THE

ROYAL

HOUSE OF NIROLI

SEMPRE APPASSIONATO, SEMPRE FIERO

Always passionate, always proud

The richest royal family in the world— united by blood and passion, torn apart by deceit and desire

Complete your collection with all four books!

The Royal House of Niroli: Scandalous Seductions

The Royal House of Niroli: Billion Dollar Bargains

The Royal House of Niroli: Innocent Mistresses

The Royal House of Niroli: Secret Heirs

WELCOME TO NIROLI!

Nestled in the azure blue of the Mediterranean, the majestic island of Niroli has prospered for centuries. The Fierezza men have worn the crown with passion and pride since the Middle Ages. But now, as the King’s health declines, and his two sons have been tragically killed, the crown is in jeopardy.

The clock is ticking—a new heir must be found before the King is forced to abdicate. By royal decree the internationally scattered members of the Fierezza family are summoned to claim their destiny. But any person who takes the throne must do so according to ‘The Rules of the Royal House of Niroli’. Soon secrets and rivalries emerge as the descendants of this ancient royal line vie for position and power. Only a true Fierezza can become ruler—a person dedicated to their country, their people … and their eternal love!

THE

ROYAL

HOUSE OF NIROLI

Innocent Mistresses

SUSAN STEPHENS

ROBYN DONALD

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Expecting His

Royal Baby

SUSAN STEPHENS

MORE ABOUT

SUSAN STEPHENS

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)

Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.

Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks and plays the piano to relax and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net—she loves to hear from her readers all around the world!

SUSAN STEPHENS
QUESTIONS & ANSWERS

Did you enjoy the experience of writing about Niroli?

Writing about a beautiful fictional island, which I imagine to be something like Sardinia or Sicily, was an inspiration and allowed me to use my great love of the Mediterranean to the full. And, of course, on a sun drenched fantasy island anything is possible …

Would you like to visit Niroli?

I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to visit Niroli with its glorious weather, clean white powder beaches and clear blue sea—not to mention the hunky men who hang out there. If you stay for long enough you might even meet a prince.

Which of the ‘Rules of Niroli’ would you least like to abide by?

The rule about the monarch dictating the education of all members of the royal house. What if the ruler’s aspirations weren’t all that high, or their imagination was stunted—should everyone suffer?.

How did you find writing as part of continuity?

It was a privilege to be writing in a team of such talented authors, not to mention the support we all received from an excellent editorial team.

When you are writing, what is your typical day?

You really don’t want to know! I get up at five to make a start before the phone starts ringing. After that it’s hanging on to a train of thought while I do, or think about, a dozen other things.

Where do you get your inspiration for the characters that you write?

The heroine is always me—younger and far more beautiful, naturally, but me. I add all the bits (make that large chunks) that I admire in my friends, together with quirks, hobbies and interests that make someone unique. It’s great for me to imagine I’m playing a new role with each book I write.

What, in your opinion, makes a great Modern™ hero?

A Modern™ hero might appear at first meeting to be hard and unredeemable, but on closer acquaintance we find he is a true hero in every sense of the word, The leader of the pack, he is strong in both character and principle and always true to himself. He is a caring and competent individual, capable of great love as well as deep passion.

Tell us about the project you’re working on at the moment.

The love story I’m writing at the moment is about two wounded souls who if they only realised it have much in common, but the horrendous incidents in their past are pushing them apart. Can a strong man be brought to his knees by love, and can a woman who has survived a monstrous ordeal see beyond her fight for the island she loves to a man who needs her every bit as much as the islanders do?

For everyone involved in this exciting journey to

Niroli, especially Jenny and the team

at Harlequin Mills & Boon

PROLOGUE

AS HE WATCHED the tiny dot appear through the clouds the ambassador of Niroli’s throat dried. What if this precious heir to the throne should perish? And with Nico Fierezza’s addiction to extreme sports that seemed extremely likely; if not today, then some day soon. The ambassador’s nerves refused to steady even when the dot turned into six feet four of solid muscle and Nico hit the ground on target. Only Nico didn’t hit the ground, he landed like a cat.

As someone took away his parachute Nico lifted off his helmet and stared straight at the ambassador. He had detected the distinguished visitor in the same instant he had located the cross hairs on his jumping target and was relieved to see that duty rather than disaster had brought him to the field.

He maintained a distance between himself and the bickering and power play surrounding his grandfather, King Giorgio of Niroli. The Fierezza family had ruled Niroli since the Middle Ages, but Nico was a selfmade man. Niroli, a tiny island set like a jewel in the Mediterranean, was prosperous and beautiful enough to attract the glitterati from every part of the world, which was enough in itself to keep him away. He had built up his own architectural practice in London free from royal privilege or favour and could state categorically that everything he owned he had earned.

He had been drunk on adrenalin when he’d landed, feeling invincible because he’d survived against the odds the highest jump without oxygen ever recorded, but calm reason had kicked in reminding him that, like any emotion, euphoria was a dangerous deception; it clouded the mind.

Tucking his helmet under his arm, he started forward with his usual purposeful stride. He couldn’t account for the insatiable force driving him. He’d had a happy childhood, idyllic compared to most, with a mother who adored him and poured all her love into the family. Perhaps that was it, Nico thought, halting at a point where he and the ambassador could have some privacy, perhaps men like him came with an inborn gene that insisted they must break away from everything that was feminine and soft and loving and drive themselves to the limit just to know they were alive. His father had done this, taking his yacht to the limit of its capabilities, killing himself along with his brother and sister-in-law. It was a miracle his mother had survived and was a lesson he would never forget.

As the ambassador approached Nico ordered himself to go easy on the man, but there could be no compromise. He might be the grandson of the king, but he neither asked for nor expected any favours. ‘Ambassador?’ he said curtly as the portly man arrived.

‘You recognised me …’ The ambassador gave a nervous laugh.

‘Of course.’ Nico’s voice was clipped and controlled. As always he was polite, toning down his need to know in deference to the other man’s advanced age. ‘My mother?’

‘Is quite well, sir. Your grandfather too….’

Nico’s brow furrowed. Why the hesitation? As if he didn’t know. ‘His Majesty wishes to see me.’ It was a statement rather than a question. Nico never wasted his breath on unnecessary questions.

‘That is correct, sir.’

The ambassador was distracted briefly by the whoops of celebration from other skydivers in the competition. Nico’s had been a landslide victory, but he remained unmoved, his thoughts hidden behind his slate-blue gaze.

As he stroked one hand across the sun-bleached hair he kept aggressively short, Nico had no idea how intimidating he appeared to the older man. Lean and tanned from working outside in all weather, Nico Fierezza towered a good six inches over the ambassador. It didn’t matter that an architectural scheme had been conceived in the clinical surroundings of his high-tech office—Nico liked to see his cutting-edge designs up close. So while the ambassador’s hands were soft and white, Nico’s were weather-beaten and rough, and the ambassador hardly seemed to have a beard in contrast to Nico’s black, piratical stubble. But the ambassador worked for a wily monarch and was used to handling every type of situation. He had recovered from his trot across the airfield and his shrewd grey eyes missed nothing. He rested super alert like a pulsing brain as Nico began to speak.

‘Please tell His Majesty that I will attend him the moment my business allows.’

As a cheer went up and calls rang out for Nico to join the other men on the podium he made a holding gesture with the flat of his hand.

The ambassador weighed the facts. Nico Fierezza was easily the best of all the men there. Surely, he must be feeling the same charge they did, the same adrenalin rush? And yet he appeared to be in no hurry to join the celebrations and there was no hint of self-congratulation in his expression. He’d heard this grandson to the king was a stranger to emotion, and it seemed the rumours were true. Nothing could have suited his purpose better. King Giorgio was eager to put an heir in place before his health deteriorated further, and this man had all the qualities they looked for in a monarch. He put duty first and chose to reveal nothing to the outside world. There wasn’t a woman alive who could cause Nico Fierezza embarrassment. The ambassador maintained his impassive expression, but inwardly he was already celebrating.

‘Please apologise to His Majesty,’ Nico continued, ‘and tell him that I will attend him in Niroli at the earliest opportunity.’

The ambassador dipped his head. compromise was an easy thing with victory in sight. ‘His Majesty will understand. He has empowered me to ask you to attend him at a time convenient to yourself.’

The hint of a smile fed into Nico’s stern gaze. Since when had King Giorgio been any more accommodating than he was? His grandfather had to be desperate to see him if he was prepared to wait. ‘It may be one week, or two,’ he said, ‘but no longer than that.’

‘That’s excellent news,’ the ambassador said. ‘I’m sure His Majesty will be delighted.’ A flicker in Nico’s eyes warned him not to overstate the case. ‘Perhaps if we could settle on a date,’ he added.

‘I’ll let you know.’ Nico’s voice had turned hard. His message was clear: one concession was enough for today. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Ambassador …’

As he strode away Nico didn’t see the ambassador dip into the type of bow he normally reserved for the king.

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WAS A single white rose on a coffin splattered with raindrops….

It made Carrie sad to see the tender bloom lying on the brass plate that spoke to a world that would never read it: the name of an aunt who had never loved her. But love could not be controlled at will, and Carrie had loved her aunt in spite of the woman’s rejection of her. Sad as she was, Carrie was glad there were some things words could never destroy and that love was one of them.

‘Carrie Evans?’

Carrie turned to find a man standing behind her. He was sheltering beneath the oily spread of a black umbrella, which made the shadows on his saturnine face all the deeper, adding to his air of gloom. There were only four people at her aunt’s funeral other than herself—the minister and three undertakers—and it was hard to feel brave as the small group peeled away to allow her some privacy. Lifting up her chin, she gazed squarely into the face of the man. ‘I’m Carrie Evans. Can I help you?’

‘Sorry, miss … I tried the house.’

Carrie didn’t know the man, but she could guess what he had come for. He was here to serve papers evicting her from her aunt’s house on the instructions of relatives who hadn’t been to visit Aunt Mabel in Carrie’s living memory. A solicitor had rung her yesterday to explain.

Yesterday, the day when everything in her life had changed for good….

Carrie was twenty-five, but she looked much younger. Her complexion was pale and she dressed conservatively, keeping her luxuriant hair scraped back neatly in a practical twist. She found the lush tresses an embarrassment. Her natural hair colour was a rich golden red that painters called titian, and she believed it better suited to an actress or a glamour model. She had even thought about dying her hair a pale shade of brown, but the upkeep would have been too much on a secretary’s salary. Her eyes were large and cornflower-blue and were perhaps her most expressive feature. Widely set and fringed with sable lashes, they were quick to darken with emotion, but could turn steely when there was something or someone to defend.

The man addressing Carrie saw a capable young woman, a little too plump to ever be called stylish, but determined, nonetheless, he concluded.

‘I have already cleared my belongings from my late aunt’s house,’ she told him without rancour, ‘and as soon as we’re finished here I will collect my suitcase and deliver the house keys to my aunt’s solicitor….’

She couldn’t do any more, and he felt some sympathy for her. He’d heard she had nowhere to go since her aunt’s heirs had turned up and laid claim to the house where she lived. ‘You’re so well organised,’ he said, trying to soften the blow for her, ‘I hardly need to give you this….’

‘I think you do,’ she told him.

Her tone was serious and exposed his attempt to console her for the sham it was. She held his gaze as she reached for the documents he was carrying and, as he handed over the eviction notice, he couldn’t help thinking that, in spite of the downturn in her fortunes, the young woman in front of him possessed a quiet dignity that commanded his respect.

She had forgotten how cold and bare her attic room was. The eviction notice allowed her twenty-four hours to clear out her things. She neither wanted nor needed twenty-four hours. She missed her aunt, but she was pleased to be leaving such a sad and lonely place. Her aunt’s house could so easily have been filled with love and laughter if only Aunt Mabel had been able to forget that Carrie’s father had chosen Carrie’s mother over herself.

But things could be worse. Carrie’s mouth tipped down wryly as she totted up the facts. She was jobless, homeless, single and pregnant.

Carrie’s wry smile turned into a smile of true happiness when she thought about her baby. The pregnancy was a source of great joy to her that nothing could dim. She was going to have someone to love; someone who would love her, someone she could care for and champion. The only problem was her baby’s father. He would have to be told. He had a right to know, Carrie thought, even as her stomach clenched with apprehension.

Unfortunately, her baby’s father was the hardest and most unfeeling man she had ever known. He was about as approachable as a tiger with a thorn in its pad. He was also the man she was in love with, the man she had loved since the first moment she had set eyes on him; the only man she could ever love … The same man who barely knew she was alive. And the longer she left it, the harder it would be to tell him that he was about to become a father.

Crossing her arms over her stomach in a protective gesture, Carrie determined she would not allow anything to stand in the way of her baby’s future happiness, certainly not her own lack of nerve. She had to face up to him and she would. She didn’t want anything for herself, but she did want recognition and security for her child. Her baby’s father was a very wealthy man and she wondered if he could be persuaded to set up a trust fund to provide for college fees when the time came.

Before Carrie had learned she was pregnant she had dreamed of leaving the office where she had worked as a secretary to try and turn her hobby of painting into a profession, but that was out of the question now. She planned instead to find some cheap accommodation and work until the baby came. Her goal was to build up a small nest egg so that one day she could buy a modest property with a child-friendly garden. A solid base was important. She didn’t want a child of hers to be pushed from pillar to post as she had been after her parents’ tragic accident. She might be homeless today, but not for long.

Nico Fierezza. It was the only name the King of Niroli had allowed to be spoken in his presence for days, and he had just been informed that his grandson Nico was on the final flight path to Niroli.

Nico piloting his own jet. King Giorgio’s mouth curved with appreciation. Nico lived the life he would have enjoyed had not royal duty claimed him. And now the only task remaining in his long and eventful life was to tame this wild grandson of his and persuade him to accept the throne.

Tame Nico Fierezza? King Giorgio’s eyes clouded over. Even a king might find that a challenge. Then his crafty gaze brightened. Maybe there wasn’t a man alive who could tame Nico Fierezza, but a woman might …

What was he doing in Niroli? Nico asked himself as he brought his jet down in a perfect landing. What was he doing back on this small, lush, glamorous island? Niroli, the island of dreams for so many, but not for him.

