The Royal Baby Revelation (11 page)

A few hours of snatched sex.
It was as if her memory of that time had been a delicate and intricate glass structure she’d carefully preserved—and Casimiro had smashed it without thought or care. Melissa threw her napkin down over the fast-congealing fish and began to get up.

‘Sit down!’ he ordered.

‘No, I won’t sit down! I don’t care if I have to walk all the way home—I will not sit here and be insulted by you!’

He could see that she meant it. He could also see the maître d’ hovering anxiously over in the doorway, but a faint shake of Casimiro’s head was enough to dispatch him. For a moment he was torn between fury at her outrageous insubordination—and a grudging respect for her spirit. ‘Sit down, Melissa.’ He met the unwavering resistance in her eyes. ‘Please.’

Perhaps it was the unexpectedness of his appeal which made Melissa hesitate—or perhaps it was just the acknowledgement that this was not a word with which he was familiar. She doubted whether kings had to say ‘please’ very much in the normal run of events—and what kind of example was that to set to Ben, who she was determined was going to have the best manners in the world?

Melissa sank back down into the chair, secretly relieved to rest the suddenly shaky legs which she doubted would carry her outside, let alone all the way home. It was all so much of a shock. Everything. The test result and his reaction to it. Yes, of course she had known that there could only be one possible candidate for the role of father to her baby—but she hadn’t been expecting this great swamp of emotion. She had bottled up her secret for so long that she felt quite shaky now that it was all out in the open.

‘You’ve remembered
everything?’
she whispered.

He shrugged. ‘For what it’s worth.’ Yet the missing piece of memory came as a huge relief—as if he had been made complete once more. And, reluctantly, he allowed himself to fill in some detail on their affair. He remembered the taste of freedom he’d felt with her. The heady sensation of feeling normal—and the subsequent feeling of emptiness when he had returned to the restrictions of his kingdom. He had felt like a condemned man being given his last meal and knowing he would never eat again.

‘Do you…do you regret it?’ she questioned.

The emotional gates which had briefly swung open now slammed shut. ‘Regrets are a waste of time,’ he said icily. ‘We need to discuss what we’re going to do—and the most pressing matter is our marriage, which must take place as soon as possible.’

Melissa stared at the cold hauteur of his features and for the first time she realised that the man she had adored no longer existed. Perhaps he never had. Perhaps it had just been a temporary role he had occupied while they’d been lovers. And could she really bear to be shackled to this cold-faced king for the rest of her life? She shook her head. ‘I’m not going to marry you.’

‘I’m afraid that’s non-negotiable, Melissa.’

Melissa’s breath seemed to catch in her throat. ‘You can’t
say
something like that,’ she whispered.

‘I can, because it happens to be true.’

‘You can’t actually
force
me to marry you—what, drag me screaming and kicking down the aisle?’ She fixed him with a look she hoped concealed the fear which was fast growing inside her. That he could do with her exactly what he wanted. ‘I don’t imagine that would do your image much good.’

‘No, I can’t force you—but I can take your son from you.’

Melissa froze as the world seemed to grow dark. It was the single most effective and terrifying threat he could have made—and the fact that he had uttered it made her want to lash out at him. ‘You can’t do that, either.’

‘You really think so? I wonder if you’re prepared to test the full might of the King against a single mother of your standing.’

‘There’s nothing
wrong
with my standing!’

‘Do you consider it appropriate that the heir to the throne should be brought up in this way?’

‘He’s clean and well fed and stimulated and—
happy
!’ she defended.

‘And his home? You think that is a good place in which to bring up a royal Prince?’

It was the first time she’d actually thought of Ben as a Prince and, although the mother in her thrilled with pride, the title terrified her as well. Because didn’t it seem an awfully
distancing
thing—to be a royal Prince? Especially since
she
was just a commoner…

‘We don’t have to stay living there if you think it’s so awful!’ she declared wildly, because the expression which was darkening his arrogant features was really beginning to unsettle her.

‘You mean you’d let me buy you somewhere bigger?’ he suggested softly.

