Harlequin Romance August 2014 Bundle

by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate

  Just checking the dress code, she typed, even though she was pretty sure she knew what it was already.

  Black tie, he responded.

  Which meant a ball gown. Something she didn’t own. Luckily, she knew two people who did and who’d be prepared to lend her one—and they were both here in this house, which would save her a rushed journey. OK. Thanks.

  He didn’t text her back, this time. Super-busy, she guessed. Still. At least she was going to see him. And she would have plenty of time in Melvante to think, to work out how to tell him about the baby.

  * * *

  Funny how just talking to Indigo had made him antsy, Lorenzo thought. It brought home to him how much he’d missed her. How much he wanted to see her.

  But she’d sounded very cool, calm and businesslike on the phone. So was she going to treat this as just another commission, or was she using it as an excuse to see him—the way he was using it as an excuse to see her?

  He really couldn’t tell.

  So he’d just have to compartmentalise things and keep his feelings separate. Maybe he’d be able to tell more when he saw her.

  * * *

  Work kept Indigo occupied for the rest of the day; she spent the evening looking up everything she could about Melvante and making notes. The next day was spent putting the mermaid window in place; and then it was time to pack. Just as well, she thought, that she had her passport with her; she and Lottie had spent a girly weekend in Paris just before she’d started work on the window, and she’d gone to Edensfield from Paris rather than via her flat in London.

  ‘I’ll drive you to the airport—I’ve got stuff to do in town anyway, so it’s not very far out of my way. And you can leave all your stuff here while you’re in Melvante. You need to be back here for the official unveiling of the window, in any case,’ Lottie told her.

  ‘Thanks.’ She paused. ‘Lottie, I meant to ask you last night—can I borrow a ball gown, please?’

  ‘A ball gown?’ Lottie looked surprised.

  ‘Lorenzo wants me to attend a charity ball. He says it’s good background for designing his window.’

  Lottie raised an eyebrow. ‘He must live on a different planet.’

  One where Indigo knew she wouldn’t fit in. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Of course you can borrow a ball gown. Come and raid my wardrobe.’

  Doing something girly helped to occupy Indigo’s mind for a little while, but once she’d chosen a plain black ball gown—one she intended to wear with her red strappy shoes, to give her a bit of courage—and packed some business suits, her mind went back to Lorenzo. How was he going to react to her? And how would he react to the news about the baby?

  Worry kept her awake for most of the night, having endless conversations in her head with him. And she couldn’t even drink coffee to keep her awake, the next morning—apart from the fact that it wouldn’t be good for the baby, the smell of it made her feel queasy. Maybe she could have a nap on the plane or something.

  She didn’t say much on the way to the airport; her stomach felt as if it was tied in knots and panic rather than blood was flowing through her veins. But she made an effort when Lottie dropped her off.

  ‘Thanks, Lottie.’ Indigo hugged her. ‘I’ll text you when I get there.’

  ‘Good. And remember, Indi, Lorenzo’s not Nigel. He’s not going to abandon you.’

  ‘I know.’ Though he might not actually have a choice in the matter, Indigo thought. He might have to abandon her.

  Why couldn’t she have fallen for a man who didn’t come with complications?

  At the customer services desk, she said to the assistant, ‘I think I have a ticket to pick up?’ She gave her name and the flight number.

  ‘Of course, Madam. This way.’

  To Indigo’s surprise, she was waved straight through Customs. There were none of the usual checks she was used to—not even her passport, much less having her bag X-rayed and walking through a scanner. What was going on?

  When she was escorted out to the runway, she saw a small private jet.

  What?

  ‘Is there—well—some mistake?’ she asked. ‘I was expecting a connecting flight to Melvante.’

  ‘There’s no connection needed, Madam,’ the attendant told her. ‘This is the Melvante royal plane.’

  Lorenzo had sent the royal plane for her? But...

  ‘I—um—thank you,’ she said, flustered. No wonder he’d said that she wouldn’t need to sort out a flight. This one was just for her. Which was crazy. She barely even travelled first class, let alone in super-luxury. This wasn’t the kind of life she was used to.