He was happy to undertake the odd restoration project of the sort he had recently completed for his cousin Isabella, or even to design major projects like the new airportterminal building. But his life was in London. The only things he had missed about Niroli were his mother, Princess Laura, and his brothers, Luca and Max. His younger brother, Max, was fully committed to the wine groves he cared for, and his older brother, Luca, owned the casino that contributed so much to the island’s wealth. Luca had run the casino himself for years, but after a whirlwind romance he had recently married and moved to his bride’s native Australia to develop his business interests over there. Nico was the only member of his family to have inherited the restless gene, and right now that gene was killing him, urging him to leave the island before he had even halted the jet.

Nico’s lips tightened with impatience as he taxied in to the premier spot. They had laid out the red carpet for him. When would they ever learn that pomp and ceremony were the very last things that would lure him back to Niroli? But this was his first visit to the island since the tragedy of the yachting accident. Half his immediate family gone and the weight of their loss still hung heavily on him. Was his time so precious he couldn’t spare any for his remaining family?

He would do what he could to reassure his ageing grandfather and then he’d spend some time with the rest of his family. But not too much time. He didn’t want to raise false hope. He could do the maths as well as anyone. There were three surviving male heirs ahead of him, and he had no doubt they had all found some reason to exclude themselves from the succession, which meant he was next on the list.

Why else would his grandfather want to see him?

Whatever King Giorgio’s reason, it didn’t change a thing; he wasn’t interested in the throne.

Nico’s reasons for refusing the throne of Niroli went far beyond his restless nature. He wouldn’t accept anything under false pretences and knew that the last thing Niroli needed was another king desperately casting about for an heir some time in the future. A childhood illness had left him infertile, which meant marriage and long-term relationships had always been out of the question. He didn’t dwell on it, and in some ways it suited him, because he didn’t answer to anyone.

She couldn’t tell the father of her baby the news over the telephone. She had no alternative other than to face the lion in his den….

Lifting her suitcase as the underground train slowed to a halt, Carrie squeezed her way through the press of commuters. When she finally saw the light of day again she put her suitcase down and turned her collar up. It was a typical summer’s day in London with rain sheeting down from pewter skies. And every cab was taken, which was hardly a surprise. One drop of rain was always enough to ensure that was the case, and this was a full-blown summer storm.

Picking up her bag, Carrie started to walk at a brisk pace towards the commercial centre of the city where she had been employed as a secretary. It seemed so long ago, though it had only been three months since she had left her job on a point of principle.

More pride than principle, Carrie accepted, shivering with cold. Aunt Mabel, never one to miss an opportunity, had immediately dismissed her nursing staff and hired Carrie in their place. It was a job Carrie had been pleased to do. Aunt Mabel hadn’t paid her, but at least she had felt useful, as if she was earning the right to her board and lodgings, though, of course, she had paid for those, too. In her naïvety, she had hoped by working for her aunt it would bring them closer.

She knew better than to expect miracles now, but whatever happened she would cope with it. Apart from sharing the news of her pregnancy with her baby’s father, she was after a reference. With a baby to support she had to find something more than casual work and had left her job in such a hurry she had overlooked the practicalities. Where had her brain been?

Somewhere below Nico Fierezza’s belt, Carrie accepted grimly as she shouldered her way into his sleek steel-and-glass office building. She had been so overwhelmed by Nico noticing her at all that she had been swept into a fantasy of her own making without any thought of the consequences.

The first discovery Carrie made was that the girl who had once been her assistant was now office supervisor. Meek and mild to haughty in twelve weeks flat, which wasn’t bad going, Carrie conceded as she braved the girl’s disdainful stare.

‘Not there.’ The emery board that had been busily sawing at some impressive red talons took a break. ‘If you leave your case there it will drip on the carpet.’

‘I seem to be doing that, anyway,’ Carrie pointed out, holding onto her composure by the thinnest of threads. ‘Do you mind if I take off my coat and hang it up to dry?’

The girl shrugged.

‘Is Nico in?’

‘Mr Fierezza? I’m afraid you can’t just drop in here on the off chance that Mr Fierezza will see you. He’s a very busy man. You will have to make a proper appointment.’

‘I appreciate the fact that he’s busy …’ When was Nico not busy? ‘I’m prepared to wait if I have to, but would you mind telling him that I’m here?’

‘Why can’t I help you?’ The girl’s gaze sharpened as she looked at Carrie.

‘Are you going to call him? Or shall I go straight in?’ Straightening her back, Carrie left the girl in no doubt that she would.

‘It won’t help you to go—’

The girl moved faster than Carrie could have imagined, leaping in front of her to bar the way to Nico’s office. ‘He isn’t here,’ she said smugly.

Carrie’s shoulders slumped. The news was a real blow.

‘Carrie!’

Carrie’s heart lifted as she turned to see an older woman advancing on them like a galleon in full sail.

‘Great to see you, Carrie! What are you doing here?’ Linking arms, she led Carrie away.

Carrie couldn’t believe her luck. Sonia Farraday was one of her favourite people. Legend had it that Sonia came with the building, but Carrie knew that Sonia was the hub around which everything in Nico’s London office revolved when he was away.

‘Let me get you a hot drink—you’re soaked through,’ Sonia insisted. ‘Come into my den. And, Shelley …’ Sonia’s voice hardened ‘.find a cloth and dry off Carrie’s suitcase.

‘Honestly,’ Sonia added as she bustled Carrie into her pin-neat room, ‘young women these days!’ Her gutsy laugh proved exactly why Carrie liked her so much. ‘Now then, what can I do for you?’ Sonia demanded once they were both seated.

‘I need to speak to Nico, Sonia.’

‘Hmm.’ Sonia sat back. ‘That’s not so easy. Nico isn’t in London and he won’t be back for some time. As soon as he’s tied up all the loose ends on his latest project Nico’s going to visit his family in Niroli. There are rumours he may stay there indefinitely,’ she confided with a meaningful glance.

‘In Niroli?’ Carrie paled.

‘He doesn’t share everything with me. Nico keeps his private life private, as you know. He’ll tell me what he intends to do when he’s ready and not before.’ Sonia’s shrewd gaze sharpened as it rested on Carrie’s face. ‘Why don’t you let me get you that drink now? You look worn out. When I come back we’ll have another chat, and then I’ll make some calls and see if I can help you….’

Carrie nodded dumbly as Sonia left her. Nico living in Niroli was a complication she hadn’t factored into her thinking. And now she had aroused Sonia’s curiosity, and she didn’t want to confide in her. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Sonia, but Nico had to be the first to know about their baby.

As she sat waiting in the office Carrie stared thoughtfully at the computer. Nico’s address in Niroli would be there somewhere, and if her password hadn’t changed she could bring it up on the screen….

It only took her a few minutes and then she sat back stunned by what she had discovered. Nico didn’t have an address in Niroli; not as such—he kept an apartment at the palace. She had known Nico was the king’s grandson, but perhaps because he had never made anything of it she had always thought of him as a lesser royal, a man whose connections to the glittering court were so distant as to be insignificant. But now she knew better. Nico Fierezza was not only a member of the ruling family of Niroli, he lived in the palace.

Her baby’s father lived in a palace!

It made her mission to find Nico a lot bigger challenge, but not impossible, Carrie determined as Sonia bustled back into the room with a tray of coffee. ‘Now, drink this up,’ Sonia told her warmly. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Are you sure you’re looking after yourself properly, Carrie?’

Sonia was fishing, Carrie realised. ‘I’m doing fine. It’s just so cold outside.’

‘You should be back in this nice warm office. We miss you.’

It was another prompt, Carrie realised, but she couldn’t accept the opening Sonia was giving her. She could never work for Nico again after what had happened between them.

When they had finished their coffee Sonia was as good as her word, and it only took a couple of calls for her to establish that Nico was in Niroli.

Niroli. The island was a legend. It was a smarter and more glamorous world than she could ever imagine. Nico belonging there made him seem more remote and unapproachable than ever.

Sensing Carrie’s reluctance to talk, Sonia didn’t press her, but when the time came for her to leave, Sonia insisted, ‘You mustn’t walk to the underground in this weather, Carrie, or you’ll catch your death of cold. I’m going to call a cab for you. Are you still at the same address?’

As Sonia’s hand hovered over the telephone receiver Carrie accepted that what the older woman had told her changed everything, but she couldn’t embroil Sonia in her difficulties. She had a child to protect now and must stand on her own two feet. ‘If you could call a taxi that would be great, but if you don’t mind I’ll decide where I’m going when it gets here….’

CHAPTER TWO

IT WASN’T as if she had any ties holding her in England, Carrie reflected as the plane banked steeply on the final approach to Niroli and, in spite of her apprehension, she couldn’t suppress her excitement at the thought of seeing Nico again. Her hands tightened around the in-flight magazine in which she had found pictures of the palace taken from the air. Just the thought of trying to gain entrance to somewhere so splendid made her heart race. The question was, could she do it?

She had to do it, Carrie determined, stuffing the magazine back in its net. Staring out of the window, she tried to distract herself. She could see the bright blue ocean far below dotted with tiny boats and, in the distance, the coastline of Niroli, edged with pale golden sand. The island looked so tranquil from the sky she didn’t want to think about the drama that was about to unfold, but she wouldn’t dodge it, either. There was some irony in the situation. When Nico had hired her he’d said it was her quiet perseverance that had brought her to his notice, and now that same determination was about to be turned against him….

She was pregnant because they’d had sex at the office party. It was such a cliché, she could hardly believe it herself, but she had always been ready for Nico; he’d only had to look at her a certain way. She had been hovering on the fringes of the party with a wineglass in her hand. She wasn’t good at small talk, the words would never come quickly enough, and if they did, they were invariably the wrong words. People couldn’t be bothered to wait while she tried to find something witty or fascinating to say. She hadn’t drunk a lot, just a glass or two of wine. In fact, she had been wondering how soon she could slip away without causing offence. It had been during one of those ‘poised for flight’ moments that Nico had sought her out.

‘All alone, Carrie?’

Her heart performed a perfect somersault. Nico Fierezza had never spoken to her outside office hours. Yet he’d been there standing right next to her, so close she could smell his cologne and could separate each complex note: musk, sandalwood, vanilla and an additional edge of something that hinted of warm water and toothpaste and long, hot, soapy showers—

‘Daydreaming?’ He’d broken into her thoughts with that low, husky voice that’d always made her tremble inwardly when she was taking notes for him.

‘That’s not like you, Carrie,’ he’d observed.

The note of censure had made her stare up into slateblue eyes she had never felt brave enough to study before. Then she’d seen they had a striking pewter ring around the iris and that the whites were very white against his tan.

‘I’ve been watching you….’

The fact that he’d even noticed her was news, indeed, and the touch of humour in his voice had ensured that her attention remained fixed to his face. But, as usual, nothing sparkling had flown to her lips. It’d been the most exciting moment of her life and she’d been speechless. She’d taken in Nico’s lashes, so long and thick and black like the stubble on his cheeks, and then her pulse had gone wild when he’d smiled into her eyes.

‘Are you all right? Can I get you something before we land?’

Shocked into the present, Carrie gasped out loud. She had been gripping the seat arms, she realised, which the flight attendant had mistaken for nerves. ‘Nothing, nothing, thank you….’

As the woman walked away Carrie tried to shut the memories out, but Nico’s voice was in her head. Nico teasing her, Nico telling her she was his strait-laced secretary with the big innocent eyes and there were questions he wanted answered … She was spellbound that he was interested in anything other than her secretarial skills. And then he’d said something extraordinary: ‘You must know you’ve been under my wing since you got here….’

Under Nico’s wing? Her mind went into free fall. She’d hoarded up each time he’d smiled at her like a miser hoarding gold, but she’d always believed he was encouraging her to do better, to work harder….

‘I love your modesty,’ he’d gone on. ‘I find subtlety in a woman incredibly attractive….’

Attractive? Nico found her attractive? His words had echoed in her head like a siren call. And then she’d found her voice, but only to stutter clumsily, ‘I’ve not … I mean, I’m not.’

‘If I’ve got this wrong just say the word …’ His voice had been teasing.

What word? None came to mind.

‘I want you, Carrie….’

The moment he’d said that she was lost. She wanted Nico so badly it hurt. And then he’d leaned back against the wall, his timing impeccable. She had been so sure he was about to take her in his arms that she swayed towards him, which was all the answer Nico had been looking for.

She might have made a sound when he’d removed the wineglass from her hand, but she was certainly struck dumb when he’d taken her from the party, lead her by the hand across the room. She’d followed him willingly; she would have followed him anywhere.

When they’d reached the boardroom he’d shut and locked the door. Then, gathering her to him, he’d used the lightest and most persuasive touch on her arms as if asking her permission to go further. She’d given it gladly. He hadn’t needed to ask, her body’d melted like candle wax. She’d not only been willing, she’d been eager to serve. Nico Fierezza was a god amongst men. He was the only man she had ever wanted and it’d been a dream come true. He could have done anything with her.

Nico was everything she had imagined and more. He was tender, loving, considerate and hotter than a man had any right to be. While he’d dropped kisses on her neck above the chaste white barrier of her Peter Pan collar he’d freed the buttons on her blouse with long, deft fingers. Soothing and exciting her at the same time with his lips, tongue and teeth, he’d suggested all sorts of wickedness in husky Nirolian. She’d been so aroused she’d yelped in complaint when he’d paused to push her neatly tailored jacket from her shoulders. But as it was only a short pause, she’d forgiven him, and then her blouse was open to the waist and her heavy breasts in the fine lace bra were fully exposed for his perusal. She’d felt a moment’s shame knowing her bras were far too small for her and she had been meaning to buy more, but the expression on Nico’s face had told her to relax. He’d approved. He’d loved her breasts. He’d loved the way they’d spilled over the confining cups and he’d loved the fact that her nipples had been so engorged they’d pressed like tight red buds against the flimsy lace.

Arching her back, she’d thrust them towards him, making her breasts a gift to him, her first gift to Nico….

