by Sarah Morgan
‘And chatting is your favourite occupation. Are you hungry?’ Amusement shimmered in his eyes as he steered her towards the table. Silver glinted and candles flickered, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers. ‘I must admit I hadn’t expected you to cope so well with all the attention. When I first met you, you seemed very insecure. I hadn’t factored in how warm and friendly you are. You have a real talent with people.’
‘I do?’ Warmed by his unexpectedly generous praise, Holly glowed, smiling her thanks at a member of staff who discreetly placed a napkin on her lap. ‘That’s a nice thing to say.’
‘Why were you a waitress?’
‘What’s wrong with being a waitress?’
‘Don’t be defensive.’ He waited while a team of staff served their food and then dismissed them with a discreet glance towards the door. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being a waitress, but you could have done a great deal more. You’re obviously very bright—even if maths isn’t “your thing”.’
‘I’ve never been very ambitious.’ Holly sipped her drink, wondering if honesty would destroy the atmosphere. ‘I know it isn’t trendy or politically correct to admit to it, but all I really wanted was to have a baby. When other girls wanted to be doctors or lawyers, I just wanted to be a mum. Not just any mum, but a brilliant mum. And before you say anything, yes, I suppose a psychologist would have a field day with that and say I wanted to make up for my parents’ deficient parenting—but actually I don’t think that had anything to do with it. I think I just have a very strong maternal instinct.’
‘You’re right, it isn’t politically correct to admit that.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Most of the women I know think babies are something to be postponed until they’ve done all the other things in life.’
Not wanting to think about the women he knew, Holly looked away. ‘I always saw children as a beginning, not as an end.’ She glanced towards the open glass doors and saw several members of staff hovering. ‘Do you think—could they just put the dishes on the table and leave us alone?’
She didn’t even see him gesture and yet the staff melted away and the doors were closed, leaving them alone.
‘I love it when you do that.’ Holly grinned and picked up her fork. ‘Do the whole powerful prince thing: “you are dismissed”. Do you ever eat in restaurants?’
‘Occasionally, but it usually causes too much of a security headache for all concerned. You enjoyed the opera, didn’t you?’
‘It was fantastic. The costumes, the music.’ She sighed. ‘Can we go again some time?’
‘You’ve never been before? But you were living in London—a mecca for culture.’
‘If you have money. And, even then, London can be a pretty lonely place,’ Holly said lightly. ‘Loads of people all going about their business, heads down, not looking left or right. I hated the anonymity of it—the fact that no one cared about anyone else. I always thought it would be great to live in a small village where everyone knows everyone, but I needed the work, and there’s always work in a city.’
‘You don’t like being on your own, do you?’
Holly played with her fork. ‘No. I suppose I was on my own a lot as a child and I hated it. After my dad left, my mum had to go out to work, and she couldn’t afford childcare so she pretty much left me to my own devices. Then she died, and—’ She poked at the food on her plate. ‘Let’s just say I don’t associate being on my own with happy feelings. Screwed-up Holly.’
‘You seem remarkably balanced to me, considering the state of the world around us.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘A little dreamy and naïve perhaps. Did you read fairy tales as a child?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t believe in fairies, if that’s what you’re asking me.’
‘But you believe in love,’ he drawled, curling his long fingers around the slender stem of his glass.
‘Love isn’t a fairy tale.’
‘Isn’t it?’ The flickering candles illuminated the hard planes of his handsome face and the cynical glitter of his eyes.
‘Do you realise how weird this is? I mean—you’re the prince with the palace and you’re telling me you don’t believe in fairy tales. Bizarre.’ Holly laughed. ‘And, if you were already living out the fairy story, what did your nannies read you? Something about normal people?’
‘I was swamped by literature drumming in the importance of responsibility and duty.’
Pondering that revealing statement, Holly studied him thoughtfully. ‘So it was all about what your country needed. Not about you as a person. What was your childhood like? Did it feel weird being a prince?’
