‘Really?’ Giorgio drawled. ‘I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you.’
‘Please don’t hang up,’ Liam said swiftly. ‘Please just give me three minutes of your time. I know you’re close to the princess and you told me you think of her as your little sister—and right now you probably want to punch me.’
‘There is that,’ Giorgio agreed, his voice very cool.
‘I’ve been an idiot. I’m assuming you know the full situation?’
Giorgio was silent. Which told Liam nothing.
OK. He’d try to do this without mentioning the baby, then, just in case Vittoria’s bodyguard didn’t know. ‘I’m firmly in the wrong,’ he said. ‘I should have dug deeper and been more honest—with myself as well as with Her Royal Highness.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I need to talk to her. Face to face, and in private—well, obviously if she wants you there then I’d be guided by her wishes.’
‘Then why don’t you call her?’
‘Because I pushed her too far this morning and I don’t think she’ll answer my call. I think she expects my lawyer to be in touch with hers.’
‘Then I don’t see how I can help.’
‘You care about her,’ Liam said. ‘And you knew this Rufus guy.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not Rufus. I nearly let her down the way he did—but I’ve realised now I was listening to the words coming out of her mouth instead of what she was really saying.’
‘Why are you asking me to help and not Princess Isabella?’ Giorgio asked.
‘Because I don’t know how much Izzy knows—actually, I don’t know how much you know,’ Liam admitted. ‘I don’t want to make things difficult between Izzy and my sister. I’m trying to find a way that causes least hurt to everyone.’
‘That’s fair.’
‘So can you help me, please? If I get on the first plane tomorrow to San Rocello, could you persuade the princess to meet me? Say, twenty minutes?’
‘Twenty minutes is a long time.’
‘If I haven’t fixed things by then, you can punch me. Hard as you like,’ Liam said.
There was the ghost of a smile in Giorgio’s voice as he said, ‘I rather think the princess can do that for herself.’
‘She probably could,’ Liam said dryly. ‘She wouldn’t need to do it physically.’
‘All right. Come to the palace, and I’ll tell Matteo Battaglia to expect you. Let me know your arrival time.’
‘Thank you, Giorgio. I really appreciate it.’
‘Don’t hurt her again,’ Giorgio said.
‘I won’t. Just so you know, I hurt her through stupidity, not because I meant to,’ Liam said. ‘I’d never hurt her intentionally.’ He paused. ‘One more thing. Can the meeting be in her father’s rose garden?’
‘That,’ Giorgio said, ‘convinces me more than anything else you’ve said.’
‘Thank you,’ Liam said. ‘I won’t let her down again.’
The second he ended the call, he went online to book the first possible flight to San Rocello. To his relief, there was one seat left on an early flight in the morning. He booked it and texted the details to Giorgio.
The following morning, Liam felt ridiculously nervous. This was the most important meeting of his life. If he got it wrong...
But his shoes were clean, his shirt was pressed and his tie was tied properly. Just what he could remember his mum telling him to do on what he’d once thought was the most important meeting of his life, his interview at Edinburgh university.
‘Wish me luck now, Mum,’ he whispered. ‘Because I really, really need it.’
He propped a note for Saoirse against the kettle, to tell her he was out all day at a meeting, then drove to the airport.
Having no luggage and the minimum carry-on meant that check-in and security clearance were swift. Giorgio had sent him a text confirming that the meeting was set up in the rose garden. Liam settled into his seat on the aeroplane and tried to put himself into Vittoria’s shoes. Was she as mixed up over this as he was? Hurt, angry, afraid?
But he couldn’t second-guess her. All he could do was be honest with her. Listen to her—and listen properly, this time. Tell her how he really felt.
She was the queen-to-be. Fair, impartial, believing in justice. So he knew she’d listen to him. He just hoped she wanted the same thing he did.
Although everything ran on time, the journey seemed to take for ever—plane, ferry, taxi—but at last he was outside the palace. The last time he’d gone through the palace security measures it had been to take some photographs, which were an important move in his career. This time, the stakes were so much higher.
The Private Secretary took him through to the palace gardens, where Giorgio was waiting.
‘Thank you for arranging this, Giorgio,’ Liam said.
‘Don’t let her down,’ was all the bodyguard said, and took him through to the rose garden.
Vittoria was sitting on a wrought iron seat under a bower of roses, reading. Every bit of her exuded calm; but when Liam was close enough to see her eyes, he could tell that she was as nervous about this as he was.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ he said.
She inclined her head in acknowledgement.
Giorgio said something in rapid Italian which Liam couldn’t follow, then walked over to the end of the garden. They were still in his line of sight, but had the privacy to speak frankly.
‘First off,’ Liam said, ‘I apologise. I was an idiot. I was listening to what was coming out of your mouth instead of listening to what you were really saying.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She wasn’t giving a millimetre; right now, Liam knew that he was talking to the Winter Queen.
How was he going to get through to her?
‘Secondly,’ he said, ‘are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Why did you come here today?’
To tell you I love you and I want to make a family with you.
