Claiming His Secret Royal Heir

by Nina Milne

  He hesitated. The frown still hadn’t left his face. ‘We’ll talk in the morning.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Pride kept her cool, enigmatic smile in place as he turned and left the room. Then, ignoring the ache that squeezed her heart in a vicelike grip, she picked up her mobile.

  ‘Harvey. It’s me. We need to talk.’

  * * *

  The next morning Frederick approached the door to Sunita and Amil’s apartments, forcing his steps to remain measured, forcing himself not to dwell on the previous night’s conversation with Sunita. But her words still pummelled his conscience.

  ‘I didn’t want to get married. You did. There was no choice. There still isn’t...’

  The unpleasant edge of discomfort bit into him.

  Shades of his father.

  He knocked on the door and entered, glanced around for Amil. Anxiety unfurled as he looked around and saw only Sunita at the table. ‘Where’s Amil?’

  ‘With Gloria. I need to talk with you.’

  Dressed in a simple white three-quarter-sleeved dress, belted with a striped blue and red band, she looked both elegant and remote. The only indication of nerves was the twist of her hands.

  Sudden familiarity hit him—she’d had the same stance two years before, when she’d been about to leave. Panic grew inside him and he forced himself to keep still.

  ‘Is anything wrong?’

  ‘No. I’ve signed a modelling contract. Effective pretty much immediately. We need to discuss the details.’

  ‘Immediately? But you said you wouldn’t sign a contract straight away.’

  ‘And I didn’t. The first time the offer came in I refused. But now they have upped the ante and agreed to schedule the shoots around my commitments here. I’d be a fool to pass it up.’

  A bleakness started to descend...a strange hollow pang of emptiness. ‘What about Amil?’

  ‘The first shoot is in India—in Mumbai. I’ll take Amil with me. We can stay with Nanni. Thereafter, whenever I can take him I will, or I will leave him in Lycander with you. Gloria will be here, and I will also ask Nanni if she can come and stay.’

  She handed him a piece of paper with her schedule printed out.

  Frederick frowned. ‘This can’t possibly have been arranged since last night.’

  ‘No. Harvey was approached a few weeks ago—right after our first press release. The brand had dropped the model they had planned to use due to her lifestyle. They thought of me. I refused—but now I’ve changed my mind and luckily they still want me.’

  ‘You didn’t think to discuss this with me at all?’

  ‘No. Any more than you discuss state business with me. Part of our marriage agreement was that I would resume my career as long as I fitted it around Lycander’s needs. I understand some people may not approve, but to be honest with you a lot of people won’t approve of me no matter what I do. The people wanted Kaitlin. I can’t be her, or be like her. I will not try to fit into a box I’ll never tick. I spent too many years doing that.’

  Frederick knew there were things he should say, things he needed to say, but the words quite simply wouldn’t formulate. All he wanted to do was tug her into his arms and beg her to stay—but that was not an option.

  Because Sunita didn’t want this marriage—she never had. He’d forced it upon her, caught her between a rock and a hard place. Self-disgust soured his tongue, froze his limbs. He was no better than his father. He had ridden roughshod over her wish not to marry him; he’d inveigled and manoeuvred and blazed down the trail he wanted regardless of her wishes. Worse, he’d bolstered himself with pious justifications.

  But it was too late to stop the wedding, to release her from their marriage agreement—it would be an impossibility, the impact on Lycander, on Amil, too harsh.

  Just Lycander? Just Amil? queried a small voice.

  Of course. It made no difference to him. It couldn’t make a difference to him

  Why not?

  The small voice was getting on his nerves now. It couldn’t because he wouldn’t let it. Over the past few weeks Sunita had very nearly slipped under his skin, and that way led to disaster, to pain and loss, to messy emotions that got in the way of a calm, ordered life. That would ruin this marriage before it even got underway.

  The silence had stretched so taut now he could bounce off it. One of the terms of their marriage agreement had included her right to a career and he would not stand in the way. So he said, ‘I understand. You’re right to go.’

  He looked down at the schedule again, but couldn’t meet her gaze, couldn’t seem to quell the spread of cold emptiness through his body and soul.

  ‘I’ll talk to Marcus—if you need to miss any functions I’ll let him know it’s OK. I know how important this contract is for you—anything I can do to help, I will.’

  ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

  He nodded, and yet still that desolation pervaded him, even as that unsquashable small voice exhorted him to do something. Anything.

  But he couldn’t. It wasn’t in him. So instead he headed for the door.

  One week later—Lycander Council Room

  Frederick threw the pen across his desk and watched it skitter across the polished wood. Concentration wouldn’t come. The words on the document blurred and jumped and somehow unerringly formed into images of Sunita. Ridiculous.

  Shoving the wedge of paper away, he sighed, and then looked up at the perfunctory knock on the door.

  Seconds later he eyed his chief advisor in surprise. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. I thought you could do with a break. You’ve been closeted in here for hours. Days.’

  ‘A break?’ Frederick looked at Marcus blankly. ‘Since when do you care about me having a rest?’