  Clutching her suitcase, she walked up the steps to the door of the plane, where a woman in a smart navy suit greeted her.

  ‘Good morning, signorina. My name is Maria, and I’m your flight attendant today. Let me take your luggage.’

  Indigo had to blink twice as she stepped into the aisle. This was nothing like the kind of planes she’d flown in before, with slightly cramped seats and a narrow aisle. This was more like a hotel business suite than a plane. There were cream leather sofas at one end, and a table at the other end which looked as if it belonged in a board room together with the deeply padded chairs. There was even an arrangement of fresh flowers on a coffee table.

  ‘His Royal Highness asked us to make sure you were comfortable on your journey, signorina,’ Maria said, ushering her over to one of the sofas. ‘May I get you something to eat or drink?’

  ‘A glass of water would be lovely, please, Maria,’ Indigo said, summoning a smile. Right at that moment she felt very much out of her depth. Lorenzo hadn’t sent her a plane ticket—he’d sent her a plane. How unreal was that?

  ‘Can I offer you a magazine?’

  Indigo shook her head. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I was actually planning to do some work.’

  ‘Of course. You’re very welcome to use the table, if you prefer it to the sofas. There are plugs if you need them to charge a laptop.’

  ‘Thank you, Maria,’ she said, and settled herself at the table.

  When Maria returned with a glass of water, Indigo noticed that it had ice and a slice of lime too. And the glass was lead crystal rather than the disposable plastic cups she was used to seeing on a plane.

  ‘If you wish for anything, please ring the bell and I’ll come straight away,’ Maria said.

  ‘Thank you, Maria.’ Indigo tried out some of the Italian she’d learned over the last day or so. ‘Mille grazie.’

  Maria’s smile showed her how much the gesture was appreciated.

  So this was what a royal lifestyle meant. The ultimate in comfort and convenience. And yet it wasn’t super-flashy; the room had a businesslike air.

  And she’d better remember that she was going to be in Melvante on business, first and foremost.

  She read through the file she’d made on Melvante, the day before, and made some more notes for possible designs. The flight went incredibly quickly; at the airport in Melvante, she was also waved straight through Customs with no passport check. Then again, she supposed, if you were travelling on the king’s private plane, that kind of guaranteed you were expected and welcome in the country.

  There was a car waiting for her; she recognised the chauffeur standing outside. ‘Bruno! How lovely to see you.’

  ‘And you, too, Signorina Moran,’ he said with a formal little bow.

  ‘It’s Indi to you, as you know very well,’ she said with a smile, and gave him a hug that made him blush.

  When Bruno opened the rear door for her, she asked, ‘Can I be cheeky and ask if I can sit in the front with you, please, Bruno? All this...’ She grimaced. ‘It’s a little bit overwhelming.’

  ‘Of course, signo—’ he began, then with a smile corrected himself. ‘Indi.�
� He opened the door for her and waited for her to settle before closing it again and going round to the driver’s side.

  Indigo had seen a similar large black diplomatic car with tinted windows at Edensfield, but Bruno hadn’t been in livery there. Here, he wore a smart uniform with gold braid and a cap, and he looked every inch a royal chauffeur. This was feeling more and more unreal with every second.

  In a different life, Lorenzo might have met her at the airport himself. He might have run towards her, lifted her off her feet, swung her round, and kissed her until they were both dizzy.

  But Lorenzo in England wasn’t the same as Lorenzo in Melvante. Here, he was about to become the king. And it most definitely wasn’t suitable for a king to meet a contractor at the airport, much less greet her with such warmth.

  How would he greet her when the schedule said he’d meet her? Would he be cool, calm, collected and distant? Or would he still be the man he’d been in England, passionate once his defences were down?

  She damped down the panic. ‘I assume His Royal Highness is in a meeting?’

  ‘He’s always in meetings,’ Bruno said. ‘He works harder than anyone I know.’

