by Julia James
Her face was contorted, but she could not stop. She had to make him listen—had to make him hear.
‘You must be completely insane to think of taking him from me. How do you even begin to think I would consent to it? Consent to Ben losing the only mother he’s known. Are you mad, or just evil, even to think of separating us? No one takes a child from its mother. No one.’ She shut her eyes. Her throat was burning, her breath choking. ‘Oh, God, how could this nightmare ever have happened. How?’
Her anguished question rang into silence, complete silence. She stood there, shaking like a leaf.
Then, slowly, a voice spoke. Deep and resonant.
‘No one will take Ben from you. You have my word.’
Rico was in his bedroom. The phone was against his ear. He stood with one arm extended, resting his hand on the folded wooden shutters that framed the sash windows. From where he stood he could see the gardens. Ben and his aunt were on the lawn, in the last of the early-evening sunshine, playing football. Two goals were roughly marked out with sticks. Ben kicked, and scored, and ran around gleefully in imitation of professional footballers. His aunt threw up her hands in exaggerated defeat, and took a goal kick. It was a very bad one, and Ben returned it instantly, scoring yet another goal. He crowed with triumph.
At the other end of the phone line, Rico’s brother was speaking.
‘What do you mean, she won’t give him up? She’s nothing more than his aunt—what claim can she have?’
‘A watertight legal one,’ replied Rico dryly.
There was a pause. Then Luca spoke.
‘She wants more money, I take it?’ His voice was sharp.
‘She wants her son.’ Rico realised his voice was equally sharp.
‘The boy is only her nephew,’ riposted his brother.
‘She’s raised him as her son, and he regards her as his mother. Which, legally, she is. She adopted him at birth. So, if she does not want to part with him, we have to accept that.’
There was a pause again.
‘How much did you offer her?’ Luca asked.
‘Luca—this is not about money. She’s not prepared to consider it, OK?’ He paused, then spoke again. ‘And neither am I any longer. The attachment between them is definitely that of mother and child. I’ve been with them all day—so far as Paolo’s son is concerned, the woman is his mother. There’s nothing we can do about that. We may not like it, but that’s the way it is. Our only way forward is for her to live in San Lucenzo with the boy. I have to persuade her of that, and I will do my best to do so. But—’he took a sharp breath ‘—I gave her my word we would not try and take the child from her.’
There was another pause. Outside in the garden Ben was still playing football. Rico felt a sudden urge to go and join in.
Luca was speaking again. ‘Rico, do and say nothing for the moment. I’ll report this back to our father. He won’t like it but…’ Rico could almost hear Luca shrug. ‘Look, I’ll phone you back.’
The line went dead. Rico’s gaze dropped again to the figure playing on the lawn below with Ben. She was wearing some kind of grey tracksuit, baggy and shapeless, and her frizzy hair was tied back in an unflattering bunch. She looked overweight and lumpy. She really was extraordinarily unappealing. Yet what did her appearance matter to Ben? Even as he watched, he saw Ben trip as he ran to intercept the ball, and fall sprawlingly on the grass. She was there in an instant, hugging him, inspecting his grass-stained knee, then dropping a kiss on it before resuming play again. An ordinary maternal gesture. Memory shafted through him. Or rather, lack of it. Who had picked him up when he’d gone sprawling like that? A nanny? Whichever of the nursery floor staff was looking after him at the time? Not his mother. He’d only ever seen his mother at five in the afternoon, when she had taken tea and interviewed both himself and Luca as to their progress in lessons that day.
A frown creased his brow. Paolo had been the only one of them ever to sit beside his mother on the exquisite silk-upholstered sofa in her sitting room. The only one of them he could remember her embracing.
He felt his heart squeeze again. He would bring her Paolo’s son.
He glanced at his watch. He doubted Luca would phone back within the hour. Time enough for Rico to teach his nephew some football moves. He headed downstairs.