Carrie flinched now as the flight attendant lightly touched her hand.

‘We’ve been forced to circle the airport, but we’ll be down on the ground very soon….’

‘Thank you for telling me.’

‘A drink of water, perhaps?’

‘I’m fine, honestly … just a little tense.’And just a little concerned that her guilty thoughts were an open book to the woman!

‘It’s understandable,’ the flight attendant said sympathetically. ‘There’s been a lot of turbulence, but it’s nothing to worry about. In ten minutes or so it will be all over and your holiday will have begun.’

Her holiday? If only! Carrie smiled. ‘Thank you … I’m not usually so much trouble….’

‘No trouble at all,’ the flight attendant assured her, moving on to attend to another nervous passenger.

She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted like this, Carrie told herself firmly. She had to make a conscious effort to blank Nico out of her mind. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on happy thoughts about the tiny child growing inside her until a light touch on her shoulder told her that the flight attendant was back with her water. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘That’s what we’re here for.’

The small kindness brought tears to Carrie’s eyes. She knew her hormones were to blame, but took it as a warning that she must be careful to keep a check on her feelings when she met Nico. She must give him no reason to think her weak.

She drank the water down quickly and closed her eyes, trying to shut her mind to everything, but soon she was drifting into the half world somewhere between waking and sleeping where Nico was waiting for her. She couldn’t blame him for what had happened. She had been as eager as he that night and had turned from meltingly acquiescent to fiercely demanding in the space of a kiss….

Everyone knew Nico was strong, but that night she had discovered that his body felt like warm marble beneath her hands. The intimacy of touching his naked skin had given her an incredible charge. From that moment on she had been able to think of nothing but him sinking deep inside her.

Nico had known exactly what she’d wanted. His hands had been sure as they’d reached for the fastening on her skirt. She had encouraged him, laughing softly, nipping his skin with her small white teeth until he’d appeared to change his mind. Nico had had other plans for her. Swinging her into his arms, he had settled her on the edge of the boardroom table where she was at the perfect height for him. As he had nudged his way between her thighs she had wriggled impatiently, lifting her hips this way and that to make it easier for him to remove her briefs….

A sudden jolt flung Carrie into full consciousness. They had landed, she realised with surprise. Time to put her jacket on … gather her things. Would she ever escape Nico, waking or sleeping?

‘You can let go of the arm rests now and relax,’ the flight attendant told her with a smile.

If only it were that easy. ‘Thank you for everything.’

The girl paused with her hand on the back of Carrie’s seat. ‘We’ll be taxiing for around ten minutes before we reach the terminal building, so you’ll have plenty of time to organise yourself. You’ll have someone meeting you, I expect?’

No, no one. As loneliness washed over her Carrie realised why she had behaved the way she had on the night of the party. She had wanted to be with someone who wanted her … And when that someone had been Nico …’No, there’s no one meeting me,’ she admitted, spinning the words on a note of optimism. ‘This is my first solo trip and I’m looking forward to it.’

‘You know, I’ve always wanted to go it alone. I admire you.’

There was nothing to admire, Carrie thought, maintaining her upbeat expression. ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’

As the flight attendant hurried away Carrie wondered if anything could blunt the passion she felt for Nico and allow her to think clearly. He didn’t make it easy. ‘Not yet, mouse, I set the pace …’ That was what he had said to her at the party and she had been happy to fall into line. All that had to change now. No one challenged Nico, but she would now for the sake of their child.

It wasn’t as if she was unprepared. She had played the scene where she told him about their baby over and over again in her head, preparing for rejection. She had even drafted the accusations for him: she should have been more responsible; she should have taken precautions; she should have been on the pill at the very least. Condoms? Condoms took a degree of forward thinking and there had been no time for that….

Freeing her seat belt and standing up, Carrie eased her way into the packed aisle. As she waited for the line to move forward a woman in front of her turned and said, ‘Perfect, isn’t it?’

Nico had said she was perfect….

No one had a door into her thoughts, Carrie told herself firmly. The woman was only making a comment about the sun-drenched landscape as they waited to disembark. ‘Yes, perfect,’ she agreed pleasantly, trying to blank the precise moment Nico had said that to her. But it was too late. She was already remembering Nico releasing the clasp on his jeans, lowering the zipper and freeing himself. Helping her to lift her legs and lock them around his waist, he’d leaned over her, pressed her knees back and said, ‘Perfect …’

Her cheeks were on fire as she forced her thoughts back onto a practical track. It was important to keep her wits about her. She had nowhere to stay and very little money … So she would just have to take it one step at a time, Carrie reasoned calmly. First, she would find a bed for the night and then she would find Nico.

Doubt hit her again as she stepped onto the tarmac. As she looked around and inhaled the warm, spicy air she could tell that Niroli was even more glamorous and exclusive than she had thought. Even the airport officials were elegant. She felt pallid and shabby by comparison, just as she had on the night of the party….

Staring at her face in the bathroom mirror after they’d made love she had compared herself to the other women at the party and known she was plain. Her glorious hair was a bad joke that had landed on the wrong head. Just like one of the paper dolls she had played with as a child she was all jumbled up—the wrong eyes in the wrong face on the wrong body. It wasn’t possible that Nico would want her for herself. Nico had wanted sex, and that was all. She had lost her virginity to a man who treated sex like a fast-food meal and used her like a disposable container.

And she was totally innocent of course, Carrie thought dryly, glancing up as she tried to orientate herself and search for some signs to Baggage Reclaim. She had encouraged Nico with everything she’d had, and, unsurprisingly, he had given in without a fight. The moment he had cupped her buttocks in his work-roughened hands was something she would never forget. She had rubbed herself against him, loving the sensation and knowing that for all his power in the boardroom Nico was a man who used physical strength as well as brainpower on-site. One of his greatest pleasures, he had confessed during a meeting where she had been taking notes, was to see his designs rise from the paper and take three-dimensional shape. He liked to see, touch, feel and suck everything he could out of each new experience.

She had always believed this thoroughness accounted for his success; she knew it made him a fantastic lover. She had been frantic by the time he had moved lightly back and forth and, when he had allowed the tip to catch inside her, it had shot the breath from her lungs like a punch. But he had pulled back before she’d had chance to close around him, by which time her body had been liquid fire. Working her nails cruelly into his bunched-up muscles, she had begged him, ‘Nico, please …’

‘Please, what?’

‘You know what I want….’

‘Do I?’ He had seemed amused, and she’d gone way too far to pull back.

Face it, Carrie, you didn’t want to pull back.

Carrie tried not to smile as she heaved her suitcase off the carousel, but it wasn’t easy when she remembered the next time she had bucked towards him Nico had taken her deep.

Thinking about Nico was one way to get through the tedium of airport formalities, Carrie reflected, responding to a prompt to move forward in the queue. Handing over her passport, she smiled thinly in response to the immigration official’s well-mannered scrutiny. Her mood had flattened, tiredness, maybe, or perhaps she had just reached the point in her reminiscences where it had all gone wrong. It had happened when Nico had said he loved her, because what he had actually said was, ‘I love my mouse.’ By reducing her to a cartoon image, Carrie guessed, Nico found it easier to brush her off. He didn’t love Carrie Evans, he loved the compliant mouse she had allowed him to think her.

Carrie’s mood had deteriorated to the point where she was scanning the departure board for flights home by the time she’d walked across the concourse, but the moment she walked outside she changed her mind. Her artist’s eye was immediately drawn to the richness and variety of the colours all around her. Fuchsia-tinted bougainvillea tumbled down yellow-sandstone walls and there was an imposing water feature in front of the terminal building throwing cascades of glittering spray into the air. Then she remembered Nico had designed the building and came back to earth with a bump.

What would he say when she told him about the baby?

What could he say?

Whatever happened she would never think of her baby as a mistake. Loving Nico was the only mistake she had made. Picking up her case, Carrie walked briskly towards the taxi rank.

The taxi driver, clearly proud of his beautiful island home, gave her a running commentary as he drove towards the old city of Niroli. The island had a colourful history, filled with ancient rivalries, rebels and kings. She learned that Nico’s family’s fortune had been founded on ancient trading routes, thanks to the island’s tactically advantageous position to the south of Sicily.

Gradually Carrie found herself relaxing. The sky was so blue, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight and everywhere she looked there was something new and interesting to see … ruined castles, vineyards, orange groves and fields and, leaning forward, she could see mountains capped with snow….

Niroli was beautiful, and it was easy for her to understand the elderly taxi driver’s pride in his homeland. The only problem was his old taxi lacked air-conditioning and she was still wearing her heavy London suit. It was too late to wish she had been less impetuous and had thought to bring more clothes. When had she ever found calm reason possible where Nico was concerned?

Certainly not the morning after the party, Carrie thought as the taxi driver fell silent. She had taken such care with her appearance, knowing she was going to see Nico again. From her small stock of clothes she had chosen the best of her sombre suits and a sensible top. She hadn’t wanted to look like a tease. She had felt shy and embarrassed, remembering her wantonness, her brazen pleading….

She had known it wasn’t going to be easy to face him again, and the last thing she’d wanted was to give Nico the wrong idea. She had known the party was over.

But even so, deep inside she had harboured a kernel of hope … She had brushed her hair until it had gleamed, and had toyed with the idea of leaving it down, but as long hair was impractical in the office she had drawn it back before applying a touch of lipstick. She wasn’t good at makeup, but she had made a special effort that day.

Her pulse had been off the scale, her body humming with awareness when she’d spotted Nico. He had been coming out of a breakfast meeting and she’d had to wait on tenterhooks for him to finish talking to a colleague. But then he’d walked past her….

‘Good morning, Nico …’

She had to call again before he turned. And then his face had lit up, making her heart thunder.

‘Oh, good, you’re here.’ He’d squeezed her arm and looked down into her eyes, all charm, all warmth … and well-honed professional courtesy. ‘Scan these documents and get them back to me ASAP, will you, Carrie? We’ve got a rush on—’ He’d pushed some papers into her hands, hands that had been holding him in the most intimate way only hours before. ‘And could you bring some coffee to the boardroom?’

Sure of her answer, sure of her, he hadn’t even bothered to turn around.

The boardroom had looked the same way it always did: stylish, clinical, perfect. Perfect for serious study and discussion, that was.

She’d done everything Nico’d asked of her that day and then she’d hung around after work like a kid with a crush. She’d waited until the office had emptied and the cleaners had arrived. Nico had still been at work in his office with the door closed. She’d had to do something, so she’d knocked on the door and poked her head round.

‘Hi …’

He’d looked up, distracted. He’d had some plans in front of him and she could tell he hadn’t want to be disturbed.

‘Did you want something, Carrie?’

His eyes had been empty; they’d held nothing for her. Nico had been her boss and nothing more. The Nico she had encountered at the party might have been an imposter. To save face she’d told him a lie. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Nico. I saw your light on and thought I’d pop by to see if you needed anything before I left.’

Dark eyes scanned her briefly. ‘Nothing. Thank you, Carrie. You get home now. No need for you to stay late….’

The end.

It had come as swiftly and comprehensively as that.

It was over. As far as Nico had been concerned it had never begun. He’d seen no reason for them to feel awkward in the office. It was a one-off he had taken in his stride, and so should she. They had been hungry for sex and had gorged themselves on each other. No problem.

No problem … After that she couldn’t remain working for him—her pride wouldn’t allow her to. She loved him. She always would. And so she’d handed in her notice quietly like the mouse he’d thought her, making no fuss, simply saying that her aunt needed her to be at home.

The aftermath of her short-lived affair with Nico was more pain than Carrie cared to remember. She had been heartbroken and had cried herself to sleep each night, waking to each grey, unwanted day, still tired, still punishing herself for her foolishness. There had been no sunshine that summer, or if there had been she hadn’t noticed it. All she remembered was the rain. It had rained and rained, matching her tear for tear as if she were engaged in some bizarre competition with the weather. And when she hadn’t been crying she’d been raging at her stupidity, raging at the virginity she had thrown away on a man who didn’t want her….

Until one day the sun had shone and she had sat up in bed and asked herself: was any man worth so much grief? That was the day she’d discovered she was pregnant with Nico’s baby. She’d known then she had to wise up and toughen up. Ripping the blindfold off, she had accepted that Nico Fierezza had never pretended to be Mr Average, or Mr Comfort-Zone. Nico was a law unto himself and she had always known it. But she wasn’t his mouse. She wasn’t anybody’s mouse. But she was going to be somebody’s mother. And she was going to fight for that tiny soul for the rest of her life.

CHAPTER THREE

CARRIE settled into the quaint bed-and-breakfast in the centre of town, which the taxi driver had recommended. It wasn’t far from the palace walls, and was everything he had promised her it would be: cheap, friendly and clean.

The excitement of being close to Nico kept her in a permanent state of agitation, which grew as she got ready to go out and explore for the first time. She might see him, she hoped from a distance to begin with, so she could feast her eyes and prepare for their meeting without complication.

Like everyone else at the office she had wondered about Nico’s private life. He didn’t have a wife, so, did he have a mistress? Surely, there was someone? What did Nico Fierezza do to amuse himself when he wasn’t courting danger, or at work? Carrie had always felt uncomfortable when she had heard her colleagues discussing him. It had made her feel protective towards him. She had wanted to tell them to leave him alone, but that would have given away her true feelings. She knew why they were fascinated. Nico’s restlessness made women want to tie him down. He pursued danger and they pursued him. Nico lived his life on the edge, and they wanted to be part of it. By not putting himself in the way of gossip he had only succeeded in making himself more talked about, more desired. He gave the impression of a man searching for something just outside his reach. Women knew this and it made him irresistible; it made them long to be his final destination.

She paused to search the street as she left the hotel. Searching for Nico had become a reflex action. And one she had to snap out of, Carrie told herself firmly. But soon her mood lifted. It was hard not to smile when the weather was so beautiful and the people were so friendly. She had barely taken a dozen steps before someone greeted her with a smile.

