Crowned for the Prince's Heir

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w the cloud which crossed like a shadow over her beautiful face but there was no need to ask what had caused it. For although their child had been born safely and mother and daughter were healthy, none of their other problems had gone away. They were still estranged. Still leading separate lives, with Lisa no doubt counting down the days until she could return to England. Concentrating only on her shadowed eyes, he stood up, carrying Rose over to her crib and laying her gently down before looking at Lisa’s pinched face.

‘You’re exhausted,’ he said. ‘Shall I phone your sister and tell her the news and you can speak to her yourself later?’

She folded her lips together as if she didn’t trust herself to speak, and nodded.

Resisting the desire to go over and drop a grateful kiss onto her beautiful lips, he took one last look at her before walking over to the door. ‘Go to sleep now, Lisa,’ he said unevenly. ‘Just go to sleep.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IT WAS LIKE living in a bubble.

A shining golden bubble.

Lisa woke up every morning feeling as if she weren’t part of the outside world any more. As if her experience was nothing like that of other women in her situation—and she supposed that much was true. Most new mothers didn’t live in a beautiful palace with servants falling over themselves to make her life easier. And most new mothers didn’t have a husband who was barely able to look at them without a dark and sombre expression on his face.

She told herself to be grateful that Luc clearly adored their daughter, and she was. It made a lump stick in her throat to see how gentle he was with their baby. It was humbling to see such a powerful man being reduced to putty by the starfish hands of his daughter, which would curl themselves tightly around his fingers as she gazed up at him with blue eyes so like his own.

Lisa would sit watching him play with Rose, but the calm expression she wore didn’t reflect the turmoil she was feeling inside. Did Luc feel just as conflicted? she wondered. She didn’t know because they didn’t talk about it. They discussed the fact that their daughter had the bluest eyes in the world and the sweetest nature, but they didn’t talk about anything which mattered.

Before the birth he’d promised Lisa she could return to England, and she knew she had to broach the subject some time. But something was stopping her and that something was the voice of her conscience. She had started to wonder how she could possibly take Rose away from here, denying Luc the daily parenting he so clearly enjoyed.

Because Lisa had never had that kind of hands-on fathering. When her own father had died she’d been too young to remember if he cuddled her or read her stories at night. And she’d never really had the chance to ask her mother because she had remarried so quickly. All evidence of the man who had died had been ruthlessly eradicated from the house. Her new stepfather had been so intolerant of her and Brittany that the two little girls had walked around on eggshells, terrified of stirring up a rage which had never been far from the surface. They’d learnt never to speak unless spoken to and they’d learnt never to demand any of their mother’s time. Lisa had watched helplessly as he had whittled away at their fortune—and she wondered if it had been that which had made her so fiercely independent. Was the lack of love in their childhood the reason why Brittany had jettisoned her university course and fallen straight into the arms of the first man to show her some affection?

All Lisa knew was that she couldn’t contemplate bringing Rose up without love. At the moment things were tolerable because it was all so new. She was getting used to motherhood and Luc was getting used to fatherhood. But the atmosphere between the two of them was at best polite. They were like two people stuck together in a broken-down lift, saying only as much as they needed to—but it wouldn’t stay like that, would it? Once they were out of the baby-shock phase, things would return to ‘normal’. But she and Luc had no ‘normal’. Sooner or later they were going to start wanting different things.

She decided to speak to him about it after dinner one evening—a meal they still took together, mainly, she suspected, to maintain some sort of charade in front of the staff.

Leaving Almeera with Rose, Lisa washed her hair before slipping into a long, silk tunic which disguised the extra heaviness of her breasts and tummy. She even put on a little make-up, wondering why she was going to so much trouble. Because I want to look in control. I want to show him that I mean business.

But when she popped her head in to check on Rose before going down for dinner, it was to find Luc standing by the crib, his fingers touching the baby’s soft black hair as he murmured to her softly.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You’re here.’

He glanced over at Almeera, who was fiddling with the intricate mobile which hung over the crib. ‘I wonder if you’d mind leaving us for a moment, Almeera,’ he said.

The servant nodded and slipped away and Lisa looked at Luc, feeling suddenly disorientated.

‘I thought we were having dinner,’ she said.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I think we’re able to apply a little flexibility about the time we eat, don’t you?’ he said drily. ‘Unless you’re especially hungry.’

Lisa shrugged, wondering why tonight he was looking at her more intently than he had done for weeks. Automatically, she skated a palm down over the curve of one hip without considering the wisdom of such an action. ‘I ought to be cutting back on food,’ she said.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said, his voice growing a little impatient before it gentled. ‘You look beautiful, if you really want to know. Luscious and ripe and womanly.’

Actually, she didn’t want to know and she didn’t want his voice dipping into a sensual caress like that, making her long for something which definitely wasn’t on the menu. She took an unsteady breath. ‘We have to discuss the future,’ she said.

There was a pause. ‘I know we do.’

Luc looked into the questioning face of his wife and wondered afterwards if it was the sense of a looming ultimatum and dread which made him drop his guard so completely. He stared at her shiny hazelnut curls and the fleshy curves of her body and he felt his throat dry to dust as he forced himself to confront the truth.

Because in a sudden flash of insight he realised that the feelings he had were not just for their child, but for the woman who had given birth to her. A woman he’d brought here as a hostage, but who had tried to reach out to him all the same. He could recognise it now but he’d been too blind to see at the time. Because once her initial opposition to being his wife had faded, he realised that she’d tried to make the best of her life here. She had studied the history of his country and quietly gone about her own career without making undue demands on his time.

But despite the silent vow he’d made on their wedding day, he had continued to keep her at arm’s length, hadn’t he? He had kept himself at a physical distance even though he’d sensed that she’d wanted him. He had deliberately not laid a finger on her, knowing that such a move was calculated to make her desire for him grow. To frustrate her. And deep down, his disapproval had never been far from the surface. If he was being honest, hadn’t he experienced a certain relief that he’d been able to chastise her over the damned necklace? As if he had needed something to justify why he could never allow himself to get close to her. The truth was that he had treated Lisa as an object rather than a person. Because he hadn’t known how to do it any other way.

But suddenly he did—or at least, he thought he did. Was Rose responsible for opening the floodgates? Emotion flooded over him like a warm tide as he looked down at his daughter. Tentatively, she opened her eyes, and as he gazed into a sapphire hue so like his own he felt his heart clench. He lifted his head to meet Lisa’s watchful gaze, the dryness in his throat making the thought of speech seem impossible, but that was no excuse. Because this was something he could not turn away from. Something he could no longer deny.