She felt deliciously exposed with her legs widely spread, and deliciously excited when Luca’s hand found her. He was right about taking it slowly. She would never grow used to the size of him.
He felt so good. Linking her hands around his neck, she allowed him to guide her carefully down. He decided the pace, while she concentrated on sensation. She cried out with disappointment when his grip tightened on her buttocks, and he lifted her almost off him. Her cries of complaint brought a smile to his face, and he slowly lowered her again. Pressing down on her buttocks made sure that the contact between them was complete. And then he began to move. His hips thrust, sending him deep inside her, and he upped the tempo with each stroke until she could only bury her face in his jacket and wait for release. When it came it was incredible, and he knew just how to prolong it.
‘Better now?’ he asked quietly as she subsided into a series of soft, rhythmical sighs.
Callie lifted her head. ‘Is there time for more?’
With a soft laugh against her mouth, Luca obliged.
CHAPTER NINE
FABRIZIO WAS BEAUTIFUL and quaint, with winding cobbled streets, and tree-filled parks at every turn. People waved and cheered when they saw the royal car, and Luca lowered the window when Callie was dressed again, so he could wave back. His timing, as always, was impeccable. She had caught her first sight of his fabulous palace when they were a few miles away. Surrounded by ancient city walls, the royal palace of Fabrizio sat atop a hill from where the defenders of old could see their enemies coming for miles around. It was the most beautiful building she had ever seen with a grandeur that even his palazzo in Amalfi couldn’t match. Where that had been wedding-cake pretty, this was royal splendour cast in stone, wrought iron and stained glass. When the royal limousine drew up in front of a wide sweep of stone steps, Luca helped her out of the car and then left her in the care of his housekeeper and a maid, while he hurried off into the building.
Having crossed an exquisite hall, full of shields and swords and ancient portraits, Callie was taken up a sweeping staircase to the first level where she was shown into the most beautiful light and airy apartment. Knowing it would be hers for the duration of her stay was just incredible. The delicately decorated French furniture, the Aubusson rugs yielding softly underfoot, the twinkling glass and antique ornaments, the gilded mirrors—what was she doing here?
She thanked the stiffly formal housekeeper and the maid tasked with looking after her. Waiting until the door closed behind them, she headed for the unbelievably beautiful bathroom to take a shower in an enclosure big enough to house an entire rugby team. There was every conceivable type of potion, cream and bath foam, not in their original containers, but in the most exquisite cut glass jars and jugs. Lifting the fragile lid on one of these, she inhaled deeply. And sneezed. She was a little bit allergic to scent. But not to Luca’s scent, Callie reflected wryly as she turned full circle to admire the pink-veined marble walls. What was he doing now? she wondered as she glanced at the internal telephone. She didn’t want him to think her desperate. Let him call her, she decided. Please.
There was no such thing as the hot water running out at the palace. She basked in the luxury of heat and fragrant scent until she felt thoroughly clean, cosy, and fresh again. Then she donned a fluffy robe and wondered what to do about clothes. Pushing her feet into slippers she found ready in the bathroom, that matched the robe, she returned to the bedroom with its panelling and paintings, and floating silk voile, drifting romantically in front of the open window. She suddenly felt incredibly homesick and reached for her phone. What she needed was someone down to earth to confide in, someone she could trust to act as an honest sounding board. Ma Brown answered on the first ring.
‘Ma...’
‘Yes, dear?’
Ma Brown’s concerned tone both bolstered Callie and provided a much-needed wake-up call. She had never been a moaner, and she wasn’t about to start now that she was about to become a mother. ‘I don’t want you worrying about me,’ she stressed, ‘so I’m giving you an update.’
‘Ooh, lovely,’ Ma Brown enthused.
Callie could just picture her dear friend, pausing mid baking, or ironing, or dusting, or stirring a pot of something delicious on the stove, to hear what Callie knew she had to make into a Christmas fairy tale so that Ma Brown would smile and share it with the family, rather than fret about Callie over Christmas. ‘I’m in Fabrizio,’ she began.
