Princess's Nine-Month Secret

by Kate Hewitt

  ‘It will pass.’ Rico’s voice was low and steady, a thrum of comfort.

  ‘How do you know?’ Halina asked in a high, faltering voice. ‘We could be buried alive.’ She started to tremble, her teeth chattering with pure, unadulterated fear.

  Then, to her shock, she felt Rico’s hands on her shoulders and he pulled her against him, fitting her body next to his so she could feel the hard, warm press of his chest, his powerful thighs.

  She stayed rigid with shock for a few seconds, then Rico began to rub comforting circles over her back with the palm of his hand, and Halina started to relax.

  It felt so good to be held. It felt so safe. Until this moment she hadn’t realised how much she craved both the comfort and security of another person’s touch. She closed her eyes as she snuggled into him, telling herself this didn’t count. Extraordinary measures for extraordinary circumstances—that was all this was. In the morning she would be back to keeping her distance and composure—and regaining her strength.

  * * *

  Rico continued to rub Halina’s back as he felt her melt into him and he tried not to react. Even in her gaunt state she was pliant, warm and womanly. He desired her even now, with the storm raging all around them and their lives at stake.

  ‘Have you never been in a sandstorm before?’ he asked, trying to distract himself from his own demanding need.

  ‘No, I’ve only seen them from a distance. From the safety of a palace.’ She let out a choked laugh, her breathing fanning his neck. ‘I’ve led a very restricted life, Rico.’

  A very privileged life. Her upbringing was a world away from his on the docks of Salerno, a mother who hadn’t wanted him at all and a father...

  But why the hell was he thinking about his father now?

  Seeing Halina, knowing she was carrying his child, had opened a need in him and, worse, a vulnerability that he struggled to contain. Control was paramount. He would provide for his child, he would love him or her, his own flesh and blood, he would make a stable family that his child could trust in absolutely. But he would not give in to this inconvenient and shaming need; he would never allow himself to be weak.

  To make the point to himself, he inched a little bit away from Halina’s soft, tempting body. Outside the wind howled and the tent continued to be battered mercilessly.

  ‘Have you ever been in a sandstorm?’ Halina asked, moving closer to him again, one fine-boned hand resting on his chest. Resigned, Rico put his arms more securely around her, telling himself he was doing it for her sake, not his own.

  ‘No, I have not.’

  ‘Then you don’t know if it will pass.’

  ‘I checked the weather before I set out on this journey. The high winds were only meant to last a few hours.’

  ‘Somehow I don’t think sandstorms bow down to weather reports,’ Halina returned. ‘They are entirely unpredictable, coming out of nowhere, sometimes lasting for days.’ Her voice hitched. ‘What if we’re stuck out here for that long? What if we’re buried alive?’

  ‘We won’t be.’

  ‘You don’t know that, Rico. You don’t control nature, as much as you might like to.’

  Of course he didn’t, but he prided himself on living a life where he always maintained control. Where he was always totally prepared. Where nothing ever surprised him, because then he wouldn’t betray himself, his doubt or his need. Yet, just as Halina had said, he could not control a sandstorm, and he feared this was just the beginning of all the things he would not be able to control.

  His arms tightened around Halina. ‘I admit, the storm is stronger than I anticipated, but I brought the necessary equipment and food, and we are well positioned to wait it out. We’ll be safe, Halina. I will make sure of it.’

  Halina relaxed a fraction. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t mean to overreact.’

  Rico couldn’t keep a wry smile from touching his lips as he stroked her hair. No matter his promises, they were in a life-threatening situation. He’d hardly call it overreacting. ‘You’re forgiven,’ he said, and Halina let out a little huff of laughter.

  ‘Even when you’re being kind, you’re arrogant, do you know that?’

  ‘It isn’t arrogance when I’m right.’

