Crowned for the Prince's Heir

by Sharon Kendrick

  Luc sat at his desk feeling as if he had just opened Pandora’s box. The blood pounded inside his head and his skin grew clammy. There must be some kind of mistake. There must be. He had been bored. Why else would he have tapped Lisa’s name into the search engine of his computer? Yet wasn’t the truth something a little more unpalatable? That he couldn’t get her out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

  Nearly six months had passed since he’d seen her and he had been eaten up with guilt about what had happened just before he’d left London. He had broken his self-imposed celibacy with his ex-lover, instead of the woman he was due to marry. But he was over that now and the date for his wedding to Sophie was due to be announced next week. It was the end of an era and the beginning of a new one, and he intended to embrace it wholeheartedly. And that was why he had typed Lisa’s name into the search engine—as a kind of careless test to see whether he could now look on her with indifference.

  A muscle at his temple flickered as once again he stared with disbelief at the screen. He was no stranger to shock. He had lost his mother in the most shocking of circumstances—and in some ways he had lost his father at the same time. He had thought nothing would ever rock him like that again, but a faint echo of that disbelief reverberated through him now. He stared at the image in front of him and his mouth dried. A picture of Lisa at a fashion show. Her lustrous caramel curls were pulled away from her face and her eyes and skin seemed to glow with a new vitality—but it hadn’t been that which had made his blood run cold.

  He stared at her swollen belly. At the hand which lay across her curving shape in that gently protective way which pregnant women always seemed to adopt. Features hardening into a frown, he read the accompanying text.

  DESIGNER LAUNCHES SWELL NEW LINE!

  Lisa Bailey, famous for the understated dresses which captivated a generation of ‘Ladies Who Lunch’, last night launched her new range of maternity wear. And stunning Lisa just happened to be modelling one of her own designs!

  Coyly refusing to name the baby’s father, the six-months-pregnant St Martin’s graduate would say only that, ‘Women have successfully been bringing up children on their own for centuries. It’s hardly ground-breaking stuff.’

  Ms Bailey’s collection is available to buy from her Belgravia shop.

  Luc sat back in his chair.

  Lisa, pregnant? He felt the ice move from his veins to his heart. It couldn’t be his. Definitely not his. He shook his head as if his denial would make it true, but memories had started to crowd into his mind which would not be silenced. Her heated claim that there had been no other lover than him since they’d been apart—and he had believed her, because he knew Lisa well enough to realise she wouldn’t lie about something like that. Six months pregnant. He sat back in his chair, his heart pounding as he raked a strand of hair away from his heated face. Of course it was his.

  Lisa Bailey was carrying his baby.

  His baby.

  Disbelief gave way to anger as he shut down the computer. Why the hell hadn’t she told him? Why had she left him to find out in such a way—and, just as importantly, who else knew?

  He reached out for the phone, but withdrew his hand again. He needed to think carefully and not act on impulse, for this was as delicate a negotiation as any he had ever handled. Using the phone would be unsatisfactory and there was no guarantee the call wouldn’t be overheard by someone at her end. Or his. It occurred to him that she might refuse to speak to him—in fact, the more he thought about it, the more likely a scenario that seemed, for she could be as stubborn as hell.

  Leaning forward, he pressed the buzzer on his desk and Eleonora appeared almost immediately.

  ‘Come in and close the door.’ Luc paused for a moment before he spoke. ‘I want you to cancel everything in my diary for the next few days.’

  Her darkly beautiful face remained impassive. ‘That might present some difficulties, Your Royal Highness.’

  Luc regarded her sternly. ‘And? Is that not what I pay you for—to handle the tricky stuff and smooth over any difficulties?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Eleonora inclined her dark head. ‘And does Your Royal Highness wish me to make any alternative arrangements to fill the unexpected spaces in your diary?’

  Luc’s mouth flattened as he nodded. ‘I need to fly to Isolaverde and afterwards I want the plane on standby, ready to take me to London.’