‘I knew it!’ Ma Brown exclaimed. ‘You’re with the Prince.’
‘Yes. But there’s something else—’
‘You’re pregnant!’ Ma Brown shrieked before Callie had chance to say a word.
‘I had intended to break it to you gently—’
Ma Brown wasn’t listening. ‘Has he proposed yet?’
‘No,’ Callie admitted.
‘Why ever not?’ Ma Brown demanded good-humouredly. ‘Do you need me to come out there and prompt him? I will, if you like. I can easily catch a flight.’
‘No,’ Callie said again, this time laughing. Ma Brown’s voice had soared at least an octave. She probably didn’t need a phone to be heard in Fabrizio. ‘I promise I can deal with it.’
‘Tell me about his country, then,’ Ma Brown compromised, snatching a noisy breath as she attempted to calm down.
To a casual listener, their conversation might have seemed a little blasé under the circumstances, but Ma Brown could always imply more by her tone than she said in words. The simple phrase, tell me about Fabrizio, for instance, promised that the subject of Callie’s pregnancy had not been forgotten, but merely put on the back burner for now. One thing was certain. Ma Brown would always be on Callie’s side. Missing out the fact that she should have been planning her future, rather than scrambling over Luca, having sex in his jet and then in his car, Callie cut straight to the particulars. ‘Everything in Fabrizio looks as if it has been polished to a flawless sheen. Think Monte Carlo with a touch of Dubai—’
‘Oo-er,’ Ma Brown exclaimed, breathless with excitement. ‘Go on,’ she prompted.
‘Luca’s palace looks like something out of a fairy tale. It’s like Cinderella’s castle with turrets and crenellations. There’s even a drawbridge over the moat.’
‘Imagine the staff needed to look after that,’ Ma Brown breathed in awe.
‘And everyone wears uniform,’ Callie confirmed to add to the picture. ‘Sentries stand guard wearing black velvet tunics braided with gold—’
‘Goodness,’ Ma Brown cut in. ‘Isn’t that all a bit intimidating?’
You have no idea, Callie thought, but what she actually said was, ‘Poof! Not for you and me, Ma.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Ma Brown exulted. ‘I’ve read about the palace and how fabulous it is. The countryside around it is supposed to be equally beautiful. Tell me about that now.’
Hmm. Difficult topic, Callie thought as the silence extended. ‘I was so excited on the drive from the airport to the palace I didn’t take much notice,’ she admitted truthfully. ‘I’ll make sure to check it out next time and let you know.’
Ma Brown hummed thoughtfully. ‘I’ve taken quite an interest in your Prince since he rode to your rescue.’
‘He’s not my Prince, Ma.’
Ignoring this, Ma Brown continued, ‘The late Prince has ancestry stretching back to the mists of time.’
Unlike Luca’s, which stretched back to the gutters of Rome. Or her own, Callie reflected, which extended to a row of small, back-to-back houses in the same neighbourly terrace as the Browns, which she wouldn’t exchange for the world. She couldn’t imagine how she’d have got on when she was younger without the wonderful support of the family next door.
‘When are you coming home, our Callie?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Callie admitted.
‘If I were you, I’d stay there as long as you can,’ Ma Brown cheerfully recommended. ‘There’s a grand ball soon in Fabrizio to celebrate Prince Luca’s enthronement. You can’t miss t
hat. I want to hear all about it.’
‘I doubt I’ll be invited,’ Callie confessed. Luca hadn’t mentioned a ball. She couldn’t imagine he’d want her there. Thank goodness. Her stomach flipped at the thought of attending such a grand occasion, and then flipped at the thought of Luca attending the ball with an eager princess on his arm. He was better off with someone like that, she told herself, someone who was used to public occasions. Callie would probably say the wrong thing, or trip over her own feet.
‘Don’t let me down,’ Ma Brown warned. ‘When you said you were going on an adventure, a ball at the Prince’s palace was exactly the sort of thing I had in mind.’
