The Royal Baby Revelation (19 page)

The whispered accusation hurt, but he could not deny its accuracy. No, he couldn’t blame her. Not for any thing. He thought of how he’d lashed out at her—at how his coldness and his refusal to communicate might have driven her away. Might
still
drive her away.

And as he stared at her bent head he felt a pain at his heart—a terrible tearing pain he had felt as a teenager when his father had fiercely told him that princes did not cry. That he must be dry-eyed as he walked behind his mother’s coffin on that cold and leafless winter day. He had vowed never to feel that kind of pain again—to protect himself from its merciless onslaught—and yet he was feeling it now. He recognized now that pain was the price you paid for love. And recognized, too, that a hurt even greater lay waiting unless he could convince his wife that he
was
prepared to change.

He became aware that she was shivering. ‘Wait here,’ he said tersely, returning just seconds later with his discarded jacket, from which he shook stray grains of sand, and then looped it gently about her shoulders.

Melissa inhaled deeply—she just couldn’t help it. Because the jacket smelt of him—his own distinctive scent—all musk and sandalwood and pure, unadulterated male. She felt surrounded by him—cocooned by him—and wasn’t that a perilous way to feel?

‘Sit down,’ he said softly.

Aware that he was trying to cajole her—and she still wasn’t quite sure why—Melissa sank down onto the shaded sand and stared up into his golden eyes. ‘Okay, I’m sitting down and I’m warm. So why don’t you tell me what it is you want to say, Casimiro?’

Casimiro saw the way she had crossed her arms tightly over her chest—in a gesture which unmistakably said
go away.
He wanted to reach out and touch her but somehow he recognised that touch would blur the edges of what he knew he had to say—that he needed to do this without any reliance on the senses.

‘When I left this morning I was furious.’ There was a pause as he struggled to articulate it. ‘Mainly because you had forced me to look at myself and the way I was living my life. Forced me to confront the way I was feeling—actually, the way
you
made me feel, if only I was prepared to let go and admit it. And I realised that if I didn’t act quickly, then there was a very real chance that you might leave me and the thought of that rocked the foundations of my world.’

‘Casimiro—’

‘Shh.’ He stared at the faint tremble of her lips. ‘I’ve realised that you were right—that my life has been consumed by my kingdom and that isn’t a good thing. Not for me, nor for you—or Ben—not even for Zaffirinthos. I’ve realised that I have to find a new way to govern—a way which will still allow me to be a good, strong King, but which will also allow me to be a good husband, and father. Because balance is important—to every human being. And I realised that I couldn’t possibly let my son inherit a crown that I had grown to resent.’

Melissa looked at him, hardly daring to acknowledge the sudden leap of hope in her heart. ‘But…how is it going to change?’

‘I’m going to speak to my brother. At our wedding he told me that it had taken a move away to make him realise just how much he cared for Zaffirinthos. I don’t know how much is possible—all I know is that I’m going to work something out. Do you believe that?’

‘Yes, Casimiro,’ she affirmed softly. ‘I do.’

Her instant trust made him smile, but it was a smile tinged with the fear of what he might so easily have lost. ‘When I found that you’d gone—it was as if my worst fears had been realised,’ he continued quietly. ‘It made me stop and imagine the reality of a world without you. One with no steadfast smile nor welcoming arms. No tender fingers to stroke and caress my stubborn face in bed at night. And it made me realise that I couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t bear for it to happen. Something made me run to find you—the same something which drove me to your door on the night of the ball, when you first told me about our baby. Something you’ve always been able to arouse in me, Melissa—which defies protocol. The spark of it was always there, I think—even back then in England—but I’ve only just managed to put a name to it.’

‘And what name would that be, Casimiro?’ she asked softly, aware that he was at the very edge of something—but needing him to go further. To hear him speak the raw and naked truth so that there could be no possible misunderstanding in the future.

His gaze was steady and yet his hand was anything but. Such a small word and yet surely the most powerful word in any language. ‘Love.’

There was a heartbeat of a pause. ‘Love?’ she questioned lightly—as if it had been a slip of the tongue and she was quite prepared to let him correct himself.

He saw the uncertainty written on her features and the hope which underpinned it despite her determination not to let it. ‘Yes, love,’ he said softly. And now he
did
touch her—but only to lift the hand which wore his wedding and engagement bands. ‘Do you realise that when I knew I was going to have to marry you because you had given birth to my child—a part of me rejoiced at the thought that you would be mine. All mine. That I could see you and have you as often as I wanted.’

‘Yet you didn’t show it.’

‘Of course I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Because I was terrified at the way it made me feel.’

‘And how was that?’

There was a heartbeat of a pause. ‘Vulnerable.’

‘You,
vulnerable?’

