by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate
There was a piano in his sitting room, along with a bed for the dog that looked as if it were rarely used—from what she’d seen of Caesar, the spaniel would head straight for the rug in front of the fire or a comfortable corner of the sofa. Bookshelves, containing a mixture of biographies, historical tomes and some very geeky science fiction; no music, she noticed, but knowing Lorenzo his collection was probably digital and centrally organised in a system so that he could access it anywhere in his apartment. There was a television, so obviously he watched the occasional programme, but there were no films on the shelves; she assumed that again he used a digital cloud-based service.
The kitchen was all clean lines. His fridge wasn’t that well stocked, so she guessed that most of the time he was served by the palace kitchens rather than cooking for himself. There was a table so he could eat in the kitchen if he wanted to, but this was very much a bachelor apartment, she thought, rather than a family one.
She didn’t quite have the nerve to explore his bathroom—a bit too personal, she thought, and his bedroom was definitely out of bounds. He’d made it clear that he wanted to change into his robes without an audience.
The sitting room would be the best place to take the photographs, she decided, when he emerged from his room in a dress uniform with a dark blue floor-length cloak trimmed with gold and ermine.
‘Very nice, Your Royal Highness,’ she said.
‘Hmm. Have a nice snoop, did we?’
‘Pretty much. You don’t have any cake in your kitchen,’ she said, teasing him a little to cover the fact that she felt just a little bit out of her depth. ‘And I couldn’t find your music or films.’
‘They’re all cloud-based,’ he explained. ‘Except the cake. Which is an omission I clearly need to remedy.’
‘Uh-huh. Well, let’s get this shoot sorted.’ It didn’t take long for her to get the shots she needed. Or, rather, most of them. ‘It won’t kill you to smile, you know,’ she said.
He gave her a formal smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes and made him look totally unreachable.
How could she make him take those barriers down?
She knew it was crazy—totally crazy—but she went with the impulse. She walked over to him, slid her arms round his neck and kissed him.
And then she took a step back. ‘Lorenzo,’ she said softly.
And he smiled at her.
A real smile, full of warmth. The look she loved most on him, all soft and sweet and touchable.
She took the shot, and he grimaced. ‘Do you use that strategy with all your models?’
‘I don’t usually have models,’ she said. But she knew he knew the answer. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t react to anyone the same way she reacted to Lorenzo.
‘You kissed me just to get a photograph.’
He looked thoroughly put out, and she couldn’t help smiling. ‘Not just to get the photo. I kissed you because right now you look like Prince Hottie. Sexy as hell.’
The light came back into his eyes. ‘Put the camera down, Indi.’
‘Can’t.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m working.’
‘That’s a royal command, I’ll have you know. Put the camera down.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Or what, Your Royal Highness?’
‘Or face the consequences.’
She smiled. ‘Bring it on, Lorenzo.’
‘You asked for it,’ he said, and took the camera gently from her hand, placing it safely out of the way. And then he kissed her until her knees were on the point of buckling.
‘That has consequences, too, you know,’ she said, and undid the clasp of his robe before sliding it off his shoulders. She folded it neatly and placed it over the back of the chair.
‘Interesting,’ he commented, but his voice was full of warmth. ‘You’ve turned into a neat freak, Indi.’
‘No chance.’ She spread her hands. ‘But this is your coronation robe. I don’t want you to get into trouble with your wardrobe people.’
He laughed. ‘This is the twenty-first century. It’s not how things were a hundred years ago, when people with titles still employed valets and ladies’ maids.’
‘Even so, I don’t want to crumple your robes.’ She stroked them, enjoying the softness under her fingertips. ‘I have to say, Your Royal Highness, you look mighty fine in navy.’ She looked at him. ‘And even better without your robes.’
‘Was that a hint?’ He stripped out of his uniform, laying it neatly on top of his robes, and maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. By the time he’d stripped down to his underwear, Indigo felt as if she was about to spontaneously combust.
And then he simply picked her up and carried her into his bedroom. When he set her down on her feet again, he made sure that her body was in close contact to his, so she was left fully aware of how much he wanted her. And then he proceeded to make love to her until she felt as if her bones had melted.
Later, lying curled in his arms, Indigo thought how this was every bit as good as their time spent in England. The physical attraction between them was still strong.
But would it be enough to help them keep the world at bay?
And how would he cope when she told him her news?
‘Penny for them?’ he asked, stroking her hair away from his forehead.
No. Now wasn’t the right time. ‘Just worrying that I’ve made you late for something.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Um.’
‘Sorry. You’re going to be up to your eyes, now.’
‘Yes,’ he said regretfully, and switched on his phone. Immediately his phone started beeping with a barrage of incoming messages.
‘Go and do whatever you need to do,’ she said, ‘and I’ll sort things out here.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ she confirmed. ‘Go and do all your prince stuff.’
