Soldier Prince's Secret Baby Gift

by Kate Hardy

  Thankfully the villagers at Picco Innevato had always been protective of his family, and he knew that none of them would sell him out to the media. Until he’d persuaded Tia to marry him and let him give her and the baby his protection, he wanted to stay well out of the limelight.

  Today was their last full day in the village in any case, but he knew that time was running out. He needed to wrap things up here and go back to the palace.

  He sent a holding message to his mother, Gabriella and Miles—all of whom had texted him that morning—saying that he’d be back tomorrow but had some things he needed to do first. He knew the message was vague, and it would no doubt infuriate them all, but he’d learned in the army that you needed to do the right things in the right order. Tia had to come first.

  When she came downstairs, he made her breakfast. Now wasn’t the time to worry her about palace politics. He wanted to concentrate on her. ‘I was going to ask your advice.’

  ‘My advice?’ She looked surprised. ‘About what?’

  ‘The children’s party. It’s a little outside my usual sphere.’ Which was an understatement. ‘I’ve rarely had contact with children with my family duties, even as patron of the charity—I tend to work with the fundraisers rather than the children.’

  ‘And you don’t know what to do?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I’m guessing that your customers at the café include families with children.’ Plus he knew she’d dreamed of being a primary school teacher. So she must have some idea of how to work with children.

  ‘Just be yourself,’ she said. ‘After you’ve finished being Babbo Natale—and obviously make sure that none of them see you change out of the costume—I think just join in with the games.’

  Could it really be that simple? ‘OK.’ But then there was the party. ‘Maybe I ought to do more for the party. Perhaps I could pay for the presents?’

  ‘Christmas really isn’t about money and heaps of expensive presents,’ she said softly, ‘it’s about spending time with people and making them feel good. When you were a child—I know things were a bit different for you, but wasn’t the best part of Christmas playing games with your brother?’

  He thought about it.

  Just as last night hadn’t been about presents—it had been about having fun, and that one game he’d bought had meant more to Tia than if he’d bought her the richest and most exclusive of jewels.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, then,’ she said. ‘And I’m sure the organisers have already sorted everything out. If you go in and say you’re going to buy extra presents for the children, it’s kind of like you telling them that whatever they’ve already done isn’t good enough.’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about it in that way.’ He looked awkwardly at her. ‘Just that with my family’s background, I feel I ought to do more.’

  ‘Time’s so much more important than money. Anyone can buy gifts; it’s the easy way out,’ she said. ‘And not just anyone’s prepared to dress up as Santa and be patient with children who are shy or nervous. The people in the village will appreciate what you’re doing so much more than if you call a shop and pay for a huge sackful of presents to be wrapped. You’re giving something of yourself. What the children want at the Christmas party is Father Christmas. And today that’s going to be you.’

  Tia Phillips looked like an ordinary woman. But Antonio was beginning to learn just how extraordinary she was.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘They want Father Christmas.’

  He knew he really ought to tell her about what was going on in the palace, especially as it meant that they’d have to leave Picco Innevato tomorrow, but he knew she was looking forward to the party and he didn’t want to spoil today for her. There was time enough for them to have to deal with the politics. He’d tell her tomorrow.

  Half an hour before the party was due to start, he and Tia went into the village hall to meet the organisers.

  ‘We’re so grateful, Your Royal Highness,’ Signora Capelli said.

  ‘It’s nice to be able to do something for the village,’ Antonio said. ‘So what exactly do I do?’

  ‘Once in costume, Babbo Natale sits on the chair in the grotto,’ Signora Capelli said, indicating the chair festooned with tinsel underneath an arch decorated with more tinsel and cut-out Christmas trees that had clearly been painted by the children. ‘He greets each child, wishes them a merry Christmas and gives them a present.’

  He could do that.

  ‘We’ve put the presents into sacks, split by age group, and your helper will tell you the name and the age of each child just before they come to see you,’ Signora Capelli continued.

  ‘Thank you,’ Antonio said. ‘That’s very clear. Who’s my helper?’ He looked at Tia. Given that he was dressing up as Father Christmas, would she be prepared to dress up as an elf?

  Signora Capelli smiled. ‘I would suggest Tia, but her condition is a little...distinctive.’

  Her baby bump. Of course the children would notice that the guest at their party had the same bump as Babbo Natale’s helper.

  ‘But perhaps you’d like to help us with the table, Tia?’ Signora Capelli asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Tia said with a smile. She indicated the other helpers, who were wearing Santa hats or reindeer antlers. ‘And I’m perfectly happy to wear a hat or reindeer antlers if you want me to.’

  ‘Antlers. Of course.’ Signora Capelli looked anxious. ‘Sir, forgive me for being rude, but I assume you know the names of all the reindeer?’

  ‘Rudolph,’ he said. Then he stopped. He didn’t actually know any others. It wasn’t something they’d ever talked about at the palace or in the army.

  Tia laughed. ‘Don’t worry—I do. Dasher and Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid, Donner and Blitzen.’ She made him repeat the names until he was word-perfect, and it made him realise what a fabulous teacher she’d make.