‘I’m not Cinderella,’ Callie reminded her good friend ruefully, ‘and I don’t have a fairy godmother.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ Ma Brown insisted. ‘And I want an invitation to the wedding.’
Before Callie had chance to respond, Ma Brown had bustled off the line, no doubt to attend to more motherly duties.
A diet of romance, Ma Brown’s favourite reading matter, had obviously distanced her from reality, Callie concluded, but she was both thrilled and relieved at the way her good friend had taken the news of the pregnancy. Ma Brown was right. Pregnancy was normal. Attending a royal ball was not. But she’d have a go, if she were invited. She owed it to Ma Brown to attend the ball if she got the chance.
Ten minutes later she changed her mind again. I don’t belong here. Burying her head in her arms, Callie took a deep, steadying breath, and then lifted her chin to stare at herself in the ornately gilded dressing-table mirror. Her reflection appeared in what was surely a priceless antique like everything else in her elegant suite of rooms. How on earth had she ended up here?
‘I’ll tell you how,’ Callie’s snarky inner critic butted in. ‘From good girl to a hussy in no time flat, that’s you, Callie Smith!’
Fair play, Callie agreed. The fairy tale wasn’t quite as she’d described it to Ma Brown. She never knew where she stood with Luca, and the worst of it was, a few months ago, she’d known exactly where she was heading. Her short adventure in Italy would be a harmless interlude to look back on with pleasure. She’d go home after a couple of weeks, pick up her studies, go to college, and get a better job. Pregnancy had changed all that. Her priorities had completely switched around. The baby came first. It always would. Every decision Callie made from now on would be in the best interests of her child.
Luca’s child also.
Closing her eyes, she reviewed what she’d seen of Luca’s life to date. From the vast, echoing hallway, with it frescoes on the lofty ceiling, to the foot of a wide sweep of crimson-carpeted stairs, her head hadn’t stop whirring as she gazed around. Did she need more proof that she didn’t belong here? It hardly seemed possible that just a few hours ago she had been planning to make do and mend to raise a child she already loved. In the palace she was surrounded by so much...everything. The five-star hotel she’d thought so lavish was a mere potting shed compared to this. She had to stop short of pinching herself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. When a knock came at the door and it opened without Callie saying a word, she sprang up guiltily.
‘Oh, sorry, madam, I—’
‘No—please, come in. And please call me Callie...’
Callie paled as the maid stood back against the wall to allow a team of footmen to wheel several gown rails into the room. These were laden with a sparkling array of full-length ball gowns. Cinderella had nothing on this, Callie concluded, frowning. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she said.
‘No mistake, madam,’ the maid assured her. ‘As it’s rather short notice, His Serene Highness apologises for not sending you an invitation to the ball, but he wants you to know that you are free to choose any of these dresses to wear.’
‘His Serene Highness expects me to attend the ball?’
‘He does, madam.’
Then, His Serene High and Mightiness could have the courtesy to come and tell her that himself, Callie thought, but she thanked the maid, who was the innocent messenger. ‘I hope this hasn’t put you to too much trouble?’
‘None at all, madam. As soon as you’ve made your choice, if you ring this bell...’ the maid indicated a silken tassel hanging on the wall ‘...I’ll return immediately to help you dress.’
‘The ball’s tonight?’ Callie exclaimed in panic.
‘Oh, no, madam. This is just to give you chance to choose your gown and try it on. The Prince has instructed me to tell you that he will be with you by seven o’clock this evening to discuss your choice of gown.’
Hmm, Callie thought. And take it off, if she knew Luca. She couldn’t imagine he cared less what she wore. He was far more interested in removing her clothes.
As soon as the maid had gone, she walked over to the rail to check out the selection of dresses. She’d never seen so many fabulous outfits before. There were gowns in every colour in the rainbow. Some were beaded, some had frills, and some had gauzy ribbon. Nearly all of them had low necks, and/or big slits up the side and plunging backs. She guessed she was ungrateful for thinking all of them a bit over the top. She was frightened to touch them in case she soiled them, but she had to choose one. Picking out an aquamarine gown, her favourite colour, she held it up against her, but it was so heavily beaded it weighed a ton. She had to admit that the scent of fine silk, and the sight of such expert tailoring, did take her breath. There was boning inside the bodice, so no need to wear a bra, and the skirt was such a slender column, she’d have to hop, Callie reflected wryly as she returned it to the rail.