‘It’s no good, Ben, it’s definitely bedtime.’
‘Mummy—one more goal. Just one.’
‘Golden goal,’ said Rico.
‘All right, then,’ conceded Lizzy.
She had just passed the strangest half-hour. Out of nowhere, the Prince had emerged on to the lawn and joined in their game of football. Or rather taken it over.
Ben was ecstatic.
‘You can ref, Mummy,’ he instructed her.
She sat in a heap at the side of the pitch area, and watched. Her emotions were still in turmoil, but at least she was calmer than she had been.
You have my word, he had said.
Did he mean it?
He had seemed different when he’d said that to her. She didn’t know why, or how, but he had.
And he’d looked at her. Looked at her into her eyes.
As if she were a real person suddenly.
And something had happened in that look. Something that for the first time had made the hard, fearful knot inside her ease.
Just by a fraction.
Something had changed.
Something had changed as she’d poured out her horror and terror in front of him. Telling him—screaming at him—that she would never let Ben be taken from her, that she was his mother by everything but physical birth. That she would never, ever, let such harm come to him as to be wrested from the only person he knew to be his mother.
Who had been the only person in the world to him.
Until now.
She felt emotion move and shift within her.
A pang went through her. Yes, she was Ben’s mother—she would be all her life. Nothing could ever change that.
But now he’s got an uncle. Two uncles. And grandparents too.
A family.
A family to whom Ben was not just the embarrassing result of an affair—someone they would wash their hands of, hide away out of sight.
They wanted him. They wanted him because he was the son of their dead son, their dead brother.
Emotion twisted within her.
If they were anything other than what they are, I’d be overjoyed at their discovering Ben’s existence.
But that was the trouble. They were who they were. It was unbelievable, unreal—and the truth.
Depression rolled over her. Whichever way you looked at it, the whole situation was impossible.
Anguish filled her. There could be no resolution to this. How could there be? Two worlds had collided—the normal world, and the world the Ceraldis lived in. A world that was totally unreal to everyone except themselves.
And Ben was caught in the middle. Crushed between them.
And so was she.
CHAPTER FIVE
RICO stared at his brother. He had been summoned back to San Lucenzo the following morning, and now that he was here Luca had dropped a bombshell on him.
‘This is a joke, right? And, as such, it isn’t funny.’
The Crown Prince of San Lucenzo looked back at him with dispassionate eyes. He was good at dispassion, thought Rico viciously. Great at dispensing insane ideas as if they were commonplace, obvious no-brainers.
‘It would solve the problem we are facing.’
‘Are you mad? It’s not a question of solving problems—this is about my life. And I am not about to sacrifice it for the reasons you think I should.’
‘It’s hardly a permanent sacrifice. Besides, I thought you said you had really taken to the boy.’
Rico’s eyes flashed angrily.
‘That doesn’t mean I have to—’
His brother held up his hand. ‘Yes, I understand. But listen, Rico—what other option is there? She’s the legal g
uardian of Paolo’s son. She won’t relinquish the boy. You’re saying that the only way for us to have Paolo’s son is to have her as well. But how? We cannot have an English unmarried mother, a commoner, whose father kept a shop, living here with legal responsibility for a child who just happens to be our nephew and therefore a royal prince.’ His face tightened. ‘It will cause serious problems of protocol and security. What I’ve suggested cuts those problems right out.’ Both the tone of his voice and his expression changed. ‘I don’t have to tell you that your cooperation in this matter would be appreciated by our father.’
He pressed on.
‘We’re talking a year—eighteen months at the most. That’s all, Rico. Enough to serve the proprieties. Make everything watertight.’
His eyes rested on his younger brother.
‘You’re always talking about having a more active role in affairs. Wanting to take on responsibilities. All your life you’ve chafed at being the “spare”. Well, now you can do something about that. No one else can do this, Rico—only you. You know that. Only you.’