But if he told her that, he had a feeling she’d throw it back in his face. She was still being formal with him, and he needed her to feel comfortable enough to open up to him again. So he’d make the concessions.
‘To listen,’ he said instead. ‘To understand.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘We said it all yesterday. There’s nothing else to listen to and nothing else to understand. I’m pregnant and you’re fighting me for custody.’
‘Let’s rewind a bit,’ he said. ‘I think the conversation we had yesterday went very, very wrong for both of us. So let’s go back a couple of weeks.’
She frowned. ‘A couple of weeks?’
‘Yes.’ To something he hadn’t quite understood at the time, but he’d done some research since. ‘You and Izzy called it your Roman Holiday,’ he said, ‘so I’m assuming you know the film?’
She looked surprised, but nodded.
‘I didn’t—so I looked it up. And it wasn’t a Roman Holiday,’ he said quietly. ‘Yes, on a superficial level, there are similarities. The princess in the film spends time as a commoner, and so did you. But that’s as far as it goes. This isn’t the nineteen-fifties, and Giorgio was with us when we went to the cottage by the sea. I never had any intention of writing a story about you for the press. I didn’t have a fight with anyone, you didn’t rescue me from a river, and I didn’t bring you back to San Rocello.’
She said nothing.
‘The kiss happened.’ He paused. ‘In the film, they don’t spend the night together. But we did.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I woke with you in my arms. It was perfect.’
She said nothing, but at least she wasn’t disagreeing. And the faint colour in her cheeks gave him hope.
‘And, that night, we made a baby.’
‘But you gave me all the photos from my time with you. Just like in the film.’
‘No, I gave you access to them,’ he corrected. ‘I still have the originals—and maybe one day I might publish them.’ Before the look of horror in her eyes bloomed any further, he said swiftly, ‘Though, if I do, firstly it will only be with your full permission, and secondly you get to choose which ones we publish. And, going back to the film, there’s another really important difference. I’m the photographer, not the journalist.’ He waited until she met his gaze, before finishing quietly, ‘I’m not the one who walks away.’
‘You said you didn’t want to raise a family,’ she reminded him, ‘because you’ve already done that with Saoirse. You said you wanted to concentrate on your career.’
‘I know what I told you, and it’s exactly how I thought I felt,’ he said. ‘But you’re expecting our baby, and that changes everything.’
For a moment she wasn’t the Winter Queen any more; she was the woman whose smile was like sunshine. Even though her mouth wasn’t smiling, her eyes were. Just enough to give him hope.
‘But, just so we’re clear, I’m not here because of the baby.’
Her face shuttered. ‘You said you’d stand by me. Do the right thing.’
‘You’d only just told me you were pregnant,’ he said, ‘and I wasn’t thinking straight. It was a knee-jerk reaction. And then you told me I didn’t need to be involved—so I think we hurt each other. But I’m sorry I hurt you.’
‘I’m sorry, too,’ she said.
‘I’m not going to fight you for custody. I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. I should have told you how much I missed you, when you left to come back to San Rocello. That’s why I sent you the picture of a rose.’
‘A picture’s worth a thousand words—but I didn’t really know what you were trying to tell me.’
‘I think most people have the same idea what a single red rose means,’ he said dryly. ‘But it wasn’t just that. It was all the other stuff that goes with a rose for me. Your favourite poem. Our conversation, that last morning. What you told me about missing your dad. It’s why I wanted to meet you here—in a place that I know has happy memories for you, a place that means family to you.’ He looked at her. ‘And you sent me a photo of a seashell. What did that mean?’
‘I picked it up on the beach. I wanted you to think about the beach, where you kissed me for the first time.’ She looked straight at him. ‘And where we walked together, the day we made the baby.’
Was she telling him she loved him?
He still wasn’t sure.
But those memories made him feel warm all over.
‘And then you sent me a photo of a bluebell,’ she said.
‘Because it was the colour of your eyes,’ he said. ‘And the carpet of the woods where I taught you how to take a good portrait.’ He looked at her. ‘Did you look up its meaning?’
‘No.’
‘You should have done,’ he said softly. But that was where their flirting by photographs had ended.
‘What does it mean?’ she asked.
‘Everlasting love. Constancy,’ he said, and waited for that to sink in. ‘And then,’ he said, ‘you ghosted me. Did you change your mind about me?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t know what to say. I remembered you saying you thought my eyes were the same colour as bluebells, so I was going to send you a cornflower—that’s the colour of your eyes. But then I looked up the meaning of a cornflower. Apparently, it’s “delicacy and refinement”. And that wasn’t what I wanted to say.’
He laughed. ‘I’m not delicate—or that refined. But you are.’
She shrugged. ‘I didn’t know what to say to you,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know if you were just flirting with me or if you were serious. And then I had something to sort out for Nonno. And time just got away from me, and the longer it went on the harder it was to know what to say to you. In business, I know what I’m doing. When it comes to emotional stuff, I’m not so sure of myself. The last time I was in love, I thought Rufus loved me all the way back. But he didn’t. He walked away.’
‘I know,’ Liam said softly. ‘But I’m not Rufus, and I’m not walking away.’
