by Kate Hewitt
Their hips nudged and heat flared. This was the closest she’d been to him since the night of the sandstorm, when amidst the fear and uncertainty she’d almost lost her head. Again. Now dizzying sensation spiralled through her, and he was barely touching her.
‘Now everyone will know you are mine,’ Rico said as he placed his hands on her bare shoulders and drew her even closer towards him. The brush of his lips against her was like an electric shock, twanging all the way through her as he deepened the kiss, turning it into a brand.
Halina swayed as Rico moved his mouth with firm, sure possession over hers, plundering its depths, taking control in this as he did in everything.
He broke the kiss first while stars danced behind her eyes and her knees nearly buckled. Blinking away the haze of desire, she saw his smugly satisfied smile.
‘We will have a good marriage, Halina.’
‘There’s more to a marriage than that,’ she returned shakily, and Rico’s smile vanished, replaced by a wintry look.
‘Not for us.’
She’d known it, of course she had, but it still hurt to have him spell it out so plainly. ‘Why not, Rico?’
‘What exactly are you asking me?’
‘I guess I’m asking you what kind of marriage we will have,’ Halina said slowly. Her heart had started beating with painful thuds. ‘Because we’ve never even discussed it.’ She held up her hand, heavy with the glittering ring. ‘I don’t even know when we’re getting married.’
‘In one month’s time.’
‘Have you told my father?’
‘We’ll send him an invitation.’
Halina cringed inwardly at his coolly dismissive tone. Despite the agonising way her father had hurt her, she still missed him and the rest of her family. She hated the thought of them not knowing how she was, or even where she was, but Rico had assured her Sultan Hassan knew she was with him—and that, Rico had said flatly, was all he needed to know.
Now she lowered her hand and gazed down at the ring. ‘In one month,’ she repeated slowly. ‘And what about our marriage? What will it be like?’ She hesitated, then dared to ask the question pulsing through her heart. ‘I know you don’t love me now, but would you ever, perhaps in time?’
She felt Rico stiffen as the seconds ticked on. ‘I am not interested in love, Halina. It’s an ephemeral emotion. It counts for nothing.’
Pain thudded through her. ‘Yet you’ve said you would love our child.’
‘That is different.’
‘It’s specifically romantic love you’re talking about, then?’
A hesitation, telling, painful. ‘Yes.’
Halina drew a deep breath. ‘So you’re telling me you’ll never love me?’
‘I’m telling you I will provide for you, protect you, seek your happiness above my own. What is love compared to all that?’
She stared at him sorrowfully, unsure of her answer but knowing with a leaden certainty that his wasn’t enough.
* * *
Rico glanced across at Halina’s thoughtful profile, wishing he could see into her mind, even as he acknowledged that he most likely didn’t want to know what thoughts lingered there.
He’d planned for the ring—and the kiss—to seal the deal between them and bring her pleasure. What woman didn’t like a nice piece of jewellery? And the ring he’d chosen was magnificent. But since the moment he’d slid it onto her finger Halina had cradled her hand as if it was too heavy, as if the ring were a burden or even a wound rather than a symbol of their forthcoming union.
His stomach cramped as he remembered how she’d asked about the nature of their marriage, about whether he would ever come to love her. He’d been postponing such a conversation while Halina regained her strength; her health along with their child’s was his main priority. But when asked so directly, he’d had to tell her the truth. He just hoped she could learn to live with it.
‘So what is this party for?’ she asked as the limo slid through Rome’s traffic, the buildings blurring outside the car. She turned to him, looking so achingly lovely he longed to draw her towards him and kiss her lush, plump mouth. He could kiss away all her concerns and worries about the nature of their marriage; he was sure of it. What they would have together in bed would be far better than any tedious notions of love or affection.
He’d waited to reignite their physical relationship because he’d wanted her to feel better physically with her nausea and also because he’d wanted to gain her trust. But now he wondered if kissing away her concerns would be the most expedient option.
