by Julia James
After Ben had brushed his teeth they went back down to the drawing room, where Ben’s toys were.
Prince Enrico was there before them. Lizzy tensed immediately.
‘This is a good train track, Ben,’ he said.
Ben trotted forward eagerly. ‘My one at home is bigger, because we didn’t bring all the pieces. And some of the engines are at home. But I will tell you who these are that I’ve got here.’ He settled himself down by the track and started to regale the Prince, who had hunkered down.
Abruptly, Lizzy snapped her eyes away from the way the material of his immaculately cut trousers strained over powerful thighs.
Oh, God—isn’t it bad enough that he’s a prince?
She sat herself down on the sofa. Would the man never clear off?
It seemed not. To Lizzy’s dismay, he seemed to be settling himself in. She picked up her book. Ben was happily chattering away, talking about his beloved trainset. She tried to concentrate on her book, and failed completely.
After what seemed like for ever, Ben suddenly stood up.
‘Is it time to go swimming yet?’
She got to her feet, relieved. ‘Good idea. Let’s get your things.’ She gave an awkward nod to the Prince, who had stood when she did.
She scurried off with Ben. But to her dismay, when they came back downstairs with the swimming kit and went into the pool room, there was already someone in the water.
The Prince’s long, lean body cut through the water in a swift crawl, but when he reached the end of the pool he stopped.
‘Ah, Ben, there you are,’ he said. ‘In you come.’
Lizzy stared in horrified fascination. The Prince had half levered himself out of the water, his arms folded down over the edge. She could see the water draining off his torso.
It was smooth, and perfectly muscled, honed like a sportsman.
She tore her eyes away. Ben was scrambling out of his clothes as fast as he could. With gritted teeth she inflated his armbands and slid them over his arms.
‘Hurry, hurry,’ said Ben, jiggling around. The moment he was fitted, he ran and jumped into the water.
Jerkily, Lizzy picked up his clothes, and went to sit on one of the padded seats that were dotted by the glass wall.
Thank God I wasn’t in the water already.
That would have been the ultimate horror. She sat, feeling far too hot in what she was wearing in this sun-heated area, but there was nothing she could do about it. She felt her cheeks grow flushed as she watched Ben playing in the water.
The Prince seemed ludicrously enthusiastic about entertaining a four-year-old child. He ducked and dived and raced, and pounced on Ben like a shark, eliciting squeals of glee.
She felt resentment and anger mounting in her. What was the point? What was the point of Prince Enrico doing this? It would just unsettle Ben, that was all. Make him want something that he wasn’t going to have.
He hasn’t got a father. He hasn’t got an uncle. He hasn’t got anyone—he’s just got me.
And it wasn’t fair on him to let him get a taste of what it might be like if he had a father. A father to play with him, to pay attention to him.
Make him laugh the way he was laughing now.
I want to go home. I just want to go home. I want this over. Done with. Forgotten.
Rico helped Ben out of the pool for the last time, and glanced across at where his aunt was sitting. Her face had gone red in the heat, and she looked worse than ever. She also had a face like sour milk.
His brother’s words came back to him, half-taunting, halfmocking—which was Luca’s usual attitude towards him on this subject.
‘If there’s a female in the equation you’re the expert—just as well she’s plain, mind you. You’ll be immune to her.’
Well, the latter was true. No doubt about that. With a dispassionate mind he could only feel sorry for any female as unattractive as this one. But as someone he actually had to deal with, however briefly, he could do without it. As for the former—well, females of this variety were definitely ones he was not expert in.
He launched himself out of the pool, effortlessly lifting himself on his arms. The boy’s aunt had already busied herself wrapping Ben in a towel and getting him dry. He strolled off to get changed himself, in the cabanas provided for the purpose.
His mouth set. The sooner he’d settled the business here and was back in San Lucenzo the better.
But it had been good to start getting to know Ben.
Paolo’s son.
His expression softened
I’ll make sure he’s OK, Paolo—I promise you.
Lunch had been just as much an ordeal as breakfast. Once again, the source of both her concern and her relief had been that Ben had dominated the proceedings, talking nineteen to the dozen to Prince Enrico. All she’d been required to do was sit there and try to eat through a throat that was getting tighter every moment.
What had happened? Why was Prince Enrico back here? He’d said he’d talk to her later—but when was later?
It was after lunch, it transpired. As they left the dining room he turned to her.
‘Settle Ben with some toys, if you please. I shall await you in the library.’
‘He has a nap after lunch. I’ll come down when he’s asleep.’
He gave a curt nod, and she took Ben upstairs, nerves jumping.
Typically, Ben took for ever to go to sleep, and her nerves were stretched thin by the time she could finally leave him, curtains closed, door ajar, and head downstairs.
He was, as he had said, in the library. A raft of daily papers, in both English and Italian, were on the low table, and he was sitting in a leather chair perusing The Times.
Surely such a respectable newspaper had not carried such a scurrilous story? she wondered.
But the page he was reading seemed to be about international politics. He cast the paper aside and stood up, indicating the chair opposite him, across the hearth of the unlit fire.