There was an intensity in Luca’s gaze that bored into Rico. For a long, endless moment Rico met his brother’s eyes. Then, with a curse, he broke away.
‘Damn you for this, Luca.’
Luca raised sardonic eyebrows. ‘Damn me all you like—but do this for us all,’ he retorted coolly.
His brother’s voice, when he replied, was even cooler. ‘I’ll do it for Paolo,’ he said.
The sleek, powerful car ate up the miles between the airfield and the rented house. But for Rico it was still too slow. He wanted to drive faster—much faster.
And in the opposite direction.
Instead, he was heading into a cage. He was going to have to put his head into a noose and let it be pulled tight.
His mood was grim. At his side, in the passenger seat, Falieri kept silent. Rico appreciated it. Falieri had been fully briefed, he knew, either by Luca or their father, and he knew exactly what Rico was about to do.
‘Tell me I’m insane,’ Rico demanded.
‘It makes sense, what you are going to do,’ Falieri said quietly.
‘Does it?’ Rico retorted bitterly. ‘Keep reminding me of that, will you?’
‘You are doing it for the boy,’ said Falieri. ‘And for your late brother.’
‘Keep reminding me of that too—’ said Rico.
He slammed on the brakes and changed gear viciously, ready to turn off the road.
Heading into that noose.
Ben greeted him excitedly, rushing to him with a cry of pleasure. Rico scooped him up. The boy’s little arms wound around his neck, his sturdy body strong against Rico’s chest. The hard, tight band around his lungs seemed to lighten fractionally.
I can do this. I can do it for Paolo. I can do it for Ben.
Gently, he lowered his nephew to the ground again. His eyes slid past him to the figure standing there, looking as out of place as she always did.
Dio, she looked worse than ever. Her skin had gone mottled, and her hair seemed frizzier than ever. She was wearing faded cotton trousers and an ill fitting top.
Revulsion raced through him.
He crushed the instinctive rejection. He’d committed to this course of action and there was no way out now. It might be insane—but he’d said he’d do it.
And there was no point putting it off. He had to do it now, before his feet hardened into ice. So, as he lowered Ben to the floor, he made himself look at her again.
‘How have you been?’ he asked.
She gave a half-shrug and didn’t quite meet his eyes. She never did, he realised. Except that time when she had laid into him about being Ben’s legal guardian and never parting from him.
His expression sobered. The intensity of her reaction had shocked him. More than shocked him. It had made him realise, for the first time since discovering about Paolo’s son, that it didn’t matter that the girl was only Ben’s biological aunt—in emotional reality she was much, much more.
And she was right. Completely and indisputably right. To take Ben from her would be an unspeakable cruelty to the child. And to her—and she did not deserve that.
It must have been hard, taking on an orphaned child all on her own, in her circumstances.
‘How did your father take it?’ She swallowed. ‘The fact that I won’t let Ben be parted from me?’
He could hear the tension in her voice, like wires around her throat.
He looked at her.
‘Another way of resolving the situation has been arrived at.’
Her eyes flashed.
‘Anything involving taking Ben from me is—’
He held up a hand, silencing her.
‘That will not happen. However,’ he spoke heavily, steeling himself to do so, ‘this is not the place to discuss this matter.’ He cast a speaking look at Ben, who had gone back to his trainset, to rearrange some points. ‘Have you dined?’
She pressed her lips together. ‘I eat with Ben,’ she said. ‘It saves the staff doing two meals.’
‘Very considerate,’ said Rico dryly. ‘Well, I have not. So I suggest that I do so while Ben is in his bath and then, when he is asleep, you will appreciate that we cannot postpone any longer a discussion about his future.’ He cast a look at her. ‘This must be done—none of us has any choice in that.’
Her expression had become strained, and she looked away. Ben piped up, and Rico was grateful.
‘I’ve finished the track now—come and play,’ he invited him. ‘Let’s race engines.’
Rico grinned, his face lightening.