‘You’re wonderful.’ He dressed swiftly, kissed her again, and vanished. She took her time, and made sure she hung up his uniform and his robes properly before putting his bed to rights, then took her work things back to her apartment and went back to sketching out designs.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Lorenzo came by her apartment. ‘We forgot the crown.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?’
‘I can afford to be spontaneous,’ he said.
Hmm. She remembered just how spontaneous he’d been in his apartment, and warmth spread through her. ‘So where do I get to see you model the crown?’ she asked.
‘In the vaults. Bring your camera.’ He waved a key at her.
She laughed. ‘You’re telling me that, in this day and age, you’re using old-fashioned technology?’
‘A little more than that. There are layers.’ He took her hand as they walked down the corridor. Even though Indigo was pretty sure that it was going to cause a mad rush of gossip once it was spotted on the palace CCTV, she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull away. It felt good, having her fingers tangled with Lorenzo’s. She’d loved walking hand in hand with him in the gardens at Edensfield, and this wasn’t so very different.
To get to the vaults, they had to pass through a series of doors and use a series of different things to unlock them—codes, fingerprints and even iris recognition.
‘I take it back. You’re in full James Bond mode,’ she teased.
‘Which means I get to dally with the beautiful girl.’ He stole a kiss, shocking her.
‘Lorenzo—was that just caught on CCTV?’
‘Probably.’
‘But...’
‘I don’t care. And, for someone who’s supposed to be a free spirit, you worry far too much,’ Lorenzo said and kissed her again.
Inside the vaults, he took out a box
and unlocked it.
‘Oh, my.’ Indigo had never seen so many jewels in one place—or such large ones.
He took the crown out of the box. ‘I can remember my grandfather placing this on my head.’
‘When you were little—like dressing up?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘When I was eighteen. I’d just spent a week going off the rails, and he wanted me to understand that I had a commitment. That I needed to—well, strengthen myself so I could carry the burden.’ He handed her the crown.
‘It’s really heavy,’ she said, shocked and also a little afraid of dropping it and denting it.
She handed it back to him. ‘So why did you go off the rails?’
He was silent for a long, long time. And then he sighed. ‘I’m going to tell you something now that maybe half a dozen people know, and they’re all sworn to secrecy. Everyone thought my parents died in a car accident when I was ten. But it wasn’t an accident.’ He blew out a breath. ‘My mother was having an affair. She was planning to leave my father, and my father found out. He drove their car into a wall with her beside him, deliberately, because he couldn’t bear to be without her and he couldn’t bear the idea of her being with anyone else. My grandparents told everyone that it was a tragic accident—but then I found some papers when I was eighteen. Papers that my grandfather had thought were destroyed. And that’s when I learned the truth.’
Indigo looked at him, shocked. ‘Your father killed himself and your mother? But that meant he’d be leaving you on your own. How—’ She shook her head, completely not understanding. ‘How could he do that?’
‘It’s not a choice that I would make,’ Lorenzo said. ‘If I married someone who hated the world I lived in, I’d find a compromise.’
Was this his way of telling her that that was what he was trying to do, right now? Find a compromise so they could be together?
‘I’d love my wife enough to let her go, if I had to. I’d want her to be happy. And if that meant not being with me—well, so be it. I wouldn’t stop her,’ Lorenzo said. ‘But I’d try my hardest to find a way round it, so we could be together.’
She stroked his face. ‘And the accident—’ she couldn’t bear to think of what it really was ‘—happened not long before you were sent away to school. That’s so hard, Lorenzo.’ And she could understand now why he’d been brought up in such a rigid, formal way. His grandparents had tried to protect him from the truth.
‘I’ve had a long time to get used to it,’ he said softly. ‘Take the pictures, Indi. I wasn’t intending to be maudlin. I just wanted you to understand.’
‘I do. And I promise you it won’t go any further than me. Ever.’ She kissed him swiftly on the lips. ‘And I get now why you keep everyone at a distance. It stops you getting hurt. But if you let people close, Lorenzo—the whole world will love you.’ Just as she loved him.
* * *
Perhaps, he thought. But there was only one person he wanted to love him.
And he thought that maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same way about him as he felt about her.
But would they be able to find a compromise so she could feel comfortable in his world?
He placed the crown on his head. ‘OK. Do what you need to for the designs.’
She took several photographs. And then he placed the crown back in the box, locked it again, and returned it to its place in the vault.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE NEXT DAY, there was a story in the newspapers about the Prince of Hearts, with a photograph of Lorenzo and another of the little girl they’d rescued in the cathedral, standing with her mother.
‘I’ve never had anything like this before,’ Lorenzo said, handing her a translated version of the story on a tablet. ‘People have always seen me as—well, a bit remote.’
‘Low-key’s fine. But let them get to know you,’ she said, ‘and they’ll see you’re not in the slightest bit remote.’
She scanned through the text. ‘Oh, no. They’re talking about a mystery woman being with you.’ She swallowed hard. ‘That means they’re going to dig up what they can about me.’ Panic flooded through her.
