Claiming His Secret Royal Heir

Finally, after the promised exploration of the limo, the children dispersed—many of them off to work—and after a long conversation with the teacher Frederick and Sunita returned to the car for their journey back to the hotel.

‘Next time I’ll take Amil,’ Sunita said. ‘I want him to meet those kids, to grow up with an understanding of the real world.’

‘Agreed.’

The word reminded Sunita that from now on Frederick would have a say in her parenting decisions, but right now that didn’t seem to matter. This was a topic they agreed on.

‘There’s such a lesson to be learnt there—those children want to learn, and it doesn’t matter to them if they have computers or science labs or technology. They find joy in learning, and that’s awesome as well as humbling.’

‘All of this is humbling.’

He turned to look out of the window, gesturing to the crowded Mumbai streets, and Sunita understood what that movement of his hand had encompassed—the poverty that was rife, embodied by the beggars who surged to the limo windows whenever the car slowed, hands outstretched, entreaty on their faces. But it was more than that – you could see the spectrum of humanity, so many individuals each and every one with their own dreams and worries.

‘You really care. This isn’t all a publicity stunt...part of your new image.’

‘This is about a continuation of Axel’s work—no more, no less. Don’t paint me as a good person, Sunita. If it weren’t for Axel I would never have given this so much as a thought.’

The harshness of his voice shocked her, jolted her backwards on the seat with its intensity. ‘Perhaps, but you were hardly duty-bound to take over—or to come out here and interact with those children like that.’ She couldn’t help it. ‘Axel didn’t do that, did he?’

‘Axel couldn’t do that—he needed to be the heir my father wanted him to be.’

With that he pulled his phone out of his pocket in a clear indication that the subject was well and truly closed.

Sunita frowned, fighting the urge to remove the phone from his grasp and resume thei

r conversation, to make him see that he was wrong—in this instance he was a good person.

Back off, Sunita.

Right now she needed to remain focused on whether or not she wanted to marry this man—and what the consequences of her decision would be for Amil. And in that vein she needed to look ahead to the photo call, which meant an assessment of the recent press coverage. So she pulled her own phone out of her pocket.

A few minutes later he returned the mobile to his pocket.

‘OK. We’ll fly to Goa late afternoon, after the photo call and the trip to Hanging Gardens. As you requested I’ve sorted out a room near your suite for Sam and Miranda.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

Goa! Sudden panic streamed through her and she pushed it down. She was contemplating marriage to Frederick, for goodness’ sake—so panic over a mere two days was foolish, to say the least. She needed to focus on Amil.

She glanced across at Frederick, wondering how he must feel about taking Amil out. Perhaps she should ask, but the question would simply serve as a reminder of the fact that he had missed out on the first fourteen months of his son’s life.

So instead she faced forward and maintained silence until the limo pulled up outside the hotel.

* * *

Frederick stood outside the hotel bedroom door. His heart pounded in his chest with a potent mix of emotions—nervousness, anticipation and an odd sense of rightness. In two minutes he would meet Amil. Properly. Terror added itself to the mix, and before he could turn tail and flee he raised his hand and knocked.

Sunita opened the door, Amil in her arms, and he froze. He didn’t care that he was standing in the corridor in full sight of any curious passers-by. All he could do was gaze at his son. His son.

Wonder entered his soul as his eyes roved over his features and awe filled him. His son. The words overwhelmed and terrified him in equal measure, causing a strange inability to reach out and hold the little boy. His emotions paralysed him, iced his limbs into immobility, stopped his brain, brought the world into slow motion.

Determination that he would not let Amil down fought with the bone-deep knowledge that of course he would. He wasn’t equipped for this—didn’t have the foundations to know how to be a parent, how not to disappoint.

But he would do all he could. He could give this boy his name, his principality, and perhaps over time he would work out how to show his love.

Amil gazed back at him with solemn hazel eyes and again panic threatened—enough that he wrenched his gaze away.

‘You OK?’ Sunita’s soft voice pulled him into focus and he saw understanding in her eyes, and perhaps even the hint of a tear at the edge of her impossibly long eyelashes.