by Kate Hardy
He showered and changed into a pair of black jeans and a cashmere sweater, then headed down to the kitchen.
Except, when he went to fill the kettle, he realised that it was still hot.
So did that mean Tia was already up and about? She’d liked the view from the conservatory yesterday, he remembered, so he went in search of her. And there she was, curled up in a chair, sipping tea and looking out at the mountains.
‘Good morning,’ he said.
And how weird it was that his pulse had leaped at the sight of her. She looked so cute sitting there in a half-dream, with her dark curls caught back at the nape of her neck. She didn’t need make-up to emphasise those beautiful brown eyes, either.
This was more than attraction. Antonio kept circling round to the L-word in his head, but love wasn’t something that he believed in or could even define. In royal circles, you didn’t marry for love; you married for duty and for dynastic reasons. His father had made that mistake in his first marriage, falling in love with someone who couldn’t cope with the Royal life that came with him.
Being with Tia, marrying her, was really going to put the cat among the pigeons, politically.
Or maybe this would take his life in a new direction. A better direction. Because being with her made him feel that there could be something more than duty and work in his life. Something he hadn’t expected or looked for, but now he’d had a glimpse of it he wanted more. And he definitely wanted that for their baby.
‘Good morning,’ she said, smiling back at him. ‘I hope it was OK for me to make myself some tea.’
‘Of course. Please treat the house as your home,’ he said.
‘I was going to make you a mug, too, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake yet.’
There was a shyness in her smile that really drew him.
And then he noticed the bump moving; he could see her silky top shimmering in the light. ‘Is that...?’ he asked.
‘The baby kicking? Yes.’ She looked at him, then held her hand out. ‘Here. Feel it for yourself.’
He let her take his hand and rest it on the bump.
This felt oddly intimate. Strange. He could hardly breathe.
‘Say hello to the baby,’ she said.
‘Hello, baby,’ he whispered.
Immediately, there was a strong kick against his hand, as if the baby was saying hello back, and it blew him away. He really hadn’t expected to feel that sudden rush of wonder.
‘Our baby just kicked me!’ He dragged in a breath. Now it felt real.
Of course it was real.
For pity’s sake, anyone who looked at Tia could see that she was six months pregnant.
But for the first time Antonio felt as if he’d actually connected with the baby. A baby he hadn’t expected, hadn’t ever dreamed about—and now he discovered that he really, really wanted this baby. It was a sudden, unexpected, visceral longing, stronger than anything he’d known before.
And it made him look at Tia differently, too. She was the mother of his child. And although he’d been telling himself that they barely knew each other so they couldn’t possibly feel anything for each other, now he realised that he’d been totally in denial. Because he did feel things for her. More than just physical attraction. This went deeper. He didn’t have the words for it and it scared the hell out of him because he’d never felt anything like this before. All he knew was that he wanted her. Her and the baby.
That kick just now made him even more determined that this would work out.
‘Can the baby hear me talking?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘He likes being talked to. He really likes it when Mum sings to him.’
Singing to an unborn baby. He’d never thought of doing something like that. ‘What, like a lullaby or something?’
She smiled. ‘Pop songs. The Beatles, Take That, the Beach Boys. And we watched Love Actually again last weekend—Mum and I watch it every Christmas. He kicked like mad to “Catch a Falling Star” and “All I Want for Christmas is You”.’ She grinned. ‘Probably because Mum and I were singing along, too.’
Singing to a baby.
He had so much to learn.
Would she have the patience to teach him?
‘Does he—she—our baby,’ he amended, ‘kick at certain times?’
‘He’s usually quite lively first thing in the morning,’ she said. ‘And he’s taken to doing somersaults at two in the morning. Mum says that’s probably when he’s going to wake up, wanting milk.’
‘Our baby,’ Antonio whispered.
* * *
Antonio’s face was full of wonder. And was that a catch in his voice, a shimmer of tears in his eyes as he connected with their child?
For a moment, Tia was filled with hope.
Maybe he’d been right to bring her here. Maybe spending time together would help make the future clearer. Talking about their dreams, their hopes, what they wanted for the baby. Getting to know each other properly—their real selves—would help them find a way forward. Not in the daily grind of London, not in the unreal glamour of the palace, but here in the mountains—the place he’d loved since he was a child and came back to when he needed a breathing space. Here, where Antonio could be himself instead of being what he thought the world expected a prince to be.
‘I never expected...’ For a moment, his hand curved protectively over the bump. And then he grimaced and pulled his hand away. ‘I apologise. That was intrusive of me.’
He was worried about touching her? Considering that they’d made a baby together... On the other hand, he’d been brought up with the strictest of protocols, and his job meant following rules and regulations, too. ‘Most people like feeling a baby kick,’ she said. ‘Perfect strangers come up to me sometimes and ask if they can feel the baby kick.’
He looked surprised, as if it was something that had never occurred to him before.
