by Donald Robyn
He paused, choosing his words. ‘Being dogged by paparazzi has made me paranoid—and there is a remote chance the villa’s been bugged.’
Unease prickled though her skin, hollowed out her stomach. ‘Why?’ And why was he evading a straight answer to her question?
‘According to the villagers at least one stranger has been snooping around trying to get them to talk about the family.’
‘A British stranger?’ she asked without thinking.
‘Yes.’ He shot her a penetrating glance. ‘Have you seen anyone?’
‘Possibly,’ she said cautiously. ‘The housekeeper told me about him. I think he took a photo of me in the village yesterday.’
He frowned. ‘So he knows you’re here, and by now he’ll probably know I am too.’ After another of those lightning-swift glances, he shrugged. ‘Don’t worry. The villa can’t be overlooked unless he hires a helicopter, and he can’t do that here.’
Then, with an abrupt change of subject, he said, ‘You look much better. No sign of a bruise. Can you breathe without discomfort?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Max, what is it? You seem—different, somehow.’
Her words surprised a short, mirthless laugh from him. He sat down on a chair some little distance away. ‘Probably because I feel different. I need to tell you something.’
Rosa licked her lips, warned by something subliminal in his attitude that she wasn’t going to like this. ‘Go on,’ she said hoarsely.
Without looking at her, he said calmly, ‘It appears that I—and my brothers—are not actually the king’s grandchildren.’
And as she gasped he went on to explain.
Appalled by the cool, measured words, Rosa knew her face mirrored her changing emotions—bewilderment, then stunned shock, followed by horror when she realised where this revelation was heading.
He finished by saying, ‘I couldn’t go to the king with a photograph as the only evidence, so Giovanni and I had DNA testing done. It proved conclusively that he is my grandfather, not the king.’
‘I see,’ she said in a small voice, looking down at the hands that knotted in her lap. ‘What—what do you plan to do?’
‘I’ll tell the king.’
Rosa went cold, thinking of the proud, autocratic old man who was her grandfather. The Fierezza blood meant everything to him. Colour faded from her smooth skin, leaving the framework prominent and angular. ‘But there’s no one else. What will he do?’
‘He’ll tell me to get the hell off Niroli and never come back.’
Stunned, she stared at him. His expression was unreadable, as emotionless as the bronze athlete he so resembled, but something in his steady tone struck her as false. She swallowed. ‘Is that what you want? To leave Niroli?’
He shrugged. ‘No. Strangely enough, I want to be King. There’s a hell of a lot of work to be done here; Grandfather—the king,’ he corrected himself with a harshly cynical twist to his lips, ‘hasn’t moved with the times. I think the islanders trust me. I’m certainly known to them. If I were King I could do an immense amount of good.’ He paused, holding her gaze with his. ‘But as I am not a Fierezza, that’s no longer an option because of course the king won’t allow anyone who’s not a descendant to rule Niroli. He’ll make you his heir.’
‘No,’ she whispered, shivering. She rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms in an attempt to warm them, then hugged herself in a childish, defensive gesture.
Mercilessly, Max said, ‘There’s only you left, Rosa.’
Shaking her head, she looked at him pleadingly, hoping he could produce another heir from behind his back like a magician. His handsome face—so like Giovanni’s, she realised now—was coldly controlled.
‘I know.’ Her lips quivered. ‘But will the people want to be ruled by a queen? There’s never been one before and a lot of the islanders are very old-fashioned.’
‘They’ll accept you if there’s no one else. You’ll have to do it, Rosa.’ He spoke ruthlessly, shattering all her faint, barely articulated dreams. ‘If you don’t, the republican party may well see it as a chance to push their agenda.’
She thought instantly of Kate’s comments, so long ago it seemed now. ‘Would that be such a bad thing?’
‘Can you see them achieving it peacefully? Almost a generation ago Niroli was torn by a particularly bloody civil war—you lost a brother through it. You might have regained him, but many others died. Rosa, you know the islanders—their memories are long and the royal family is hugely important to them as a symbol, if nothing else. They’ll fight to retain the throne.’
