He frowned. ‘Why can’t you accept it?’ he asked, his voice still low.
She swallowed. The lump did not go away.
‘Because I shouldn’t have it,’ she said. ‘Because it should be Maria’s life. She was the one a prince fell in love with. She was the one who should have been a princess. She was the one Ben should have belonged to. Not me. Not me. I took Ben from her. I told the doctors to turn off her life support after Ben had been delivered, after he had grown to term inside a mother whose brain had died weeks earlier. I told them to kill my sister so I could have her baby for myself.’
Huge, anguished eyes looked at him. Her fingers were pressed so tight around the mug they showed white all the way through.
‘I told them to do it.’
Carefully he got to his feet. Carefully he hunkered down beside her, placing a hand, warm and strong, on her thigh.
‘There was no one else to tell them,’ he said. ‘Your parents had made their decision. They had gone, taken their way out, leaving you with that decision. Making you the scapegoat for that decision. They didn’t even have the courage, the love to stay alive for their grandson’s sake. Let alone for yours. And tell me something, Lizzy—tell me from your heart. Do you think your sister would have wanted to live on, in body only, while Paolo was already dead? Their deaths were a tragedy—each and every death that night a tragedy. But we are not responsible. All we can do is go on with our own lives—and remember theirs. So let’s take Ben, you and me, and bring him up in a happy family. We can’t change the past—but we can make the future. Together, Lizzy. Together.’
He reached and wrapped his arms around her, very close. Slowly she let go of the mug. Slowly she slid her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.
‘Be happy, Lizzy. Let yourself be happy. With me. For now, and for all our lives together. Life isn’t certain—we both know that. So more than anything we must live while we can—for Ben and for each other. And perhaps…’ His hand slid across her stomach, warm and seeking. ‘Perhaps for one or two more. Ben needs a family—brothers and sisters. Happy and loving, all together.’
He drew her to her feet. Kissed her softly. Then not so softly.
As he drew back she saw the glint deep in his dark, lambent eyes. She felt her heart turn over. The glint turned to a gleam. The gleam to a look that melted her bones.
‘Come, Signora Ceraldi, time for bed. I want to find out whether it was just my title you fell for.’
Her arms went around him. Holding him tight, so very tight. Close against her.
‘Prince of my heart,’ she whispered. ‘Love of my life. My adored, beloved husband.’
‘Sounds good,’ he said. ‘Sounds very good.’
He kissed her once more, and then again.
And then he led her upstairs, to the bliss that awaited them.
EPILOGUE
THE photos that Jean-Paul had taken at the villa went round the world. So did the story of The Playboy Prince Who Gave Up His Title For Love.
And so, too, did the next set of photos that Jean-Paul came to take.
The ones of Signor and Signora Enrico Ceraldi, with Master Benedetto Ceraldi, posing in the gardens of their two favourite residences—the newly christened Villa Elisabetta on the exclusive Capo d’Angeli estate in Italy, and the newly restored slate-roofed Cornish cottage, against whose porch leant two surfboards. One fast and mean for Signor Ceraldi, and a junior-sized one for Master Benedetto. Signora Ceraldi’s surfboard was in storage, awaiting such time as Master Benedetto’s new brother or sister made his expected appearance—which, as could clearly be seen from the especially voluptuous figure of Signora Ceraldi, around which Signor Ceraldi was curving a lovingly protective hand, would not be long.
As for Master Benedetto, he was sitting cross-legged on the grass and attacking a heavily defended cardboard fort with an army of brightly coloured knights in armour. His smile was almost bigger than his face.
The smile of a happy child with a happy family.
The greatest gift of all.