That was what living in a warm country did for you, Carrie reflected. People came out of their shell as if they wanted you to share in their good fortune at living in such a lovely country. And Niroli was beautiful. She could understand that Nico might want to stay here for ever, though her heart squeezed tight at the thought of it. She had to remind herself that her priority now was a change of clothes. Her budget was tight, but she could afford a simple summer dress and a pair of sandals.

The winding streets lined with boutiques invited investigation and, as Carrie turned onto one offering tempting views of the harbour, she imagined what it might have been like to have discovered it with Nico. Steeply banked steps lined with iron handrails led down to the sea, and she could picture them running hand in hand. Nico steadying her and both of them laughing beneath the strings of brightly coloured washing.

But that was just a foolish fantasy, and exploring had to wait for another day. She had to buy something cool to wear, or she would melt.

She stepped out of the sunlight into the fridge-like temperature of a small boutique. A bell rang deep in the interior of the shop and she could hear a woman talking in an imperious voice somewhere out of sight.

Everyone would be attending to her, Carrie reasoned, taking care not to touch any of the expensive clothes. She realised she must have strayed into one of the most exclusive designer boutiques on the island, and didn’t need to look at the price tags to know there was nothing here she could afford. But she could hardly walk out. The best thing was to wait and ask one of the assistants for directions to the nearest high street store.

Carrie pressed back, making herself invisible as a customer appeared in a flurry of self-importance. The older woman was tall and svelte, and a group of young women rushed in her wake, each of them carrying an elaborate evening gown cloaked in a transparent protective cover. A sleek black limousine swept up to the kerb right on cue, and a chauffeur in full uniform leapt out. Opening the rear door with a flourish, he bowed low as he waited for his elegant passenger to step inside. Once settled, the woman dismissed him with a flick of her wrist.

Carrie was fascinated and, as the limousine swept away and the street fell silent again, she knew it only reinforced her impression that the island Nico called home was out of her league. What more surprises lurked behind the island’s beautiful face?

‘And that was just the principessa’s lady-in-waiting …’

As the young assistant burst through the door Carrie had to laugh as the young girl made a fanning motion in front of her mouth as if her fingers were on fire.

‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting, signorina,’ she said, still smiling at Carrie. ‘Can I help you?’

Seeing herself in one of the mirrors, Carrie lost confidence for a moment. Even after straightening herself out at the hotel, by comparison with the young shop assistant she looked unfashionably dull. ‘I was hoping you could tell me where to find the nearest department store?’

‘A department store in Niroli?’ The girl quickly hid her amazement. ‘We don’t have one, signorina. But we do have a lovely market,’ she added, ‘and that’s just down the street. There are some very good clothing stalls on the market. I use them myself. Would you like me to show you?’

Warming to the young girl’s friendliness, Carrie found it went a long way to restoring her self-confidence and allowed her to ask the question she was dying to ask. ‘When you said that was just the principessa’s lady-in-waiting, to whom were you referring?’

‘To Principessa Anastasia.’ The girl pulled a face. ‘The woman you saw was the Contessa di Palesi.’ She pulled an even bigger face. ‘They are staying at the palace and the contessa is the principessa’s principal lady-in-waiting.’

As the girl continued to grimace comically Carrie forced a laugh, but inside she was in pieces. She had always known it would turn out like this and that Nico would choose someone from his own class, but having her worst fears confirmed made her heart clench tight. She hated the thought of a princess staying at the palace with Nico, but as there was no hiding from the truth and she was curious. ‘Why was the contessa so angry?’

‘Because there is an important dinner at the palace tonight and the principessa’s gown is missing a button.’ The girl shrugged. ‘She won’t wear it, of course. Not even if we sew it on again. “How can the principessa wear damaged goods?”’ The young girl started to giggle after doing a good impression of the contessa’s voice. ‘And so we have provided the principessa with a selection of gowns to choose from.’

Carrie could only wonder at the sort of wealth that allowed someone to discard a dress merely because it was missing a button, and the girl’s phrase ‘damaged goods’ rang in her ears. Would that be how Nico saw her now?

Carrie forced her thoughts onto another, more practical course. ‘Do you think I’ll be able to buy a summer dress and some sandals at the market?’

‘Certo,’ the young girl replied, smiling encouragement. ‘There is a lovely stall where I buy such things, myself. You will find it just beneath the walls of the palace. Here, let me show you. Can you see it?’

Carrie’s pulse picked up pace as she stared at the palace. She already knew that the ancient building was much bigger and far more impressive than the photographs in the in-flight magazine had suggested. Even from her bedroom window at the top of the hotel she had to crane her neck to see the pennants flying on the battlements. Pennants she knew now must be flying in honour of Princess Anastasia. It didn’t take much to imagine what a prominent member of another European royal family was doing at the palace with Nico, or why there was an important dinner tonight … Could she have chosen a worse time to deliver her news? Nico was rich in his own right, he was highly successful and well respected, plus he was the grandson of a king. Why else would Princess Anastasia be staying at the palace if not to announce their betrothal?

Carrie hid her anxiety as she said goodbye to the young shop assistant, but she was racked by the knowledge that, although she carried Nico’s child, unlike Princess Anastasia she was firmly locked out on the wrong side of the palace walls.

It was while she was walking towards the market that Carrie saw a notice advertising a tour of the old city that took in part of the palace. If she could get inside.

Even as her spirits soared a wave of nausea swept over her, reminding her to take cover from the sun and buy some water. The heat was relentless and the physical effects of her pregnancy could often steal her strength away like this.

Having bought the water, she drank it down and was just leaving the shop when the footpath across the street erupted into noisy mayhem. A storm of paparazzi appeared out of nowhere and, for a few moments, there was nothing but noise and confusion and flashlights going off.

It was Nico. Carrie held her breath; every part of her body had tensed. She didn’t need to see him to know he was there; she could feel him in every fibre of her being. And now she could see him. At least a head taller than the other men and so commanding that even the scurrying photographers had backed away to snatch their shots from a safe distance.

As if Nico would lash out at them, Carrie thought, angry on his behalf. He was a man, they were boys; what did they know?

The surge of love she felt put her back where she’d always been, stunned by Nico’s presence, by his aura, his physique. Nico Fierezza was one of the most eligible men in the world and he was also one of the most attractive. She didn’t need media photographs to know he had the face of a film star and the body of a bare-knuckled fighter. And Nico had wanted her. Nico had wanted Carrie Evans, a pallid pudding, with nothing more to recommend her than a hundred-words-a-minute typing speed. And now he was the father of her child….

Even as pride swelled inside her Carrie noticed the woman at Nico’s side, the woman he was protecting from the photographers. She was young and very beautiful. Could this be Anastasia?

Carrie couldn’t tear her gaze away from a girl so lovely she was like a princess in a fairy tale. A princess who was everything she was not. Elegant and cool, she had glossy black hair that hung like a curtain down her back, caressing her naked shoulders like a silken cape. Every inch of her was tanned a deep golden brown and her skin was smooth and flawless. Her lips were red and full and, though her eyes were hidden behind the latest designer sunglasses, her teeth were film star perfect as she smiled up at Nico.

Carrie couldn’t see Nico’s expression, but she was sure that he was smiling, too.

Why was she surprised? She had always known Nico would have a beautiful woman by his side. She had always known her one night with him was more than she deserved. It was time for her to accept that when Nico had withdrawn carefully, pulling down her skirt, and settling her on her feet, he had withdrawn from her in every way a man could withdraw from a woman….

She shrank deeper into the shadows as Nico threw a stare her way. Had he sensed her presence?

Taking no chances, Carrie pressed back against the cold stone wall. It was then that she saw the bodyguards tailing Nico and the princess to their car.

Her instincts had saved her this time, but she would have to be more careful in future. Being taken into custody in front of her baby’s father wasn’t quite what she had in mind!

CHAPTER FOUR

CARRIE found she was trembling as Nico and Anastasia drove away. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself there must be a woman in Nico’s life, seeing him with someone was more than she could bear. The blacked-out windows of his high-performance car hinted at intimate spaces and close personal contact. How could he fail to touch the princess as he leaned across? How could the princess fail to be intoxicated by Nico’s cologne, or by his clean, warm scent? Princess Anastasia was beautiful, and Nico … Nico was Nico. How could they resist each other? She had seen the way the princess looked at him.

But it was more than physical contact that she resented, much more. It was the intimacy of shared conversation and getting to know each other that tore at her heart. But she had to face facts. She didn’t stand a chance with Nico, she never had. And if he hadn’t wanted her three months ago he would hardly want her now. And when she told him about the baby … What would he think when he compared the mother of his child to Princess Anastasia?

By the time she had dredged up every negative thought and examined it twice, Carrie was close to tears. But as crying wouldn’t get her anywhere she pulled out her purse and paid the stallholder for a simple summer dress and a pair of plastic flip-flops instead.

Wasn’t that the perfect outfit for her meeting with Nico at the palace? Carrie reflected wryly. On impulse she added some new underwear to her purchases. Why not? No one would see the frivolous garments, but she would know they were there. It was a small defiance, but sometimes she found small things the most effective.

Having showered and changed into her new outfit, Carrie splashed cold water onto her face and then tied her hair back. By the time she left the guest-house the temperature was soaring and even the stone beneath her feet seemed to radiate heat, which didn’t bode well for her plastic sandals.

She hadn’t realised how far she would have to walk, or that it would all be uphill. She hadn’t thought about the shops closing in the afternoon, or the fact that they wouldn’t open again until seven that same evening. And she had forgotten her sunglasses and her sun lotion in her rush to fly to Niroli. In fact, she had forgotten all the essentials. It was unlike her to be so reckless and impetuous, but her life had never collided with Nico’s before.

Turning the corner, she frowned with concern seeing how many people were waiting to take the tour of the old city. The queue snaked round another corner out of sight, and she was already exhausted, plus she had developed blisters between her toes where the plastic thong of the flip-flops had rubbed her. Looking down, she saw her feet were bleeding.

Pausing in the shade next to one of the palace control posts, Carrie watched the vehicles driving in and out. There was a guard seated behind a glass window in a small command station, and the palace courtyard was just a tantalising few steps away. Going up to the window, she tapped on it politely.

Thanks to the young shop assistant she knew all about the state banquet, and when the officer looked up she told him that she was one of the casual staff hired for that evening to work in the kitchen.

Consulting his list, the officer shook his head.

‘I’m not there?’ Carrie pretended dismay. ‘But I must be … they’re expecting me.’

‘This is the wrong entrance,’ the man told her. ‘Waiting staff must go round the back.’ He tipped his chin.

‘What if they don’t have my name there, either?’ Carrie pressed, adding a plaintive note to her voice. Maybe she reminded the guard of his sister, or some other female he knew, because to her relief the guard’s manner changed towards her.

‘All right.’ He gave her a reassuring wink. ‘I’ll call them and tell them to expect you.’

‘Oh, would you? That’s really kind of you. Thank you so much.’ She dropped her gaze and assumed a meek expression, waiting on tenterhooks for the guard to lift his receiver and speak to his opposite number on the other gate.

Without looking at her he waved her on….

She was inside the palace! Steeling herself to inquisitive eyes, Carrie walked quickly through the servants’ door, her heart thundering with apprehension.

‘La cucina?’ she said when anyone stared directly at her. Her knowledge of Italian was limited to the name of the Italian restaurant close to her aunt’s house, which fortunately had been called La Cucina Italia, or The Italian Kitchen.

Everyone was in such a hurry to get to their appointed place no one thought to question her, or notice when she slipped away. Darting up a stone staircase, Carrie had no idea where she was heading, only that reason told her the private apartments of the royal family would be above the servants’ quarters.

This was madness, she decided, pausing on the stairwell to shed her shoes. She would have to chance her luck and take the next door she found….

Stepping cautiously through an arched doorway, Carrie lingered a moment on the plush carpet to get her bearings. She was in a long and splendid corridor where grizzled Fierezza ancestors stared down sternly from the walls. There was a faint aroma of beeswax and lavender and hangings were ruby-coloured silk.

This was Nico’s home, Carrie reminded herself, shivering as she looked around. It was imperial splendour on the grandest scale, but it was cold and unwelcoming … But Nico was here somewhere, and now all she had to do was find him.

He had to get some air. The artificial atmosphere in the air-conditioned palace was getting to him. But above that, he was in a mood so black he wouldn’t inflict it on anyone, not even his grandfather the king, who was largely responsible for it.

King Giorgio was ninety years old, a fact Nico couldn’t ignore. It was the only reason he hadn’t made his views clear in his usual blunt fashion. His grandfather had proved himself shrewd enough and hard enough to hold the throne and guide Niroli into the twenty-first century, but that didn’t give him licence to construct a future for his heirs. Nico was prepared to accommodate reasonable requests, but he would not allow his grandfather to direct his life….

Increasing the pace of his stride, he took a short cut through the covered walkway leading to the private apartments. He grew angrier as he reviewed his conversation with the king. His grandfather had offered him the kingdom of Niroli as if it were the winning ticket in a lottery. Nico Fierezza, King of Niroli? He had never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. The idea of living at court had never appealed to him. He would rather take a swim in a sea of sharks than become the ruler of a kingdom surrounded by sycophants.

His grandfather’s offer had only proved the king didn’t know him at all. What was he supposed to do? Land on the island, grab a crown and cheer? He had a life and people who depended on him away from Niroli. There wasn’t a chance he was going to leave the team who worked with him in the lurch in order to accept the crown.

But his grandfather was old and ailing, and he couldn’t turn his dearest wish down flat. And so he had agreed to withhold his final answer for a day or two, though his decision was already made. He would find a way to break the news gently to his grandfather in spite of the fact that delay went against everything he believed in.

And then there was the Princess Anastasia, the lure by which his grandfather had thought to tempt him to take the throne. She was beautiful enough, but not for him. Nico preferred his women without adornment, and his sense of humour had suffered a severe malfunction when he had found himself tricked into a lunch date with the overdressed princess. As gaudy as the pennants flying in her honour, Princess Anastasia was about as subtle in her intentions towards him as a bitch in heat.

And now there was a state dinner to sit through, which was also being held in her honour. To soften the harder blow yet to come he had agreed with his grandfather that he would partner the princess, and she was waiting for him now, no doubt sporting half a ton of diamonds.