  He changed into the costume and beard. ‘You’re right. I need padding,’ he said.

  Signora Capelli found some cushions and Tia, wearing antlers and looking incredibly cute with her huge brown eyes and curly black hair, helped him put the final touches to his outfit.

  Tia stood back with her hands on her hips and looked at him. ‘Perfect.’

  Never in a million years would he have expected to do something like this. Or that she’d have tears in her eyes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. It’s just... Thank you for doing this, Antonio. For making things right for the children.’ Impulsively, she hugged him; and the feeling of something cracking in the middle of his chest intensified.

  As soon as he was sitting on the tinsel ‘throne’ in his grotto—a million miles away from the real throne in their palace—the children streamed into the hall and a queue formed to meet him. He didn’t have time to watch out for Tia, because he was too busy playing his role, and he found himself improvising when a child asked him about the North Pole and what the elves did there.

  ‘They help me make gifts and wrap them up for the children who would like them,’ he said, crossing his fingers mentally.

  Another child asked him about the reindeer, and he was grateful that Tia had drilled him on the right names.

  Every single child seemed thrilled with their gift from Babbo Natale, but it didn’t take long for Antonio to realise that Tia had been right when she’d said that Christmas wasn’t about the presents: today was all about the gifts of time and love and kindness.

  The smiles on their faces warmed his heart. Then one little boy gave him a carrot. ‘It’s a present for Rudolph,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ Antonio said. ‘Carrots are his favourite. He’ll be delighted to share that with his friends for dinner.’

  Another little girl who must’ve been about seven shyly handed him a Cellophane wrapper tied
with a bow. ‘You always bring us presents every year, Babbo Natale,’ she said, ‘but nobody brings you one and I think they should. My mamma helped me make this for you this morning and I put special sprinkles on it and I wrapped it just for you.’

  There was a huge lump in his throat. A small, thoughtful gift that felt incredibly special. Over the years, as a child, he’d been given incredibly expensive and exclusive gifts; but this one was personal. One that taught him the real meaning of Christmas. ‘That’s so kind of you,’ he said. ‘It looks so pretty. I’ll enjoy that with my glass of milk later today. Thank you so much.’

  When he’d given the last child their present, he waved goodbye to everyone and wished everyone a merry Christmas, then headed out of the hall back to the room where he’d changed into the costume. He folded everything up neatly—Tia would no doubt tease him about doing it with military precision, just as she’d teased him about his schedule for cooking Christmas dinner—and then headed back towards the hall.

  Tia was waiting for him just outside. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. That was amazing—really humbling.’ He blew out a breath and nodded through the open doorway. ‘See that little girl over there with the curly black hair in the blue dress?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She gave me a cookie, all prettily wrapped. She’d made it especially for me this morning with her mother’s help and chose the sprinkles. She said nobody ever brings Babbo Natale a present and she...’ Suddenly, he just couldn’t say anything else.

  She hugged him, clearly realising how deeply the gift had affected him. ‘That’s what Christmas is about,’ she said. ‘It’s the thought behind the gift, how personal it is.’

  Right then, he knew exactly what he wanted for Christmas.

  Tia.

  And their baby.

  But he didn’t know how to tell her. He couldn’t get the words out. They stuck in his throat. But he wanted her so much. Needed her. Needed both of them.

  Why was it so hard to say it? Why couldn’t he just open his mouth and say, ‘Tia, the way I feel about you puts my head in a spin and I can’t find the right words, but please stay with me’?

  This wasn’t the place, either. And it was too important for him to mess up by simply blurting out the jumble in his head.

  ‘We’d better get back to the party,’ she said.

  The children insisted that the Prince and Tia should share their party tea—bruschetta, cherry tomatoes, carrot sticks, little cubes of cheese and ham and the traditional Italian tronchetti di Natale.

  ‘I love chocolate Yule log,’ Tia said with a smile, accepting a slice.

  Both he and Tia danced with the children and joined in the games—sticking a carrot ‘nose’ on the outline of a snowman while their eyes were covered with a scarf, guessing the items in a stocking just by feeling them, using a paper straw to blow a cotton wool ‘snowball’ in a race to the finish line, and ‘Christmas ornament’ musical chairs, where the children danced round the cut-out ornaments as the music played and had to stand on an ornament when the music stopped.

  It was way, way outside anything Antonio had ever done before, though he suspected from the way that Tia joined in that she’d maybe been involved with something similar at the café where she worked. And he was surprised by how much fun it was, everything from the games to the dancing. It made him feel different—part of the village, more so than he did even as a child, and he really felt connected with his people.

  He realised then that the weird feeling in his chest was happiness. Here in Picco Innevato at the children’s party, he felt accepted for who he was, instead of being seen as a remote prince. He’d never even had that feeling in the army, where he had previously been at his happiest.

  So much for persuading Tia; what he’d actually done was persuade himself. Because Tia had shown him how good life could be, how it felt to be part of a family—and that was what he wanted. To see her eyes sparkle and her face glow with happiness as she danced with the children, to see her glance over at him and smile with a warmth that made his own heart sing. He wanted to see her look like that while she danced with their own child in the middle of their kitchen. A private moment far from the formality of his day-to-day life.