He was already distancing himself, she realised, shivering. His tone was quite dispassionate when he spoke of the royal house, as though he’d already renounced any right to be considered part of it.
Rosa closed her eyes and slumped while desperate thoughts whirled chaotically through her brain. Fighting back, she seized on one and sat bolt upright. ‘What about Adam?’
When he looked impassively at her she added hastily, ‘You know Adam Ryder—my half-brother.’
She was clutching at straws, and they both knew it. ‘He’s your father’s son, all right, but he’s illegitimate,’ Max pointed out.
The light in her eyes died. She said passionately, ‘It’s so unfair! You’d make a terrific king—the best we’ve ever had, probably. If it turns out that Giovanni’s right, couldn’t you keep quiet about your ancestry? Then you could ascend the throne.’
‘I’m no usurper,’ he said with harsh distinctness. ‘If I’m not a Fierezza I have no claim to the throne. Whatever happened, I wouldn’t accept it.’
‘Anyway, it won’t change anything,’ she said, her brow furrowing while her mind darted frantically around, settling on ideas only to discard them. ‘Everyone would still believe we were cousins. Unless—’
Colour burning the length of her cheekbones, she stopped abruptly. Had he noticed? She stole a furtive look at him, but Max’s expression hadn’t altered. Perhaps he hadn’t heard the implication in her words—that if she did accept the throne they could marry.
His face set in forbidding lines. ‘As I’m not the king’s grandson, there’s going to be a huge scandal as well as a constitutional crisis. The tabloids will make an immense fuss about the queen’s adultery, the king will be revealed to be a cuckolded husband—and you can imagine how that will go down with the islanders. Not only that, but my mother and brothers will be stripped of their titles. More food for the republicans.’
Rosa shivered at the wider implications of Giovanni’s revelation.
Max said, ‘Whereas if I simply announce that I don’t want the throne, who’d be surprised? It isn’t the first time, after all—every other heir has turned it down too.’
She sat in silence for some moments, digesting this, before she jerked upright, face clearing. ‘No—wait! Couldn’t Grandpapa legitimise Adam and let him rule Niroli?’
‘I don’t think it’s possible.’ He glanced at her and went on remorselessly, ‘But even if Adam could be persuaded to accept the throne, do you think he’d give up his life in America?’
Rosa bit her lip. ‘No. Why should he? He has no attachment to the island.’ She felt sick and terrified, like a cornered animal being herded into a trap. She’d longed to know that she and Max weren’t related—and her wish had been granted, but it only made things worse, more impossible than ever. The old proverb danced mockingly in her brain. Be careful what you wish for—you might get it.
A lump blocked her throat. She swallowed again, then said in a thin, desperate voice, ‘There’s no alternative, is there? I have to do it.’
‘Duty is a bastard,’ he said with flinty restraint.
She glanced at the bronze mask of his face. It revealed nothing. How had he felt when he realised that not only his life, but that of his father and brothers, had been based on a lie?
Forcing herself to ignore her own bleak apprehension, she said quietly, ‘It must have been shattering to find out that you weren’t who you thought you
were.’
His expression altered too subtly for her to be able to read it. ‘In a way it’s a relief,’ he said unexpectedly.
Rosa stared at him, and he gave a tigerish smile, leaned towards her and kissed her.
Sensation stormed through her in a wild clamour. It was like coming home again after years spent at sea, like finding the safe haven that had eluded her all her life. When he got to his feet and drew her up with him she gladly opened her mouth beneath the challenging demand of his.
Until he tore himself away and said in a voice she’d never heard before, his driven, desperate words searing her heart, ‘I’m sorry. I promised myself that wouldn’t happen.’
He let her go. Without looking at her he said harshly, ‘I have no right to touch you.’
Faced by the possibility of an unbearable future, one devoted to duty and a responsibility she’d never wanted, never been trained for, one that would wrench her from her career and the life she enjoyed, Rosa cast prudence and any fear of rejection to the winds.
Fiercely she demanded, ‘Do you know I’m still a virgin?’
