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

‘Mmm?’ His eyes were watchful as he glanced up from his newspaper, but this morning she seemed composed enough. He was never quite sure what kind of a mood she was going to be in—but he put that down to her hormones. In a way, he would be glad when the pregnancy was over and they could address the matter of just how their life was going to be lived from then on.

‘I want to go back to Mardivino.’

A small frown pleated his forehead. ‘What is your hurry, cara?’

‘I thought the baby had to be born there.’

‘So it does…but—’

‘Well, I’m not allowed to fly after thirty-six weeks, and can only fly then if I have a doctor’s note,’ she said crisply.

He felt the violent pounding of his heart as he stared into her eyes, realising with a start that the time was almost upon them. Had he been deliberately putting it out of his mind? And did all prospective fathers—even normal ones—feel this powerful and rather terrifying realisation that their lives were never going to be the same again?

‘Well, that’s no problem. If we can’t take a scheduled flight I’ll charter a plane, or we’ll get Nico to fly out from Mardivino closer to the time. He is a fine pilot.’

The last thing she wanted to talk about was his brother’s dexterity with a joystick! It was Guido’s reluctance to fly home which disturbed her more than anything. Was he hoping to win her round so that she would adapt to motherhood in his adopted city?

‘We can’t, Guido,’ she said practically. ‘Airlines, even private jets, impose rules like this for a very good reason. They don’t want to risk a woman giving birth early—which they can. Imagine if the baby was born thirty-five thousand feet up?’

His eyes narrowed. Over his dead body! ‘Very well,’ he said coolly. ‘We will return to the Principality.’

It was the wrong time to ask it, but Lucy was fed up with always waiting for a right time which never seemed to come. ‘And…afterwards? What are we going to do then?’

There was an uneasy silence. ‘How would you feel about bringing the baby up here, Lucy?’

‘In New York?’

‘Why not? They do have babies here, you know.’

So her suspicions had been right all along. Well, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. New York was a wonderful place, but here she felt like an outsider in a way she never had done on Mardivino.

She shook her head. ‘This apartment isn’t right for a young child.’

‘Then we’ll move further out! Buy a big house with a garden. Think about it, Lucy.’

She didn’t need to; she already had. She wanted a safe harbour for her and for the baby. A flare of stubbornness reared its head, for this was, after all, her part of the pre-nuptial. That she got to choose where they would live.

‘No, Guido,’ she said doggedly. ‘I want to go back to Mardivino.’

He slammed the newspaper down on the table. She had made it unshakably clear where she stood. He turned away and gave a wry, slightly bitter smile. She certainly wasn’t letting him think that she was one of those women who followed her man to the ends of the earth. But then, only women in love did that, and she had never given him any indication of being that. Not even before all this happened…

She had never been like other women, with their wistful sighs and hints about the future. That had been one of the things he had admired about her—her no-nonsense independence.

And now?

He shook his head, trying to rid it of the mists of damnable confusion.

‘Very well,’ he said curtly. ‘We’ll fly back to the island at the end of the week. And who knows? You might feel differently once you’ve had the baby.’

She opened her mouth to say that she wouldn’t, but then shut it again, rubbing her fingertips distractedly at her temples.

Spring had come early to Mardivino, and Lucy’s breath caught in her throat as the plane descended towards Solajoya, for there were fields of yellow, purple and white flowers. It was like a miniature world all on its own, she thought—a place where you could see beaches and mountains at the same time.

Yet now, as she looked down at the island, which was growing larger as the plane descended, she realised that Mardivino had crept in and captured some of her heart. It was as much her home as anywhere now, for her child was to be born here. A sudden wave of emotion rocked her, as if she was one of those tiny, vulnerable little boats which were bobbing around in the harbour beneath.

‘Oh, Guido,’ she sighed. ‘Just look at it.’

But he was not looking at the view, which he had seen countless times before. His associations with flying home had never been happy ones. He preferred to look at Lucy. At the way her lips had parted, and the way she seemed suddenly to have come to life, trembling with an excited kind of anticipation.