The Future King's Bride (The Royal House of Cacciatore 3)

She gave a strained smile. ‘You…you wouldn’t want me to be pregnant right now, would you?’

‘But of course!’ His eyes narrowed and he frowned. ‘Marriage is for the procreation of children. That is its primary function, in fact.’ He gave a glimmer of a smile which only partly defused the sudden sense of terror she felt. ‘Particularly in my case, cara Millie.’

My case, she noted. Not our. But she must keep calm. She must. Obviously they weren’t going to see eye to eye on every topic, not straight away. Marriage was also about compromise, she reminded herself. And negotiation.

‘I was sort of…hoping that we might have some time together first…getting to know one another,’ she ventured. ‘Before children come along.’

He pulled her against him, loving the way that the silk of her hair clothed her chest like a mantle, beginning to stroke it almost absently. ‘Perhaps we will,’ he mused. ‘But the decision is not ours to take.’

Millie opened her eyes very wide. ‘It isn’t?’

‘Of course not! The conception of our child is outside our control! It lies in the domain of a power far greater than ourselves.’

This was the moment to tell him. The moment to announce the fact that her doctor had prescribed her six months worth of the contraceptive Pill to be going along with.

But something stopped her, and Millie wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Fear that he seemed to have everything so mapped out? Or fear that she had taken a step which instinctively she knew he would disapprove of?

If she told him, she could imagine him—perhaps after again expressing his displeasure—tossing the Pills away in a macho kind of way before making love to her again. And then what would happen? Well, you wouldn’t need to be a biologist to work that one out. She might fall pregnant. Immediately.

Millie tried to imagine what that would be like—and the thought of it filled her with horror. Everything else was so startlingly new—Mardivino, being married, getting used to being a princess. How on earth could she cope if she threw motherhood into the equation?

Perhaps she could slowly work round to it…make him see things from her point of view. That there was nothing wrong with waiting for a while…that was what most couples did.

Idly, she trickled her finger around one of the whorls of dark hair on his chest and saw him give a nod of satisfaction. ‘It would be nice to have a little time on our own first,’ she observed drowsily. ‘Wouldn’t it?’

She must learn lessons other than those of the bedroom, thought Gianferro. Did she think that they were to become one of those couples who shared everything, as was the modern trend? Who were together from dawn to dusk? He repressed a slight shudder. Even if his position had not ruled that out, it was an option he would have run a million miles from anyway. ‘That is what honeymoons are for, cara,’ he said lightly.

‘But we’re only on honeymoon for a fortnight!’ Millie protested.

He wondered if she had any idea of just how privileged she was to have a whole two weeks of his uninterrupted company. Of the planning that had gone into absenting himself from his duties as Crown Prince. Perhaps she should learn that, too.

‘My life is a very busy one, Millie.’

‘And I want to share it with you!’

Again, he bit back the urge to tell her that what she wanted was a foolish desire which would never come true. Nor ever could. To soften the blow—this would be a lesson for him, too. He was used to dictating his terms, to doing exactly as he pleased and having people fall in and accede totally to his wishes. But he recognised that to make this marriage a comfortable one he must learn to use tact and diplomacy.

‘But you will be sharing it,’ he said firmly. ‘As my wife and as the mother of my children.’

For a moment she was scared again. It was as if she had taken a leap back by half a century. If not yet barefoot then certainly pregnant as soon as possible—if Gianferro had his way.

‘Just that?’ she questioned quietly.

‘Of course not,’ he answered silkily. ‘There will be so much more to your life than that, Millie.’

She couldn’t quite stop the shaky breath of relief. ‘There will?’

‘Naturally. You will not be tied by children—because, just as in your own childhood, there will be plenty of staff to look after them.’

But Millie’s heart did not leap for joy at the thought of handing the care of her children to other people. Quite the contrary when she remembered her own experience, and especially the brief period when she had gone to the local school before being sent off to boarding school. It was there that she had realised for the first time that her life was different from other people’s.

How vividly she remembered the empty ache inside when her classmates had been met by their mothers at the school gates instead of an uncaring au pair or stony-faced nanny. And even more poignant had been the stories they used to relate—of mothers who bathed them and made cakes for them, and fathers who played with them, taught them how to swim and climb a tree. She had only ever seen her parents at bedtime, when she was all washed and in her pyjamas to say goodnight—and sometimes not even then. Did she really want that for her own children? And times had changed…even for Royal families. Wouldn’t Gianferro long to have a closeness with his offspring which had never been there for him?

‘It might be nice to be a little bit hands-on with them,’ she suggested lightly.

Gianferro kissed the tip of her nose. ‘That will not, I think, be either possible or desirable. Our children will be brought up the way of all Ro