Max froze, almost like a predator sensing prey, then turned his head slowly. Stone-faced except for the leaping gold lights in his eyes, he said, ‘I wondered—but I couldn’t believe you were.’
‘Well, I am.’ She ignored the whispered warnings of pride. ‘And do you want to know why? I wanted you when I was sixteen, too young to understand what I felt, and I want you now. Max, make love to me.’
His face disciplined into that unreadable mask—beautiful, arrogant, enigmatic—he said only one word. ‘Why?’
‘Because I—’ A little half-sob choked her, but she managed to quell her fear and collect herself enough to finish on a breathless, reckless rush, ‘For purely selfish reasons. If we don’t, I’ll regret it all my life.’
How long they faced each other like enemies in the bright sunlight, her heart hammering so loudly it blocked out all other sounds, Rosa didn’t know. It took every ounce of her courage to meet his steady, intimidating survey, and the challenging silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.
Until he smiled.
Rosa fought back a primeval response that shrieked at her to run.
She swallowed. ‘Max?’
Even then he didn’t move. Instead his gaze fell from her eyes to her mouth, lingering there long enough for her lips to feel full and soft and heated.
Rosa held her head high, but when that green-gold survey skimmed her throat and the soft curves beneath, swift colour stung her skin, and to her astonishment and alarm her nipples budded into tight peaks.
‘And if we make love,’ he said on a raw note, ‘you may regret that too.’
‘No. Not that. Not ever.’ It was like a vow and he frowned. He was going to say no, she knew it. Recklessly she blurted, ‘If I have to be Queen I need something—something of my own, something to remember, to warm me when I get cold at night…’
He paused, and she saw a flicker of compassion. With bitter resignation she accepted it, because he understood how she was feeling. Even though he wanted to help the people of Niroli, he’d never expected to be King.
‘Are you sure, Rosa?’
‘Utterly sure.’
He said, ‘So be it, then,’ and came towards her, his smile suddenly tender. ‘I hope I don’t hurt you. I’ve never made love to a virgin before.’
So it might even be special for him? ‘You couldn’t hurt me,’ she said, no longer caring whether he loved her or not. The future stretched before her, shadowed by renunciation. She would at least have this.
Max lifted her chin with a forefinger, tilting her face to meet his. She flushed at the green flame in his hazel eyes, and he smiled, bent and kissed her for a fierce, passionate second, then picked her up and carried her across to the hammock suspended from the boughs of an ancient, evergreen tree that shaded the arbour.
In a dreamy, dazed voice she said, ‘It’s just as well the servants go home after breakfast—’
‘—and won’t come back until it’s time to get dinner,’ he finished for her, his eyes gleaming with a light she’d seen only once before.
Hardly able to believe it was going to happen, she shivered and gave him a tremulous smile. He didn’t return it.
She said, ‘I’m sorry. If you don’t want to…’ She stumbled to a halt and looked down, forming the words in her mind before she could say them. ‘If you don’t want to make love to me, then don’t. It’s all right.’
Chapter 9
A crack of fierce laughter shocked Rosa into looking up into Max’s dark face.
In a charged moment his arms crushed her against him. He said in a hard-edged, purposeful voice, ‘I’ve wanted you ever since you were sixteen, with legs so long you tripped over them and spectacles you hid behind whenever I looked at you. It was impossible then, and I shouldn’t be doing this now, but I’ve run out of will-power where you’re concerned.’
He bent over and lowered her carefully into the hammock.
‘Oh—stop!’ She jerked upright, clutching the side of the hammock as it swayed. ‘What about the man who’s searching for bugs—the security man?’
‘He won’t come out here.’
But she looked furtively around. ‘Paparazzi?’
Max smiled at her with glittering eyes and stripped off his shirt. ‘We’ll be quite safe from stray servants or hopeful paparazzi. Even if our English stalker kayaks in by sea, Security will intercept him before he reaches the beach. No one can see us here; it’s perfectly private.’
Afire with desire and anticipation, Rosa watched him drop his shirt onto the honey-coloured stone tiles of the arbour and ease lithely down beside her. He settled his long body a few centimetres from hers.
