lawns. Wanting to stretch his legs after the long flight and trying to get his thoughts in order, he walked through a copse of beech trees and found a secluded lake he hadn’t seen from the palace. The fading orange light dappled and danced on the water and he inhaled deeply, finally able to breathe and think. Some peace to gather his thoughts.
He bent and swished his hand in the water...nowhere near as cold or as large as his lake at home. He hadn’t actually ventured back into the lake at the bottom of his Seattle garden because swimming just hadn’t been the same since his Gigi weekend. He smiled. She’d been spectacular then, glistening with water, nipples erect from cold but hot to his touch. The lust from before, when he’d skimmed his hands over her thighs, hit him again and it became very clear that when it came to Giada he couldn’t be objective, at least not when it came to physical attraction.
And, yeah, it seemed like his thoughts were hell-bent on turning to her over and over and over.
‘I wondered if I’d find you out here. It’s one of my favourite places too.’
‘What the—?’ He turned quickly, heart rattling, and almost lost his footing. He waved his arms about to right himself and found himself face to face with the Princess. ‘God, Giada, you made me jump.’
‘Sorry.’ She laughed. She’d changed out of her travelling clothes and was now wearing a form-fitting deep orange buttoned-up cashmere cardigan that hugged her amazing curves and cream trousers that nipped in slightly at her ankles. Her hair was loose, curls gracing her shoulders. Her face had been scrubbed clean of make-up and she looked fresher but still tired. Her injured wrist was supported in an inexpert sling almost as badly fashioned as his original effort, but she reached out her good hand to steady him. ‘You looked so peaceful I almost didn’t say anything. For a minute there I thought you might take a dip.’
He pretended to shiver, even though the weather was mild. In truth, he was just trying to steady his heart as it pounded, not just from the shock of surprise but from the shock of seeing her. She made his body react every time he set eyes on her. ‘I’m used to cold water, but even I won’t swim in December. How did the meetings go?’
‘Good.’ She nodded decisively as if trying to convince herself that everything was okay, but how could it be with the uncertainty of her father’s condition? ‘We’re working with the new PR director at Seattle Hospital, Ayanna Franklin, to keep his location a secret. The plan is to release a statement that is honest but vague, mentioning a car accident and that Papa is stable and in good hands and that we’re praying for a speedy recovery. I’m preparing myself for the onslaught of questions.’
‘Do you have to answer them?’
‘Journalists constantly reach out to our press office, more so at times like this, and I feel I have a duty to eliminate as much ambiguity as I can. And there’s social media, of course, where everyone expresses an opinion. It’s hard not to see, difficult not to look. The comments sections are always...illuminating. Not always complimentary, to be honest. Not towards the office or the King, who is revered here, but most definitely not towards things I have done in the past.’ She shook her head, the light in her eyes dimming a little. ‘If we don’t keep abreast of what people are thinking and feeling, we lose touch. Our staff bring the relevant questions and comments for us to digest and respond.’
He’d never heard Dom talk about digesting people’s opinions about the kingdom; his friend had appeared to be consumed only by study and work. But who knew how closely the Prince had followed life in Isola Verde, albeit from a distance? It felt as if his friend’s life had been lived half in the light and half veiled. Unless, of course, her brother had chosen not to participate in any of this. Lucas felt a sudden sting of irritation for the lack of support from anyone close to her. ‘You shouldn’t have to deal with this on your own, Giada.’
Her back stiffened. ‘I have Maria and my father’s advisors.’
‘But you still look at the comments, right?’
‘Sometimes, but if I don’t like what everyone’s saying I look through my fingers,’ she admitted, putting her hands in front of her face and pulling a pretend scared expression.
But Lucas felt unfathomably protective about this. Even though she was a grown woman, he had ten years’ life experience on her. He had no qualms about not even bothering with social media. It didn’t matter a jot to him, plus he was a doctor and had been taught how to deal with difficult and delicate situations. Despite having been groomed to be in the public eye, Giada was vulnerable now. She shouldn’t have to be anxious about reading things in the media; she shouldn’t read it, full stop. ‘You need a shield from all that.’
‘Oh?’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘Are you offering?’
Why not? He could be a stand-in for her brother. Protect her from the barrage of questions she couldn’t answer. He made a spur-of-the-moment decision. ‘For as long as I’m here I will read the comments and will only let you read the relevant ones. That is, the good ones.’
She tutted. ‘That’s like only reading the good reviews for a book. It doesn’t give you the full picture.’