She walked straight into it. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘Ah! So you don’t mind accepting my money, after all, Melissa? A remarkable change of heart. How come I’m not surprised?’

Now he was making her sound like some kind of cheap gold-digger. Twisting everything she uttered so that she felt as if she were in some sort of verbal maze—with everything she said leading nowhere. ‘I thought that’s what you wanted,’ she said, in confusion.

‘No, it is
not
what I want!’ he snapped. ‘I can just imagine what outcome buying you a big place and settling you with a suitable income would produce. Why, you’d have every male in the vicinity sniffing around you as if all their Christmases had come at once!’

‘You’re disgusting!’

‘No, Melissa—I am being practical. Make a woman rich and she becomes a target.’

‘And make her poor and she becomes a puppet?’ she retorted.

At this he gave a glimmer of a smile and leaned back in his chair—and maybe he had given some kind of sign to the staff because their untouched plates of fish were whisked away and Melissa’s glass of water refreshed.

It was time to call her bluff, he thought.

‘Okay. Have it your way.’ He laced his long fingers together and Melissa saw the shiny gold signet ring glinting on his little finger. ‘No marriage—if that’s what you want.’

Now she felt as if she were in a hall of mirrors—where reality was distorted differently every time she tried to examine it. Melissa frowned. ‘But…but…you just said it was non-negotiable.’

‘And you charmingly responded by implying that I would have to drag you down the aisle.’ His eyes tossed her a silent, mocking challenge. ‘I agree, not exactly the best public relations exercise for Zaffirinthos. So we won’t get married and obviously I
will
have to make some kind of financial provision for Ben. You’ll need to live somewhere secure—because once it comes out that he’s a royal baby you will be subjected to all kinds of inducements and attempts to exploit that.’

‘From
crazies?’
she echoed sarcastically.

Oh, but her defiance and her sharp tongue inflamed him! Would make his inevitable victory all the sweeter. ‘That’s right.’ Leaning back in his chair, he studied her. ‘And, naturally, we’ll have to draw up some kind of legal settlement.’

‘Settlement?’ A sense of wariness began to creep over her.

‘Of course.’ He sent her a look of cool challenge. ‘While Ben can never be acknowledged as my
legal
heir because he is illegitimate—nonetheless I still wish to have an equal say in his upbringing.’

It was the word
illegitimate
which leapt out at her like a dark spectre. An old-fashioned word which wasn’t used much any more because having a baby out of wedlock was no longer considered shameful in the way it had been in the bad old days. But Casimiro was making it
sound
shameful. Was that deliberate? she wondered.

‘Equal say?’ she repeated, swallowing down the terrible nameless fear which was beginning to well up inside her.

‘Well, that
is
only fair, Melissa—and supremely modern. And presumably what you want.’

She was tempted to tell him not to presume anything about her but backbiting was a luxury she could ill afford—not when she was desperately trying to keep her wits about her. Because it felt as if he was playing some kind of cruel and sophisticated game with her only he hadn’t bothered to tell her the rules. Had he really said that he wanted to be fair and modern? Why, he was the least fair and modern man she’d ever met!

‘Ben will need to spend time with me,’ he continued. ‘And of course, much of his schooling will need to be done on the island.’

‘His
schooling?’

‘Where else will he learn to become fluent in Greek and Italian?’ questioned Casimiro sardonically. ‘In Walton-on-Thames? He will also need to understand the island’s culture since it is his heritage. Because when I
do
marry, any legitimate son I may have will inherit the crown—but Ben will always be able to play a significant role within the kingdom. If he wants to.’

Everything he had said to her was like being slapped in the face with a cold fish, but one phrase hit her with greater force than any other. So hard, it made her feel as if she were reeling from the impact. ‘M-marry?’

Casimiro understood perfectly the stuttered and horrified word for he knew that a woman’s jealousy should never be underestimated. ‘If I’m staying on Zaffirinthos—which now I must—then I will need a wife.’ He smiled. ‘And in a way, your refusal to marry me has liberated me. This way, I’ll be able to find myself someone who’s much more suitable. Someone who will care for and love Ben when he is staying with us.’