He wasn’t exactly dressed down, himself, Nico conceded, easing his neck beneath the stiff winged collar. A state dinner required him to wear full regalia, and so he was wearing the official uniform he kept at the palace, complete with the sash that marked him out as a grandson of the king. The formality irked him, but it wouldn’t hurt him to follow tradition for one night.

And he could hardly wear jeans.

Nico’s lips curved briefly in amusement, but quickly flattened again. He had just entered the courtyard leading to the guest suite where Princess Anastasia was staying when he spotted the intruder. Some ragamuffin was sitting on the lip of the fountain dabbling her feet in the pool. ‘This area is closed to the public—’ He froze as she turned around.

‘Carrie …’ The shock hit him like a blow in the chest. What was his secretary doing here? ‘Carrie? Answer me.’ He was beginning to feel irritated. He hadn’t seen her for … how long? And she just turned up like this? Where had she been? What had happened to her? She had disappeared with no explanation at all. She hadn’t warned him, or worked her notice, or even troubled to send him a letter of resignation. Everyone in the office had missed her. He’d missed her. ‘Carrie, speak to me …’

As she stared at him events played fast forward behind his eyes. The night of the party … the devil on his back … his frustration at being forced to stand around making small talk.his gaze settling on Carrie … seeing her looking as uncomfortable as he felt and not half as good as he was at hiding it. He’d wanted to save her embarrassment and had ended up giving way to an urge that had been nagging at him since the first day they’d met. And he’d been surprised by her response—make that amazed. He’d always thought her a mouse, maybe because she had been such a calming influence in the office, going quietly about her duties, making no fuss. He had appreciated her for those very qualities, but that night had completely changed his perception of her.

‘Carrie, what’s wrong with you? Answer me …’ A rush of concern propelled him towards her, but then caution held him back. She looked tired, but today he was a prince and this was Niroli, and Carrie Evans was his secretary, or she had been once.

‘Why are you here?’ His surprise was replaced by suspicion as he ran through the possibilities in his mind. She’d come a long way to find him. Why? He’d never made her any promises. They’d been together one time, and that had been for sex. They both knew it. It could never be anything more and she’d been fine with it at the time.

She couldn’t breathe. Had she really imagined she was ready for this? The passion in Nico’s eyes reminded her of hot, steamy sex; he’d worn that same fierce, intent look then. She found him doubly intimidating dressed as a prince … doubly attractive because he was fresh from the shower, his hair still damply curling, his face already starting to darken with stubble. His cheekbones appeared carved in flint above his unforgiving mouth. How she longed to soften it….

‘Why are you here, Carrie?’ he repeated.

‘I came to see you, Nico.’ Planting her hands on the cold stone behind her she braced herself for disappointment.

‘You look exhausted.’

The concern growing in his eyes made something catch in her heart. ‘I have to talk to you … Could we go somewhere else?’ She glanced around the courtyard.

‘Why not here?’

‘Because I’d like to speak to you in private.’

Suspicion replaced the concern in his eyes. Nico’s reading of the situation was making her nervous. And then he glanced at his watch, a clear indication that he had somewhere else to be.

‘I can give you about ten minutes,’ he said.

Ten minutes.

Nico’s apartment at the palace was like nothing Carrie had ever seen before, not even in magazines. It was exquisite, delicate, refined and restrained. Classical music played softly in the background and candles flickered in silver sconces.

‘Well?’ he said, but she could see he was itching to get away and she needed his full attention.

He had to distance himself from her … he had to put physical distance between them so he couldn’t inhale her fragrant scent or feel the warmth of her body reaching out to him. Seeing her again had affected him far more than he had expected. What was it about the woman? She wasn’t beautiful. She had no skill at repartee. But even that made him smile, for he wasn’t noted for his small talk, either. She had a fabulous figure and glorious hair, but other than that she was plain. Even so, she touched him in some way he couldn’t name. She tempered him. Except in one way, of course. ‘Come on, Carrie,’ he prompted, conscious of time slipping by.

Nico was staying as far away from her as possible. She remained by the door wishing she hadn’t been so naïve, hadn’t misread the situation so badly. She could have sent him a solicitor’s letter, but now she was here she had to go through with it.

She walked deeper into the room and stopped just in front of him. He stiffened as if wondering what she was going to do next, and then a look she knew well came into his eyes.

‘Oh, I see,’ he murmured.

And then she was enfolded in his scent, in his warmth, in the sheer power of him, and all of it so blessedly familiar. He didn’t give her chance to speak or to breathe before teasing her lips with his tongue and his teeth, urging her in a low, rough voice to do all manner of wicked things. Parting her lips she drank him in, and was already scrambling up him by the time he backed her towards the wall. After vowing to resist him she was forced to accept there were some things reason had no power over, and this was one of them.

Her briefs came down in the same moment Nico freed himself. He paused briefly to make some comment about the sexy red lace. She only caught a glimpse of him, but it was enough to know he was engorged and magnificent. And she was ready. Cupping her buttocks, he helped her to lock her legs around his waist, and then thrust deep. Holding her weight as if it were nothing he forced her back against the wall, working efficiently, pounding rhythmically until she came, which was almost at once. She cried out so loud he was forced to put a hand over her mouth in case the servants heard her. Only Nico brought out this wild side in her nature and she bit him for his trouble. Snatching his hand away, he stared at it, looking in amazement at the teeth marks she had left. And then he laughed.

She laughed, too … softly, intimately, relishing the shared moment until he grew serious and, holding her gaze, very deliberately sank into her again.

It was more pleasure than she had ever known. Throwing back her head, she dragged in air. Nico was calmer and more controlled now and took his time.

‘Was that good?’ He eased out of her.

Good.

But moments after lowering her to her feet, he added, ‘Was that what you came for, Carrie?’

The remark was like a dash of cold water in her face. How could she have forgotten why she was here?

‘I take it that is why you came to Niroli?’ His lips tugged up in a cynical smile and he eased his shoulders as if he’d had a good workout. ‘You can use the bathroom off the corridor while I take a quick shower. When you’ve finished I’ll have someone show you out …’

The way she felt … failure didn’t even begin to cover it. She walked numbly in the direction he indicated and then stopped by the door, lacking the will to move until Nico left the room.

He paced up and down outside the bathroom door waiting for her to come out. What was keeping her?

He stepped back as she opened the door. She looked like a wraith. What had happened to Carrie since she had left the office? And what was coming next? He couldn’t help remembering her raunchy underwear. There was a whole lot more to this woman he wasn’t getting.

She glanced up and blushed as if she sensed his mood deteriorating. She was right to be worried. How she could she be so sexually charged one moment and so meek and mild the next? It was enough to make any man suspicious.

But then she stumbled, and he caught her, and when he had to hold her close he felt things he didn’t want to feel. He’d fought emotion all his life. He reacted the usual way, with swift rejection of his feelings. ‘What’s happened to you, Carrie?’

‘You happened to me, Nico …’ She quickly recovered and, straightening up, brushed away his steadying hand. ‘You’re like a drug … A drug I find dangerously addictive.’

It was such a piece of drama coming from his mouse he almost laughed. They both knew what they had, and that it wasn’t going anywhere. It was then he saw her feet were bleeding. ‘For goodness’ sake, Carrie, why didn’t you say something?’

He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh and felt bad seeing tears in her eyes. They were such tiny feet, on closer inspection, and the damage had been done by some cheap plastic sandals. He felt a tug somewhere deep inside him, which he immediately shrugged off. ‘We’ll have to do something about this,’ he said impatiently, glancing at his watch.

The small first-aid room was located just off the palace kitchen. It was tiled in white and smelled of disinfectant. Carrie couldn’t care less about her feet. She was with Nico and now she had to tell him her news.

He ran some warm water into a bowl, and added a drop of disinfectant. Grabbing a towel, he swung it over his shoulder. ‘Put your feet in here. You’ll have to soak them for a few minutes.’

Remembering his ten-minute deadline, Carrie felt hysterical laughter leap in her throat. But she didn’t see the funny side for long. His deadline undoubtedly involved Princess Anastasia. Nico could look forward to his evening with the princess now that he was replete and could relax. He might come from the highest family in the land, but Nico was a primal force who needed a regular outlet for his energy, and she was that outlet when there was no other sport to be enjoyed. Taking her up against the wall when the servants might have come in at any moment and disturbed them was just another form of risk-taking, providing Nico with all the elements of danger he enjoyed.

She had enjoyed it, too, Carrie accepted. More than enjoyed it. Nico’s love-making filled her with joy and with purpose … while it lasted. But lust was no foundation for a family, and maybe she could bear the pain of his rejection, but she didn’t want that for her baby.

When Nico examined her feet and handled them with the greatest care it was all she could do to hold back her tears. All she had ever wanted was a home full of love, a family, and she wanted Nico to be part of that family.

‘How could you do this to yourself, Carrie?’ he demanded reproachfully.

‘I didn’t do it on purpose.’ She kept her voice light. She didn’t want Nico to feel responsible for her. She didn’t want him thinking her weak; he must never think her weak. She wasn’t his mouse, and never would be again, not now that she had a child to consider.

‘These shoes are meant for the beach, not for walking round town.’

‘I only had city shoes with me when I landed, and I couldn’t find any shops—’

‘There are plenty of shops.’

But none she could afford, Carrie thought, not wanting to say as much to Nico. She didn’t want to give him the impression that she was hard up, or a hard-luck case.

He looked at her thoughtfully, as if he knew she couldn’t afford anything from the shops in Niroli, and maybe even admired her a little for keeping silent.

She hoped that was what had brought the softening to his lips. ‘I should have known I can’t wear flip-flops; they always hurt my feet.’

‘If you knew—’ He stopped as if he didn’t want to start an argument and started storming through the cupboards instead. ‘There should be antiseptic cream in here somewhere….’

He insisted on drying her feet on a fluffy white towel, which he rested on his knees. And when he put the cream on he did so very gently.

She had to brace herself. She had to tense every muscle so she didn’t show him how that made her feel, but even so her eyes filled with tears.

‘It isn’t that bad, is it?’ Nico said, straightening up to look at her.

Worse than he knew. ‘No, fine,’ she assured him.

And then he did the one thing she dreaded most. Reaching into the inside breast pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a wad of notes. ‘You really must get yourself some decent shoes, Carrie.’

She could only stare in horror at the money.

‘Here, take it,’ he pressed.

‘I don’t want it …’ She couldn’t stop staring at it.

‘Don’t be so silly,’ he insisted. ‘You used to work for me. Let’s call it severance pay, if that makes you feel better.’

‘Let’s not …’ Firming her lips, she slipped down from the seat. ‘Will you show me out, or shall I find someone else to do it?’

He moved in front of the door to block her way. ‘What’s wrong with you, Carrie? You never used to be like this—’

‘You mean I used to be a pushover?’

‘No, I don’t mean that, and you know it—’

‘Do I, Nico?’ She was conscious that the mood had disintegrated into acrimony. How could she tell him about their baby now? She was determined to choose the right moment, and this wasn’t it. ‘Thank you for bathing my feet.’ She glanced at the door.

‘You’re not leaving until you tell me why you’re here.’

‘Then we’re going to be here a very long time.’

‘I need an answer, Carrie.’

‘Aren’t you going to be late for the princess?’

‘She can wait.’

Nico’s attitude surprised her. It suggested he was in no hurry to see Anastasia. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

He glanced at his watch again. ‘We’ll have to make another appointment. I can’t do this now.’

Carrie’s cheeks blazed red. No doubt a regular meeting while she was on the island would be convenient for Nico.

‘You want something from me,’ he said, fixing her with a firm stare, ‘and I’m going to find out what it is.’

‘Yes, I do want something,’ Carrie admitted, ‘but it’s not what you think—’

‘All right, I’ll make time. We’ll discuss it now.’

‘And make you late for the state banquet?’

‘Like the princess, that can wait.’

CHAPTER FIVE

CLOSING the door to his private apartment, Nico watched as Carrie took in her surroundings. She had liked it the first time, and now she wanted to have a closer look at things. Many of the pieces he kept in Niroli belonged in a museum, but he had grown up with them. That was the trouble with extreme wealth—you took everything for granted—and he hardly noticed the trappings now. But seeing the room through Carrie’s eyes made him appreciate things he’d hardly noticed before.

She was impressed, though not by the value of his possessions, she was genuinely interested. He watched her dip her head to examine a jade ornament more closely.

‘Do you like it?’ She was trailing her forefinger across the back of a Ming-dynasty horse. It was priceless, but, of course, she couldn’t know that. It had a finely carved saddle with elaborate fringing, and was an outstanding example of some ancient artisan’s skill. There was no chance he could give it to her, but he’d seen pictures of it in the palace gift store. ‘I’m sure we can find you a postcard in the shop.’

The look she gave him was pure ice. A postcard in exchange for sex—was that what she thought? He brought the shutters down. He couldn’t risk antagonising her until he found out what she was doing in Niroli.

She didn’t want a trip to the gift shop as a reward for being a good girl, and she felt like telling Nico to get over himself. She wanted to tell him that his fabulous wealth would pale in the face of her news, but when he eased his collar and moved restlessly she knew he was uncomfortable in a room with overdressed windows and silk-draped walls, and felt some sympathy for him. Her first impression of the décor had been good, but on closer inspection Carrie thought it cloying and could see why it wouldn’t suit Nico. The palace might be his family home, but Nico was a free spirit. Niroli was too small an island to contain him, and his decision to leave the country as a youth to make his way in London was certainly no mystery to her now. She was beginning to understand him, which gave her courage. ‘This isn’t easy for me, Nico.’

‘Try me,’ he prompted.

‘When I left the office, I had no idea that …’ He nodded encouragement. ‘I had no idea that I was pregnant.’

‘What?’

He sounded and looked incredulous. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said again, telling him the news in a soft, happy voice. The idea was still new to her, still surrounded by its own little aura of light.

It took her a moment to realise how quiet the room had become, and then Nico said evenly, ‘What’s that got to do with me?’