‘Rico...?’ Halina prompted, a frown crinkling her brow. Her eyes still looked sad, just as they had when she’d asked him earlier about their marriage.
‘It’s a charity event,’ he replied. ‘For street orphans.’
‘Is that a charity you support?’
‘Yes.’ To the tune of millions of pounds, not that he would tell her as much. It was a charity that cut far too close to the bone, so he kept the amount of his giving secret. Few people knew the nature of his childhood, and no one knew about his father’s rejection of him. He did not want to advertise his private shame, or cause people to pity him.
‘And what will people there expect of me?’ Halina asked, sounding nervous.
‘The usual thing at parties. To chat and socialise.’ He smiled, wanting to lighten the mood and lift that sadness from her eyes. ‘You surely know which fork to use with which course and other such matters?’
‘Yes,’ Halina allowed. ‘But the socialising bit might be beyond me.’ Rico looked at her in surprise and she let out a shaky laugh. ‘Sometimes I think you have a completely skewed view of my life.’
‘Oh?’ He frowned, curious and a bit discomfited. He’d assumed, as she was a princess, she’d gone to plenty of parties, dozens of social occasions. ‘Enlighten me, then.’
Halina shrugged. ‘Before I met you, I’d been to exactly two parties, and they weren’t parties the way you probably think of parties. They were diplomatic events at the palace—all I had to do was show up, bow my head and appear modest and subservient. I’ve never socialised beyond the schoolroom, and before the night I met you I’d never even worn a cocktail dress. This...’ she gestured to the gorgeous gown that encased her lush body in a satiny sheath ‘...is the first evening gown I’ve ever worn.’
Rico’s frown deepened as his wife-to-be surprised him yet again. Yes, he’d known Halina had had a sheltered and even restricted life behind the palace walls, but more and more she showed him just how small it had really been. And he wanted to make it bigger. ‘What did you wear to the diplomatic events if not evening gowns?’ he asked.
‘Traditional dress. Very conservative.’
Something else he hadn’t actively considered. ‘Is this...these clothes, this lifestyle...difficult for you?’
She laughed, the sound crystalline and musical. ‘Difficult? No, definitely not. I love these clothes. I love the freedom of going out to a party.’ For a second something sad flickered across her face. ‘Believe it or not, I have more freedom here with you in Rome than I did before in Abkar.’ But that’s not saying all that much. Rico could practically see the thought bubble appearing over her head.
‘Then I hope you enjoy tonight,’ he said sincerely. ‘It’s your chance to shine.’
And shine she did as they stepped into the elegant ballroom of one of the city’s best hotels. Halina was easily the most gorgeous woman in the room, looking like a brilliant green flame in her emerald evening gown. Rico steeled himself not to mind the curious and lustful looks slid her way by just about every male guest. The women looked too, just as intrigued by the woman on his arm. Rico waited until they’d attracted a decent-sized crowd before delivering the bombshell he knew would explode in the entire room.
‘Please let me introduce Princess Halina of Abkar,’ he said smoothly,
his arm linked with Halina’s. ‘My fiancée.’
Murmurs of shock and surprise rippled through the room as Halina stiffened beside him. Rico pulled her a little closer, determined to stake his claim in every way possible. ‘We will be married next month.’
‘So soon?’ a woman asked with acid sweetness. Rico didn’t recognise her, but he certainly knew the tone. He held her gaze, putting iron into his own.
‘Yes. Neither of us wish to wait.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed and her mouth curved into a speculative smile. Halina put a protective hand over her belly and, from the ensuing ripple of murmurs that spread out through the crowd, Rico knew that just about everyone had seen that revealing action and judged it accurately.
‘Let me get you some champagne,’ he told Halina, and she gave him a wan smile.
‘You mean sparkling water.’
