The Heir: A Contemporary Royal Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  I look around me. Tall trees dot a series of rolling hills—pines and maples; the sky is pale blue and filled with soft white clouds. “What a wonderful place,” I say with a sigh.

  “Matilda used to bring me here for picnics. No one lives for miles around, and I used to roam the hills and the woods with one of the sons of the cook.”

  Dante slips his arm around my waist and stops for a moment. “You know when our child is a little older, we’ll have to bring him here too. And later on, maybe his brother or sister too.”

  “Would you mind very much if our baby turns out to be a girl?”

  He runs his hand through his hair, a stupid smile on his face. “The only thing I care about is for our child to be born healthy.”

  “Me too,” I whisper, and he smiles into my eyes. A special smile as if we are sharing the most wonderful secret in the world. We walk a little more and I feel as if I am floating on air with sheer happiness.

  “Here we are,” he says and points straight ahead. “The first of the three caves.”

  “Does no one ever come here?”

  “Sometimes, on weekends or holidays, but I suppose to most people it’s old hat. I just never seem to tire of the place.” He releases his arm from around my waist and grabs my hand. “Come on,” he says and starts pulling me along and running toward the entrance. I laugh and do my best to keep up with him. To be honest I’m surprised by his mood. He reminds me of a small boy eager to show me his discovery.

  He stops just inside the entrance. It is dark and it takes my eyes some time to adjust to the sudden dimness.

  “Don’t worry,” Dante says, “I’ll guide you.” He stops and leads me carefully inside. “Just wait till you see,” he tells me, a lilt in his voice.

  “See what?” I ask.

  “The paintings. Some of the best you can find anywhere.”

  “How can I see anything? It’s so dark.”

  “Just wait.” His voice is eager.

  He leads me forward; It’s dark and I can’t see much, but I can smell the earth and the rocks all around me. Dante seems to know his way very well. His stride is sure and confident. We make a turn, and suddenly it’s light. I look up to see a round opening at the top. Then I see the paintings—dancing men and women, animals, suns, stars, plants and hunting men wearing animal disguises.

  “These are all from prehistoric times?” I ask, amazed.

  “Yes, among the oldest ever found on earth.”

  “Wow! The colors are so vivid.”

  “Aren’t they.” There is fierce pride in his voice. “They are done in bat guano.”

  “Do you know how old they are?”

  “Our scientists say they’re from the early Bronze age. Some believe they may even be older than one in Indonesia that is supposed to be the oldest in the world.”

  “But why isn’t this more of a tourist attraction?” I ask.

  “For one thing, my father decided not to broadcast the findings. He didn’t want what happened to the Lascaux Caves where the carbon dioxide of the thousands of tourists arriving everyday started to visibly damage the paintings.”

  I gaze at the paintings in amazement. “How long ago were these caves discovered?”

  “I was a child when a rock climber found them, but I still remember the day I heard the news. I was so excited. Even before they were authenticated I was already here with Matilda.”

  “Really?”

  “Look here,” he says showing me the footprint of a small child.

  “Wow. This is even better than visiting a cemetery. It’s hard to imagine that this child lived thousands of years ago and left something of itself for us to find.”

  “See that guy there with the big penis?”

  I follow the direction of his hand. Indeed, there is a man with an extraordinarily large erection. “Yeah?”

  “That’s how you make me feel.”

  He grasps my shoulders and draws me toward him. “You thought I was kidding when I said I wanted to get you alone in the caves, didn’t you?”

  “Well … I must confess I had hoped.”

  “I’ve always liked a hopeful girl,” he murmurs as his lips descend on mine, warm, fiery and demanding. His scent floods my senses and I lose myself in him. My hands rise up to entwine in the silky hair at the nape of his neck as I press myself against his hard body and kiss him back until the world falls away and I can no longer think straight.

  “Rosa,” he whispers slowly, as if it is a magic incantation. Never has my name sounded so wonderful before. My heart flutters in my chest.

  “What?” I gasp breathlessly.

  The moment is shattered by the sound of his cellphone ringing. He pulls his phone out and looks at it. He looks at me and says, “Hold that thought,” before taking the call and saying joyfully, “Oncle.”

  “No, I’m sorry, but Rosa has to nap in the afternoon. In her condition, she gets tired too easily.” He pauses to listen, his eyes on me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.” He pauses again. “All right, great.” Another pause. “Of course, we’ll be there.” Another pause. “No, no. Just a snack will do. Okay. We’ll see you in … half-an-hour.”

  He looks at me. “Can I take a raincheck on ravishing you? My uncle wants me to bring you around to his house.”

  “You want me to meet him dressed like this?”

  “You won’t meet a man less concerned with the way you look than my uncle.”

  As we walk back to the car he tells me about the man who was more a father to him than his own.

  Chapter 30

  Rosa

  Dante’s uncle lives in a large, gated house. The grounds are filled with trees. His uncle and aunt are waiting outside to meet us. To my surprise, he looks like an older version of Dante. In the car, Dante explained that his uncle is actually his mother’s brother.