Her tongue froze, and at the very moment when she should have been at her most eloquent she saw his mouth begin to curve with contempt. ‘E-everything,’ she managed to stutter, feeling in that moment as if she had been sucked into outer space where there was no warmth, no air, no comfort for her anywhere.

‘What do you mean, Carrie? “Everything?”’

‘I mean, you’re the father of my baby, Nico—’

‘What?’ he exploded. His voice had gone instantly cold and, shaking his head, he turned away.

‘Nico, I swear—’

‘You swear?’ He turned back, head down, eyes full of a terrifying emotion she’d never seen before. She reached out to him, but he pulled away.

She was a liar. Carrie was a liar. She had reminded him in the cruellest way possible that he was infertile and could never have the family he longed for. Emotion swirled inside him, threatening to erupt. It escaped in words, harsh, ugly words: ‘I’m not the father of your baby, Carrie.’

He wasn’t prepared for the pain he felt saying that—the pain of knowing the child she carried couldn’t be his. It was unbearable, excruciating; he couldn’t bear to think of her with some other man. ‘We had sex,’ he said cruelly, instinct driving him to hurt as much as she had hurt him. ‘We had sex, and that was all—’

‘It wasn’t just sex to me, Nico.’

How could she think him so gullible? She asked too much. The travesty of wanting something so badly only to have it delivered to him twisted and spoiled …’If it wasn’t sex what was it?’ The ferocity in his voice shocked him and he didn’t know if he could control the rage building inside him. If he couldn’t then he must end this now. ‘Did you think I would go down on bended knee the next morning and propose marriage to you?’ His eyes, his voice couldn’t have been harder.

‘Please, Nico—’

‘Don’t touch me!’ He shook her off. ‘You wanted sex every bit as much as I did and we both knew what we were doing. You hadn’t been drinking; I’d been watching you, so don’t go down that road. Sex that night had nothing to do with love, or long-term commitment, and I never let you think that once, did I?’

She couldn’t argue with him. She was too stunned, too sick inside to know how to answer him.

‘I’ll write you a cheque now if that’s what it takes to get you off my back.’

Nico’s cruel words forced Carrie to face the truth. Her child had been conceived in a ferment of lust, and her baby’s father couldn’t stand the sight of her. But she loved him. She still loved him. She always would.

‘Let’s stop playing games, Carrie.’

Something was nagging at her, something wasn’t right. Nico was so sure of himself, so very sure …

‘I don’t know who you’ve been with, or why he won’t support you, but if you’ve come here out of desperation just tell me how much you want.’

Carrie was stunned. She couldn’t believe what Nico was thinking. ‘I don’t want your money.’

‘Then, what do you want?’

‘I want nothing for myself. All I ask is that you acknowledge our child—’

‘Our child? I don’t have a child! And as for you?’ His stare lingered on her still-flat stomach. ‘How do I know you’re even pregnant?’ His gaze flashed up, demanding an answer.

‘Do you think I’d lie about something like this?’

‘How do I know what to think? You sneak into the palace like a thief—’

‘Don’t turn this into something squalid!’

‘Don’t you!’ Nico warned softly. ‘The Carrie Evans I knew wouldn’t use a child as a bargaining counter.’

‘And I’m not doing that now. Nico, how can you be so sure you’re not the father of my child?’

‘I know I’m not.’ His mouth flattened, telling her that was his final answer.

‘But there’s been no one else,’ Carrie said in confusion. ‘The baby is yours—’

‘No one else?’ Nico cut across her.

His silence now reminded Carrie of the frivolous underwear she had bought on the market, the underwear she had helped him to remove. Surely, he didn’t think …’Nico, please believe me, I was a virgin that night—’

‘A virgin?’ He shook his head grimly. ‘This lie of yours has gone far enough.’ Taking hold of her, he tried to lead her from the room, but she had more strength than he knew.

‘I suggest you leave before I do something I might regret, Carrie.’

‘Like what?’ She refused to move another inch. ‘What would you do, Nico? Would you hit me? Would you force me out of here? Would you strike a pregnant woman?’

The blood drained from his face. ‘I wouldn’t touch anyone in mindless anger.’

‘Just as I wouldn’t lie to you,’ she assured him, holding his gaze, willing him to believe her.

‘You’ve just proved that you would,’ Nico said. Walking to the door, he opened it wide. ‘Now, please leave.’

‘Nico—’

He turned his face away from her as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her a moment longer and his voice when he spoke next was the voice of a stranger. ‘I feel as if I’ve been with a very different woman to the sweet girl I employed. You’re a better actress than I thought, Carrie Evans, and a crueller one, but don’t think you can lay your mistakes at my door.’

‘My baby isn’t a mistake,’ she assured him tensely. ‘The only mistake I made was getting involved with you.’

‘It’s time to accept I’m not the father of your baby.’

‘Nico, you must believe—’

‘I can assure you I’m not. Your plan has badly misfired.’

‘My plan?’ She looked at him in bewilderment, but there was no chance to press him because in her worst nightmare come true Princess Anastasia was bearing down on them.

Wearing a slinky black dress with earrings so long the diamonds glittered on her shoulders like drops of sweat, the princess came straight to Nico’s side and linked arms with him.

‘Darling, what’s taking you so long?’ she purred into his ear.

‘Forgive me, Anastasia,’ he said smoothly, moving away. Thrusting Carrie behind him, Nico planted himself in front of her.

Carrie blenched as she viewed her rival through the small space left between Nico and the door frame. She might as well retire gracefully now. She was nothing but a little drab compared to the princess.

‘I heard raised voices, darling.’ Peering round Nico, Anastasia tried to get a better view of Carrie. ‘You don’t have a problem, I hope?’

‘No problem,’ Nico said evenly.

For a moment Carrie was surprised that Nico was troubling to protect her, but then she realised he was protecting his flawless reputation. Nico was used to sailing above the trivial embarrassments that afflicted the rest of mankind, and she guessed finding himself on the back foot was something new for him.

‘Is there a problem, Nico?’ Anastasia pressed. ‘They told me you had been detained.’ She gave a pretty pout. ‘But they also promised me that you would be joining us for coffee. Is this girl bothering you?’ Craning her elegant neck, she stared down her perfect ski-slope nose at Carrie.

Nico stood to one side, leaving the two women in full sight of each other. ‘Carrie Evans used to work for me.’

‘I see …’ Finely plucked eyebrows soared at an acute angle as the princess evaluated her opponent.

‘Carrie’s in Niroli on holiday, aren’t you, Carrie?’

Nico was prompting her? Carrie chose to remain silent.

‘Carrie, may I present Princess Anastasia….’

As Nico introduced her to the princess she stood stiffly, hoping Anastasia didn’t expect her to curtsy; the princess’s haughty gaze had instantly labelled her an inferior.

‘Why, Anastasia … nothing to say?’ Nico pressed. ‘Is there a reason Ms Evans shouldn’t visit the palace while she’s holidaying in Niroli?’ His voice was like a velvet threat, and as he spoke a quiver of response ran across Carrie’s shoulders.

‘No reason at all,’ Princess Anastasia said quickly, opening her eyes very wide to signal her absolute agreement with anything Nico chose to say about the matter.

He was playing them off against each other, Carrie realised. This might be providing Nico with an amusing interlude, but she wasn’t going to play. On the other hand, who knew what lengths Anastasia would go to in order to ingratiate herself with Nico? Any and all, Carrie concluded, watching the princess moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue.

‘I hope you will accept my apologies, Principessa?’

As Nico spoke Carrie had to hide her feelings, for, overriding the desire to scratch out Anastasia’s eyes was the desire to laugh. The role of penitent was completely beyond Nico’s acting capabilities. The princess didn’t seem to realise this and her soft exhalation of breath assured Carrie that Anastasia would take Nico on any terms.

‘I do hope we’re not too late for the last dance?’ Nico added, bowing low to Anastasia.

As his sardonic glance brushed her face Carrie knew she had been relegated to the position of silent servant. Nico and his princess were conducting a conversation that excluded her. Could he have found a crueller way to put her in her place?

‘Of course we’re not too late for the last dance, caro,’ Anastasia assured him, and this time she did include Carrie in the conversation, if only to shoot her a look of triumph.

‘Shall we go?’ Nico offered with yet another bow.

How charming he could be when it suited him, Carrie thought, narrowing her eyes as Nico deigned to acknowledge her with a slight tilt of his head.

‘I’ll have one of the palace drivers take you back to your hotel,’ he said to her, pausing mid-stride as if she were an afterthought. ‘Wait in the courtyard and I’ll have them come and find you—’

‘I can make my own way back to the hotel, thank you,’ she told him with composure.

Carrie’s defiant pose lasted only until the regal pair was out of sight. To hear them chatting so easily together was sheer torture. She was forced to admit they did look stunning together, but as Anastasia’s laugh rang out she thought again that Nico had it all. Having enjoyed his entertainment on the side he could relax and escort his beautiful princess to the ball. While she remained in the shadows listening to the rustle of Anastasia’s silk gown brush against the wall like a mocking reproach.

Carrie waited until she was sure the coast was clear and then hurried in the same direction as Nico and Anastasia. Before she reached the grand staircase she slipped through the doorway that led to the back stairs used by the servants.

The cool stone soothed her sore feet, but did nothing to help her aching heart. Nico didn’t believe her. Nico thought she was lying. Nico thought she’d been with another man. She didn’t know what else she could say to him. And in a horrible reminder of just how low she’d sunk every part of her was still throbbing from his heated possession. Once again he’d been hungry for sex, and once again she’d been willing. They were tinder and fire, verbally, physically. She might be strong in many areas of her life, but where Nico was concerned she could never find the strength to resist him.

The moment the sun hit her face Carrie looked for cover. If she was stopped now it would be hard to explain what she was doing in the palace—impossible if she wanted to avoid speculation and gossip. She could see a stone-roofed walkway that offered some protection, but if she took that route there was a point where she would be in full view of anyone standing on the balcony….

It was a risk she would have to take.

Hurrying along the passage, she fought the impulse to look up. But she had to, and then she saw Nico sipping champagne with the royal family.

It only emphasised his elevated status, and reminded her of the distance between them. And yet he stood apart from the rest, Carrie noticed.

She was deeply conscious of her bedraggled state and her bare feet as she reached the end of the walkway and stepped into the light, but she did so with her head held high. It was then Carrie noticed Princess Anastasia, and the princess noticed her. Walking up to Nico, Anastasia threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

She couldn’t bear to see Nico’s reaction, but the pain of not knowing if she would ever see him again made her look up in time to see him wiping his mouth discreetly on the back of his hand. It was a small triumph, but inwardly she smiled.

Filled with renewed purpose, Carrie hurried to the gate. She could feel Nico’s gaze burning into her back every step of the way, but she didn’t notice the shadow of an older woman watching her from an upstairs window.

CHAPTER SIX

SO MUCH had gone wrong that day Carrie couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel, rest, relax and think about how to make it right. She had been sitting on a wall gazing out to sea for well over an hour mulling over the mess she’d made of things. She had given in to Nico, she’d had a row with him and she’d even managed to antagonise Princess Anastasia. What more could possibly go wrong?

Carrie knew the answer the moment she saw the smoke. Her hotel was on fire. Forgetting how sore her feet were, she began to run. Pushing through the small crowd, she captured the attention of an elderly man staring up at the firefighters. ‘Is everyone safe?’

‘Everyone’s safe now,’ he reassured her. ‘The fire was confined to the kitchen, but it knocked out the electricity and so all the guests have been evacuated. They’re just checking the upstairs rooms now as a precaution.’

‘Thank you.’ Carrie’s first impulse had been to offer help, and now she knew there was no smoke or excessive heat to endanger her baby there was nothing to stop her.

‘There’s a lot of mess inside,’ the man called after her. ‘One of the firemen told me the kitchen won’t be fit for use for some time.’

All the more reason for her to hurry, Carrie thought. She could only imagine how the owners of the hotel must feel. It would be hard enough trying to make a profit out of such a small concern without a disaster like this making things harder.

The first thing she saw was her small suitcase standing on its own in the hallway. Of course, all the other guests had gone, though there were plenty of people hurrying about trying to salvage what they could.

She followed the unpleasant stench of smothered fire to the rear of the building where she found more members of staff busily cleaning up, and there was an older woman on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor.

‘Please, let me do that,’ Carrie insisted. ‘You’ve got enough to worry about.’ Her heart went out to the older woman, whom she guessed had probably lost her livelihood that day. Her sleeves were rolled up, and her hands and arms were covered to the elbows in grime. ‘If there’s anything I can do for you.’

As the woman glanced up and smiled a weary smile Carrie knew kind words weren’t enough, and with her permission she took the bucket of filthy water and emptied it in the yard. Swilling the bucket, she filled it with clean water and returned inside.

‘Thank you,’ the woman said, struggling to her feet.

‘Please don’t thank me. I’m happy to help …’ Searching under the sink, Carrie found some detergent, but by the time she turned around the woman had gone. There was a lot to do, she reasoned.

Kneeling on a towel, she concentrated on finishing the job. The hotel fell silent as she worked, and the more she thought about it, the more certain Carrie became that the woman she had taken over from must own the hotel. She had worn the wounded expression of someone who had just seen her dream go up in smoke, which was probably why she felt a certain kinship with her, Carrie thought wryly, redoubling her efforts.

Straightening up at last, she clutched her back, knowing the effort had been worthwhile. The kitchen floor was sparkling again and it smelt fresh and clean.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’

She nearly jumped out of her skin ‘Nico?’ Nico, angry? Nico, furious? But why? What was he doing here?

‘I was assured that all the guests had been evacuated.’

‘All, except one,’ Carrie pointed out, refusing to be intimidated. ‘What are you doing here, Nico?’ she added, thinking him the last man on earth she had been expecting to walk into the hotel kitchen.

‘You shouldn’t be cleaning floors,’ he said, shocked to see her … concerned for her safety, but he couldn’t tell her that without putting ideas in her head.

‘Thank you would be enough,’ she assured him mildly. ‘I don’t know why you are so angry.’

‘Did someone tell you to do that?’