  ‘Since you gave up on both sleep and food. So how about we grab a beer, shoot the breeze...?’

  Frederick wondered if Marcus had perhaps already grabbed a few beers—though there was nothing in the other man’s demeanour to suggest any such thing.

  ‘Are you suggesting you and I go and have a beer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  Marcus shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m pretty damn sure you’d rather shoot yourself in the foot than have a beer with me.’

  Dark eyebrows rose. ‘Feeling tetchy?’

  Damn right he was. Sunita had been gone for a week and his whole world felt...wrong...out of kilter. And he hated it. He loathed it that he didn’t seem able to switch these emotions off. However hard he twisted the tap, they trickled on and on. Relentlessly.

  ‘No. Just being honest. So, what gives?’

  ‘I’m your chief advisor, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So here’s some advice. Go after Sunita.’

  ‘Sunita is in Mumbai on a photo shoot—why would I do that?’

  ‘Because I think you love her.’

  Frederick blinked, wondered if this conversation was a hallucination. ‘Then you think wrong. You know all this—we’re getting married because of Amil and for Lycander.’

  ‘You can’t kid a kidder. But, more importantly, why kid yourself?’

  ‘With all due respect, has it occurred to you that this is a bit out of your remit?’

  ‘Yes, it has.’ Marcus started to pace the office, as he had so many times in the past year. ‘But I’m talking to you now as Axel’s best friend. I know Axel wouldn’t want you to throw this away.’

  Guilt and self-loathing slammed Frederick so hard he could barely stay upright. ‘Hold it right there. You don’t know what Axel would want.’

  ‘Yes, I do. He’d want you to get on with life. Your life. Right now you’re getting on with Axel’s life, fulfilling his vision. I think Ax
el would want you to fulfil your own.’

  Frederick searched for words before guilt choked him. He needed Marcus to stop—he couldn’t listen to this any more.

  ‘The accident... Axel’s death was my fault. I should have been in that car. I was meant to go that state dinner. I passed it off to Axel.’

  ‘I know.’ Marcus’s voice was measured. ‘Axel was supposed to meet up with me that night. He told me you’d asked him to go because you had a party to go to. To celebrate a buy-out that no one thought you’d pull off.’

  A buy-out he now wished he’d never tried for—if he could have pulled out any domino from the cause-and-effect chain he would. Most of all, though, he wished he hadn’t chosen a party over duty.

  He watched as Marcus continued to stride the floor. ‘So why did you take this job with me? Why didn’t you tell me you knew the truth?’

  ‘I did what I believed Axel would have wanted. Axel was my best friend—we climbed trees as boys and we double-dated as young men. A few days before the accident he was trying to get up the courage to ask my sister on a date—he’d joke that he wished he had your charm. He cared about you very much, and he wouldn’t have wanted you to punish yourself for the rest of your life.’

  Marcus halted in front of the desk and leant forward, his hands gripping the edge.

  ‘You didn’t know what would happen—you didn’t send Axel to his death.’

  ‘But if I had chosen not to party, not to do what I wanted to do, then Axel would be alive now.’

  Marcus shrugged. ‘Maybe. But it didn’t pan out like that. You can’t turn the clock back, but you can make the most of your time now. I think you love Sunita, and if you do then you need to go for it—before you lose her. Axel’s death should show you how life can change in a heartbeat—don’t waste the life you’ve got. Axel wouldn’t want it. And, for what it’s worth, neither do I.’

  Frederick stared at him. Emotions tumbled around him—poignant regret that Axel had never had the chance to ask Marcus’s sister on a date, grief over the loss of his brother, a loss he had never allowed himself time to mourn, and gratitude that Marcus had given him a form of redemption.

  ‘Thank you.’

  There wasn’t anything else he could say right now. Later there would be time. Time to grab those beers and sit and talk about Axel, remember him and mourn him. But now...

  ‘Can I leave you at the helm? I need to go to Mumbai.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  Frederick had the feeling he’d need it.

  Mumbai

  Sunita smiled at Nanni across the kitchen, listened to the comforting whirr of the overhead fan, the sizzle of malpua batter as it hit the heated pan. Ever since Nanni had first made these sweet dessert pancakes Sunita had loved them.

  ‘You don’t have to make me breakfast every morning, Nanni, but I do so appreciate it.’’

  ‘If I didn’t you would eat nothing. And you do not need to stay in with me every night. I am sure there are parties and social events.’

  ‘I’d rather be here.’

  Totally true. She didn’t want to socialise; she was too tired. Sleep deprivation, combined with the effort it took to work when all she wanted was to be back in Lycander. Irony of ironies, she wanted to be in a place that had rejected her, with a man who had rejected her. What a fool she was. But she’d be damned if anyone would know it—she’d dug deep, pulled up every professional reserve and hopefully pulled the wool over Nanni’s eyes as well.

  ‘You aren’t happy.’

  So much for the wool pulling endeavour.

  Nanni put her plate in front of her; the scent of cardamom and pistachio drifted upward.

  ‘Of course I am. The job is going great, I’m back in Mumbai, Amil is here and I’m with my favourite grandmother.’