‘But you said you want to concentrate on your career.’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘But I also want a family. I know I told you I didn’t—at the time, I thought I didn’t. But this baby has made me think about what I really want.’ He paused. ‘Izzy said you used to freeze her out to protect her. And I think that’s what you did to me yesterday; you pushed me away, because you didn’t want me to feel I had to choose between you and doing what I love.’
She stared at him, those beautiful bluebell eyes widening slightly.
‘But the thing is,’ he said, ‘that’s not quite what I want any more.’ He paused. ‘Ask me what I want, Vittoria.’
Her voice was cool, calm and collected, as was her expression; but he could see by the shallowness of her breathing that she felt anything but cool and calm and collected. ‘What do you want, Liam?’
The fact she’d used his first name gave him hope.
‘I want you,’ he said softly. ‘I want to be a family with you and our baby. Not because I feel it’s my duty but because I want to be with you. Both of you. And not because you’re a princess, because I couldn’t care less about how much money you’re worth or how far back you can trace your family tree. Titles, diamonds, castles—none of it matters. The important thing is love.’
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. ‘Are you saying that you love me?’
‘Yes, I love you, Vittoria,’ he said. ‘And I want to marry you. I want to make a life with you. I want to wake up with you every morning and I want to go to sleep at night with you beside me. I want to teach our baby—our children, if we’re lucky—how to build sandcastles. I want to teach them to count and to read and to grow roses and to take photographs. But I don’t want just the fun parenting stuff. I want to be there when they wake in the night and need a cuddle, or when they’re out of sorts and need someone to listen—whether they’re tiny or a stroppy teen, or in years to come maybe when they’re an adult with their own children. And I want to do it all with you. Because I love you.’
She swallowed hard. ‘You mean that?’
‘Yes. And I want you to be sure that I love you for yourself, Vittoria. As far as your family is concerned, I’m from the wrong background—I’m not the son of a royal. But I grew up knowing I was loved, and I brought up my little sister so she was secure and knew she was loved. I believe that’s worth more than all the money and castles and power in the world.’ His throat felt thick, but until she believed him, he was going to keep talking. ‘The only thing that matters is love. I’ll tell that to your grandparents and your mother. And I’ll keep on telling them until they understand that I love you for your own sake, and that I’m prepared to learn whatever you need me to so I can support you and be your anchor when you become queen.’
‘You love me.’ Her voice was full of wonder.
‘I love you,’ he confirmed.
‘You really, really love me.’
He coughed. ‘This is where you’re supposed to say it back. But only if you mean it.’
‘I love you,’ she said. ‘And I mean that.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But is that enough?’
‘It is for me. Isn’t it enough for you?’ he asked.
‘Of course it is. But I come with complications. And it means you have to give things up. I don’t want you to do that. You’ve worked so hard. I can’t ask you to give up your career.’
‘I won’t be giving up my career,’ he said. ‘Mine’s a little more flexible than yours. I’m at the stage where I can choose which jobs I accept. I put my career on hold for my sister, because I love her—and I’ll put it on hold again whenever I need to for our baby. And for you.’
A tear rolled down her cheek, and he risked leaning over and wiping it away wi
th the pad of his thumb.
‘Don’t cry. It’s going to be fine. I love you, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Well, I do have to go somewhere, just for a little while,’ he corrected himself. ‘Saoirse has an interview tomorrow. I want to be there to make her breakfast, calm her last-minute nerves and remind her that she knows her stuff, to just be herself in front of the interviewer and remember to breathe. I’m her only family, and I won’t abandon her. But I’ll always be there for you, too.’
* * *
Vittoria remembered him talking about the girlfriends who’d wanted him to put them first and ignore his little sister’s needs. ‘If she’s got an interview, I’d expect you to be there—just as I’d want to support my own sister,’ she said. ‘I’ll never try to make you feel guilty or tear you in two.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But,’ she warned, ‘being with me—it’s not going to be easy. Being a royal means everyone watches you, every minute of every day, and judges you. You can’t ever be grouchy or look tired, because people will speculate and spin stories. It’s like living in a goldfish bowl. Rufus walked away rather than dealing with it.’
He looked grim. ‘I’m making a supposition here, but I’m guessing that’s one of the reasons why your mother wants you to marry someone who was born into it—someone who’s been brought up coping with it and won’t let you down.’
‘It is,’ she agreed.
‘I’m not Rufus. And we need to learn how to manage the press,’ he said. ‘We’ll make friends with them. Work with them. Instead of trying to be perfect, we will show them the human side of the palace. That you’re like every other mum-to-be who has morning sickness. That I’m like every other dad who’s grouchy after a broken night when I’m trying to hit a deadline. We’ll let the press share our family, and then they’ll protect us.’
She thought about it. ‘Share our family.’
He nodded. ‘Though this is all a bit of a moot point, because you haven’t agreed to marry me yet.’
‘You haven’t actually asked me,’ she pointed out.
‘I will,’ he said. ‘And I also want to talk to your family.’
Harlequin Romance April 2021 Box Set Page 44