‘I’m quite capable of working on my own initiative.’

Carrie was surprised to see a tug at one corner of Nico’s mouth. Had he found a sense of humour? Her rebellious body thrilled at the thought, though she stamped on it quickly.

‘And how do you think you’re going to get to the replacement hotel where all the other guests are staying?’ he demanded, reminding her not to soften.

‘I’ll walk, or catch a taxi—’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

They both turned as the older woman who had been scrubbing the kitchen floor before Carrie’s arrival walked back into the room.

‘Mother!’

Mother? Carrie could only stare in amazement at the older woman whom she knew now must be Princess Laura of Niroli.

‘You’ll do no such thing. Nico. You will take this young lady to the palace where she is going to be my guest. I insist,’ she said, holding up one beautifully manicured hand. ‘You knew you’d find me here,’ Princess Laura observed fondly to Nico. ‘This hotel was his father’s wedding gift to me,’ she explained to Carrie. ‘To keep me out of mischief,’ she added with a twinkle. And then, touching Nico’s granite cheek with great tenderness, she whispered, ‘Always so thoughtful, my Nico.’

As Carrie watched the brief exchange she wondered if Nico had a doppelgänger. His mother was certainly referring to a different man from the one she knew.

Swallowing back her amazement, she faced facts: the kindly woman standing in front of her was the grandmother of her baby. And Princess Laura had just asked her to stay at the palace. It was incredible. Unbelievable.

Conscious that she was staring rudely at Princess Laura, Carrie turned away, but not before her cheeks had reddened with suppressed emotion.

‘We make a fine pair of cleaning ladies, don’t you agree, Nico?’ Princess Laura said.

‘Without question, Your Royal Highness,’ her son replied stiffly.

‘No titles here, Nico,’ Princess Laura insisted. ‘And you can call me Laura,’ she assured Carrie with the warmest of smiles.

‘And I’m Carrie … Carrie Evans,’ Carrie told her, starting to relax, though she guessed that his mother’s approval didn’t sit well with Nico.

‘I think I saw you earlier, walking across the courtyard,’ the princess observed. ‘Don’t look so worried—you weren’t doing anything wrong. That’s better,’ she exclaimed, patting Carrie’s cheek. ‘I like to see you smile … Nico,’ she added, ‘please arrange for this young lady’s luggage to be sent on to the palace. Carrie will be travelling with me, in my car….’

Carrie was still reeling from sweeping into the courtyard in an official limousine at the side of Her Royal Highness Princess Laura of Niroli, but she had never seen anything to compare with her suite of rooms at the palace. The main bedroom was like something from a fairy tale. White muslin billowed at the windows, and the vast four-poster bed was draped with ivory silk hangings. The cover on the bed was an exquisite testament of the quilt-maker’s art. Intricately embroidered, it was delicately over-beaded in a ribbon design and the crisp white sheets and pillowcases peeping over the edge were finished with a froth of the finest lace.

Even the dressing table wore an elaborate skirt, Carrie noticed as the maid showed her round, and if the room wasn’t quite to her taste it made her smile to think that such frivolity dared to raise its head in an increasingly uniform world. But this was the world of Niroli, Carrie reminded herself, where anything was possible, though it was hard to find a natural link between Nico and his mother, Princess Laura. The princess was so kind and warm, while Nico possessed none of his mother’s ease of manner.

Nico … it always came back to Nico. Carrie’s heart squeezed tight at the thought of seeing him again, something she could hardly avoid now she was staying at the palace. To try and calm herself she began to examine everything in the lovely room. Sunlight spilled through slatted blinds, and a fan whirred lazily overhead spreading the scent of lavender and rose water into the air. It was such a cosy room in spite of its size. It was a room where anyone could feel happy … unless they were looking forward to a confrontation some time later with Nico, of course.

The bathroom was another delight. There was pink Carrera marble on the walls, and a bath as big as a plunge pool. The ceiling was vaulted and lit with stained glass skylights, and there were enough luxury products on the shelves to start a small shop. The princess had insisted she must try everything, and had explained that luxury goods suppliers from all over the world showered the palace with gifts in the hope of gaining the prestigious royal warrant. Apparently Carrie would only be doing her a favour if she sampled them….

When Carrie awoke the following morning she wondered once again how someone as lovely as Princess Laura could have a son like Nico Fierezza. Carrie shook her head as she thought about it, but she would not allow Nico to undermine her confidence. Princess Laura had offered her the run of the palace and it would be churlish to stay in her room when the sun was shining and the gardens were so beautiful….

Surely. this was what the doctor had in mind? Carrie thought, closing the door on her apartment, when he had suggested that plenty of fresh air would be good for her baby …

He couldn’t believe it. Carrie was staying in the palace at his mother’s invitation! Which meant there wasn’t a thing he could do about it; this wasn’t his own home to order as he pleased. Having Carrie Evans out of sight was bad enough, but this, this was insupportable. As it was she played on his mind every minute of the day, distracting him when it was least convenient. Whether he liked it or not, a part of him always responded to her.

Loosening the collar of his shirt, Nico strolled across the room to the window. His apartment overlooked the lawns, and, beyond that, the lake. It was a pleasing vista … under normal circumstances. Grinding his jaw, he had to remind himself that his mother, in her infinite wisdom, had given Carrie the run of the palace. It appeared she was making full use of it now. She was running barefoot across the carefully groomed grass as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Where did she think she was? The municipal park?

Turning away, he tossed his jacket on a chair and, peeling off his shirt, stalked into the bathroom. Carrie Evans was no concern of his. Loosening the waistband of his jeans, he let them drop and, shucking off his boxers, he switched on the shower and adjusted the temperature to ice-cold. Stepping beneath the freezing spray, he soaped down vigorously, then, rinsing off, he stretched to ease the tension in his shoulders. What he needed now was some strenuous exercise. What he needed now was space from Carrie Evans. But before that he had to confront her and find out what she was up to before this little game of hers got out of hand.

She had to be strong … With her head down Carrie ran across the endless stretch of newly mown grass and didn’t stop until she reached the shade of some overhanging trees. She had just been talking to Princess Laura, and the princess had been so kind, which only made the deception harder to bear.

The fact that Nico’s mother was the grandmother of her baby and she couldn’t share the news was like a knife in her heart. Her child had been born into privilege, which carried with it huge responsibility, and a woman like Princess Laura would have been able to guide them both through the pitfalls. Forgetting her baby’s royal connections, any child would be lucky to have Princess Laura for a grandmother.

Sinking down on the mossy bank beneath the trees, Carrie curled up on the soft warm ground and made a silent pledge to her baby that she would make things right before she left Niroli. She stirred restlessly as the breeze ruffled the leafy canopy over her head, and then her eyes drifted shut.

‘Have you any idea how this looks?’

Carrie jumped with alarm to see Nico standing over her. Shading her eyes, she tried to get her thoughts in order. The sun was low in the sky, so she must have been asleep for several hours….

‘You can’t just loll about on the ground here with your skirt round your neck.’

Carrie hurried to straighten her clothes. Nico made her feel so cheap. But she stood up too fast, and as she swayed he reached out to steady her. But the moment she was safe he withdrew his hand.

It told her a lot. It told her he didn’t believe her. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘How do you expect me to know?’ he said impatiently.

But he did know. He knew to the second how long she had been lying on the ground with her long hair spread around her. She was becoming an embarrassment. His mother had plied him with questions none of which he had chosen to answer. ‘Did you plan this? Did you sit down before you came to Niroli and work out how to cause me maximum embarrassment?’

‘Embarrassment? I fell asleep. Please don’t think I’m taking advantage of your mother’s kindness—’

‘I don’t think that. But you look so … untidy,’ he said, for want of a better word to express his feelings.

‘I don’t have many clothes with me …’And then, tired of making excuses, she stood up. ‘What is the appropriate outfit for walking in the palace gardens, by the way?’

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. She had surprised him again with the softly spoken barb, and now his mind was awash with her fresh, sleepy scent. He had to forget how good they were together; he had to ignore the fact that there were leaves in her hair and he wanted to pluck them from the mass of tangled gold.

A greater contrast to the impeccably groomed Princess Anastasia would be impossible to imagine. Carrie’s face was creased and blotchy where she had pressed it against the ground, and she looked.

‘Can I go now?’

His gaze sharpened at her question. Her voice was as gentle as it always was, yet he sensed an edge behind it. She was anything but defeated. ‘You’ve been very clever, worming your way into my mother’s confidence. If one door shuts another opens as far as you’re concerned, doesn’t it, Carrie?’

‘Do you think I started the fire at the hotel, too?’

‘I’m merely suggesting you make the most of every situation.’

‘What situation?’

‘You didn’t know it was my mother’s hotel, of course.’

‘Your mother’s hotel? No, of course I didn’t know. How could I?’

Her surprise appeared genuine. ‘By reading about the family,’ he suggested. ‘You should know the Fierezzas have many interests on the island.’

‘Which you imagine I researched before I got here? Do you really think I targeted your mother’s hotel?’

‘I think you’re bright. I think you came to Niroli on a mission. And from what I know of you from when you worked for me I don’t think you’d be here at all unless you had every loophole sewn up tight.’

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Nico,’ she assured him. ‘Where my personal life is concerned I don’t seem to have much of a hold on it at all. And, for your information, it was the taxi driver who recommended your mother’s hotel. He telephoned ahead as we were driving from the airport to book me in.’

‘A quirk of fate?’

‘If you like,’ she said, ‘but I certainly didn’t engineer it.’

‘And you want me to believe this, along with all your other lies?’

‘I’ve never lied to you, Nico.’

The air between them was charged with tension. Nico was so close she could see the amber flecks in his searing blue gaze, so close they shared the same breath, the same air. But as always he reacted in a way that surprised her. Dipping his head, he brushed her cheek with his lips, stopping just short of her mouth, and to her eternal shame she closed her eyes and swayed towards him.

‘It’s that easy, isn’t it?’ he said gently. ‘You’re that easy.’

When she didn’t reply he put a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up so she was forced to look at him. ‘You wormed your way in here, and now you think you’re going to have a good, long stay at the palace. Well, let me put you straight, Carrie Evans. You get twenty-four hours to live your dream, and then you’re out of here.’

She closed her eyes against the contempt in his gaze. Nothing she could say would make him believe her, but she couldn’t walk away. ‘Whatever you think of me we have to talk, and I’m not leaving Niroli until we do.’

‘Are you threatening me, Carrie?’

‘I’m stating facts—’

‘So, hell hath no fury?’

‘You think this is about revenge?’

‘What else?’

‘You think I followed you to Niroli because I can’t forget what happened between us?’That was part of the truth, Carrie realised, but she couldn’t throw away her life on a hopeless cause, not with a baby to protect. ‘You don’t know me, Nico. You don’t know me, at all.’

‘Well, perhaps it’s time I found out more,’ he said coldly. ‘Shall we start with how much it would cost me to get rid of you?’

Carrie flinched. ‘Half an hour of your time is all I’m asking.’

‘When?’

‘Tomorrow night after dinner …’ She didn’t want to rush into anything, she had tried spontaneous and knew she wasn’t good at it.

‘I thought I made it clear that your deadline for leaving the palace is tomorrow …’ Nico stopped and his face darkened with anger as he read the situation. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘My mother has extended an invitation to her new protégée for dinner tomorrow night.’

‘I’m sure you can spare me half an hour—’

‘You’re sure of a lot of things, aren’t you, Carrie?’

‘Until tomorrow, Nico …’

She turned on her heel, burning with shame from what he thought of her, but Nico brought her back. She held herself stiffly in his arms, eyes closed as she fought the urge to respond to him. But he knew she wanted to and with a sound of contempt he let her go and walked away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘YOU poor child …’ The words had burned themselves into Carrie’s mind. She woke the next morning in her bedroom at the palace in a state of panic. Clutching the sheet to her chest, she gazed around, wondering where she was and who had spoken to her. Her mind was still sleep-drenched and wouldn’t function properly. It took a few moments to accept she was alone and the presence talking to her was a voice in a dream.

Slipping out of bed, she padded barefoot across the room to open the heavy curtains on another soft Nirolian dawn. The view of the silver lake tinged with pink was so beautiful she stood for a moment with her eyes closed inhaling the scent of blossom. It could have been such a happy time if things had been different. If Nico had only cared for her, just a little.

It promised to be another hot day. The sun was already burning off the low-lying mist, and she could see the rowing boats bobbing lazily by the boathouse. It was easy to imagine Nico sitting across from her in one of the tiny vessels, his muscles flexing as he rowed her out on the lake … But as that was unlikely to happen she might as well have a shower, Carrie thought in her usual down-to-earth way; a long, cold shower.

She was becoming good at stretching the truth, Carrie thought, rubbing her hair dry as she walked out of the bathroom, and it wasn’t something she was proud of. To make matters worse Princess Laura appeared to accept everything she said without question. They had struck up a friendship based on a mutual love of the natural world and painting, but it was becoming harder all the time to hide her feelings for Princess Laura’s son. There were no miracles waiting to happen, her dreams were futile, and her baby needed something more tangible than a daydream to secure its future.

Princess Laura had arranged for Carrie’s breakfast to be sent up to her room. Seeing she was already dressed, the young maid insisted on laying everything out for her on the vine-hung balcony outside the small sitting room.

‘Only if it’s no trouble for you,’ Carrie said.

‘No trouble at all,’ the maid assured her with a shy smile.

The princess, with her customary sensitivity, had found Carrie a cosy suite of rooms close to her own. Carrie’s balcony overlooked a pretty walled garden with welcoming proportions more like those of the home of a friend, rather than the vast palace grounds.

‘I prefer this wing,’ the princess had told her, and then Carrie had discovered to her astonishment that they had adjoining apartments. ‘Only special people stay here.’ Princess Laura had said.

Carrie was living a lie she had no stomach for. She wanted nothing more than for the truth to be out in the open, but couldn’t say anything while Nico stood like a roadblock in her way.

