by Penny Jordan
But she would have to think about it at some stage, she warned herself. After all, nothing had changed, except that she now knew what living without him felt like. She mustn't let herself forget that all this was nothing more than a small extra interlude of grace; a chance to store up some extra memories for the future.
It wouldn't do her any good to dwell on such depressing thoughts. Emily told herself. Instead, she would get up and then keep herself occupied with an inspection of the villa.
If Maria was curious about her relationship with Marco, she hid it well. Emily decided, an hour later, when she had finished a late breakfast of fresh fruit and homemade rolls, which Maria had offered her when she had come downstairs. She had eaten her light meal sitting in the warm sunlight of a second inner courtyard, and was now ready to explore the villa, which she managed to convey with halting Italian and hand-gestures to Maria, who beamed in response and nodded her head enthusiastically.
Emily had no idea when the villa had first been built, but it was obviously very old and had been constructed at a time when the needs of a household were very different from the requirements of the twenty-first century. In addition to the dark kitchen Maria showed her there was a positive warren of passages and small rooms, providing what Emily assumed must have been the domestic service area of the house. To suit the needs of a modern family, these would have to be integrated into a much larger, lighter and more modern kitchen, with a dining area, and possibly a family room, opening out onto the courtyard.
The main doors to the villa opened into a square hallway, flanked by two good sized salons, although the decor was old-fashioned and dark. The bedrooms either already had their own bathrooms or were large enough to accommodate en suites, although only the room Marco was using was equipped with relatively recent sanitary-ware.
On the top floor of the villa, there were more rooms and. by the time she had finished going round the ground and first floors. Emily was beginning to feel tired. But her tiredness wasn't stopping her from feeling excited at the prospect of taking on such a challenging but ultimately worthwhile project. The attic floor alone was large enough to convert into two self-contained units that could provide either semi-separate accommodation for older teenagers, staff quarters, or simply a bolt-hole and working area away from the hubbub of everyday family life. The courtyards to the villa were a real delight, or at least they had the potential to be. There were three of them, and the smaller one could easily be adapted to contain a swimming pool.
It was the second courtyard, which Marcos bedroom overlooked, that was her favourite, though. With giant terracotta pots filled with shrubs, palms and flowers
and a loggia that ran along one wall, it was the perfect spot to sit and enjoy the peaceful sound of its central marble fountain.
Standing in it now Emily couldn't help thinking what a wonderful holiday home the villa would make for a family. It had room to spare for three generations; with no effort at all she could see them enjoying the refurbished villas luxurious comfort: the grandparents, retired but still very active, enjoying the company of their great-grandchildren, the kids themselves exuberant, and energetic, the sound of their laughter mingling with that of the fountain; the girls olive-skinned, pretty and dainty, the boys strongly built with their fathers dark hair and shrewd gaze, the baby laughing and gurgling as Marco held him whilst the woman who was their mother and Marcos wife—Nirolis queen—stood watching them.
Don't do this to yourself, an inner voice warned Emily. Don't go there. Don't think about it, or her don't imagine what it would be like to be that woman. In reality, the home she had been busily mentally creating was not that of a king and a queen. It was the home of a couple who loved one another and their children, a home for the kind of family she admitted she had yearned for during her teenage years when she had lived with her grandfather. The kind of home that represented the life.
The future, she wished desperately she would be sharing with Marco, right down to the five children. The warmth of the sun spilling into the courtyard filled it with the scent of the lavender that grew there, and Emily knew that, for the rest of her life, she would equate its scent with the pain seeping slowly through her as she acknowledged the impossibility of her dreams. If this were a fantasy, then she could magic away all those things that stood between her and Marco, and imagine a happy ending, a scenario in which he discovered that she loved him and immediately declared his own love for her. But this was real life and there was no way that was going to happen.
One day—maybe—there would be a man with whom she could find some sense of peace, a man who would give her children they could love together and cherish. But that man could not and would not be Marco, and those dark-haired girls and boys she had seen so clearly with her minds eye that gorgeous baby, were the children that another woman would bear for him.
And poor things, their lives would be burdened by the weight of their royal inheritance, just as Marco’s was and that was something Emily knew she could not endure to inflict on her own babies. For them she wanted love and security and the freedom to grow into individuals, instead of being forced into the mould of royal heirs.
It was just as well that Marco had no intentions of wanting to make her his wife, on two counts. Emily told herself determinedly as she battled with her sadness, because the revealing nature of her recent thoughts had shown her what her true feelings were about Marcos royal blood. Plus, of course, as he had already told her it was not permissible for him to marry a divorced woman.
The sound of crockery rattling on a tray and the smell of coffee brought her back to the present as Maria came into the courtyard carrying a tray of coffee for her which she put on a table shaded from the heat of the sun by an elegant parchment-coloured sun umbrella.