  His aunt hugs me warmly before she opens her arms out to Dante. Instead of hugging her, Dante sweeps her off the ground and whirls her around while she screams with laughter and begs him to put her down. I cannot help but smile to see Dante so happy. It is a completely different Dante than the one of last night in the company of his father and stepmother.

  By the time he consents to put her down her face is quite red and glowing. She turns to me breathlessly. “Oh, he is a terrible one, my boy.”

  We are shown to a sunny room where cakes and sandwiches have been set on a table. A maid starts pouring out tea for us and Helen politely asks about me. My job, my life in England, where Dante and I first met. The conversation is easy and pleasant. All the while his uncle smiles and nods and says almost nothing. He waits until we are almost finished eating before he asks the question that has no doubt been burning in his chest.

  “Will you become King, Dante?”

  Dante frowns. “No, Oncle. I won’t. You know how I feel about blood succession. If Father wants he can pick Linnus to be his successor.”

  His uncle’s face hardens. “Your father does not have the right to pick a successor of his choice. You are his successor. It is time for you to stand up and be counted. To take charge. It is your responsibility. You are failing in your duty for your country.”

  “Oncle, you know how I feel about monarchy. If I had my way, this country would be a democracy.”

  For the first time, Anton shows his frustration. He bangs his fist on the table making the teacups rattle.

  “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Look around you, at all those countries with democratically elected governments. They are nothing but corrupt lackeys of the multinational corporations. Do the people in those countries have more than us?” he bellows.

  “No, they don’t,” he answers his own question. “Have they more freedom than our people? Do their citizens have more peace than we do? The answer to all those questions is always no. No. No. They do not have a better system than us.”

  I glance at Dante who is staring at his uncle.

  “Are you aware that your father is in the proces
s of signing us to treaties so that soulless international corporations can take our country to international tribunals for arbitration if they feel the decisions our government makes are not in their best interests or hurt their profits? Their rights will be above ours!”

  Dante’s eyes narrow. “Father is signing Avanti up to T.T.I.P and T.T.P?”

  “I think it is your brother who is brokering the deal,” his uncle says heavily. “You have to stop the process, Dante. You have to stop the rot. The last great leader was your grandfather, and I believe with all my heart that you can be the next. You must step up. Avanti needs a strong and wise leader. Do your duty. One day your child could hate you for snatching away what is his or her birthright.”

  He stands up stiffly and starts walking away.

  Dante jumps up. “Oncle,” he calls.

  His uncle stops, looks at him sadly, and says, “I have kept my promise to your mother and done everything I can for you. There is no more I can say. Do your duty. Make your mother proud.” Then he walks away.

  “There are other things afoot too,” his aunt whispers. You have to come back. You have to do something to stop Linnus and your father. They’re destroying the country so they can buy bigger yachts and more expensive watches and clothes for their wives. Please, Dante,” she begs.

  Dante is very quiet in the car. His face is like stone and I know he is thinking about what his uncle said so I don’t try to start a conversation. It seems wrong for me to talk of anything trivial after the momentous revelations in his uncle’s house. He escorts me to my room and slides the back of his hand down my cheek.

  “Go to sleep, Rosa. Don’t tire yourself out too much during your shopping trip.”

  “I won’t,” I whisper.

  “I’ll see you tonight, bella,” he says with a smile, then he is gone.

  I lie on my bed, but I am unable to sleep. I feel as if I have been thrown right in the middle of a maelstrom. I call Star, then Cindy, but neither is around. As I close my eyes, someone knocks on my door.

  “Come in,” I call, thinking it will be Elsa, but to my shock, the queen enters.

  Chapter 31

  Rosa

  She is wearing a cream two-piece Dior. If I remember correctly, she is wearing it with the same shoes the model wore on the catwalk. I scramble out of bed and drop into a small curtsy.

  “Ah, I have caught you while you were sleeping,” she observes quietly.

  “No, not at all. I was just lying down.”

  “That’s good. Will you come with me? I want to show you something.”

  She turns and starts walking away. I hesitate for an instant then I follow her out of the room. We walk down the corridor into the west wing.

  “So … you and Dante are not staying on?” she asks, glancing at me.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?’

  I bite my lip, not sure what I should say. “I think Dante prefers to live in Italy and of course, I have my job too.”

  “Your job at the magazine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah. That is nothing. You can easily find another one or Dante can set you up with a magazine. Surely he must have pulled some strings to get you your job in the first place?”

  There is nothing I can say to that because that is true. My spine becomes straighter. “Yes, but he doesn’t want to live here.”

  “Surely, you must have realized by now that a woman can persuade her man to do whatever she wants.”

  If she was anyone else but Dante’s stepmother … I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to manipulate Dante to do anything he does not want to do, Your Majesty. I want him to be happy.”

  She smiles slowly. “How naïve you are, Rosa. Dante’s life is not in Italy. It is here, and so is yours.”

  I stare at her. I don’t understand what is going on. I understood why Dante’s uncle wanted him to come back, but why does she? We come to a door.

