The Future King's Pregnant Mistress

My grandson speaks without thinking.' she told him huskily. But at heart, he is a good boy and as devoted to the king as anyone’

The youth’s friends were hurrying him away and Marco allowed himself to be escorted back to his limo. Once inside, he realised that he was still holding the old woman's carefully made purse. There was anger in his heart now pressing down on him like an unwanted heavy weight. Niroli's royal family was the richest in the world and yet some of its subjects were living lives of utmost poverty. He could well imagine how upset and shocked Emily would have been if she had witnessed what had just happened. The leather purse felt soft and warm to his touch.

He was the one who should be giving to his people, not the other way around. His time away from the island had changed him more than he had realised. Marco acknowledged, and somehow he didn't think his grandfather was going to like what he had in mind...

Huddled into an armchair in the sitting room of her small Chelsea house, a prettily embroidered throw wrapped around her like a comfort blanket. Emily let the full rip-tide of her anguish take her over. What was the point in trying to fight it or escape it? The reality was that Marco, no. Prince Marco, soon to be King Marco, she corrected herself miserably, had gone, not just from her life, but from Britain itself, to return to his home, his throne and his people. Ultimately her place in his life would be filled by someone else.

She gave a small low cry as more pain seized her and then reminded herself angrily that the man she loved did not exist; he had been a creation of her own imagination and his deceit. Everything they had shared had been based on lies; every time he had held her or touched her she had been giving the whole of herself to him whilst he had been withholding virtually everything of his true self.

But even knowing this, as the numbing shock of her discovery of the truth rose and retreated, she was left with the agonising reality that she still loved him.

As much as she despised herself for not being able to cease wanting him because she knew just how much he had deceived her, her self-contempt could not drive out her love.

What was he doing now? Was he thinking at all of her? Missing her? Stop it, stop it, all her inner protective instincts demanded in agony. She must not do this to herself! She must accept that he had gone, and that she had to find a way of living without him and the comfort of being able to look back and know that they had shared something very special. It was over, they were over, and her pride was demanding that she accept that and get on with her life.

She was as much a fool for letting him into her thoughts now as she had been for letting him into her life. There was one thing for sure: he would not be thinking about her. He would not have given her a single thought since she had walked out of his apartment, following that dreadful discovery and the bitterly corrosive row that had ended their relationship

What a total fool she had been for deluding herself into thinking that he would ever return her love...

CHAPTER SEVEN

SO MARCO, what is this that the Chief of Police tells me about your welcome parade? About your being threatened by some wretched insurrectionist from the mountains? Probably one of the Viallis. Mind you, you have only yourself to blame. Had you not taken it into your head to so rashly get out of the car it would not have happened. You must remember that you are my heir and Nirolis next king. It is not wise to court danger.’

There wasn't any real danger. The boy—for he was little more than that—was simply voicing—‘

‘His hostility to the throne!’ King Giorgio interrupted Marco angrily.

His grandfather had aged since he had last seen him but the old patriarch still had about him an awesome aura of power. Marco admitted ruefully. The problem was that it no longer particularly impressed Marco—he had power of his own now power that came from living his life in his own way. He knew that his grandfather sensed this in him and that it irked him. That was why he insisted on taking his grandson to task over the incident at his welcoming parade.

‘My feeling was that the boy was more frustrated and resentful than hostile.’ Marco watched his grandfather. There was a larger issue at stake here than the boys angry words, one which Marco felt was essential, but which he knew wasn't something his grandfather would be happy to discuss.

Nevertheless. Marco had been doing some investigation of his own and what he had discovered had highlighted potential problems within Niroli that needed addressing before they developed into much more worrying conflicts.

The boy was complaining about the lack of an electricity supply to his village. He resents the fact that visitors to our country have benefits that some of our own people do not. Marco held his ground as his grandfathers fist came crashing down on the desk between them.