Claiming His Secret Royal Heir

‘Axel wanted to rule—he believed in his destiny.’

‘So you believe this is Amil’s destiny?’ Sunita shook her head. ‘It’s too abstract. We make our own destiny and Amil will make his, whatever we decide to do. I want to make the decision that is best for his wellbeing and happiness—you don’t need a crown for either.’

‘This isn’t about need—this is about his birthright. As my first born son he has the right to inherit the Lycander crown.’

‘Even though he was born out of wedlock?’

It was the phrase her grandmother had used to describe Sunita’s birth, to try and explain why her husband had thrown their pregnant daughter out.

‘I know it is hard to understand in this day and age, Sunita, but in our family a mixed race child, born out of wedlock, was a stigma. It wasn’t right, but it was how my husband felt.’

A feeling shared by others. Sunita could still feel the sting of the taunts her half-siblings had flung at her—nasty, insidious words that had clawed at her self-esteem.

Focus. Frederick watched her, his hazel eyes neutral and cool; he was in control and she quite clearly wasn’t. Her thoughts raced round a playground of panic, visited the seesaw, spent time on the slide. Being born out of wedlock would have no impact on Amil’s life; it was not a reason to get married.

She forced herself to concentrate on Frederick’s answer to her question.

‘It makes no odds as long as we legitimise him through marriage,’ he said. ‘Lycander’s rules are complex, but clear on that front.’

Oh, Lord. What was she supposed to do? How could she make a decision like this without the use of a crystal ball? Her mother had believed the right course of action had been to hand Sunita over to her father.

‘People can change, Suni,’ her mother had said. She’d stroked Sunita’s hair with a hand that had looked almost translucent, the effort of even that movement an evident strain. ‘I have to believe that.’

Sunita understood the uncharacteristic thread of sentimentality in her mother over those final weeks. Leela Baswani had wanted to die believing her daughter would be safe and happy, and so she had allowed herself to be conned again by the man who had already broken her heart. She’d allowed herself to believe that people could change.

Well, she’d been wrong. And so was this.

‘This is impossible, Frederick. We can’t spend the rest of our lives together.’

The very idea of spending a week with anyone made her skin prickle in affront—she could almost feel the manacles closing round her wrists. ‘Maybe we should get married, legitimise Amil, and then get a divorce.’

Even as the words left her lips she knew how stupid they were.

‘No. I want to give Amil a life with both his parents, and most importantly, if he is to rule Lycander, he needs to live in the palace, be brought up to understand his inheritance. And I need a wife—a true consort.’

This was becoming laughable. ‘Really, I am not wife material—trust me on this.’

His broad shoulders lifted. ‘But you are the mother of my child.’

Fabulous. ‘So you’ll make do with me because I come with a ready-made heir? And this whole marriage idea is because we are convenient?’ The idea caused welcome anger—an emotion she could manage way better than panic.

‘You don’t care about Amil as a person—you only care about him as a commodity.’

‘No!’ Her words had clearly touched a nerve. ‘I care about Amil because he is my son and I believe this is his right. I want him to grow up with two parents. And, believe me, this is hardly convenient. I intended to present my people with a wife and heir in a more conventional way.’

‘Well, gee, thank you. That makes us feel really special.’

But she was the woman who had omitted to mention his son’s existence—making her feel special would hardly be anywhere on his agenda.

His raised eyebrows indicated complete accord with her unspoken thought. ‘There’s no point in hypocrisy. If you expect me to go down on one knee, think again.’

‘I don’t expect anything—especially not a proposal. I don’t want to marry you; I don’t want to marry anyone.’

‘I appreciate that. Until recently marriage has never exactly been high on my to-do list either. Back in the day I had a business to run and a party lifestyle to maintain. But circumstances have changed. For us both. We have Amil. I now have a country to run. I need a wife and I need an heir...to show the people of Lycander that I have changed. That I am responsible, that I offer stability, that I can put the principality’s needs above my own.’

Sunita tried to equate this Frederick with the man she had known. ‘Have you changed?’

‘Yes.’ The syllable was bleak in its certainty, but despite its brevity it conveyed absolute conviction. ‘You can choose to believe that or not, as you wish. But believe this: I need to get married.’