A discreet tap on the door of the apartment brought Carrie’s pacing to a halt. But when she opened the door there was no one there. Then she spotted the envelope on the floor. Carrie’s eyes widened as she read the handwritten note. It was from Princess Laura, offering her accommodation at the palace for the duration of her stay in Niroli, which the princess hoped would be for longer than a few days. ‘We have far too many empty rooms here, Carrie, and I did enjoy your company. Please say you’ll stay …’

As Carrie clutched the sheet of paper to her chest she knew that if she could have chosen anyone in the world to be the grandmother of her baby it would be Princess Laura, but Nico would never allow it. Princess Laura was everything a grandmother should be, but the princess was like a golden chalice hanging just outside her baby’s reach.

This was one of the reasons he had left Niroli as a young man of seventeen, Nico reflected dryly as his mother advanced. Having finished his final lap, he checked his time: fifteen hundred metres freestyle in a few seconds over fifteen minutes. Not quite Olympic standard, but close. Planting his hands on the side of the swimming pool, he sprang out, water glistening over his tanned, athletic body.

Snatching up a towel, he buried his face to hide his smile. His mother was in full dragon mode. Behind a deceptively homely face Princess Laura hid a steely determination. He knew that was probably what had saved her when his father had been killed. Tossing his towel into a laundry basket, Nico was thankful for his mother’s strength of character. She had been broken when she had received the news of his father’s death, but had thrown herself into her charity work with renewed vigour, and that had been her salvation.

Straightening up, he wrapped a clean towel around his waist. Raking his hair into some semblance of order, he drew himself up to his full height … all the better to read the invisible banner his mother was waving above her head. It had a single name on it: Carrie Evans.

Carrie was going to stay how long? Grinding his jaw as his mother stalked back the way she had come, Nico vented his silent rage at the sky. He would not tolerate Carrie inveigling her way into the palace and winning over his mother into the bargain. The only reason he’d kept quiet was because he wasn’t ready to reveal Carrie’s state of health, or the lies she kept telling him. Fortunately, his mother didn’t appear to know about the so-called pregnancy, but to be told by her to back off and stop treating Carrie like an underling was insupportable. And to be assured that she was under his mother’s protection.

Right now he could cheerfully throw Carrie Evans over his shoulder and take her to the airport himself and put her on the first flight out of Niroli … But that wouldn’t solve a thing, because, knowing Carrie as he did, she’d get the first flight back again. For now, he would tolerate her presence. He would wait his moment, and then he would expose her for the liar she was.

‘You must have new clothes, my dear …’

Carrie had learned that Princess Laura didn’t do questions, and that statements were more her line. She couldn’t help smiling as she walked back towards the quaint arched doorway that marked the entrance to her apartment. When she had tried to tell Princess Laura that she didn’t need any clothes the princess had silenced her with nothing more than an arched brow. There was a formal dinner that night, she had said, to which Carrie was invited. Carrie hadn’t needed to be told that a market-stall dress wouldn’t do for that.

And now the princess had worked her magic again … Clapping her hands, she had invited dressmakers hovering just outside the open door to join them. And from that moment silks and satins, chiffons and jewelled net had been draped around Carrie, while pins and scissors had flashed in the light. A fabulous ball gown had been created where she stood.

It had been like a dream.

Maybe if it had been a dream she might have thrown herself with more enthusiasm into the pleasure everyone else was getting from her transformation, Carrie thought, but she knew that she would never belong to this life, and that Nico would never accept her. Hearing a tap on the door, she turned. ‘Come in …’

It was the young maid again, who curtsied, making Carrie blush. ‘There’s no need for that,’ Carrie assured her, and now the maid was blushing, too.

‘These are your clothes, signorina.’

As Carrie reached forward to take a few garments from the girl she had to step back as footmen marched past her wheeling a collection of boxes and bags. ‘There must be some mistake,’ Carrie said with concern as she followed the footmen into her sitting room. ‘I didn’t order these.’

‘But Princess Laura insists,’ the maid told her.

Carrie guessed that when Princess Laura gave an order, no one, with the possible exception of Nico, dared to refuse her. And what could she do? The footmen were already unloading the trolley, and now the maid had disappeared into her dressing room and she could hear hangers clicking. drawers opening and closing again. ‘Are you quite sure this isn’t a mistake?’ Carrie insisted, following the young girl into the room.

‘Quite sure, signorina. The princess—’

‘I know,’ Carrie cut her off with a smile, ‘the princess insists.’

As the young girl smiled agreement Carrie looked in awe at her beautiful ball gown. It had been run up in record time, and looked even lovelier beneath the lights in her dressing room. Jewels twinkled on the bodice, and the note attached to it said … Carrie’s heart sank as she read the words written in the princess’s unique hand. She was to be Princess Laura’s special guest at the top table, which meant she would be sitting with the royal family practically next to Nico. But how could she keep up the act that he meant nothing to her when he would be seated within touching distance and Princess Anastasia would be drooling over him?

She had to, Carrie told herself firmly, and she should be grateful to Nico’s mother for giving her the opportunity to see Nico under such formal circumstances. If she acquitted herself well he might be inclined to spend more time with her after the meal.

She had nothing to feel embarrassed about, Carrie told herself, glancing at the dress again. Princess Laura had wanted her to feel comfortable at the banquet, and had ensured that the dress she wore was beautiful. The dinner was going to be a glittering affair and it was unlikely anyone would have packed something suitable for an occasion such as this one in their holiday suitcase. She could borrow the dress for one night, and then hand it back. She could have it cleaned first … she would ask the young maid, or the girl at the boutique, where to go. This wasn’t the time to be trying to find an excuse not to go to the banquet; this was the time to seize an opportunity.

Reading through Princess Laura’s note again, Carrie knew she couldn’t refuse. ‘Please do come, Carrie,’ the princess had written. ‘I must have someone decent at my side. These events can drag on so without the right company….’

Decent? The word tolled like an accusation in Carrie’s head. She was about as far from decent as … It made her wish she could tell the princess everything. Their conversations had spanned so much, but had never ventured towards the baby. They had even talked about Carrie’s ambition to become a professional artist one day, when she had almost forgotten how much she wanted that, herself.

She looked up as the maid politely excused herself, saying she would be back later to help Carrie dress. Carrie thought a walk through the grounds might help to relax her in the meantime. She had an idea forming, and was eager to look at the gardens with an artist’s eye. Her intention was to paint something special for Princess Laura to thank her for her kindness.

Carrie found several spots where she would have liked to set up her easel. There were winding paths and woodland glades as well as the more formal gardens. And then, of course, there was the lake and the pavilion … The grounds of the palace went on and on, and she was glad she had brought a pad and pencil so she could make a start with some preliminary sketches.

Slipping off her sandals, she ran across the cool, spiky grass towards the lake. But she drew to a halt long before she reached the water’s edge. Nico was there with Anastasia, and the princess looked so beautiful. She was wearing a slim sheath in brightly coloured patterned silk that hugged her slender body like a second skin, and high-heeled shoes, which Nico was making her take off before allowing her to step into the rowing boat. And now Anastasia was laughing and holding on to his arm as she slipped off the first shoe. When both shoes had been removed Anastasia secured a large-brimmed straw hat to her head and then looked up expectantly at Nico.

Nico didn’t respond, he was gazing away across the lake, Carrie noticed, and seemed distracted, and then very slowly he turned towards her.

He stared at her. Nico stared straight at her. It was as if they had an invisible bond between them. But then the princess, unused to losing anyone’s attention for even a moment, took hold of his sleeve and gave it a little shake. Nico turned back to her, and with a gracious smile and a nod he offered Anastasia a steadying hand as she prepared to board the small boat.

They made a perfect pair, Carrie thought. They were both so good-looking, so confident. They made her feel shabby and insignificant by comparison. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to run back to the palace, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot, forcing her to watch Nico as he climbed into the small craft. He stood with his legs planted firmly to steady it, as Anastasia settled herself in front of him. Anastasia laughed as he cast off, and the sound carried across the silver water like a well-bred reminder of Carrie’s place in life.

Hardly knowing she was doing it, Carrie narrowed her eyes to study the perspective. There was nothing more romantic than watching a man putting his back into a stroke. She gave a little smile as Nico pulled away from the small jetty, and was on the point of returning to the palace when she heard Anastasia calling to her. She certainly had no intention of slinking away. Turning, she smiled and raised her hand to wave.

‘Oh, look, darling … it’s that little girl from your office. Doesn’t she look quaint in that sweet little dress? Good morning, dear …’

As the princess trilled her greeting Carrie’s jaw firmed. An air rifle and a few well-placed shots below the water-line of the little boat might not have gone amiss … Failing that, a reef, though no doubt Nico would negotiate it safely.

But as the boat pulled away and they both lost interest in her Carrie felt stupid and gauche, and the market-stall dress that had been such a life saver in the heat seemed suddenly dull in comparison to Anastasia’s glamorous designer outfit. Then Nico turned as if to check that she had gone, and the look he gave her suggested he knew how she felt about his beautiful companion.

He could think what he liked; she was going to stand and take in every detail. It was more fuel for her paintings.

As Nico increased his stroke the chalky pink scarf the princess wore around her neck floated out behind her. It finished the picture and made Carrie long to paint the scene.the swarthy hero with his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing his powerful forearms, the wide spread of Nico’s shoulders and the flex of his muscles as he drove his oar through the water. The tension in his legs beneath his jeans.

In fact, Carrie thought mischievously, she would be quite happy to leave Anastasia out of it. It would make a much better painting, she concluded, turning away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AS SHE prepared for dinner that night Carrie was excited and apprehensive in equal measure. She was also doubly determined not to let Princess Laura down. She fully intended to look her best. But when the maid went to collect her dress they discovered that a calamity had occurred.

The first Carrie knew of it was a distraught cry that brought her running into the dressing room. ‘Are you all right?’ she said anxiously, drawing the girl into her arms when she saw how upset she was.

‘Your dress … the beautiful gown … I can’t find it.’

‘But it can’t have disappeared,’ Carrie said sensibly. ‘Come on, let’s look for it together. We’ll soon find it. You start at one end of the rail and I’ll start at the other …’

But as they searched Carrie’s confidence began to falter. She flicked determinedly through the press of garments a second time. There were so many gowns to search through. If there was one thing she had learned it was that Princess Laura didn’t do anything by halves. Once the dressmakers had taken her measurements they must have been sewing non-stop. But there was only one special gown for tonight, and it was nowhere to be found.

She hid her feelings from the maid, but she had lost more than a gown, she had lost her chance to make Nico see her differently….

‘Maybe you could wear another dress, signorina?’ the maid suggested in desperation.

Carrie’s concerns switched immediately to the young girl’s disappointment. ‘What a good idea. Let’s look for one together,’ she suggested, forcing a bright note into her voice.

But there was nothing to compare with the matchless gown, and after a fruitless hunt the maid suggested checking all the other dressing rooms in the palace in case there had been a mix up of some sort.

‘Whatever’s happened to the gown it’s not worth crying about,’ Carrie assured her. ‘And it’s too late to start searching the palace,’ she pointed out logically. With the maid on the verge of tears again she had to be practical, but it wasn’t easy when the loss of the dress was such a bitter blow.

‘Please, let me go and look for it, signorina,’ the maid pleaded with her. ‘You never know, I might find it.’

‘All right, but I don’t want you to worry if you don’t. This isn’t your fault. While you’re gone, I’ll have another look through the wardrobe. I’m sure I’ll find something else to wear.’

Carrie picked out several formal dresses and then discarded them again for various reasons. Some of the neck-lines plunged to the waist, which with her voluptuous figure was hardly prudent, and others had slits almost to the crotch. All the shoes seemed to have spindly heels, and she dreaded wearing them, but time was marching on and there was still no sign of the maid returning.

Carrie glanced out of the window and her throat dried as she caught sight of the stream of limousines rolling in procession along the road towards the palace. Their passengers would be ambassadors and billionaires, and enough European royalty to fill the pages of a celebrity magazine. Princess Laura had wanted to prepare her for this, and had wanted her to feel comfortable in such elevated company, and now everything had gone wrong. She glanced at the door, she couldn’t wait for the maid any longer. She wouldn’t risk being late for Princess Laura. She would just have to choose something else to wear….

But now Carrie made another worrying discovery—everything in the wardrobe was at least one size too small. It didn’t make sense. Princess Laura’s dressmakers had been so thorough and precise with their measurements and she found it hard to believe they would have made such an elementary mistake. She began to suspect someone had done this on purpose to humiliate her.

Returning to the wardrobe, she selected a beaded sheath with an impressive fishtail train, for no better reason than it fell off the hanger at her feet and she took it for a sign. Now she just had to hope the Fates were on her side.

Having shoehorned her way into the dress, Carrie found she couldn’t fasten all the tiny silk-covered buttons that ran up the back. Glancing at the clock, she grew increasingly anxious. For her to walk into the banqueting hall after the king had sat down was an unimaginable breach of etiquette, and she had no intention of embarrassing Princess Laura.

So where was the maid? Had she been hijacked along the way? Carrie was beginning to think that the loss of the gown was no mistake, and that perhaps the maid had been sent on some new, time-consuming errand by the same person who had removed the gown. Because the dress had been taken, Carrie thought grimly as she battled with the buttons.

The only way she could secure the dress she had chosen was by tugging it round, fastening the buttons, and then heaving it back again. Unfortunately by this time her cheeks were beetroot red, and her carefully dressed hair was hanging in tangles. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she felt like crying. The jewelled bodice barely covered her big bouncing breasts that threatened to erupt out of the confines of her gown at any moment. She looked a mess, and now it was too late to choose something else to wear. The fabulous couture gown didn’t hang on her as it was supposed to. It clung in a most unflattering way, revealing every cream cake she had ever consumed in her life. And she still had to choose some shoes….

How could she choose when she couldn’t bend over? Hopping around, she managed to hook some stratospheric stilettos with her big toe. ‘Lengthen your line’—wasn’t that the advice for small, plump people in women’s magazines? She had certainly done that, and had become a five foot nine walking disaster along the way. Grabbing a handful of hairpins as she tottered towards the door, she stuck them in her mouth, intending to stab them into her hair as she hurried to the banquet.

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