‘And this is your baby,’ she added softly. ‘It’s absolutely fine for you to put your hand on my bump and feel him kick whenever you want to.’
He still didn’t look comfortable with the idea. What would it take to make him unbend completely? she wondered.
‘Can I get you some breakfast?’ he asked.
‘Toast would be lovely. Or fruit and yogurt. Whatever you have.’
‘I’ll call you when breakfast is ready,’ he promised.
The toast was perfect, and there was a choice of local honey and jam.
‘Would you like to go and choose a tree this morning?’ he asked.
She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘It seems a little bit extravagant, buying a tree for just a couple of days.’
‘I’d like to give you a sort of Christmas in Casavalle,’ he said.
Start some memories that they could share with the baby one day? Tia didn’t say it out loud, in case she was wrong. But that moment when Antonio had first felt their baby kick, when his eyes had been full of joy and wonder, gave her hope that maybe he could break through the constriction of his upbringing. And if he could unbend, if he really was the man she was beginning to get to know, then maybe they really did have a future together. Maybe they really could be a team and have the kind of relationship her parents had had: the one thing she’d longed for so much but had thought would never happen. And the hope burned, so clear and so bright, in her heart.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Let’s buy a tree. As long as it’s a small one.’
Decorating the streets for Christmas seemed to be in full swing when they walked into the village together. There were nativity scenes in every shop window, each slightly different; there was a Christmas tree made out of wine bottles in the wine shop, a nativity scene with a backdrop of beautiful silk scarves in a boutique, another made from spun sugar in a confectionery store, and another made entirely from teddy bears in the toy shop.
‘This is all amazing,’ she said. ‘So creative.’
‘The shop windows are incredible,’ he agreed. ‘Displaying the nativity scene in shop windows has been a tradition here for many years, like it is in mainland Italy.’
Once they’d finished enjoying the displays, he said, ‘Let’s go and choose our tree. What would you like?’
Thinking of the scarily large tree at the palace, she said, ‘Nothing taller than you.’
He grinned and pointed out the massive tree that had just been put up in the central square. ‘Not like that, then? Because that might just fit.’
For a moment, remembering the double-height hallway in his house, she wondered if he was serious; then the glint in his eyes made her realise that he was teasing her. Something she hadn’t expected, and which reinforced her hope for the future.
Not to mention how cute he was. That little quirk at the corner of his mouth. It made her want to stand on tiptoe, wrap her arms round his neck and steal a kiss.
What would he do if she did that?
Would it be too much, too soon? Would he push her away? Or would he wrap his arms tightly round her and kiss her all the way back?
She didn’t dare take the risk. Not until she had a better idea of what he was thinking.
Instead, she kept the conversation light. Decorating was a safe subject. And she wasn’t going to mention mistletoe.
‘I’d prefer a little tree,’ she said with a smile. ‘Do you normally decorate the house here?’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘We’re expected to be at the palace from the middle of November. It seems a bit pointless to decorate the house without anyone being here to enjoy it.’
‘So do you actually have any decorations for the tree?’
‘No. I thought maybe we could choose them together.’
Start a new tradition together, perhaps? But she suppressed the hope before it could take hold.
They headed for the pop-up Christmas stalls in the market place, and finally found the tree with the perfect shape and the perfect height. Antonio paid for it and arranged to have it delivered to the house later that morning.
The baby seemed to be kicking more at the sound of Antonio’s voice. Recognising his father, perhaps?
At another of the stalls, Tia was really taken with a fir wreath that had seed pods of honesty sprayed with copper paint threaded through it. ‘That’s so pretty,’ she said. ‘I must remember to suggest that to Mum. She always makes the wreath for our front door. Maybe I can ask if they’d mind me taking a photograph.’
‘I have a better solution. Would you like this one for the house?’ he asked.
‘I...’ She looked at him. ‘Would that be all right?’
‘If it makes you happy, it makes me happy,’ he said softly. ‘And by buying here in the Christmas market I’m supporting the local economy, which is a good thing.’
So everybody won. ‘Thank you. That would be really lovely,’ she said.
Once they’d finished strolling around the stalls, Antonio steered her into a café. ‘Until you’ve tried the hot chocolate here,’ he said, ‘you haven’t tasted perfection.’
The hot chocolate was thick and rich, yet less sweet than the sort she’d drink back in England, and it was teamed perfectly with a slice of white chocolate and lemon panettone.
‘Sorry, I’m afraid I need the ladies’,’ she said when she’d finished her hot chocolate.
‘I’ve been reading up,’ Antonio said. ‘I gather it’s a pregnant woman thing, especially in the third trimester.’
She nodded ruefully. ‘I’m afraid so.’
On her way to the toilets, she saw a notice about the village children’s Christmas party in the town hall. She didn’t think anything of it until she was washing her hands and two women came in, both looking anxious and speaking in rapid Italian.