‘A race? Then prepare to be beaten, young man.’
For his pains he got a withering look. ‘Silly you. I’ve got the express train,’ he told Rico pityingly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rico saw Ben’s aunt slip away. He settled down to play with his nephew. It was a lot easier when she wasn’t around.
Then he remembered what he had committed to do, and he felt his heart sink like lead. Even for Paolo’s sake, this was going to be excruciating.
Ben was asleep, drifting off even as she finished reading his bedtime story to him. Usually Lizzy just had a bath herself, then read until she fell asleep. Ben woke early, and there was no question of a lie-in. So she never minded early nights.
But tonight she had to go downstairs again.
And face the Prince.
Her stomach knotted itself. She couldn’t see what his solution might be—how this nightmare could be resolved.
Round and round her tired head went the drearily familiar litany. Two worlds colliding—no way out. No way out.
She knew only one thing—whatever the Ceraldis wanted, they were not going to part Ben from her. Not while she had breath in her body.
Grimly, she left the door to the bedroom ajar, letting in light from the landing, and then headed downstairs.
She was shown into the drawing room, and the Prince was already there, standing staring out over the near-dark gardens, the curtains undrawn. He had a glass of brandy in his hand, Lizzy registered.
She also registered something else. Something she instantly did her best to suppress. And yet it was impossible.
Impossible for her and every other woman in the world. Impossible to ignore that he was the most drop-dead gorgeous male she’d ever seen.
Embarrassment flushed through her. It seemed wrong to be so aware of his ridiculous good-looks. She had no business being aware of them.
Yet with that brooding expression on his face he just looked even more compelling.
He turned as she advanced into the room, and his eyes rested on her.
Immediately she felt her face mottling, as it always did whenever she came into his eyeline. Making her horribly conscious of her grim appearance.
Yes, I know—I look awful. There’s nothing I can do about it. So, please, just don’t look at me.
‘Won’t you sit down?’
Awkwardly, Lizzy lowered hersel
f on to the sofa. She watched the Prince walk across and take a seat opposite her, separated by a large square coffee table. He swirled the brandy slowly in his glass for a moment, staring down into it. Then his head lifted.
He started to speak.
‘I know you have found it very hard to accept what has happened,’ he began, his voice slow and careful, ‘but I hope that the reality of the situation has now finally sunk in. And that you have begun to appreciate that Ben’s life cannot continue as it was.’
She opened her mouth to speak, but he hadn’t finished.
‘Hear me out. Before you say anything, hear me out.’ He took a breath. It rasped in his lungs. ‘As I said, I understand that it’s difficult to accept, but you must—you have no choice. Ben is no longer the boy you thought he was. Whether you like it or not, you cannot deny his heritage. He is my brother’s son—the offspring of his marriage to your sister. The circumstances of their deaths are tragic beyond belief, but we must deal with the outcome. And the outcome is Ben—our mutual nephew and your adopted son. This is the reality. And the reality of his paternity is, therefore, that he is a prince. Nothing can change that. Not all the wishing in the world.’
His expression changed. Emotion flared in his eyes suddenly. ‘And I do not wish it. I would not wish it for a fraction of a second. Ben is a blessing—a gift from God. My dead brother’s son restored to us. No. Do not blanch.’ His voice had changed again, become measured and formal. ‘Just because he is a gift to us, to my family, it does not imply that he is not precious beyond price to you. Or…’ He paused, then said deliberately, ‘Or you to him. That is not the issue. I gave you my word I would not pursue any avenue of resolution to this situation that was premised upon Ben leaving your care. But…’He paused again, then resumed, with absolute emphasis on each word. ‘You must accept that his old life has gone. It cannot continue. Ben is a royal prince of the House of Ceraldi. Nothing can change that. His future must be based upon that fact.’ He took another sharp intake of breath. ‘And that means that he cannot live an ordinary life any more. He must come to San Lucenzo. With you.’