  She just laughed again, her lips brushing his neck, sending gooseflesh rippling along his skin. Desire arrowed through his body and he knew Halina felt it too by the way she tensed in his arms, shifting a little so she was looking up at him, her hair cascading down her back in an inky blue-black river that Rico could just make out in the darkness of the tent.

  His mind blurred and he started to lower his head to claim her mouth with his own. He could imagine the kiss, the rightness of it. He could already taste it, like a drink of clean, sweet water. He heard Halina’s quick, indrawn breath as she waited for him to close the space between their mouths and it shocked him into clarity. He lifted his head.

  He could not complicate their relationship with sex. Not yet. Not until he’d made it very clear what he expected of Halina and their marriage. Of their life together, or lack of it. Until then, he’d keep his distance, for both their sakes.

  He heard Halina draw another shuddering breath and knew she’d felt his withdrawal. She moved a little bit away from him, or tried to. Rico stilled her, keeping her close, although he wasn’t sure why. Surely it was better to let her go, give them both a little distance? Still, he stayed where he was, and made sure she did as well.

  ‘Go to sleep,’ he said gruffly. Halina did not reply, but after a few endless moments he felt her body start to relax again, and then he heard the deep, even breaths of sleep as the storm continued to rage.

  When he awoke the tent was hot and airless, awash in a greyish morning light, and the world was still. Halina was still snuggled in his arms and now he could see her properly—the luxurious spill of her hair, her lush lips slightly parted, her thick, spiky lashes fanning onto her cheeks.

  He brushed a tendril of hair from her face and her eyes fluttered open. For a taut second they simply stared at one another, their bodies pressed close together, Rico’s already responding.

  Halina moved away first, wriggling away from him as her face turned fiery. ‘The storm has stopped,’ she muttered as she scooted across the tent, putting as much space between them as she could, considering the limitations of their environment.

  ‘So it has.’

  She peered out, as if she could see right through the dark canvas. ‘Are we going to be able to get out?’

  ‘I should think so.’

  It took some doing, but after Rico had torn the tape from the entrance to the tent he managed to dig them out.

  ‘Only half-buried,’ he said with a smile, and then reached for Halina’s hand to help her out.

  Outside they both stretched and blinked in the glare of the morning sunlight, the landscape made even more strange by the ravages of the storm. Drifts of sand were piled on either side of the tent and the SUV was completely buried, no more than a large hump in the sand. New dunes had formed, turning the once-flat stretch into a newly undulating lunar-like landscape.

  ‘Goodness,’ Halina murmured. Her arms were wrapped around herself, her face pale as she looked around. ‘I’m amazed we’re still here.’

  ‘Yes.’ Rico eyed the buried SUV. It would take him several hours to dig it out. ‘We need to get going. Why don’t you refresh yourself? Eat and drink something? I’ll start digging out the car.’

  ‘Why are we going to Rome, Rico?’

  ‘Because that is where both my business and home are.’ He rolled up his sleeves and started scooping the sand away from the car with his hands. Unfortunately he had not thought to pack a spade in his desert provisions.

  ‘And what will we do when we get to Rome?’ Halina pressed. Rico gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to have this conversation, not until they were safely
back in Rome, in his domain. But Halina seemed determined to discover his intentions, and Rico decided she might as well know them. It wasn’t as if she could escape, anyway.

  ‘We’re going to Rome,’ he said clearly, his gaze on the sand-covered car, ‘because that is where we are going to live. Where my child is going to be born...and where you are going to marry me.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HALINA STARED AT Rico in dawning realisation—and horror.

  ‘Marry you?’ she squeaked. ‘That’s what you have in mind?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But...but we don’t know each other! And we don’t even like each other.’

  ‘I believe those statements are contradictory. And, in any case, you were prepared to marry more of a stranger to you than I am mere weeks ago.’

  Halina flushed, not needing the reminder. ‘I was prepared to do that out of duty,’ she began, but fell silent when Rico gave a decisive shake of his head.

  ‘And you will marry me out of duty as well. Duty to our unborn child.’

