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

‘Then it’s a city,’ said Lucy firmly.

Guido leaned over her to stare down. How long since he had been back? He had paid fleeting visits to see his father, of course, but he had not been back since his younger brother Nico had surprised them all and married the English girl.

At first it had been considered the most unsuitable of liaisons, and Guido had been expecting an explosive firework response from his elder brother Gianferro. But Ella seemed to have won him round, and Gianferro—against all the odds—had accepted her into the bosom of the family. And now she had secured her place there permanently, by giving Nico a son and heir.

His mouth hardened. Even Nico—the wild and devil-may-care Nico—had succumbed to the expectations which were his birthright!

He stared at Lucy’s smooth cheek and the sweep of glossy Titian hair which contrasted so beautifully against it. Yes. She would make a very enjoyable deterrent against the subtle pressure of the Palace to settle down at last, with a suitable bride. Her presence at his side would shield him from the attentions of Mardivino’s maritally ambitious women. His lips curved into a smile. And—best of all—he could relax and enjoy just about the best sex he’d ever had in his life.

‘Excited?’ he questioned softly.

Lucy nodded, because there seemed to be some kind of lump in her throat preventing normal speech. Excited? Well, yes—if excitement also incorporated sheer terror. She had always thought of herself as adaptable, and her job had taken her to all kinds of places to meet all kinds of people—but there was nothing in any rule book to tell her how to deal with a situation like this.

For a start, she didn’t feel like herself—nor even look like herself, either. The pale linen trousers were cut low on the hip and were the most flattering pair of trousers she had ever worn. You got—as everyone always said—what you paid for, and Guido had paid a hell of a lot for these! They were teamed with a T-shirt which didn’t really look like a T-shirt—its fit was so perfect that it seemed to take what should have been an everyday garment into a completely new dimension.

And beneath the expensive clothes were equally expensive undergarments—silk and satin which glided like honey over her curves and which managed to make her feel very sexy indeed.

Not that there was much point in feeling that, because Guido had been as untactile as it was possible to be ever since they had boarded the private jet.

She could understand it—but that didn’t make it any easier. He was on show now—to the two pilots and the unbelievably beautiful stewardess, as well as to all the officials who had fussed them onto the plane. He might have rejected life as a prince, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t conform to it when he needed to. That was simply good manners and aristocratic breeding.

Consequently, he hadn’t touched her, nor kissed her, nor even murmured provocatively in her ear, promising what he was going to do to her in bed later—not once, during the entire flight.

He had been cool almost to the point of being indifferent, and that had scared her—because it seemed to reinforce what she knew in her heart. He might like her enough to bring her here for the weekend, and he might like going to bed with her, but he certainly didn’t love her—and therefore it was vital she didn’t fall in any deeper than she already was.

So how did you stop yourself falling in love?

She looked out at the clouds which drifted like dry ice past the windows. What would she do if she knew that there was a bad case of flu going around? She would go out of her way to protect herself. She should do the same with her emotions. Enjoy the weekend for what it was.

The engine noise changed and the plane began to dip down towards the tiny airport. Lucy smoothed her hair back, hoping that the gesture didn’t look nervous.

‘Will anyone be there to meet us?’ she questioned.

‘Just a driver. I told my brother not to send a deputation.’

‘Did he want to, then?’

Guido gave a hard smile. ‘Gianferro likes pomp and ceremony—which is fortunate, since he’s going to have a hell of a lot of it one of these days.’

Lucy hesitated. ‘How is…your father?’

‘He is slowly dying,’ said Guido matter-of-factly, and he saw her flinch. But how could he explain that being pragmatic was his way of dealing with it? He had learnt early on about the finality and pain of death when his mother had been torn away from her family. Nico had been just a baby and Gianferro—as the oldest and the heir—had always been surrounded and protected by an extra layer of courtiers.

But Guido had been at the worst possible age for maternal deprivation, which was probably why they had flown him to stay with his mother’s sister in America. He had loved his aunt very much, but she had not been his mother, and away from his brothers and Mardivino his sense of lonelieness and isolation had increased.

And when he had returned it had not felt like home any more.

No place had ever since.

A low black limousine was waiting on the runway, and it whisked them off to a palace which Lucy hadn’t imagined could exist outside the pages of a fairy story.

‘The Rainbow Palace,’ said Guido, as the mosaic building glittered in the distance in a multicoloured dazzle.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ breathed Lucy. ‘Is this where you were born?’

‘It is,’ he said curtly.

‘And where did you go to school?’