‘Yes, me.’ With a rueful expression, he looked into her face. ‘You see, I’ve come to realise that I’m no different from any other man, not really—not when it comes to matters of the heart. And that I’m certainly not immune to such feelings, no matter how hard I tried to fight them.’

She reached out to touch her hand to his cheek and he caught it, and kissed it. ‘Oh, Casimiro,’ she whispered.

‘I love you, Melissa,’ he said softly. ‘I love you for being you—strong enough to stand up to me and strong enough to care for me. I love you for the son you have borne and so lovingly reared—despite the adversity which fate threw at you—and I will love you both for the rest of my life, if only you will let me make up for my stubbornness. My inability to accept what was staring me in the face.’

Emotion was welling up inside her as some lone voice in her head told her she should have protested. She tried telling herself that he couldn’t possibly mean it. But Melissa knew not a moment’s doubt about Casimiro’s declaration—it was written on every taut feature of his beloved face. And before her, she saw not a King—but a man who had always put duty first. A man brought up by a grieving father, without the soft and loving touch of a mother’s guidance. Who could ever blame him for the brittle exterior he had erected around his heart?

She was so moved that it took a moment before she could speak. ‘I love you, too,’ she said, and tears were now pricking at her eyes—she just couldn’t help them. ‘I always have and I always will.’

With fingers which still weren’t quite steady, Casimiro framed her face within his two hands, shaken by the realisation of what had so nearly been lost but now lay within their grasp. And all they had to do was to reach out and take it. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’ he whispered.

She nodded, touching her mouth to his, absolving him with the tender brush of her lips, swallowing down her unshed tears of joy as she looked into his beloved face. ‘It’s over. Past. Done. It’s the future which matters now—and, of course, the present.’

‘You’re my present. Such a beautiful present—which I would like to unwrap this very instant,’ he said as he smoothed the windswept hair back from her face. ‘But since there are lots of men with binoculars in the vicinity—then I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.’

‘What?’

‘This.’

He took her by the hand, moving away from the umbrella of the rocks—so that they stepped out into the bright sunshine of the day. And with scant disregard for protocol or the security men who were lining the cliffs above them—the King took his Queen in his arms and began to kiss her.

EPILOGUE

A
ND
that was how the monarchy of Zaffirinthos became a model for the world—with historians and sociologists vying to write endless papers about it. It was seen as a remarkable model—how two royal brothers, both with pretty large egos, could manage to share power so successfully.

In talks which had taken place over several weeks, Casimiro had persuaded Xaviero and his family to move back to the island and for his brother, the Prince, to take on a significant role there. Though, as Melissa pointed out, it didn’t really take much persuasion at all. Xaviero loved his land and had begun to miss it—just as Princess Catherine had learned to love it. And they both wanted to bring young Cosimo up on its shores. They had both tired of London and hungered for the pure blue light of the Mediterranean, the quietness and the calm of island life.

The younger royal couple moved into the villa on the eastern side of the island—to the magnificent mansion where Casimiro and Melissa had spent their honeymoon. And Cosimo and Ben began to play together on a daily basis. It was good for both boys to have company, Melissa recognised—and even better was the fact that, when the time came, they were both going to attend the island nursery school instead of having private tutors. A new generation of royal children had been born and their whole way of life would be different as they moved into a new age. They would be taught that duty need no longer take precedence over love.

Melissa insisted that Casimiro speak to the doctors about his amnesia—especially since he had now confided in his brother what had happened. And, to her darling husband’s astonishment, the doctors had been laissez-faire about the revelation. He was given a clean bill of health and told that temporary amnesia was fairly common in serious head injury.

‘You see?’ she teased him in the car, on the way back from the new children’s rehabilitation centre which they had just opened together—as they undertook many of their engagements together these days. ‘Everything is much better when it’s out in the open!’

Casimiro smiled. At the hospital, he had gone on a spontaneous visit to the intensive care unit where he had almost died. It was the first time he had been back there—and yet he had derived a strange strength from seeing the stark white beds and all the high-powered equipment once more. More than anything it threw a light on what was most important in life. And in a life he now saw was blessed, the most important thing he had was his family. His beautiful wife and his beautiful son—who gave him all the love he needed.

And it was all down to this woman, he thought, pulling Melissa into his arms and tipping her face up to look at him. ‘Yes,
mia bella,’
he murmured. ‘You were right. But then, I think perhaps you are always right.’

‘That is the correct answer!’ Melissa’s smile was impish as she lifted her mouth to be kissed, knowing she could twist her husband right around her little finger—as he could her.

‘In fact, did you read that article I left you yesterday?’ he queried indulgently. ‘The one saying that I looked so happy since my marriage that perhaps you are the power behind the throne. Do you think that is so,
cara mia?’

But Melissa shook her head as he began to kiss her. No way. There was only one power in their lives today and that was the power of love.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 2010

Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Sharon Kendrick 2010

ISBN: 978-1-408-91898-2