‘I’ve never been anything else, so I have no idea. But my childhood was pretty normal.’ He leaned forward and topped up her glass. ‘I was educated at home, and then went to boarding school in England, university in the States and then returned here to work on the tourist development programme.’
‘Everyone says you did a brilliant job. Do you miss it?’
‘I still keep my eye on all the projects. I’m probably more involved than I should be.’ He was unusually communicative, and if Holly was only too aware that they weren’t talking about any of the difficult stuff, well, she decided it didn’t matter. At least they were talking about something. And at least they were alone together instead of surrounded by a crowd of dignitaries.
‘I wish we could do this more often,’ she said impulsively and then blushed as he rose from the table, a purposeful gleam in his eyes.
‘We will. And now that’s enough talking.’ He pulled her gently to her feet and she stood, heart thumping, and he slid his hands around her face and gave an unexpected smile.
‘For the rest of the evening,’ he murmured softly, ‘It’s actions, not words. How does this spectacular dress come off?’
‘Zip at the back,’ Holly murmured, offering no resistance as he lowered his head to hers.
As always the skilled touch of his mouth sent her head into a spin, and she gave a moan of pleasure as his arms slid round her and he pulled her hard against his powerful frame.
‘I want you.’ He murmured the words against her lips, his mouth hot and demanding. ‘I want you naked, right now.’
Her tummy tumbling, Holly gasped as he lifted her easily and carried her through to the gorgeous bedroom. The French doors remained open and she could hear the faint rush of the sea as he laid her down on the four-poster bed.
Would he notice that her boobs had grown and that her stomach was now slightly rounded? Holly squirmed slightly against the sheets and he kissed her again, using his skill and experience to drive away her inhibitions.
When he slid a hand over her stomach she tensed, and when his mouth trailed down her body she moaned and arched against him, unable to resist what he did to her.
And he did it over and over again, until she finally floated back down to earth, stunned and disconnected and with no clue as to how much time had passed.
Casper shifted above her, fire and heat flickering in his molten dark eyes as his satisfied gaze swept her flushed cheeks. ‘I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.’
Heart thudding, Holly gazed up at him. ‘I love you.’ The confession was torn from her in that moment of vulnerability, and she wrapped her arms round him and buried her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of virile male. ‘I love you, Cas. I love you.’
And it was true, she realised helplessly. She did love him.
He was complicated, and he’d hurt her, but somewhere along the way she’d stopped trying to make their relationship work for the sake of the baby, and had started to fall in love.
Or perhaps it had always been there. From that first moment they’d met at the rugby match. Certainly there’d been something. How else could you explain the fact that she’d shared an intimacy with him she’d never shared with any other man?
Shocked by her own revelation, it took her a moment to realise that Casper had made no response.
He hadn’t spoken and he h
adn’t moved.
It was as if her words had turned him to stone.
And then he rolled out of the affectionate circle of her arms and onto his back.
The honesty of her confession somehow made his sudden withdrawal all the more shocking. Wracked by a sense of isolation and rejection, Holly instinctively snuggled against him, but his tension was unmistakeable.
‘Don’t ever say that to me, Holly. Don’t ever confuse great sex with love.’
‘I’m not confused. I know what I feel. And I don’t expect you to say it back, but that doesn’t mean I can’t say it to you.’ Tentatively, she slid her arm over the flat, muscular plains of his stomach. ‘I love you. And you don’t have to be afraid of that.’
He muttered something under his breath and then shook her off and sprang off of bed. ‘“I love you” has to be the most overused phrase in the English language. So overused that it’s lost its meaning.’
Holly crumpled as she watched her gift devalued in a single stroke. ‘It hasn’t lost its meaning to me.’
‘No?’ His eyes hard, he thrust his arms into a robe. ‘Usually when people say “I love you” they mean something else. They mean, “you’re great in bed”, or perhaps, “I love the fact that you’re rich and you can show me a good time”. For you it’s probably, “I love the fact that you were prepared to take on my baby”.’