Thanking her with a smile. Emily decided that she might as well start work. Within half an hour, she was deeply engrossed in the notes she was making, having moved the coffee-pot out of the way. Although she hadn't felt nauseous this morning, the smell of the coffee had reminded her that her stomach was still queasy and not truly back to normal.
An hour later, when Marco drove into the outer courtyard Emily was still hard at work. After leaving the palace he had been to the airport where the generators had already been unloaded. He had already made a list of those villages up in the mountains most in need of their own source of power and whilst in London he had spoken with the islands police chief and the biggest road haulier to arrange for the transport of the generators. However, whilst he had been at the airport, he had received a message from the police chief to say he had received instructions from the palace that the generators were not to be moved.
It had taken all of Marcos considerable negotiating skills, and the cool reminder that he was Niroli’s future king, to persuade the police chief to change his mind and go against what he described to Marco almost fearfully as orders from the palace.
Because of this Marco had decided to drive into the mountains himself to make sure that the generators were delivered safely. If his grandfather thought he could outmanoeuvre him then he was going to have to learn the hard way that it was just not going to happen.
Marcos mouth compressed. As a successful entrepreneur whose views were respected he wasn't used to having his decisions questioned and countermanded. Had his grandfather really no idea of the potential damage he was inflicting on the island by his stubborn refusal to recognise that the world had changed and its people with it, and that it was no longer viable for a king as hugely wealthy as Niroli's to allow some of his subjects to live in conditions of severe poverty? Apart from anything else, there was the threat of civil unrest amongst the mountain-dwellers, which would be seized upon and further orchestrated by the Vialli gang that lived amongst them.
His step-grandmother had in part to be behind this. Marco decided grimly. Queen Eva was his grandfather’s second wife, and it was Marcos personal opinion that she was and always had been hostile towards her predecessors side of the family
. That naturally included Marco and his two sisters. Given their step-grandmothers attitude, it was no wonder that Isabella rarely visited the palace, and that Rosa preferred not to live on the island, just as he hadn't, until recently...
Emily had been deeply engrossed in the notes she was making, but some sixth sense alerted her to Marcos presence, causing her to put down her pen and turn to look towards the entrance to the courtyard. Despite the sombreness of her earlier thoughts, the minute she saw Marco standing watching her all the feelings she had promised herself she would learn to control rushed through her. Pushing back her chair, she got up and hurried over to him.
As he watched her coming towards him Marco could feel the anger his morning had caused being eased from his body by the warmth of her welcome. He wanted to go to her and take hold of her. He wanted to take her to bed and lose himself and his problems within her. His need for her was so intense...He tensed once more. There it was again, that word need, that feeling he didn't want to have.
‘What is it? What's wrong?' Emily asked him uncertainly when she saw his sudden tension.
‘Nothing for you to worry about. An administrative problem I need to sort out.' he told her dismissively. ‘I‘ll be gone for most of the afternoon.'
Emily did her best to hide her disappointment, but she knew she hadn't succeeded when she heard him exhaling irritably.
‘Emily—' he began warningly.
‘It's all right. I know. You're a king-in-waiting and you have far more important things to do than be with me.' she interrupted him briskly.
Marco looked at her downbent head.
‘You can come with me if you wish, but it will mean a long, hot drive along dusty roads, followed by some boring delays whilst I speak with people. And since you haven't been feeling well...'
Emily wanted to tell him that being with him could never bore her but she managed to stop herself just in time. Instead she assured him quickly. ‘I’m feeling much better now. I've had a look round the villa and I could run some options by you in the car. unless...’ She paused uncertainly, suddenly realising how very little she knew about what was expected of him in his new role. ‘That is will you be driving yourself. or...?’
‘We aren't going on some kind of royal progress in a formal cavalcade, if that's what you mean and yes. I shall be driving myself.' Marco answered her. 'You'll need a hat to protect your head from the sun and a pair of sensible shoes for if you do get out of the car. Some of the villages we shall be going to are pretty remote and along single-track mountain roads. I don't want to delay too long though.' He didn't want the police chief getting cold feet and instructing the haulier to stop his fleet of lorries, or worse, turn back.
Emily's eyes were shining as though he had offered her some kind of priceless gift, he reflected. He had a sudden impulse to take hold of her and draw her close to him, to kiss her slowly and tenderly. He shook the impulse away, not sure where it had come from or why, but knowing that it was dangerous...
CHAPTER TEN
‘AM I allowed to ask any questions?’ Emily said lightly. It was nearly an hour since they had left the villa. Marco had driven them through the main town and then out and up into the hills. Or is this trip a state secret?’