  “Look,” she says and opens the door. She holds back while I walk into it. I look around it in a daze. It is a nursery. The walls are cream with a gorgeous gold and maroon wallpaper on one wall. There is a gold cot with the coat of arms painted on the side. An antique rocking horse stands under a tall window.

  “This will be your baby’s nursery. I had it aired and prepared,” she says behind me.

  I walk to the rocking horse. It has such sad eyes.

  “That belonged to Dante,” she says softly.

  I try to imagine Dante rocking on it in this huge cold room. I touch it and it starts to silently rock. I know without any doubt she is poison. She does not have my best interest at heart. I don’t want to live in this palace with her. I don’t want my child to sit on this old horse, lie in that gold cot, or have to live in this massive cold room so far away from his parents, always tended by nannies. I turn around to face her. Her eyes are cold and watching.

  I smile politely at her. “Thank you for showing me this room. I will certainly think about what you said.”

  She nods and turns away from me. “Good. It will be wonderful to see children running around in this palace again.”

  “It is up to Dante,” I say softly. I refuse to let her manipulate me into making Dante do something he doesn’t believe in.

  “Of course.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I understand Cassandra is taking you shopping this afternoon.”

  “Yes. We’re supposed to leave about two.”

  “That’s nice.” She rings a bell on the wall.

  I look at her awkwardly and she stares back at me. Not saying a word.

  Her look makes me want to fidget. “I guess I better be getting back to my room.”

  “I’ve rung for the help. Someone will show you back to your chamber.”

  I wish I could have told her that I knew the way back, but I’m not sure I can find my way back. “Oh, thanks.”

  The minutes with her with neither of us speaking feel like a lifetime. I almost kiss the short, fat woman who arrives at her bidding.

  “Thank you again for showing me this room.”

  “You’re most welcome,” she says so expressionlessly it actually leaves me cold.

  Chapter 32

  Rosa

  Inside my room, I stand gazing blankly out the window. When I came to Avanti I never expected to be in the middle of such strong family politics. I stand watching birds flying by and after a time I spy a man riding on a horse, but it’s such a distance from the palace that I’m not sure if it’s Dante or not. Still he is a good rider, fast and sure.

  I watch him until there is a knock on my door.

  “Ready?” Cassandra asks when I open the door.

  “Ready,” I say with a smile. “Just let me grab my purse.”

  “You won’t need it.”

  “I won’t?”

  “Dante wants to pay for everything.”

  I can’t help the surprised expression on my face.

  She laughs. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Being able to buy whatever you like. Never having to choose between A or B. It’s actually a lovely feeling.”

  “It must be,” I say softly.

  She laughs. “Come on, let’s go.”

  We settle into the back of a grey Mercedes. The ride into the city is quick as there is almost no traffic. I gaze curiously out of the window at the changing scenery. The thing that strikes me most is how clean and fresh everything looks: the perfect condition of the streets, the sidewalks, and the buildings. There is not so much as a cigarette butt littering the ground. Eventually, the car pulls up at the entrance of a place called Louis Rye Sart.

  “This is it,” Cassandra says. “My favorite store. Since we don’t have much time and we need to get you something for tonight I thought we’ll just go here. I’m sure you’ll be impressed.”

  She gets out of the car, and I follow her. There is a CLOSED sign on the door.

  “It’s closed,” I say.

  Cassandra laughs. “I know. They closed
it for us, silly.”

  A blonde woman in a stylish suit opens the heavy glass door. “Good afternoon, Your Highness,” she says with a bow. She turns to me. “My name is Freja and it is an honor to welcome you to our shop, Miss Winchester.”

  The store is like an art gallery. The walls and ceiling are white and there are no racks of dresses and blouses or shelves filled with merchandise. Instead, mannequins dressed in the latest Italian and French fashions stand in alcoves and niches throughout the store.

  “This way, please,” she says, leading us into an elevator.

  When the doors open, we enter an area that looks similar to one of the rooms in the palace. This is obviously the special saloon that was reserved for the super-rich. The décor had been chosen to make them feel at home.

  “I have something very special for Miss Winchester to wear to the ball. If she likes it we will make all necessary alterations and have it sent to the palace in two hours.”

  A woman dressed in black comes forth, a dress draped over her outstretched arms. Freja lifts the dress by the hanger’s hook and holds it up for me to see.

  I work in the fashion industry, but I cannot help the gasp that exits my mouth. When I was young I used to read books about dresses that were made by elves. This dress looks like it has been made by a little child going blind in India. The floor length gown is so meticulously hand-embellished with pearls and tiny crystals that one can hardly see the saffron colored background material.

  “It’s perfect,” Cassandra declares. She turns to me. “You must try it.”

  Before I know it, I have been herded into a plush changing room and the woman in black is silently helping me into the dress.

  Cassandra pushes aside the velvet curtain and clasps her hands. “Why, it doesn’t even need to be altered. It is wonderful.”

  I stare at myself. It is definitely the most beautiful thing I have ever worn, but the kind of work that has gone into it makes it an haute couture gown and I’m not about to blow £30,000 or something equally ridiculous of Dante’s money on such a dress. No way. I’d be embarrassed to do something like that.