  ‘And am I allowed to ask why, Your Royal Highness?’

  ‘Not yet, you’re not.’

  Eleonora bit her lip but said nothing more and Luc waited until she had left the office before slowly turning to stare out of the window at the palace gardens. Already the days hinted at the warm weather ahead, yet his heart felt as wintry as if it had been covered with layers of ice. He couldn’t bear to sit here and think about the unthinkable. He wanted to go to England now. To go to Lisa Bailey and...and...

  And what? His default mechanism had always been one of action, but it was vital he did nothing impulsive. He must think this through carefully and consider every possibility which lay open to him.

  The following morning he flew to Isolaverde for the meeting he was dreading and from there his jet took him straight to London—but by the time he was sitting in his limousine outside Lisa’s shop, his feelings of disbelief and anger had turned into a clear focus of determination.

  The evening was cold and a persistent drizzle had left the pavements shining wet, with a sickly orange hue which glowed down from the streetlights. In the window of Lisa’s shop was a pregnant mannequin wearing a silk dress, her hand on her belly and a prettily arranged heap of wooden toys at her feet. Luc had sat and watched a procession of well-heeled women being dropped off by car or by taxi, sheltered from the rain by their chauffeurs’ umbrellas as they walked into the shop. Business must be booming, he thought grimly.

  He forced himself to wait until the shop closed and a couple of women who were clearly staff had left the building. As Luc waited, a passing police officer tapped on the window of the limousine, discreetly overlooking the fact that it was parked on double yellow lines once he was made aware of the owner’s identity.

  He waited until the lights in the shop had been dimmed and he could see only the gleaming curls of the woman sitting behind a small desk—and then he walked across the street and opened the door to the sound of a tinkly bell.

  Lisa glanced up as the bell rang, wondering if a customer had left their phone behind or changed their mind about an order—but it was nothing as simple as that. It felt like a case of history repeating itself as Luc walked into her shop, only this time there wasn’t a look of curiosity on his face which failed to conceal the spark of hunger in his eyes. This time she saw nothing but fury in their sapphire depths—though when she stopped to think about it, could she really blame him?

  Yet she had stupidly convinced herself that this scenario would never happen—as if some unknown guardian angel were protecting her from the wrath of the man who stood in front of her, his features dark with rage. She was glad to be sitting down, because she thought her knees might have buckled from the shock of seeing him standing there—trying to control his ragged breathing. He didn’t have to say a word for her to know why he was here; it was as obvious as the swell of her belly, which he was staring at like a man who had just seen a ghost.

  Don’t be rash, she reasoned, telling herself this was much too important to indulge her own feelings. She had to think about the baby and only the baby.

  ‘Luc,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

  He lifted his gaze from her stomach to her face as their eyes met in a silent clash. ‘Weren’t you?’ he said grimly. ‘What’s the matter, Lisa? Surely you must have known I would turn up sooner or later?’

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. ‘I tried not to think about it.’

  ‘You tried not to think about it?’ he repeated. ‘Is that why I was left to discover via social media that you’re pregnant?’

  ‘I didn’
t mean—’

  ‘I don’t care what you did or didn’t mean because you’re going to have a baby.’ Ruthlessly, he cut across her words. But for the first and only time since she’d known him, he seemed to be struggling with the rest of the sentence, because when finally he spoke, he sounded choked. ‘My baby.’

  Lisa could feel the blood draining from her face and thought how wrong this all seemed. A miracle of life which should—and did—fill her with joy and yet the air around them throbbed with accusation and tension. Her hands were unsteady and she felt almost dizzy, and all she could think was that this kind of emotion couldn’t be good for the baby. ‘Yes,’ she breathed at last, staring down at the tight curve of her belly as if to remind herself. ‘Yes, I’m having your baby.’

  There was an ominous silence before he spoke again. A moment when he followed the direction of her gaze, staring again at her new shape as if he couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Yet you didn’t tell me,’ he accused. ‘You kept it secret. As if it was your news alone and nobody else’s. As if I had no right to know.’