  That didn’t surprise her. She knew that Lorenzo had a strong sense of duty, and she respected that. ‘Uh-huh,’ she said.

  Although Indigo could normally chat to anyone, and she’d chatted quite happily to Bruno at Edensfield, right now she was feeling ever so slightly intimidated. As they drove through the city towards the castle, she could see that it was just as Lorenzo had said: a picture-postcard style white stone castle with turrets and pointy tiled roofs. Had she been visiting the place on holiday, she would have thought it pretty. But, at that moment, it felt as if it towered over her disapprovingly.

  Bruno parked the car on the gravel outside the castle, opened the door for her and took her bag, then ushered her in to the castle through what she guessed was the equivalent of the tradesman’s entrance.

  He took her through to an office; as she stepped onto the carpet, her feet sank into it. Everywhere was polished wood and gilt—like the office of a CEO in a major company. Which, Indigo supposed, was effectively Lorenzo’s position. Only his ‘company’ happened to be a country.

  A middle-aged man in a three-piece suit looked up from behind his mahogany desk as the door opened, and stood up. He said something swiftly in Italian to Bruno—too fast for Indigo to translate, with her meagre stock of tourist vocabulary—and inclined his head at her. ‘Good afternoon, Signorina Moran. I am Salvatore Pozzi.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Signor Pozzi.’ She stepped forward and offered her hand; and when he took it she made sure that her handshake was firm and businesslike. ‘Thank you for arranging my flight and the car here.’

  ‘No problem.’ Though he still wasn’t smiling.

  ‘Bye, Bruno,’ she said as the chauffeur left, sketching her a salute. It felt as if her only friend in the place had gone. Salvatore was perfectly polite, but his expression was inscrutable. Indigo had no idea what Lorenzo had told him about her, or if he knew about their fling back in England.

  The only thing she could think to talk about was business. ‘The agenda says that I am to meet—’ Hmm, so how did she refer to the prince in front of his assistant? She could hardly call him by his first name—not in such formal surroundings. ‘His Royal Highness,’ she finished, ‘at three.’

  ‘I am afraid His Royal Highness’s meeting is running a little late. But if you would care to wait in the sitting room, signorina, I can arrange for some tea to be brought to you.’

  ‘Thank you, but I’m fine. Please don’t feel you have to order tea.’

  ‘As you wish, signorina.’ Salvatore led her through to another room. There was still the same deep carpet, exquisite furnishings and silk drapes at the window. It really brought it home to Indigo that she was in a palace, not just a normal office or home.

  ‘Please sit down.’ Salvatore indicated the sofa.

  Just then a dog burst through the doorway, trotted over to them with his tail a wagging blur, and sniffed at her.

  ‘Caesar!’ Salvatore scolded. ‘Bad dog—you shouldn’t be in here.’

  ‘Lorenzo’s favourite spaniel. The one who sneaks onto sofas.’ Indigo smiled, remembering what he’d told her about the palace dogs.

  Salvatore looked surprised, and she realised what she’d just said. ‘I mean, um, His Royal Highness’s spaniel,’ she corrected herself swiftly.

  He looked slightly less disapproving now she’d remembered her place and resumed formal protocol. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I like dogs,’ she offered. And at least having a dog to make a fuss of would give her something else to think about instead of worrying how it would be when Lorenzo finally came out of his meeting to see her again. ‘I don’t mind if he stays.’

  Again, that cool inscrutable expression. ‘If you’re sure, signorina.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ She sat down. ‘Come and sit with me, Caesar.’

  The dog gave a happy wriggle at the sound of his name and trotted over to the sofa.

  Salvatore gave a brief nod. ‘I will call you as soon as His Royal Highness Prince Lorenzo is ready to see you.’

  ‘Mille grazie,’ she said, but Salvatore didn’t seem as impressed as Maria had been by her effort to speak Italian. He just gave another of those curt little nods and left.

  ‘So it’s just you and me, Caesar,’ she said.

  The dog wagged his tail and put his paws on her knee.