  ‘We don’t have to be married for our—’

  ‘Yes.’ Rico cut her off. ‘We do. It is important to me, of paramount importance, that my child grows up in a stable and loving home.’

  ‘Loving?’ Halina repeated incredulously. ‘But you don’t love me.’

  ‘I will love my child,’ Rico stated flatly, his voice thrumming with certainly. ‘But now is not the time to discuss this. We have more important matters to attend to.’ He nodded towards the tent. ‘Eat, drink and refresh yourself. We leave in an hour.’

  Biting her lip, preferring not to argue with him when he was in such an intractable mood, Halina wordlessly turned and went back into the tent.

  She choked down some more pita bread and dried meat, knowing she needed the sustenance, then washed her face with a sparing amount of water and rinsed out her mouth. With her hair tidied and her clothes straightened, she was as presentable as she was going to be, but she didn’t feel at all ready for whatever lay ahead.

  Marriage. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she realised. Rico moved people about like pawns on his personal chessboard. Why should she, why should marriage, be any different?

  Because he was the classic commitment-phobe who never kept a woman for more than a night. But with a sinking sensation Halina acknowledged that marriage to Rico Falcone was most likely not going to look or feel like a normal marriage. Not that she knew what that felt like. If she married Rico, she would just be exchanging one expedient union for another. One stranger for another. A loving, normal marriage had never been within her grasp, no matter how much she might have wanted it. Her life had never been her own.

  Halina rolled up the sleeping bags and repacked their provisions in the canvas rucksack Rico had brought. Then, taking a deep breath, she went in search of her rescuer and captor.

  He was hard at work digging out the SUV; he had shucked off his shirt and his tawny skin gleamed like polished bronze under the unforgiving glare of the desert sun. Halina blinked, trying not to let her gaze move slowly over his perfectly sculpted pectoral muscles, the six-pack definition of his taut abdomen. She failed and, even worse, Rico turned and caught her staring openly at his incredible physique.

  His mouth quirked and something like satisfaction flashed in his eyes. He jerked his head in a nod towards their vehicle. ‘I should be finished in another half hour.’

  ‘Can I help...?’

  ‘No, of course not. You’re pregnant.’

  ‘Pregnant, not an invalid.’

  ‘Even so.’ Rico turned back to the car. ‘I do not wish you to tax yourself.’

  With a sigh Halina wondered if Rico intended to wrap her in cotton wool for the next seven months. Then, with a jolt, she wondered why she was thinking this way. Was she just going to roll over and do whatever he said, including binding her life to his for ever? Would Rico let her do anything else?

  Her choices, as ever, were limited. She’d never known what freedom felt like save, perhaps, for her one night with Rico. And look what had happened then.

  Her mind in a ferment of indecision and uncertainty, Halina turned back to the tent. ‘I’ll pack up our things.’

  Half an hour later the vehicle was clear and Rico had thrown their things into the back. His expression was grim and determined as he slid into the driver’s seat. ‘We have another two hours’ drive to Arjah.’

  ‘What if my father’s soldiers are there? What if we’re found?’

  ‘We won’t be.’

  And if they were? Her father must have discovered her absence by now and most likely would have sent soldiers out to find her. And what then? Rico wouldn’t give her up without a fight, but even he was no match against trained soldiers and weapons. Halina leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. It was too much to think about on top of everything else.

  ‘Any soldiers your father sent out would have been caught in the sandstorm, the same as we were,’ Rico said. ‘We have some time.’

  Halina just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. In such a scenario she didn’t even know what she’d prefer. To stay with Rico, or be rescued by her father? Both options seemed abysmal in their own way.

  A bumpy few hours passed as they jolted along, the rough desert track gradually becoming a tarmac road, and then the low mud-brick buildings and handful of skyscrapers came into view—Arjah, the capital city of Kalidar.