‘To be honest, Giada, the only thing I care about right now is keeping the baby safe and well, which means keeping you well too.’ He couldn’t help but glance at her belly and was swamped by a tenderness that shocked him. Yes, he would be the shield.
‘Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me. To us.’ She put her good hand on her abdomen and it took all his self-control not to cover her hand with his. To fee
l the growing baby there. His baby. His lifeblood. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to get used to that idea. ‘Lucas, we have a lot to discuss and a lot to work through, so can we try to get along? I know this situation is difficult for you and you didn’t ask for any of this. But we’re here now and we have to make the best of it. I don’t know how to navigate any of it, but I promise I’ll try to take your feelings and opinions into account, if you could try to do the same.’
She was extending an olive branch, quite apt given the plethora of olive groves they’d flown over on this lush island.
Her smile turned a little wary and he hated it that their argument earlier had made her feel as if she had to tiptoe around things—he much preferred spiky, feisty Gigi. That woman made him laugh, made his heart tug, made him hot.
Which was not appropriate right now, even though his body seemed to have other ideas. He nodded. ‘I’ll certainly try.’
‘Me too. Good.’ Her smile returned. ‘And I don’t want to pry, but I had a feeling in the car that something had hurt you. Something to do with schooling or college. Can I ask...? Can you explain what you meant when you alluded to having had your future mapped out?’
He wasn’t going there. Not today. Not ever, if he could help it. ‘It’s not important.’
She touched his arm. ‘Lucas, it is. I can see it is. We had a fight over it. Please tell me so I can understand. What happened?’
He cursed under his breath. He wasn’t going to open that wound. ‘It’s—’
‘Look, can we be open with each other? Please? I need to know where I stand with you.’
He frowned at her words. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I am a princess, surely you understand that I have my “yes” people who only ever agree to my requests, no matter how crazy they are, and also people who try to wheedle their way into my favour so they can get something from me...kudos, a favour, money.’ Her cheeks reddened and she almost spat the last word out. She softened a little. ‘But you’re none of these things, Lucas. I get a sense of honesty from you. I know I make mistakes, I know I’m hasty and spontaneous and I’ve been trying to curb that. You’ll call me on my failings. In fact, you already have. Can we keep it that way?’
He liked it that she was back to being direct. ‘Of course.’
‘So tell me why our child’s schooling is particularly important to you.’
He blew out a deep breath, hesitating as he fished around for the right words.
‘I’m afraid I’m not going to be a good parent.’ The admission steamed out of him before he could hold it back.
Her eyes met his and she frowned as if trying to work him out. ‘Nobody knows what kind of parent they’ll be. I mean, look at me. A reformed rebel princess! I have no clue about babies, but I’ll learn. We’ll learn. You want to do the right thing and that’s the most important thing. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you care.’
He cared about the baby...that was an instinctive thing. But, he realised, he cared about Giada too, cared that she was supported and looked after. Which was a revelation considering he’d tried not to care about anyone...not deeply, not with any kind of emotional entanglement that would inevitably cost him dearly.
But there was something about Gigi that nudged and pushed and coaxed the caring side of him out of the darkest recesses of his heart. It wasn’t just because of the baby she was carrying, it was her. Her sense of duty, her laughter, her gratitude. The determination to make this difficult situation work between them, no matter how unconventional...and the fact she saw the good in him.
‘I had no role model, Giada. My father wasn’t exactly the warm, fuzzy type.’ Lucas shook his head, realising she’d prised out the thing that was haunting him most. And now, judging by her concerned and interested expression, he had to explain. ‘Basically, he had plans for me and I had no say in them. I come from a family of lawyers and it was assumed I’d follow suit regardless of any dreams I had of my own. Same college, same firm, same pattern for every Beaufort for the last hundred years. Except that wasn’t what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to be a lawyer just because someone else had decided I should be.’
‘So what happened?’
‘When I told him to stuff his archaic plans and chose my own course, my parents broke off all contact with me beyond the bare minimum. A Christmas card here, a brief, emotionless text there. But after medical school, when I moved over to the States from England, it seemed to be the impetus for them to just stop answering my calls. We haven’t spoken in years. I tried at first. I called. I emailed but...nothing. It’s as if I don’t exist. They’re just not interested and have cut me out of their lives.’
Her hand went to her chest as she frowned. ‘Dio, that’s awful.’
‘You learn to live with it.’ It had taken a long time for the sting of rejection to diminish and yet talking about it rubbed the wound raw again. His heart ached anew. ‘So don’t ever talk to me about happy families, because I’ve yet to find one.’