‘Please sit down.’ His voice was cool..
She sat nervously, stomach knoting.
‘We must resolve, as a matter of urgency, as I am sure you will appreciate, the matter of my nephew’s future.’
Lizzy stared.
‘What do you mean?’ she said.
A flicker of irritation showed briefly in the dark eyes, then it was suppressed.
‘I appreciate,’ he said carefully to her—as if, Lizzy thought, she was stupid, ‘that the news of Ben’s parentage has come as a profound shock to you. Nevertheless, I must ask you to focus on the implications of that discovery. Like yourself, his father’s family were, unfortunately, but in the tragic circumstances understandably, equally unaware that Paolo had a son. Now that this is no longer the case, obviously steps will be taken as soon as possible to rectify the situation.’
She was still staring blankly.
‘Rectify?’ she echoed.
She saw him take a breath. ‘Of course. Ben will now make his life in San Lucenzo.’
Cold went down Lizzy’s back. She could feel it—as if her spine was turning to ice.
‘No.’
The word was instinctive. Automatic.
She saw the Prince’s face first tighten, then take on the same expression that it had had when she had failed to recognise him. Disbelieving.
She didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything. Except to refute, absolutely, what she had just heard him say.
His expression changed, as if he were making a visible effort. Again he addressed her as if she were stupid.
‘Miss Mitchell, do you really not understand that your nephew’s circumstances have changed now?’ His tone, quite blatantly, was patronising, and Lizzy felt her hackles rise through the ice in her spine. ‘It is inconceivable that my brother’s orphaned son should live anywhere but in his own country.’
She stared at him.
‘I can’t believe you’re saying that,’ she cut across him. ‘We’re going home—back to Cornw
all the moment we can. The sooner the better.’
She saw his face tighten.
‘That is no longer possible.’ His voice was flat. Implacable.
‘What do you mean “no longer possible”?’ she demanded. Her voice was rising, she could tell, and she could feel the adrenaline churning in her system. ‘Ben and I are going home. That’s all there is to it.’
‘Ben’s home will now have to be in San Lucenzo.’
The voice was still flat, still implacable.
‘There’s no “have to” about it. No question of it!’
Dark, long-lashed eyes stared at her.
‘Miss Mitchell—are you being deliberately obtuse?’ The question was rhetorical, for he plunged straight on. ‘There is no going back. Do you not understand that? Your nephew cannot return to the life you gave him. He must come to his own country to live.’
She leant forward, tension in every line of her body.
‘This is ridiculous. Absurd,’ she responded vehemently. Emotion was surging through her. ‘Completely out of the question. I can understand your reaction to the nightmare of this news story, and I have my sympathies for you and your family. If there is one thing I do feel sorry about for royalty, it’s that their private lives are raked over by the press—even when they do not conspicuously court such publicity,’ she threw in, with a glancing look in her eyes at him that drew an answering flash and a compression of his mouth. But she allowed him no time to interrupt her. ‘If anything, Ben’s presence in San Lucenzo could only be an further embarrassment to you. Why on earth would your family want to be landed with your late brother’s illegitimate child—” love child”, as I suppose the tabloids will coyly call him—as an ever-present reminder of his affair with my sister? Look,’ she went on, trying to be reasonable, even with the adrenaline running in her like a river in flood, ‘if you are worried that I might, God help me, be insane enough to speak to the press at any point in the future, then I’ll sign any gagging papers you want. The only thing I want for Ben is a happy, unspoilt childhood. He can’t help his parentage, and I won’t let it affect him adversely.’
He was staring at her again. She wished he wouldn’t do that. Not just because his eyes were the most extraordinary she’d ever seen, but because he was looking at her as if she were from another planet.
His mouth tightened. Italian broke from him, angry and incomprehensible.
Then, as if he were making a monumental effort to control his reaction, he spoke again, and she stared wildly at him, stomach churning.
‘You do not seem to understand. My brother did not have an affair with your sister.’
‘But you’ve just said—’ she launched.
His hand shot up, silencing her.
His dark eyes were completely opaque again.
‘He married her.’
Lizzy felt her mouth fall open. Her jaw drop like a stone. With numb, unconscious effort she closed it again, then spoke.
‘My sister married your brother?’ Her voice was dazed.
‘Yes. The day before their fatal car crash. I have seen the marriage certificate. It is…’ he paused ‘…quite legal. Apparently—’ his voice was as dry as sand ‘—the name Ceraldi was also unknown to the celebrant.’
She got to her feet, staring at him blindly.
‘I don’t believe it.’
It was denial again. Just the same as when the man standing in front of her had told her he was a royal prince—and so had his brother been.
And if Maria had married him that meant Ben was—
No—no, it could not be. It was impossible. Ben was just…Ben, that was all.
But if her sister had been married to his father, and his father was a prince of San Lucenzo, then Ben…
She sat down. Her legs felt weightless somehow.
‘It’s not true.’ Her voice was faint. Her eyes wide. She stared across at him. ‘Please—please say it isn’t true. Please.’
Rico looked at her. She could not have meant what she’d just said. No one could. Certainly no woman in her situation could mean it. She had just been told that her nephew was a royal prince. And yet she was begging him to tell her it was not true.