‘Stop worrying. For now, the press office will handle it. They’ll explain that you’re a glass specialist and I was briefing you in the cathedral.’
‘But what if...?’
He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Then I’ll deal with it. I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about.’ His voice was very calm. ‘And I don’t break my promises, Indi. I don’t tell lies.’
Whereas she was telling him a lie, sort of. A lie of omission. She was going to have to tell him the truth, very soon. She just needed to work out how.
* * *
He took her through to the palace gardens, that morning. What she’d thought was a formal knot garden turned out to be a series of concentric circles made from stone slabs.
‘What’s this—some kind of sculpture?’ she asked.
‘A water maze. If you stand on the wrong slab, it tilts and you get sprayed.’
How come a stuffy, formal palace would have something as crazy and fun as this in the garden?
The question must have been written all over her face, because he said, ‘It was my grandmother’s idea. She grew up in a house with a hedge maze and she liked the idea of having something fun in the garden. I remember when I was small, I loved the mazes here. I used to spend all day playing here and in the hedge maze.’ He looked slightly wistful. ‘Life was a bit simpler, back then.’
Before his parents had died? Or before he’d realised what being king would mean?
‘OK. So the idea is that you reach the middle without getting wet.’ He spread his hands. ‘Your challenge, should you wish to accept it...’
‘But what,’ she asked, ‘is my reward, should I beat the challenge?’
He leaned forward. ‘Spontaneous inventiveness on my part.’
And, oh, the picture that put in her head.
‘You’re on,’ she said, and picked her way through the first ring.
‘Four more to go,’ he said.
One and a half rings later, she stepped on the wrong stone. It tilted, and a fountain of water sprayed over her.
She just laughed. ‘When you were a kid, I bet you jumped on every stone to make sure you got soaked every single time.’
‘I might’ve done,’ he said with a grin.
‘Which makes you the expert on how to do it without getting wet, because you know where the tilting slabs are. Show me how it’s done,’ she said.
He picked his way round the circles until he reached her, then took her hand and showed her which stones to leap over.
Until they were about to reach the centre of the maze, and she jumped on the slab that he was clearly about to avoid. Water sprayed up and over him. ‘Gotcha,’ she said, laughing.
He laughed back, and jumped onto the same stone, pulling her into his arms at the same time so that the water sprayed over both of them. And while the droplets were still falling, he kissed her stupid.
This was the Lorenzo she’d fallen in love with back at Edensfield. The Lorenzo who’d dressed up in Regency clothing and copied the Mr Darcy scene from the movie, just for her. The Lorenzo who’d carried a tired, elderly dog home through the gardens.
‘Lorenzo,’ she whispered.
Now was the right time to tell him. When they were laughing in his garden, enjoying some harmless fun. When he was reliving some of the fun of his own childhood. When he could see how it might be for his own child. He’d told her his deepest, darkest secret in the castle vault; and now it was time for her to tell him the truth about the baby.
‘Indi.’ He kissed her again, and she could see the passion in his eyes.
‘There’s something I—’
Her wo
rds were cut off by his phone shrilling.
He made a nose of frustration. ‘Sorry. I’m expecting this.’
And he’d already taken time out to spend with her. Time he couldn’t really afford. ‘Go,’ she said. ‘Is it OK for me to walk in the gardens for a bit longer?’
‘Sure. Go where you like. I’ll see you later.’ He kissed her again, then took the call.
Indigo went back to her room for her camera and sketchbook, then headed out to find the rose garden. Up close, she might get the last ideas she needed for the window design.
And, up close, it was even better than she’d hoped. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent. The essence of summer, she thought.
Then she became aware of someone speaking to her in rapid Italian. She opened her eyes to see an elderly man carrying secateurs. He was probably one of the palace gardeners, she thought, and he probably thought she was a trespasser.
She dredged up her limited Italian. ‘Um, mi scusi—parla inglese?’
The man smiled. ‘Yes, I speak English.’
And very well, too, she thought; he had only the slightest trace of an accent.
‘Can I help you? Are you lost?’ he asked.
How ironic that she’d met Lorenzo at her best friend’s house and he’d thought she was a trespasser—and now she was in Lorenzo’s home and being mistaken for a trespasser again.
‘I’m not trespassing,’ she said hastily, ‘I’m working on some designs for a glass window for the palace, and I wanted a closer look at the roses—is that all right?’
‘Of course, signorina.’ He paused. ‘May I ask, why the roses?’
‘Because they’re beautiful and they remind me of home,’ she said wistfully. ‘My grandparents had a rose garden—nothing on the scale of this, of course, but I love the scent of roses. And I saw the garden from the library window the other day. It’s like a rainbow of roses, with the way the colours shade from white to yellow to peach, pink and red. How could I resist coming to see them?’
He looked pleased. ‘You like our roses here at the palace?’
She nodded. ‘And I like that they’re not all the same type—you have floribundas here, mixed with hybrid teas and Bourbons and ramblers.’