‘Well I’m hardly a poster child for that either.’ Gigi sighed. ‘I think my father would gladly have cut ties with me if he could have.’ She laughed, but then her face fell as she looked at him. ‘They really stopped answering your calls?’
‘Pretty decent parenting skills, right?’
‘Oh, Lucas.’ Her eyes roved his face and he was fairly sure she blinked quickly to stem a tear or two.
But the last thing he needed was her pity. That wasn’t why he’d exposed his past like a raw nerve. He started to follow the gravel path back towards the beech copse. ‘It’s fine. Their loss.’
‘Absolutely. They’re missing out. I wish they could see you now. Look at you.’ Her eyes blazed with passion. He assumed it was about the way he’d been treated, but there was something else there too. Admiration maybe. A readiness to fight for him. ‘You’re a fine man. A good doctor.’
‘With bad sling skills.’ He stepped in front of her and straightened the white bandage that cut across her décolletage. She’d managed to twist the sling and the support wasn’t enough to raise the wrist to the correct angle. The bruising on her chest was all yellows and purples and he winced at what this perfect body had endured. When he was satisfied the sling was giving the appropriate support he stepped back. ‘But improving.’
‘Every day.’ She wiggled her bruised fingers as she smiled, and he was shaken by the thrum of need that zipped through his body, sharp and electric. As if every nerve ending fired into life, straining to touch her.
You can’t improve on perfect. ‘Recovery’s going to take some time, so don’t go rushing to do things. Remember to ask for help if you need it, especially with the sling.’
‘Yes, Dr Beaufort,’ she said in a playful, sing-song voice. ‘Seriously, all I did was shower and dress. Maria helped me fix the sling.’
‘Tomorrow I’ll do it.’
‘Do what? The sling...?’ Her eyes glittered and she was back to the fun young woman who he’d made love to at the lake. ‘Or the shower?’
Oh, God. He thought of her naked, covered only in suds and his hands.
Princess. Out of reach. Ten-year age gap. Bro code. He swallowed. One of them needed to stop these sparks flickering into life. ‘I meant the sling, of course. It needs more support at the elbow.’
‘Pity.’ She held his gaze for a second. Two. More.
Her clear brown eyes simmered with heat that stoked a fire deep inside him. He was hit with an intense need to touch her again and without thinking he stepped closer. Her floral perfume mingled with the evening scents of sun-kissed wild thyme and eucalyptus. Her eyes misted. Her breathing quickened, as if she was also affected by the same shiver in the atmosphere that pulled them closer.
As he looked at her everything stilled, both around him and inside him. His gaze swept over her, over the lips he ached to kiss, the swollen breasts, the changing curves. Here, i
n the dappled light, she was astonishingly beautiful and utterly perfect.
She blinked up at him, desire in her eyes. Her hair was so lush and shiny, and he remembered the feel of it as it had run through his fingers. Wanting to feel it again, he reached out and slid his hands into her hair.
She covered one of his hands with hers. ‘Lucas...’ Her voice was cracked and the way she said his name sent arrows of need through him.
She stepped closer. Tilted her face until her mouth was mere inches away. If he dipped his head...he could kiss her again. That mouth. Her taste.
His heart thumped against his ribcage as he trailed his fingers through her hair and across to her cheek. The soft skin under his fingertips was warm but her gaze burned hot and he dipped his head. Closer.
There were so many reasons to stop, but he didn’t want to. In fact, desire seemed to propel him closer.
Then she went up on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his.
Oh, God. He couldn’t keep away, but he had to try. Crossing this line would only confuse things further. ‘Is this the point where I call you out for being spontaneous?’ he ground out against her ear.
‘It’s not spontaneous if you discuss it first,’ she whispered, laughing as her mouth grazed his jaw.
They had a chance, then, to stop it. He should have fought, should have stepped away, but all the confusion and emotion of the last few hours coalesced inside him. She was Princess Giada. Gigi, the best lover he’d ever had. She was bearing his child. She was sexy and beautiful, and she understood he was struggling with this mind-blowing craving. Understood him.
‘Do it, Lucas.’
Unable to resist any longer, he crushed his mouth against hers.
‘Yes.’ She moaned against his lips and opened her mouth to let him in. It started as a sweet, gentle exploration. He wanted to relearn her, discover her all over again, this new Gigi who was lush and glowing and growing. She tasted the same and yet different. Fresh, sweet, addictive.
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