The Prince's Love-Child (The Royal House of Cacciatore 2)

He leaned into the cab and handed her his card.

‘Why don’t you ring me when you’re next in town?’ he suggested softly.

Lucy smiled politely and took the card, but the smile was edged in a frost he appeared not to notice. She got the distinct impression that he felt he was bestowing an enormous favour on her by giving her a contact number. Bloody cheek!

She didn’t bother ringing. His arrogance had disappointed her, yes—but it was more than that. He was a prince, for heaven’s sake—and thus completely out of her reach. Only someone with a streak of masochism would willingly subject themselves to such inevitable rejection.

But Guido, of course, had never before been ignored by a woman.

At first he simply couldn’t believe that she wasn’t going to bother to ring. But after several weeks he had no choice but to do so.

Why, he couldn’t even remember her surname!

But that, of course, did not pose any real problem. Guido had left his life as a working prince behind a long time ago, but very occasionally he used his title. He still had to exist with all the drawbacks of having it, he reasoned—so why not enjoy some of the benefits?

And Pervolo Airlines seemed only too happy to release a few facts about one of their stewardesses to a prince!

He found out when she was next flying and settled back in his seat in First Class, anticipating her reaction with a certain degree of relish, feeling himself grow deliciously hard as he saw a pair of long, long legs slinking down the cabin towards him.

Lucy had noticed him, of course—it would have been difficult not to, even if they hadn’t already been briefed by the Purser that there was a Royal prince on board.

But she had no intention of reacting to the look of appreciation which had softened the ebony eyes. She had no desire to be just another notch on a handsome, privileged man’s bedpost, and she was perceptive enough to know that this man could be a real heartbreaker.

She reached him, her face set in an unflappable, official smile. ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ she said pleasantly. ‘Can I get you a drink before take-off?’

He had been expecting…what? That she would blush and stumble over her words? Look regretful or uncomfortable? Suddenly he laughed, and his pulse began to race.

‘No, you can have dinner with me tonight instead,’ he murmured, and some of his arrogance dissolved as he stared up at her. ‘Please.’

Lucy would have defied anyone to resist that look, or the one-word plea she guessed he hadn’t had to make very often in his life. So she went for dinner with him, and then—after not much of a fight—to bed. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life, a

nd to hold him off any longer would have been hypocritical and self-defeating.

But, despite the passion of the night which followed, an instinctive feeling of self-protection made her noncommittal towards him the next morning. She was determined not to seem pushy, or to act as if it would be the end of the world if he didn’t ask to see her again, and her very coolness seemed to fascinate him.

She guessed he’d never encountered it before, and to a man with an appetite jaded by exposure it was fresh and exciting fare. Soon it would no longer be fresh, nor exciting, and it would pale, but she was prepared for that—or at least that was what she told herself over and over again.

Apart from a minor blip at the very beginning, they now met up once every couple of months and it was perfect—for what it was. They had dinner, sometimes saw a film, and once or twice he had taken her to the theatre. But she had never met any of his friends, nor he hers. It was a complex game they played, with its own set of unspoken rules. As if she had been given her own separate compartment in his life—the one marked ‘mistress’—and as long as she accepted that, then she was okay. The moment she started wanting more, then it would be over.

So why had he brought her to his apartment today? Why not the usual anonymity of a hotel?

She stared down at his sleeping face just as the dark lashes fluttered open and ebony eyes blazed sleepily up at her.

‘Ciao,’ he murmured, and reached for her breast. ‘Come back here.’

‘In a minute.’ She let him stroke idly at her breast as warmth began to flood over her. If he had broken a rule of a lifetime, then why shouldn’t she? Lucy trickled her fingertip down through the thick whorls of hair at his chest to dip it into his belly, and he groaned with pleasure. ‘How flattering that you have allowed me onto your territory, Guido,’ she commented softly.

‘Why not?’ His eyes were watchful black shards. ‘Though you’ve never shown any particular desire to see where I live.’

‘Ah.’ She raised her eyebrows. And presumably if she had then his apartment would have been off-limits! ‘Interesting.’

How her self-containment enthralled and exasperated him! Why, any other woman would have used his post-coital sleep as an opportunity to poke around the apartment! Yet here she was, naked and beautiful beside him, as though she visited his home every day of the week!

He narrowed his eyes as he felt the heavy throb of desire beating its way through his veins. As a lover, he could not have asked for better. She was responsive and beautiful and she made no demands on him. How unlike most women!

His mouth hardened as he thought about commitment and expectation. And, in particular, about the lavish christening of his nephew, soon to take place on Mardivino, and all that it would entail. He stared at the naked woman beside him and an idea began to form in his mind. Maybe her cool indifference could work to his advantage…

‘Would you like to go away with me for the weekend, cara mia?’ he suggested casually.