One after the other she discarded the dresses. She couldn’t see herself wearing any of them. They were far too fancy, and didn’t look at all comfortable to wear. Crossing the room, she rang the bell.
‘Yes, madam?’ the maid enquired politely.
‘We’re around the same size. Could you lend me a pair of jeans and a top so I can go shopping?’ There must be a high street in Fabrizio, she reasoned.
‘Go shopping, madam?’ the maid repeated as if Callie had suggested dancing naked in the street. ‘I’ll have a selection of outfits delivered to you within the hour.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course.’
‘Okay, but be sure to give me the—’ Before she had chance to say, ‘receipt, so I can pay the bill,’ the maid had left the room and closed the door.
Callie heaved a sigh. What was she supposed to do now? She tried to ring Luca, but that was like trying to get hold of the Queen of England. She went through half a dozen people and none of them would put her through to him. It was already nine o’clock in the evening. He’d left her alone to stew. Talking of which, she was hungry. Picking up the internal phone, she rang the kitchen to order a tray of sandwiches and a pot of tea. Hmm. So much for the high life! And so much for the discussions they were supposed to be having. Could matters of State be so much more important than their child?
She drank the tea, ate the sandwiches, then walked around the apartment until she knew every inch of it by heart. It was a gilded cage for the Prince’s pet bird, Callie concluded. It was impersonal. The drawers were empty. There wasn’t even a book to be found. There certainly wasn’t anything as crass as a TV. Opening the glass doors onto her private veranda, she sat down at the wrought-iron table. Listening to the night sounds soothed her. It was a beautiful evening, but where was Luca? She should have known by now that sex meant nothing to him, and he could just walk away, forget it, forget her.
She went back into the room when it began to get chilly. She’d forgotten that the maid had promised to have more clothes delivered, and the room was full of them. She couldn’t deny that rooting through the boxes and carrier bags was fun. Choosing a pair of jeans and a loose sports top, she exchanged her fluffy robe for a casual look that would take her through to bedtime.
More tea?
More tea.
She was just concluding, with a return of good humour, that wading through such a vast selection
of clothes was exhausting, when the door opened and Luca walked in.
‘Tea, madam?’
She almost jumped out of her skin. Even with a tray of tea in his hands, he was everything she could desire in a man. Dark, tall, and powerfully built. She would never get used to the breath-stealing sight of him. He’d changed into jeans and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Those arms! His jeans were cinched with a heavy-duty belt that drew attention to his washboard waist. His shoulders were epic and his powerful forearms were tanned and shaded with just the right amount of dark hair.
Those arms belonged around her, she concluded, forgetting her good intentions as he strode across the room. She was supposed to be having a serious discussion with him, not falling victim to his dazzling charm. Be objective, she told herself firmly.
‘Ah, the dresses have arrived,’ he commented as his stare swept over the gown rail. ‘Now for the fashion show.’ Throwing himself down on a finely upholstered chaise longue, he made a gesture she could only presume was supposed to goad her into action.
‘Are you going to model them for me, then?’ she asked. ‘You mentioned a fashion show?’ she prompted when Luca raised a brow.
For a moment he looked bemused and then he laughed. ‘You never change, do you?’
‘I hope not. Hooking up in a car does not a future make, Prince Luca. You and I have some serious talking to do.’
‘Soon,’ he promised. ‘But first a toast,’ he insisted, standing up.
‘In tea?’ she queried.
‘I can send for champagne—’
‘I can’t—’
‘Of course you can’t.’ With a grimace, he reached for her, and, jerking her close, he linked their fingers in a way she found very hard to resist. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, slanting a grin. ‘I had forgotten why we’re here for the moment.’
‘Don’t,’ she warned with a straight look into his eyes.
A Night of Royal Consequences Page 11