Several people heard, adding fuel to the fires of speculation. Rico knew by the time the evening was at an end everyone there would know Halina was pregnant. Well, so be it. Halina’s pregnancy would be physically apparent soon enough, and he would never be ashamed to claim his child.
He asked a waiter for a glass of sparkling water, then he began to move through the crowd, Halina pressed to his side.
As the hours wound down and the conversation and speculation swirled, Halina became quieter and quieter. At first she’d tried to enter into the various conversations, smiling and nodding, shyly offering her own opinions, but as time passed Rico sensed her withdrawing into herself.
After a five-course meal where they were seated on opposite sides of a table for twelve, she excused herself, disappearing for over twenty minutes before, both impatient and alarmed, Rico went to find her.
He strode down the hotel’s opulent corridors, annoyed that he’d been compelled to leave the event to find his errant wife-to-be, even as he fought a growing sense of worry that something was really wrong with her. What if she was ill? What if, God forbid, something had happened to their child?
He asked the attentive staff of the hotel if they’d seen her, and finally tracked her down to the opulent women’s powder room down one endless corridor. Not hesitating for a second, Rico rapped on the door.
‘Halina? Halina, are you in there?’ There was no reply, so he cracked open the door a bit and called again. ‘Halina, please answer me if you’re in there. Tell me you’re all right.’
Two women came to the door, sidling past him with amused glances. ‘So attentive,’ one of them drawled, and the other gave an unpleasant cackle of laughter. Rico glared at them both.
‘Is Princess Halina in the powder room?’ he demanded.
One woman, looking spiteful now, shrugged a bony shoulder. ‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’ she called as she walked off with the other woman, their angular bodies and raucous laughter reminding Rico of a pair of glossy, pecking crows.
He pushed open the door to the powder room and strode inside. The place looked empty—a row of gold-plated sinks, a plush settee and several opulent wood-panelled stalls. The room was completely silent, save for the drip of a tap and a sudden, revealing sniff from behind one of the stall doors.
‘Halina,’ Rico called, his voice rough and urgent. Another sniff sounded. ‘Open the door,’ he demanded. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’
After an endless moment Halina unlocked the door and stepped out into the bathroom. Rico gaped at her, taking in her dishevelled hair and tear-stained face, his heart lurching at the sight of her obvious distress.
‘Halina,’ he said and reached for her. ‘What has happened? What’s wrong?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RICO’S STRONG, WARM hands encased Halina’s icy ones as he drew her towards him, his brow furrowed, his expression somewhere between thunderous and terrified.
‘Why have you been crying? Has something happened? Is it the baby...?’
‘No, it’s not the baby.’ Halina pulled her hands from his to dash at the tears on her face. She felt embarrassed for falling apart so completely. This evening had been an utter failure, and it was all her fault. She couldn’t handle a party. She couldn’t handle being Rico’s fiancée. ‘At least,’ she amended, taking a steadying breath, ‘it was, in a manner of speaking.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rico’s gaze swept over her, as if looking for open wounds or broken bones. ‘Are you hurt?’
Halina let out a shaky laugh, torn between wry amusement and deep, abiding sorrow. ‘Yes, Rico,’ she managed tartly, ‘I am hurt. But you won’t find any visible wounds so you can stop looking at me as if you want to take me to the hospital’s emergency department.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘No.’ She sighed. ‘You wouldn’t.’ She moved past him to study her reflection. She was even more of a wreck than she’d realised, her supposedly waterproof mascara giving her panda eyes, and her once elegantly styled hair falling about her shoulders in tangled ringlets.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Rico asked, his tone gruff.
Halina sighed and attempted to dab at her mascara even as she recognised a lost cause when she saw one. ‘My feelings are hurt, Rico,’ she said, deciding she needed to speak as plainly as she could. ‘Feelings. You know those things you try not to have?’
Rico’s mouth thinned. Clearly he didn’t appreciate her pathetic attempt at humour. ‘Why were your feelings hurt?’