  Once the party was over, he and Tia helped to clear up, hugged all the organisers goodbye, and walked back through the village to his house.

  ‘I believe you now about doing your fair share of the cleaning,’ she said with a smile. ‘Seeing you wielding that broom with military pr—’

  ‘Tia,’ he cut in, ‘that particular joke is wearing just a little bit thin.’

  ‘But it was,’ she said, her smile broadening into a grin. ‘Watching you sweep a floor was like watching a man with a mower making a stripy lawn.’

  He thought about kissing her to stop her talking.

  But that was too tempting—and too dangerous to his peace of mind. If he let himself give in to his feelings, if he said the wrong thing and scared her away... Plus they were in a public place. He’d wait until they were back at the house. And maybe the walk home would give him enough time to put his thoughts and his feelings back in order. Instead, he said, ‘The Christmas market in the square looks really pretty, all lit up for night-time.’

  Thankfully it distracted her, and she smiled at him. ‘That’d be nice.’

  And when she allowed him to take her arm—which was ostensibly for safety in case she slipped, but was really because he just wanted to be close to her—he was shocked to discover that it made him feel as if he’d just conquered the world.

  ‘We have a Christmas market a bit like this on the South Bank in London,’ she said. ‘You can buy mulled wine, hot chocolate, various foods and gifts. And then you can cross the river over to Somerset House and go to the skating rink. But here it’s different—the hot chocolate is much thicker, and there are those gorgeous nativity scenes everywhere.’

  When they got to the stalls, she stopped by the little wooden shack offering snow globes for sale, and her eye seemed to be caught by one in particular—a crystalline star suspended inside the globe and set on a crystal base. She picked it up, and her dark eyes gleamed with pleasure. But then she examined the base, looked regretful and replaced it carefully.

  Antonio had the strongest feeling that she loved the globe, but she’d just seen the price and it was outside her budget. He knew that Tia would be too proud to admit that she couldn’t afford it, and if he insisted on buying it for her right now she’d be embarrassed and awkward. But there was a way around it: he’d buy it without her knowing and give it to her later, in private. A surprise gift. And he’d make it clear there were no strings. He stood behind her so she couldn’t see his face, caught the stall-holder’s eye and mimed to him to save the snow globe for him. The stall-holder glanced at Tia, clearly checking to make sure she couldn’t see his reaction and guess what was going on, then winked at Antonio.

  At the next stall, when Tia bought a scented candle decorated with pressed flowers for her mother, Antonio excused himself and went back to get the snow globe she’d liked. The stall-holder wrapped it in a box tied with a bright scarlet ribbon; Antonio slipped the box into his pocket so it wasn’t visible. He’d give it to Tia later, when the time was right.

  * * *

  Antonio insisted on carrying Tia’s purchase from the candle stall but, when he went to tuck her hand into his arm for balance, somehow they ended up holding hands.

  At the party, Tia had seen a whole new side to the Prince.

  Sure, he’d been a bit formal and over the top when he’d helped clear up, marching up and down with the broom as if he was on a military parade: but he had helped, as if he was just another one of the villagers and not the man who was third in line to the throne of Casavalle. And the way he’d been with the children... Even though she knew he’d had such a formal upbringing and he’d actually asked her a
dvice about what to do at the party, he’d then done his best to fit in and make the afternoon fun for the children. She’d taken a sneaky snap of him on her phone while he’d been playing the snowball-blowing game, surrounded by children and laughing, and he’d really looked as if he belonged.

  It gave her so much hope for the future. From what she’d seen, she really believed that Antonio could learn to be a warm, loving father. That maybe he could escape his upbringing and learn to be himself. And that maybe she was the one who could help him do that. To think that she might be the one to finally unlock his heart was amazing: it would be a real privilege, even though it scared her because she might not be up to the task. Though, for the sake of their baby—and for themselves—she’d make sure she was good enough.

  As they walked up the steps to the porch leading to his front door, he paused.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘What do you see?’ he asked.

  ‘Your front door. A Christmas wreath.’ The one with copper-painted honesty seed pods that they’d bought together. ‘Gorgeous sparkly lights on the trees on either side of the door.’ Immaculately clipped cones of yew that were no doubt measured to get them that precise shape.

  ‘And?’ He glanced upwards, indicating where she should look.

  ‘Mistletoe.’ She caught her breath. Was he suggesting they should...? ‘Do you have a tradition about mistletoe in Italy?’ she asked, her voice hoarse.

  He inclined his head. ‘Here it tends to be New Year’s Eve when you kiss under the mistletoe. But you’re English, so I think perhaps we should use the English tradition.’

  Which meant kissing under the mistletoe at Christmas...

  Then again, they’d decorated the house for Christmas and he’d cooked them a proper Christmas dinner. This was a sort of early Christmas. It counted.

  So she made no protest when he dipped his head and kissed her, his mouth warm and sweet and coaxing. She leaned into the kiss and slid her hands into his hair, drawing him closer. He wrapped his arms round her, holding her tightly, and kissed her until she was dizzy.