Holly flinched as though he’d slapped her. ‘How can you say that?’ Her voice cracked. ‘Even after this time we’ve spent together, you still don’t know me, do you? I’m trying to do what’s best for our child, and you’re being needlessly cruel—’
‘Honest.’
‘I’ve never said those words to anyone in my life before, and you just threw them back in my face.’ The breath trapped in her throat, she watched him. ‘Just so that there is no misunderstanding, let me tell you what “I love you” means to me. It means that I care more about your happiness than my own. And I care all the time, not just when we’re having great sex. “I love you” means ignoring the pain you inflict every time you accuse me of lying, because I know you’ve been hurt yourself even though you won’t talk to me about it. It means being patient and trying to accept that you find it hard to share your thoughts and feelings with me. And it’s because I love you that I’m still standing here, swallowing my pride and trying to make this work, even when you hurt me on purpose.’
There was a long, deathly silence and then he lifted his hands, pressed his fingers to his temples and inhaled deeply. ‘If that’s really what you feel, then I’m sorry,’ he said hoarsely, and his voice was strangely thickened. ‘I can’t give you anything back. I don’t have that capacity any more.’
Without waiting for her response, he strode out of the bedroom, leaving her alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS THE door slammed shut between them, Holly flopped back onto the pillows, emotionally shattered.
How had such a perfect evening ended so badly?
Why should her simple declaration of love have had such a dramatic effect on his mood?
She thought back to his dismissive comments about fairy stories, love and happy endings.
Yes, he’d lost his fiancée, but even extreme grief shouldn’t lead to that degree of cynicism should it?
And what had he meant when he said he couldn’t love?
Was he saying that he believed a person could only love once in their lives?
Was that what was going on in his head?
Or was he saying that he couldn’t love her?
Frustrated and desperately upset, Holly slipped out of bed, slipped her arms into a silk robe and walked across the bedroom. She stood for a moment with her hand on the door, wanting to follow him and yet afraid of further rejection.
Her hand dropped to her side and she stared at the door, her head a whirlpool of indecision.
She wanted him to talk, and yet she was afraid of hearing what he had to say.
She didn’t want to hear that loving and losing another woman had prevented him ever loving again.
Because that would mean that there was no hope for them.
And yet not talking about it wasn’t going to change things, was it?
Hoping she was doing the right thing, Holly slowly opened the door, realising that she had no idea where he’d gone.
What if he’d left the palazzo?
And then she saw a chink of light under the door to the library that they’d been shown when they’d arrived earlier.
Taking a deep breath, she tapped lightly on the door and opened it.
Casper stood with his back to her, staring out of the window.
Holly closed the door carefully. ‘Please don’t walk away from me,’ she said quietly. ‘If we need to have a difficult conversation, then let’s have it. But don’t avoid it. We don’t stand any chance if you don’t talk to me.’ She knew from the sudden tension in his shoulders that he’d heard her, but it seemed like ages before he responded.
‘I can’t give you what you want, Holly. Love wasn’t part of our deal.’
‘Stop talking about it as a deal!’ She stared at his back helplessly. ‘Could you please at least look at me? This is hard enough without being able to see your face.’
He turned and she froze in shock, because his handsome face looked as though it had been chiselled from white marble. His eyes were blank of expression and yet the depth of his pain was evident in the very stillness of his body.
‘Talk to me, Cas.’ Forgetting her own misery, she walked across to him. ‘Why can’t you love? Is it because you lost Antonia? Is that it? Is this still about your grief?’ And then she saw something in his face—a hardness—and everything fell into place. His comments. His beliefs. His cynicism. Suddenly she just knew. ‘Oh God—she did something dreadful to you, didn’t she?’