  ‘I’m really glad you’re here,’ she said. ‘Because I have no idea how your master’s going to react to me. Whether he meant it about missing me, or whether he just wants me to design a window for him—I haven’t a clue.’ Lottie had said that Lorenzo wasn’t like Nigel, and Indigo knew that was true; at least his first words when she told him about the baby wouldn’t be to demand that she had a termination.

  But as to how he’d really feel, what he’d say...

  She swallowed hard. ‘And how he’s going to react to my news—that scares me even more. I don’t fit in here. I might be the daughter of an earl, but I didn’t grow up in his world and I’m no Cinderella. I’d be much happier in the kitchen, chatting to the cooks and swapping recipes for cake.’

  Caesar licked her hand.

  ‘I guess it’s a matter of wait and see,’ she said, and leaned back against the back of the sofa.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Lorenzo walked into the sitting room to discover Indigo fast asleep on the sofa, with Caesar curled up on the sofa in the space behind her knees. She looked exhausted, with dark hollows under her eyes. Clearly she’d been pushing herself as hard as he’d been pushing himself.

  Part of him really wanted to wake her with a kiss, to see those gorgeous blue eyes open and see her smile at him. But part of him thought it would be kinder just to let her rest. He found a blanket and tucked it round her.

  ‘Keep an eye on her, Caesar,’ he said softly, and the dog wagged his tail ever so gently, as if trying not to wake her.

  ‘Your Royal Highness, would you like me to—?’ Salvatore began.

  ‘No, let her sleep for a bit longer,’ Lorenzo said quietly. ‘I’ll work on my laptop in here for a while.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  INDIGO WOKE WITH a start, and realised that there was a blanket tucked round her and Lorenzo’s spaniel was curled into the crook of her knees. The dog stretched and yawned as she struggled to a sitting position, trying to get her head straight. There definitely hadn’t been a blanket anywhere near her. Who had tucked her in like that? She didn’t think it would’ve been Salvatore, who had been cool with her to the point of disapproval. And she was probably late for her meeting with Lorenzo now.

  Oh, great. Her first day at the palace, and it had been a total disaster so far.

  Sh
e glanced at her watch. Not just late—she’d missed the entire meeting.

  ‘Oh, you idiot,’ she groaned.

  ‘Why am I an idiot?’

  She looked over to where the voice had come from.

  Lorenzo was sitting in the chair opposite, working on his laptop.

  For a second, the world spun. Was this the man who’d been so passionate in England, or was this the king-to-be? She erred on the side of caution. ‘Your Royal Highness. I’m so sorry.’

  He smiled. ‘Don’t be. You clearly needed that nap. Been working stupid hours, have we?’

  ‘Pots and kettles. You have bags under your—’ She stopped abruptly. This wasn’t Edensfield, where they’d both been friends of the family and on an equal footing—where he’d been her lover and she could tease him with impunity. This was Melvante, where he was her client and he was also about to become the head of the country. Which meant she had to deal with him in a completely different way. ‘Sorry, Your Royal Highness,’ she muttered.

  ‘You really are different, out of England.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Do you think I’m going to have you thrown into the palace dungeons for insubordination, or something?’

  ‘Are there palace dungeons?’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, but they’re not used. We have a progressive judicial system. Lighten up, Indi. I was teasing you.’ He smiled. ‘Besides, it was cute when you snored in tandem with Caesar.’

  He was still teasing her. Which ought to be a good sign. But Indigo was still feeling groggy from her nap, and the secret she had to tell him felt as if it was gripping her in a vice. She had to tell him the truth—but not until she’d worked out the right words to use and the right time to say them.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘It was totally unprofessional of me to fall asleep like that.’

  ‘You’d been travelling, and I’d guess you’ve been working nonstop over the last few days.’

  ‘I have,’ she admitted. And she’d missed him, so much. Part of her really wanted to walk over to him, wrap her arms round him, kiss him and tell him how glad she was to see him. Yet, despite the fact that they were in the same room, there was still a huge gulf between them. She couldn’t even call him by his given name, because she was too aware of who he was: the future King of Melvante.