  ‘I did try to tell you!’ she protested. ‘I tried phoning you but your number had changed.’

  ‘I change my number every six months,’ he informed her coldly. ‘It’s a security thing.’

  Lisa pushed a handful of hair away from her hot face. ‘And then I phoned the palace and got through to one of your aides. Eleonora, I think her name was.’

  Luc’s head jerked back. ‘You spoke to Eleonora?’

  ‘Yes. And she told me that you weren’t available. Actually, it went further than that. She said I wasn’t on your list of telephone contacts. If you must know she made me feel like some pestering little groupie who needed to be kept away from the precious Prince at all costs.’

  Luc let out a long sigh. Of course she had. Eleonora was one of his most fiercely loyal subjects, and part of her role had always been to act as his gatekeeper, and never more so than when he’d returned to Mardovia following his illicit night with Lisa. When he’d been full of remorse for what he’d done but unable to shake off the erotic memories which had clung to his skin like the soft touch of her fingers. He had thrown himself into his work, undertaking a punishing schedule which had taken him to every town and city on the island. And he had instructed his fiercely loyal aide not to bother him unless absolutely necessary.

  ‘You could have written,’ he said.

  ‘What, sent you a postcard, or a letter which was bound to be opened by a member of your staff? Saying what? Dear Prince Luciano, I’m having your baby?’ Her gaze was very steady. ‘You told me you were going to marry another woman. You made it very clear you never wished to see me again. And after you’d gone, I found a card on my bedroom floor—a card from some Hollywood actress you must have met at the wedding. My lowly place in the pecking order was confirmed there and then.’

  ‘I could tell you that I took the card simply as a politeness with no intention of contacting her again, but that is irrelevant,’ he gritted out. ‘Because the bottom line is that you’re pregnant, and we’re going to have to deal with that.’

  She shook her head. ‘But there’s nothing to deal with. You don’t have to worry. I have no wish to upset your fiancée or your plans for the future. And lots of women have children without the support of men!’ she finished brightly.

  ‘So you said in your recent interview,’ he agreed witheringly.

  ‘And it doesn’t matter what you say.’ She looked at him defiantly, because defiance made her feel strong. It stopped her from crumpling to the ground and just opening her mouth and howling. It stopped her from wishing he would cradle her in his arms, like any normal father-to-be—his face full of wonder and tenderness. She licked her lips. ‘Because when it boils down to it, this is just a baby like any other.’

  ‘But that’s where you’re wrong, Lisa,’ he negated softly. ‘It is different. This is not just a baby. The child you carry has royal blood running through its veins. Royal Mardovian blood. Do you have any idea of the significance of that?’ His face hardened. ‘Unless that was the calculated risk you took all along?’

  She stared at him in confusion. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

  ‘No?’ The words began to bubble up inside him, demanding to be spoken and, although years of professional diplomacy urged Luc to use caution, the shock of this unexpected discovery was making him want to throw that caution to the wind. ‘Maybe this is what you hoped for all along,’ he accused. ‘I saw your face at the wedding when you started talking about your niece. That dreamy look which suggested you longed to become a mother yourself. I believe women often become broody when they’re around other people’s children. When their body clock is ticking away as yours so obviously is. Is that what happened to you, Lisa? Only instead of saddling yourself with a troublesome partner as your sister seems to have done—maybe you decided to go it alone.’

  ‘You’re insane,’ she breathed. ‘Completely insane.’

  ‘Am I? Don’t they say that children are the new accessories for the modern career woman? Was that why you threw yourself at me that night, when I was trying to do the honourable thing of resisting you?’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Was that why you made love to me so energetically—riding me like some rodeo rider on a bucking bronco? Perhaps hoping to test the strength of the condom we used—because you wanted my seed inside you. It is not unknown.’