‘I can’t believe Mario went skiing yesterday and managed to break his leg. Whatever was my brother thinking? He was supposed to dress up as Father Christmas tomorrow afternoon for the children’s party. He can’t possibly do it now, not with his leg in plaster,’ one of them said.
‘Of course not. Poor man.’
‘Oh, I don’t pity him too much. He knew we were relying on him, but he had to go and show off on the slopes.’ The first woman rolled her eyes. ‘But now we have to find another Father Christmas, and everyone I’ve asked has a prior commitment they can’t break.’
‘We can’t let the children down,’ the second woman said.
‘I’ll keep going through my phone book, but I’m beginning to think we need some kind of Christmas miracle to find a new Babbo Natale,’ the first woman said.
Or maybe they just needed an incognito prince, Tia thought. Antonio didn’t have any prior commitments tomorrow at the palace; he’d arranged to spend a couple of days here with her, and she was perfectly happy for him to spend some of that time playing Father Christmas for the children. She almost opened her mouth and suggested it, but a kick from the baby stayed her.
Perhaps she really ought to check with Antonio first before she offered his services as Babbo Natale. Would he even be allowed to do something like that? And, if he was allowed to, would he want to, or was she expecting too much of him?
She looked at the poster again on her way back to the table, and took a photograph of it on her phone. If she could persuade Antonio into the Christmas spirit this afternoon, when they decorated his Christmas tree, then maybe he would agree to help save the children’s Christmas party and arrange it with his security team.
* * *
Antonio had just had the perfect idea for the next stage of persuading Tia to give them a chance. What went with a Christmas tree better than a Christmas dinner?
A full-blown traditional Italian Christmas Eve dinner might be a little rich for a pregnant woman, he thought. But maybe he could cook her a traditional English dinner, the sort she’d shared with her family when she was young. The sort Nathan had told him about, with crispy roast potatoes, Brussels sprouts, sausages wrapped in bacon and, most of all, a huge roasted turkey.
And, with a little help, he could make this a nice surprise for her. He knew he could look up what he needed to know, but there was a quicker way to deal with this—and he needed to get this organised right now, before Tia came back to their table.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket and called Gina, the housekeeper who looked after the place when they weren’t there.
‘Good morning, Prince Antonio,’ she answered. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Gina. And how are you?’ he said politely.
‘Bene, grazie,’ she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Is there something you need me to do for you?’
‘I was wondering... How long does it take to cook a traditional English roast turkey?’
‘A turkey? It depends on the size.’
‘For Christmas dinner, I was thinking a big one.’
‘A six-kilogram turkey would take just under four hours to cook, plus half an hour to rest,’ Gina mused.
He glanced at his watch. ‘That would be perfect. Would you be able to source one for me and get it delivered to the house, please?’
‘Of course, Prince Antonio.’
‘And I need a few other things, too, please.’ He rattled off the things he remembered Nathan talking about. ‘And finally a Christmas pudding.’
‘An English one?’
‘An English one,’ he confirmed.
‘Now, that,’ Gina said, ‘will be a problem. A home-made one has to be made at least a month in advance so it can mature. And none of the shops in Picco Innevato is likely to stock an English Christmas pudding. Your best option for that, perhaps, is to have one flown in—either from Rome or from London.’
Which would be expensive. Money wasn’t a problem for him but he knew it
was a problem for Tia. Antonio was pretty sure she would react badly if he spent so much money on something as frivolous and extravagant as having a Christmas pudding flown in from London. And what if she didn’t actually like Christmas pudding? ‘What could I make as an alternative?’
‘Perhaps a jelly, something that you can serve with fresh fruit and biscuits,’ Gina said. ‘Or perhaps some traditional Italian Christmas doughnuts.’ She paused. ‘Prince Antonio, I know I’m stepping outside the boundaries, but may I ask why you want to cook an English Christmas dinner?’
‘I want to do something nice for my best friend’s sister,’ Antonio said. ‘And I’d like to surprise her with it this evening.’
‘Then why not make the meal a mixture of English and Casavallian traditions?’ Gina suggested. ‘So then you can have ravioli or gnocchi for a starter, the turkey and all the traditional English trimmings for the main, and then an Italian pudding and cheeses to finish?’
‘That’s a really good idea,’ Antonio said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Your best friend’s sister. Hmm. Would this be the same lady I bought the maternity clothes for?’ Gina asked.
‘Yes, and she loved them. Thank you again for your help,’ Antonio said.
‘It was my pleasure. And I will organise your turkey,’ Gina said. ‘Since you want to surprise her, you need to keep away from the house for long enough for me to get everything bought and delivered. Give me, say, two hours. Shall I prepare and cook everything for you?’
That would be the easy way out. He rather thought he needed to make the effort himself, if he was to impress Tia. ‘Thank you, but I want to cook it myself. I’d appreciate a note about the turkey, though. I can handle everything else.’ Or he could look it up online.