That did it. There were many disadvantages to bringing up a child on your own, but one of the benefits was that you didn’t have to share them—or not be able to see them 24/7. Melissa thought of another woman with Ben—being a pretend mother to him when she wasn’t around. Tucking him up at bedtimes and holding onto his chubby little hand. Perhaps even witnessing his first faltering steps or hearing him stumble out new words. Her son enjoying a parallel life which didn’t include
her.
Nausea rose in her throat and threatened to choke her.
Anything
would be better than that. Even marriage to Casimiro.

She looked at him across the table, some inner voice urging her to stay calm—because what if he turned round and told her that it was too late and he’d changed his mind?

‘Actually, Casimiro—when I come to think of it—perhaps I was a little…well,
hasty.’
Her fingers fluttered to the base of her throat where she could feel the mad racing of a pulse. ‘And perhaps, well, what I’m trying to say is that I
would
like to marry you, after all.’

He waited for a moment, just long enough to see anxiety cloud those bright green eyes—and then Casimiro lifted the linen napkin to his lips to hide his smile of triumph.

CHAPTER EIGHT

M
ELISSA’S
whole life changed from the moment she agreed to marry Casimiro. One minute she was struggling to pay the bills and the next she was deciding whether a white wedding would be hypocritical. She tried telling herself that it was the same for every newly engaged woman—but deep down she knew that her experience was entirely different.

Most women weren’t tearing out their roots and moving to an unknown land—a Mediterranean island where she was to be crowned Queen. And most women wouldn’t need to undergo a dramatic change of image before they walked down the aisle. To ‘look the part’—as Casimiro unemotionally informed her during that tense ride back to her apartment, after the fraught dinner when she’d agreed to be his wife.

‘I won’t make any kind of announcement until you’re ready, Melissa. Otherwise you won’t know a moment’s peace. The circus will start soon enough.’

One word had jarred—along with the fact that he had been sitting on the far side of the car seat as if to emphasise the great gulf between them.
‘Ready?’

He had turned to her, his face a series of shifting shadows combined with the occasional illumination of a street light as the powerful car travelled towards her home.

‘But of course. You need to be prepared—and for that you will need an entirely new wardrobe. New everything, in fact—everything that will befit a queen. As will…’ He had scowled. ‘Why on earth did you call him Ben?’

This had made Melissa bristle with indignation and hurt. ‘What’s wrong with it? My maternal grandfather was called Benjamin—it’s a lovely name!’

‘It is not the name of a king!’

‘Funny as it may seem, I wasn’t actually thinking about his enthronement when I was giving birth to him!’ She had been too scared at the enormity of what was happening and what lay ahead. Even when she had clutched the wet and shiny newborn to her breast she had wondered if she would ever be able to support him properly. Party planning wasn’t the most secure career option in the book—everyone knew that.

Well, at least she now knew that Ben would never go short of anything—but at what price?

‘My brother’s wife, Catherine—she will accompany you on a shopping trip,’ Casimiro had continued. ‘As a royal princess herself, she will know exactly what it is you require.’

‘So you’ve…you’ve told her that we’re engaged?’

‘We are not yet formally engaged, Melissa—not until I put the ring on your finger. Xaviero and Catherine have been informed that we are to marry, yes—but that was mainly out of courtesy. Nobody else knows. Not yet.’

Melissa had nodded and blurted out a still shellshocked goodnight as the chauffeur opened the door of the limousine. And the next day she was as nervous as a kitten as she waited for Princess Catherine by the perfume section in one of London’s glitziest department stores, as arranged.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting—maybe a rash of security guards crawling all over the place, a bit like the grand ball in Zaffirinthos. As it was, a petite and beautiful whirlwind of a woman appeared without any fuss or fanfare and embraced her as if they were old friends. Dressed in a simple cotton dress, her blonde hair scraped back in a ponytail, she didn’t look at all like a princess. Only the clutch of diamond bands which sparkled on her wedding finger gave any indication of her wealth or position.