Although she yearned to reach out and touch him he made no move to come closer, keeping that symbolic distance between them.
In a smoky little whisper she said, ‘You make even getting into a hammock a statement of power and grace.’
He surveyed her with hooded, unreadable eyes. ‘Is that what you enjoy about me?’
‘Of course,’ she said, adding with a small, provocative smile, ‘amongst other things.’ Max’s brows lifted. ‘What are these other things you like?’
More heat skimmed her cheekbones. ‘Well, to start off with—your kindness.’
‘Kindness?’ His smile twisted into cynicism. ‘I’m not kind.’
‘Yes, you are,’ she told him, longing to stroke the fascinating crease in his cheek, the hard, arrogant line of his jaw, the carved beauty of his mouth. ‘You’re always very much the boss, but you’re unfailingly polite to everyone you deal with—even when you’re angry, you don’t lose your temper. I’ve always noticed that; it’s actually very intimidating. But it means that although people walk warily around you, they don’t have to worry about being shamed.’
His eyes kindled. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I always knew it.’ She smiled a little sadly, remembering the child she’d been, green as grass, at the mercy of her wayward hormones. ‘You were kind to me as a kid, and even that summer when I made a nuisance of myself you never tried to humiliate me or embarrass me. Freezing me off so courteously was the best way to deal with it; I was hugely aware of it, but at least it left me some pride. That was kindness.’
‘I felt a total heel,’ he said ruefully.
‘No, a heel would have laughed at me.’ She bent forward and kissed the curve of his shoulder, her lips lingering as she felt the muscles tighten and bulge beneath her questing mouth. ‘Or encouraged me,’ she said soberly.
‘I’m not a cad. You were sweet.’ The rough undertone to the words sent a rapid ripple of adrenaline through her. ‘Such a bright kid, so alert and interested in what was going on, yet so innocent. I enjoyed your forthrightness, your frankness and your blushes. Too much. I was ten years older than you, and there’s a hell of a difference between sixteen and twenty-six.’
He bent his head and k
issed her, his mouth demanding. Against her lips he said, ‘I won’t pretend—I can’t see that there’ll ever be a future for us, Rosa. Even if we could find some way through this maze of lies and cover-ups and ancient rules, I’m too old for you, and with this latest information I’m not a suitable mate anyway.’
Rosa gave a valiant little laugh, because he was just right for her, and the look in his eyes told her he’d never believe that in a million years.
She met his intent gaze without flinching. The future still loomed; this would be all she’d ever have of Max, so she intended to savour every precious, unrepeatable second.
‘That’s not important. Let’s forget about anything else but this.’
He bent to kiss her, but when she sighed and opened her lips to him he lifted his head again. ‘This will have to be the only time we can spend together,’ he said levelly, meeting her eyes with a warning in his.
Although grief needled through her like pain, she tried to sound mature and sophisticated and definite. ‘How long can you stay?’
He paused. ‘I haven’t told the king yet.’
‘Don’t go,’ she whispered, shattered because when he left her he’d never come back.
‘Not yet,’ he said ironically, his narrowed gaze pure, molten gold as it searched her face. She thought he was going to put a limit on their stolen days together, but in the end he said, ‘As long as I can, Rosa. As long as I dare…’
No promises, no guarantees. Gravely she suggested, ‘Then let’s not waste a second.’
He said something beneath his breath and kissed her throat, and they lay like that, his mouth against her skin, for blissful moments until she gave a little wriggle against him.
As though he’d forgotten something, he sat up. Passion, strong and hot and fiercely possessive, still glittered in his eyes, but his voice was crisp and uncompromising. ‘I don’t suppose you’re using contraceptive medication?’
‘No.’ Some of her joy fading, she flushed. Of course his previous lovers, all sophisticated beauties, would have seen to that.
He touched her mouth with a long index finger, his fingertip sending sizzling messages through her body. ‘I’m sorry I was so blunt,’ he said, his eyes gleaming. ‘It makes no difference—I’ll take care of you.’