  ‘And yet you still aren’t happy. You can lie to me, Suni. But don’t lie to yourself.’

  ‘Sometimes you have to lie to yourself—if you do it for long enough the lie will become the truth.’

  Or that was her theory. And, yes, there were holes and flaws in it, but it was a work in progress.

  ‘That still doesn’t make it actual truth,’ Nanni pointed out with irrefutable logic. ‘Do you no longer wish to marry Frederick?’

  ‘I have no choice.’

  ‘Yes, you do. There is always a choice—however hard a one it is. If you do not love him, don’t marry him.’

  ‘I do love him, Nanni. But he doesn’t love me.’ Tears threatened and she blinked them back.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because he has made it pretty clear.’

  ‘By action or word?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Love is not all about declarations—it is about demonstration. I told your mother how much I loved her repeatedly, but when the time came for me to show that, to fight for her, I failed miserably.’

  ‘But you still loved her, Nanni, and she knew that. She never blamed you—she blamed her father.’

  ‘At least he had the courage of his convictions—he did what he did because he believed it to be right. I was a coward—I loved Leela, but not enough to fight for that love. It is one of the biggest regrets of my life, Suni—that I didn’t fight for her, for you. So all I would say is think about your Frederick, and if there is a chance that he loves you then fight for that chance.’

  Sunita stared down at her somehow empty plate and wondered if she were brave enough—brave enough to risk rejection and humiliation. And even if she was...

  ‘I don’t fit, Nanni. Even if he loved me I can’t live up to Lady Kaitlin.’

  ‘You don’t need to live up to anyone—you just have to be yourself. Now, go,’ Nanni said. ‘Or you will be late for work.’

  * * *

  Frederick approached the site of the photo shoot, where the Gateway of India loomed in the twilight, its basalt stone lit up to create a magical backdrop, the turrets adding a fairy tale element for the photographer to take full advantage of.

  The square was cordoned off for the shoot, and he joined the curious pedestrians who had stopped to watch. The people behind the cordon were packing up, so he slipped under the ropes, ignored the protest of a woman who approached

  ‘Sir, I’m sorry, but...’ There was a pause as she recognised him.

  ‘I’m here to see Sunita.’

  ‘Is she expecting you?’

  ‘No. I thought I’d surprise her.’

  ‘And you have.’

  He spun round at the sound of Sunita’s voice; his heart pounded, his gut somersaulted. She wore a square-necked red dress, in some sort of stretchy material that moulded her figure and fell to her knees in a simple drop.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes. I want to...to talk.’

  She hesitated and then nodded.

  ‘OK. I’m done here. We can go by the wall over there and look out at the sea, if you like.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Are you sure everything is all right?’ Concern was evident in her tone now, as she looked at him.

  ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’

  And he didn’t—after all, this could be the most important conversation of his life and he could totally screw it up. He could lose her.

  ‘I need to tell you something.’

  ‘Actually, there is something I need to tell you as well.’ Her hands twisted together and she looked away from him, out at the boats that bobbed on the murky water.

  ‘Could I go first?’ Before he bottled it.

  She nodded.

  ‘First I need to tell you about Axel. The accident that killed him—I should have been in the car. He took my place because I’d decided to go a party—a celebration of a buy-out deal. He not only took my place, he totally cove
red for me. He told everyone that it had been his idea, that he’d wanted to attend and I’d given up my place.’

  Her beautiful brown eyes widened, and then without hesitation she moved closer to him. ‘I am so very sorry. I cannot imagine what you went through—what you must still be going through. But please listen to me. It was not your fault—you did not know what would happen.’

  ‘I know that, but...’

  ‘But it doesn’t help. I understand. I understand how many times you must think if only or what if? But you mustn’t. I spent years thinking what if my mother hadn’t died? What if she hadn’t handed me over to my father? What if I could somehow have won his love? My stepmother’s love. My sister’s love? It made me question how I felt about my mother and it ate away at my soul—like this is eating away at yours. You can’t know what would have happened. Axel might have died anyway. Your action wasn’t deliberate—you wished Axel no harm.’

  ‘That’s what Marcus said.’

  ‘He’s a good man.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Frederick took a deep breath, looked at her beautiful face, her poise and grace, the compassion and gentleness and empathy in her gorgeous eyes.

  ‘He said something else as well...’

  Suddenly words weren’t enough—he couldn’t encompass how he felt in mere words. So instead he pushed away from the wall, and when she turned he sank to one knee.

  ‘Frederick...?’

  He could taste the sea spray, see the expression on her face of confusion, and hope soared in his heart as he took her left hand in his and removed the huge, heavy diamond—a ring chosen by someone else. He delved into his pocket and pulled out a box, purchased earlier from one of Mumbai’s many jewellers.

  ‘Will you marry me? For real. Not for Amil, not for Lycander, but because I love you. Heart, body and soul. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, wake up with you every morning. I want to live my life side by side with you. I want us to rule together, to laugh together, to live a life full of all the emotions. So, will you marry me? For real?’

  His heart pounded and his fingers shook as he opened the box and took the ring out.