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

The suggestion was made from the other side of the bathroom—not a million miles away, though it might as well have been.

Lucy tried to imagine what it would be like—just the two of them on his territory, with Guido busying himself with work while she was trapped in that vast luxury apartment. At least here in Mardivino she felt comfortable—surrounded by family who seemed to like her.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know if it would be a good idea to travel in my—’

‘Condition?’ he mocked softly. ‘Oh, come, come, Lucy—you can’t use the baby as an excuse for everything! I thought that the modern way was for women to climb mountains in the latter stages!’

‘I’m happy here,’ she said stubbornly.

‘Yes.’ He flicked her a thoughtful look. ‘You seem to have taken to being a princess with a passion.’

Lucy sat back on her heels. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He smiled, but it was a hard, cruel smile. ‘Just that I guess the luxuries of Royal life must go some way towards compensating for other areas which are somewhat…lacking.’

Was he accusing her? Of taking to her role rather too well? When all the while she had wanted him to be proud of her…

She picked Leo up. ‘And how long will you be away?’

The dark eyebrows were elevated. ‘Why?’

‘Why? Because you’re my husband and I have a right to know!’

His mouth tightened. ‘I wouldn’t get into a conversation about “rights”, if I were you,’ he said acidly. ‘And I don’t know why you refer to me as your husband.’ The black eyes burnt into her. ‘We may be married, but in all the ways that matter I am certainly not your husband.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

GUIDO had gone, and Lucy’s world suddenly felt as though there was a large and vital chunk of it missing. But things became much clearer without his disturbing presence.

Lucy realised that she had placed far too much importance on distracting herself from what was happening within their marriage, and that in a way it had been all too easy. There was always something going on—other family to talk to, and servants who had a habit of appearing, putting paid to tense atmospheres. And there were lunches and dinners and receptions which filled enough of her life to keep her relatively contented.

Or so she had thought.

Yet without Guido around all these things became meaningless. Nico and Ella had their real life together, with their son, and Gianferro was busy ruling the Principality. Lucy was just an observer—a shadowy figure on the outside—trying to join in but having no real part to play. And she wanted her husband to come back.

She began to obsess about his real reasons for going. He had cited work, but he could work from anywhere—he had only to pick up the phone.

There had been no physical contact at all between them—and no sign that the deadlock would ever be broken. So had he decided that enough was enough? That while she might accept this loveless marriage he certainly would not?

She stared out at the Palace gardens, where autumn was beginning to rob the landscape of the last of the flowers, and she bit back the sob which was forming in her throat. She might as well have given her written permission for him to go away and have an affair with someone!

Whose advice could she ask? No one’s. That was the trouble. No one to tell, or to confide in. Oh, she liked Ella a lot, and they got along just fine. But Ella was her sister-in-law and she would be bound to tell Nico, and then everyone would know how bad things were between her and Guido.

And wouldn’t that destabilise everyone—especially with the King lying there, so sick?

&nbs

p; She turned away from the gardens to look at herself in the mirror. Her bump was really very noticeable now, though the rest of her was still very slim. In fact, it was only from the side that you could really tell she was pregnant at all. She was wearing jeans and a beautiful floaty shirt made of velvet and silk and bits of feather, which she had bought in one of Solajoya’s more exclusive boutiques.

Her skin was the clearest it had ever been and her eyes were as shining as her hair. In some ways she had never looked better. Pregnancy suited her, as did the clean air of Mardivino and the wonderful fresh food which was served to her every day.

But all this meant nothing. She had allowed the distance between herself and Guido to flourish and grow, with each trying to outdo the other in terms of stubbornness. If a stalemate had been reached, then someone had to break it. And if Guido was too proud then it would have to be her. And wasn’t it only fear which was stopping her? The fear that if she let him get close to her then it would open up the floodgates around her heart and let out all those feelings she had bottled up?

She bit her lip. He had been gone over a week now. Maybe it was too late. Maybe even now he was in bed with another sooty-eyed blonde—someone who didn’t ‘mean’ anything, but who could provide him with the physical comfort his wife was steadfastedly refusing to give.

Pain and regret and jealousy lanced through her heart and she closed her eyes before coming to a decision.

She would fly to New York!