‘No secret, but it is certainly a contentious issue so far as my grandfather is concerned.’ Marco told her.
‘If its private family business.’ she began, but Marco stopped her shaking his head.
‘No It’s very much a public business, since it involves some of the poorest communities on the island. But instead of acknowledging their need and doing something about it my grandfather prefers to ignore it which is why I have decided to take matters into my own hands. The more remote parts of the island do not have the benefit of electricity.1 he explained. Because of that, these people are denied modern comforts and communication, and their children are denied access to technology and education.
My grandfather believes in his divine and royal right to impose his will and keep them living as peasants. He also believes he knows what is best for them and for Niroli. Because there has been a history of insurrection amongst our mountain population, led by the Viallis. in the past, he also fears that by encouraging them to become part of todays world he will be encouraging them to challenge the Crowns supremacy.’
‘And you don't agree.' Emily guessed sympathetically.
‘I believe that every child has the right to a good education, and that every parent has the right to want to provide their child with the best opportunities available. My grandfather feels that by educating our poorest citizens, we will encourage them to want much more than the simple lives they presently have, he fears that some will rise up others will desert the land and maybe even the island. But I say it's wrong to imprison them in poverty and lack of opportunity. We have a duty to them, and for me that means giving them freedom of choice. You and I know what happens when young people are disenfranchised. Emily. We have already seen it in the urban ghettos of Europe: angry young men ganging up together and becoming feral, respecting only violence and greed, because that is all they have ever known. I don't want to see that happening here.
'I have tried to persuade my grandfather to invest some of the Crown's vast financial reserves in paying to install electricity in these remote areas, but he refuses to do so. Just as he refuses to see the potential trouble he is storing up for the island.’
Emily could hear the frustration in his voice. It had touched her immensely that Marco had connected the two of them together in their shared awareness of the downsides of keeping people impoverished and powerless.
‘Perhaps, once you are King...’ she suggested, but Marco shook his head again. ‘My grandfather is very good at imposing conditions and I don't want to trap myself in a situation where my hands are tied. Plus, it seems to me that some of Niroli's youth are already beginning to resent my grandfather's rule, just as previous generations resisted the monarchy. I do not want to inherit that resentment along with the throne, so I have decided to act now to take the heat out of the situation.'
‘But what can you do?' Emily asked him uncertainly ‘If your grandfather has refused to allow electricity to be supplied...'
‘l can't insist that it is. No’ Marco agreed. ‘But I can provide it by other means. Whilst I was in London. I bought what I hope will be enough generators to at least provide some electricity for the villages. My grandfather is furious, of course, but I am hoping that he will back down and accept what I have done as a way of allowing him to change his mind without losing face. He is an old man who has ruled autocratically all his life. It is hard for him. I know that, but the Crown has to change or risk having change forced upon it.’
‘You think there will be some kind of uprising?’ Emily was horrified, instantly thinking of the danger that would bring to Marco.
‘Not immediately. But the seeds are there. And still my grandfather is so determined to hold absolute power.’
‘You pretend not to do so but in reality you understand him very well, and I think you feel a great deal of compassion for him. Marco.’ Emily said gently.
‘On the contrary, what I feel is a great deal of irritation and anger because he refuses to see the danger he is courting.’ Marco corrected her. Her perceptiveness had startled him, making him feel that she knew him rather better than he had realised. ‘There are so many changes I want to make. Emily, so much here for me to do, but my grandfather blocks me at every turn.’
'You've lived away from the island for a long time and you've grown used to making your own decisions without the need to consult others. Perhaps your grandfather is being difficult because he sees this and in some ways he fears it—and you. You said yourself that he's an old man—he obviously knows that he can’t continue to be King, but my guess is that he doesn't want to acknowledge that publicly, and that a part of him wants to continue to rule Niroli through you. When you come up with your own plans and they are opposed to his he tries to block you because he's
afraid of losing his power to you.'
‘I doubt you would ever get him to admit any of that.'
Emily could hear the frustration in Marco's voice and. with it. His hunger to right what he saw as wrongs. He would be a strong king morally, socially, politically and in all the other important ways, she recognised. Listening to him had brought home to her the reality of her own situation. Even if by some miracle he should return her love, there was no future for them. She could not be his queen, and she could never do anything that would prevent him from being Niroli’s king. Not now.
After hearing him speak so passionately about his country and his people. If Marco had a duty to his people, then she too had duties to him and her love for him; loving someone meant putting them first and their needs before one's own. Marco's great need was to fulfil his duty and he could not do that with her in his life. A small, sad shadow darkened her eyes—the ghost of her dreams. Seeing it Marco frowned.
‘I’m boring you.: he announced curtly.