  Halina felt herself getting more and more tense as Rico drove through the city, his expression harsh and grim, his fingers tight on the steering wheel. They made it to the airport without notice, and Rico drove directly to a private plane waiting in its own bay.

  Halina’s breath came out in a shudder of relief that they had not been caught or detained. So she would prefer to stay with Rico. Her own reaction had betrayed her. That was why she’d left with him in the first place, she supposed—because she’d rather risk her future with this man than face the continuing wrath of her father, her baby taken away, her body given to a man she’d never even met.

  Rico gave a grimly satisfied nod. ‘It is just as I had arranged.’ He parked the SUV and strode out to meet the plane’s crew who were waiting for them on the tarmac. Halina followed, feeling exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed. If she got on that plane, it would take her all the way to Rome. And then where would she be? What would she do? What would Rico do?

  ‘Come. There is no time to delay.’ Rico beckoned her forward. ‘You will be more comfortable on the plane.’

  Halina hesitated, even though she knew there was no point. No choice. What was she going to do? Make a sprint for the airport? She had no money, no clothes, nothing. No resources at all, and no friends to help. For a second she thought of Olivia and Prince Zayed, who might be currently residing in the royal palace at Arjah. She could seek sanctuary with them perhaps, but did she want to do that—be the unexpected and undoubtedly unwelcome guest of her former fiancé and his new bride? She’d be putting them into an impossible position as well as herself, and that was assuming she could even get to the royal palace from here, which she probably couldn’t.

  ‘Halina.’ Rico’s voice was touched with impatience. ‘Everyone is waiting.’ On leaden legs Halina walked slowly towards him and as he took her arm she climbed the steps to the plane.

  She’d been on Abkar’s royal jet many times before, going to and from school, but it felt different now, walking into Rico’s own plane. She glanced around at the sumptuous leather sofas and low coffee tables. Several crew members were waiting attentively, their faces carefully bland. Did they know who she was, that she was pregnant with their employer’s child?

  Rico strode in behind her and gestured for her to sit down. ‘After take-off you can shower and rest. The flight will take approximately six hours.’

  Numbly Halina nodded. She felt dazed, unable to process everyt
hing that had happened to her. Everything that was going to happen. Marriage.

  She swallowed hard and looked out at the bright blue sky, the glare of the sun making the tarmac shimmer. The plane began to taxi down the runway and then they were taking off into the sky, away from all she had known.

  As soon as they’d reached cruising altitude, Rico rose. ‘I’ll show you the bedroom.’

  Halina followed him, aching with exhaustion, too tired even to think. The bedroom was even more luxurious than the living area, with a king-sized bed on its own dais, built in wardrobes and a huge flat-screen TV.

  She gazed around at the adjoining bathroom, complete with a glassed-in shower and marble tub, the furnishings and amenities the height of luxury.

  ‘This is amazing,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve never been on such a plane.’

  ‘Not even the royal jet?’ Rico returned with a quirk of his eyebrow.

  Halina shook her head. ‘Not even then.’

  He stared at her for a moment, and Halina gazed back, uncertain how to navigate this moment. How to navigate every moment. She couldn’t discern what he was thinking, what feelings, what fears or desires, lurked beneath his hard, metallic gaze, if any. Rico Falcone was a completely closed book and she had no idea what its pages held.

  ‘When you’re rested and refreshed,’ Rico said implacably, ‘we’ll talk.’

  Halina nodded and Rico walked back out to the main cabin, closing the door behind him. She sank onto the bed with a sigh of relief, glad to be alone for a few moments, away from the intensity of Rico’s presence. She was desperate to wash, and also to think. To figure out what her next steps were...because Rico certainly knew his.

  She spent far longer than necessary in the bath, luxuriating in the hot water and fragrant bubbles. The Palace of Forgotten Sands was forgotten in more ways than one; there had been no updating of its interior in over a hundred years, which meant her washing facilities, along with everything else, had been depressingly basic. A long, lovely soak went a good way to restoring her strength and spirit.