He inhaled sharply.
‘It is hardly a subject for jest. And now that you know, you must realise why there is no question but that Ben be brought up in his own country, with his own family.’
Her eyes blazed with sudden fierce light.
‘I don’t care if you tell me that Ben is the King of Siam. I’m not uprooting him from his own life, from everything he knows. So what if he is legitimate? Your brother Paolo was the youngest brother, so Ben isn’t going to inherit the throne or anything, is he?’
The strident voice grated on Rico’s already stretched nerves. The girl’s reaction was incomprehensible. Was she particularly unintelligent? It seemed he would have to spell everything out to her.
‘A royal prince of the house of Ceraldi cannot be brought up as a private citizen in a foreign country.’ He spoke heavily, hoping to God the damn woman would finally get through her skull what the reality of the situation was. ‘He must be raised by his family—’
‘I am his family.’
Rico’s face closed.
‘You are his aunt. Nothing more than that. I appreciate that you have worked very hard to raise my brother’s son, and—’
Her strident voice interrupted him again. Rico felt his impatience mounting. It was not just her unbelievable pig-headedness and her exasperating lack of intelligence that got to him, but her appalling habit of cutting across him.
Her eyes were stabbing at him, and she was getting ludicrously worked up.
‘I am Ben’s legal guardian. He is solely my responsibility.’
Rico fought for self-control. ‘Then, as his legal guardian, you will want the best for him, no? And clearly—’ he tried hard to keep the withering sarcasm out of his voice ‘—Ben’s interests will be served by his being raised by his father’s family.’ And now the sarcasm did creep in. He couldn’t stop it, such were the emotions biting through him at the woman’s incomprehensible objections. ‘Or did you imagine it would be suitable for my brother’s son to be raised in a semi-derelict peasant cottage?’
A line of colour leached out across her cheeks, and Rico, despite his mounting temper, felt a stab of regret. She could not help being poor, and she had, after all, done the best she could for Paolo’s son, within her means.
But that was irrelevant now. Whether she liked it or not, she had to accept the truth of the matter—the Ceraldis had a new prince, and his place was with them. Swiftly, he moved on. His father had given him full authority to do whatever was necessary to ensure Ben returned to San Lucenzo as soon as possible.
He held up a hand, forestalling any further comeback from her.
‘Miss Mitchell—the matter is not open for debate. I make allowances for your sense of shock, but you must face up to the necessity of the situation. My nephew must go to San Lucenzo with the minimum of delay to start his new life. You must see that.’
She shook her head wildly.
‘No, I don’t. I don’t see anything of the sort. You can’t possibly think his life should be turned upside down like that.’
Rico pressed his mouth together, willing himself to stay calm.
‘And you, Miss Mitchell, cannot possibly think that Ben’s life will not be immeasurably better when he is surrounded by his family. What possible justification can you have for your objection? How can you possibly not welcome this? You live in poverty—all that has changed. Changed completely. Have you not realised that?’
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he watched for her reaction. But her face just seemed totally blank. Obviously he would need to be blunter, distasteful though it was.
‘You will not suffer by the change in Ben’s life, Miss Mitchell. You will always be his aunt, and, although Ben’s new life will inevitably be vastly different from what he has been used to so far, you will benef
it too. It would not be appropriate for my nephew’s aunt to live in poverty,’ he said carefully, his eyes watching her. ‘Therefore generous financial arrangements will be made in your favour, in appreciation for what you have done for my nephew. You have given up four years of your life to look after him—it is only right that your invaluable contribution should be recognised. But now you will be able to resume the life of a young woman, independent of the responsibilities you have had to assume up till now.’
His eyes rested on her as he waited for the penny to drop. But her face was still quite expressionless.
It irritated Rico. Did he have to spell everything out in excruciatingly vulgar detail? Evidently so. His mouth tightened. He took a controlled breath, and prepared to speak again.
But before he could say anything she got to her feet.
It was a jerky movement, like an automaton. Her eyes were pinned on his. There was something in them that took him aback. Then she spoke. Her voice was strange.
‘You do not seriously think I am going to let you part me from Ben, do you?’
She was trembling like a wire strung out to breaking point.
Emotion poured through her, terror and fury storming together.
They spilled over into a torrent of words.
‘Do you really think I would ever, ever allow Ben to be taken from me? Do you? How can you even imagine that for a moment? I’m his mother—the only mother he’s ever known.’
A burning, punishing breath seared through her lungs. ‘Listen to me and listen well. Because I will say this over and over again until I get you to understand it. I am Ben’s mother—his guardian. And that means I guard him—I guard him from anything and everything that threatens him, threatens his happiness, his emotional and physical well-being, his long-term stability…everything. I love him more than my own life—I could not love him more if he were my birth child. He is all I have left of my sister, and I made a vow to her that I would keep her child safe, that I would be the mother to him that she was not allowed to be. He is my son and I am his mother. It would devastate him to be taken from me—how could you even think of doing so? Nothing will come between us. I will never let him be taken from me. Never.’