‘Holly—’
Ignoring his warning tone, she slid her hand into his larger one. ‘All this time I’ve been assuming you were madly in love with her, and perhaps you were once.’ Her eyes were on his rigid profile. ‘But she let you down, didn’t she? That’s the reason you were so cynical about my motives. That’s the reason you say you can’t love. You don’t want to let yourself love. Because you loved once before and she hurt you so badly. She did something, I know she did. Tell me about it.’
‘Holly.’ His voice thickened, and he turned on her. ‘Just leave it.’
‘No, I won’t leave it.’ She tightened her grip on his hand, refusing to let him withdraw. ‘I want to know. I deserve to know.’ Tears clogged her throat. ‘What did she do?’
A muscle worked in his lean jaw, and he stared at her, his eyes empty of emotion. ‘She was sleeping with my brother.’
His revelation was so unexpected that Holly just stared at him. ‘Oh, dear God.’
He gave a twisted smile and looked at her, his eyes strangely blank of emotion. ‘Shall I tell you what Antonia meant when she said “I love you”? She meant that she loved the glitter and glamour of royal life. All the high-profile stuff. Only in those days I was working flat out in a commercial role. I didn’t do many public engagements. I never expected to be the ruling prince. I didn’t even want it. But Antonia did. For her, “I love you” meant “I love what you can do for my lifestyle”, and once she found someone who could do more for her she transferred her “love” to them. The life my brother offered her was just too tempting.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I was naïve.’ He removed his hand from hers. ‘I was young enough and arrogant enough not to question her notion of love. I thought she cared about me and that what we shared was real.’
‘The accident.’
Casper drew in a breath. ‘We were on a skiing trip, Antonia and I. My brother joined us unexpectedly, and that was when I realised what was going on. Stupidly I confronted both of them, right there, at the top of the mountain where the helicopter had dropped us. My brother skied off and she followed.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘I went after them
but I was quite a way behind. They caught the full force of the avalanche. There was nothing I could do. I was swept into a tree and knocked unconscious.’
‘Did you tell anyone?’ Her voice was soft. ‘When you recovered, did you tell anyone the truth?’
‘The country was in a state of crisis—defiling my brother’s memory would have achieved nothing.’
‘Forget about your country—what about you?’
‘I couldn’t forget about my country. I had a responsibility to the people.’
Holly swallowed down the lump in her throat. ‘So you just buried it inside and carried on.’
‘Of course.’
‘And the only way to cope with so much emotion was to block it out.’ Impulsively she slid her arms around his waist. ‘Now I understand why you don’t believe in love. But that wasn’t love, Cas. She didn’t love you.’
He closed his hands over her shoulders and gently but firmly prised her away from him. ‘Close your book of fairy tales, Holly.’ His voice was rough. ‘The fact that you know the truth doesn’t change anything.’
‘It changes it for me.’
‘Then you’re deluding yourself.’ His tone was harsh. ‘Inside that dreamy head of yours, you’re telling yourself that I’ll fall in love with you. And that is never going to happen.’
She ignored the shaft of pain. ‘Because you’re afraid of being hurt again?’
‘After the accident I switched off my emotions because that was the only way of getting through each day. I didn’t want to feel. I couldn’t afford to feel. How could I fulfil my responsibilities if I was wallowing in my personal grief?’
‘So you shut it down, but that doesn’t mean—’
‘Don’t do this!’ With a soft curse, he lifted her face to his and forced her to meet his gaze. ‘I’m not capable of feeling. And I’m not capable of love. I don’t want love to be part of my life. We share great sex. Be grateful for that.’
That bleak confession made her heart stumble, and her voice was barely a whisper in the dimly lit room as she voiced the question that had been worrying her since the day she’d discovered she was pregnant. ‘If you really can’t love me, then I’ll try and accept that. But I have to ask you one thing, Casper.’ She was so terrified of the answer that she almost couldn’t bear to ask the question. But she had to ask it. ‘Do you think you can love our baby?’