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

Lucy stared at him, aware that the black eyes had grown icy, and suddenly she was furious with herself. Why had she played that stupid game with him?

‘Guido?’ she questioned, and uncharacteristically her voice sounded weak and uncertain.

The smile he gave her was anticipatory, almost cruel. He was enjoying the sensation now that the situation was reversed and she was the one left doing the wanting.

‘I’ll leave you to your dancing, Lucy,’ he said softly. ‘Let me know when you want to go to bed.’

And something in his eyes made her feel unaccountably scared.

CHAPTER SIX

THE following day, resplendent in a close-fitting jade-green suit, with a huge black picture hat trimmed with feathers, Lucy stood in Solajoya’s small but majestic cathedral as Leo was baptised. The music of the organ and the accompanying choir soared celestially up to the high domed ceiling, and the church was filled with the great and the good of Mardivino as well as immediate family. Only the King was unable to attend—his health was too frail and these days, according to Guido, he rarely left his suite of rooms at the Palace.

Yet, despite the splendour and the grandeur, it was essentially a family occasion. Just as with every other family on the planet, there were small swapped smiles when Leo began to bawl as the water was sprinkled onto his forehead.

It was only when they stepped outside into blinding sunlight, where banks of fragrant flowers were massed, to the sound of cheers and the sight of what seemed to be the entire population of the island, that Lucy realised that it was a significant and very regal occasion, too.

Lunch was at the Palace—and far less formal than the State Banquet of the night before. This time Lucy was seated next to a woman named Sasha—a beauty not much older than herself, whose olive skin and dark eyes marked her out as a native of the island. She was sweet and charming, and incredibly interested to know all about Lucy.

‘I can’t believe that Guido has actually brought a woman home,’ she confided softly.

Lucy smiled, though it felt brittle and unnatural.

When eventually they had gone back to their room last night, they had circled each other like two warring creatures. She had been wary of him, confused by him, and had wanted to distance herself from him—as he had done from her. To try to show him—and prove to herself—that he did not have an irresistible power over her.

How typical that her very reticence had seemed to entrance him and he had pulled out all the stops where charm was concerned. He had stroked her hair and told her that she was beautiful. Had undressed her slowly…oh, so slowly…as if he’d had all the time in the world.

Who could have resisted such advances, as he cajoled and soothed and incited her, all at the same time?

Even though a part of her had tried to fight it she had been unable to do so. He had made her molten and receptive and aching for him, as she always ached for him, and then they had fallen into bed and spent almost the whole night making love. Though maybe that was just her slant on what they had done.

The trouble was that there didn’t seem to be any description which fell in between ‘making love’ and ‘having sex’. It certainly hadn’t been the former—certainly not where Guido was concerned—and the latter sounded so…so clinical. And, whatever else it might have been, it had certainly not been clinical. It had been heavenly. Heartstopping. And once her turbulent emotions had melted under the onslaught of his caresses Lucy had had to bite back words of endearment.

Oh, why had she become involved with a man as unobtainable as Guido Cacciatore? And why had she not had the insight to realise that compartmentalising her feelings for him was as useless as whistling in the wind?

‘So where did you two meet?’ queried Sasha, with a smile.

‘At a party.’ Sasha’s eyebrows were still raised in question. Lucy took another mouthful of champagne. ‘In New York.’

‘He loves New York,’ said Sasha thoughtfully. ‘But of course, it’s where he went to live with his aunt, when his mother died.’

‘I…I didn’t know.’

Sasha shrugged. ‘Well, you of all people know how closed-in he can be.’

She certainly did. ‘Have you known him long?’

‘Oh, all my life.’ Sasha smiled again. ‘Believe me, I’ve seen Guido in all his guises. We used to play together as children. He’s a bit like…’ She frowned, creasing up her nose. ‘Not a brother, exactly—we’re not close enough for that. More like a cousin—once or twice removed, I guess!’

Lucy hadn’t thought he was particularly close to his brothers, but she didn’t say anything—and besides, she knew that the subtext to what Sasha was saying was that there was no romance—or longed-for romance—between her and Guido. Her reassurance was oddly comforting, and Lucy smiled.

‘And you’re a definite improvement on the last woman I saw him with!’ said Sasha fervently.

It was one of those situations that you read about in women’s magazines—where you knew you ought to completely ignore the statement and carry on talking about something else. But she couldn’t help herself.

‘Oh?’ questioned Lucy casually. ‘Who was that?’

‘Oh, you know.’ Sasha pulled a face. ‘One of those sooty-eyed blondes who look like they’re composed of plastic and silicone!’