She hesitated, her gaze still on her unhappy reflection. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, it does.’ Rico spoke with a force that surprised. ‘Who hurt you? Did someone say something, do something? Because if they did it to you, then they did it to me.’
A feeling bloomed in Halina’s chest, a mixture of surprise and warmth. It spread through her like sunshine or honey, warming her right down to the tips of her fingers and toes. ‘Do you mean that?’
‘Of course I do.’
Was that what marriage was? Maybe not love, but something just as fundamental? The question was, could it be enough?
‘So what happened, Halina? Tell me.’
‘Not here.’ She glanced around the bathroom. ‘Someone’s liable to come in, and I can’t cope with another snide remark.’
His frown of concern deepened into a positive scowl. ‘So someone did say something to you. One of those women?’
‘Not to me,’ Halina clarified, and felt the tightening of tears in her throat. The snippy, bitchy comments she’d overheard while in the bathroom stall had wounded her deeply, more than she cared to admit to Rico, because even though he wanted to know she knew he wouldn’t understand. Not completely.
‘Tell me,’ he demanded. ‘Tell me what they said.’
‘Why, so you can punch them?’ She let out a hiccupping laugh. ‘I will tell you, but can we please go somewhere private?’
‘Fine.’ He slid his phone out of his pocket and quickly texted a message. ‘The limo will meet us out front in five minutes.’
‘We’re leaving?’
‘Do you really want to go back in to the party?’
‘No, but I thought you would. This charity is important to you.’
He shrugged. ‘Your well-being matters more.’
Which both touched her and made her feel guilty. She really had failed him this evening. Feeling miserable on so many levels, Halina followed Rico out of the bathroom. He took her arm as he strode away from the party so that Halina had to take quick, mincing steps in her tightly fitted evening gown and tottering heels to keep up with him.
‘Rico, wait! I can’t walk so fast. These shoes are killing me.’
‘Sorry.’ He glanced at her, contrite. ‘I just wanted to get you away from here.’
The limo was waiting for them outside the hotel, and Rico opened the door before ushering Halina inside. She slipped into the luxurious leather interior with a sigh of relief. Every p
art of her ached.
‘Are you in pain?’ Rico asked, catching her wince, and Halina managed a laugh.
‘No, I’m just not used to these stilettos. They kill my feet.’
‘Take them off, then.’ Before she could do so he reached down, undid the straps of her shoes and slipped them off her feet. Halina let out a gusty sigh of relief, then gave a little gasp of surprise when Rico took her feet and drew them up to his lap. When his thumbs began to massage powerful circles on their soles she wriggled with pleasure and couldn’t keep a moan of delight from escaping her.
‘Oh, my goodness, that feels fantastic.’
Rico laughed softly. ‘I can tell.’
He reached over and tucked one of the throw pillows adorning the limo’s seats behind her head. ‘There. Now tell me what happened at the party.’
Halina’s eyes fluttered closed as she surrendered to Rico’s tender ministrations, his fingers continuing to work their magic on her aching feet. ‘It wasn’t such a big deal. I’m sorry I made it so.’
‘That’s for me to say, not you. What happened, Halina?’
She sighed and then wriggled again with pleasure as Rico’s hands moved up to her ankles, his thumbs tracing the delicate bones.
‘I was in one of the bathroom stalls and some women came in. They started talking about me—and you.’
His fingers stilled for only a second before he continued with the slow, rhythmic circles. ‘And what did they say?’
‘They knew I was pregnant. I don’t know how...’
‘You put your hand on your belly during our engagement announcement and then you asked for sparkling water.’
‘Oh.’ Now she felt stupid. ‘Well, that explains it, then,’ she said with an attempt at a laugh.
‘I don’t mind people knowing, Halina,’ Rico said, his voice low and sure. ‘I will never mind. You’re going to be my wife and you’re carrying my child.’
‘Are you sorry?’ Halina blurted, opening her eyes. In the darkness of the car she couldn’t make out his expression.