  She stared at him in disbelief as his words flooded over her in a bitter stream. ‘Or maybe I went even further?’ she declared. ‘Perhaps you think I was so desperate to have your child that I went into the bathroom after you’d gone and performed some sort of amateur DIY insemination? That’s not beyond the realms of possibility either!’

  ‘Don’t be so disgusting!’ he snapped.

  ‘Me?’ She stared at him. ‘That’s rich. You’re the one who came in here making all kinds of bizarre suggestions when all I wanted was to try to do the decent thing—for everyone concerned. You’re going to marry Sophie and...’ She stood up then, needing to move around, needing to bring back some blood to her cramped limbs. Leaving behind the clutter of her desk, she walked over to a rail of the new maternity dresses which she’d worked so hard on—pretty dresses which discreetly factored in the extra material needed at the front. She’d been feeling so proud of her new collection. She’d taken lots of new orders after the show and had allowed herself the tentative hope that she could carry on supporting Brittany and Tamsin and still make a good life for herself and her own baby. Yet now, in the face of Luc’s angry remarks—her will was beginning to waver.

  She straightened a shimmery turquoise dress before forcing herself to meet his gaze. ‘Don’t you understand that I’m letting you off the hook? I don’t want to mess up your plans by lumbering you with a baby you never intended to have. A commoner’s baby. You’re going to be married to someone else. A princess.’ The hurt she’d managed so successfully to hide started to creep up, but she forced herself to push it away. To ask the question she needed to ask and to try to do it without her voice trembling, which suddenly seemed like one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. ‘Because how the hell do you think Princess Sophie is going to feel when you tell her you’re going to be a father?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘SHE KNOWS,’ SAID LUC, the words leaving his mouth as if they were poison. ‘Princess Sophie knows about the baby and it’s over between us.’

  He watched Lisa grow still, like an animal walking through the darkened undergrowth suddenly scenting danger. Her green-gold eyes narrowed as she looked at him and her voice was an uncertain tremble.

  ‘B-but you said—’

  ‘I know what I said,’ he agreed. ‘But that was then. This is now. Or did you really think I was going to take another woman as my wife when you are pregnant with my child? This changes everything, Lisa.’ There was a heartbeat of a pause. ‘Which is why I went to see the Princess before I came to England.’

  She winced, closing her eyes b
riefly—as if she was experiencing her own, private pain. ‘And what...what did she say?’

  Luc picked his words carefully, still trying to come to terms with the capriciousness of women. He didn’t understand them and sometimes he thought he never would. And when he stopped to think about it—why should he, when the only role models he’d known had all been paid for out of the palace purse?

  He had been expecting a show of hurt and contempt from his young fiancée. He had steeled himself against her expected insults as he had been summoned into the glorious throne room of her palace on Isolaverde, where shortly afterwards she had appeared—an elegant figure in a gown of palest blue which had floated around her. But the vitriol he deserved hadn’t been forthcoming.

  ‘She told me she was relieved.’

  ‘Relieved?’

  ‘She said that a wedding planned when the bride-to-be was still in infancy was completely outdated and my news had allowed her to look at her life with renewed clarity. She told me that she didn’t actually want to get married—and certainly not to a man she didn’t really know, for the sake of our nations.’ He didn’t mention the way she had turned on him and told him that she didn’t approve of his reputation. That the things she’d heard and read in the past—exploits which some of his ex-lovers had managed to slip to the press—had appalled her. She had looked at him very proudly and announced that maybe fate was doing her a favour by freeing her from her commitment to such a man. And what could he do but agree with her, when he was in no position to deny her accusations? ‘So I am now a free man,’ he finished heavily.

  Lisa’s response to this was total silence. He watched her walk over to the desk and pour herself a glass of water and drink it down very quickly before turning back to face him. ‘How very convenient for you,’ she said.

  ‘And for you, of course.’

  Abruptly, she put the glass down. ‘Me?’ The wariness in her green-gold eyes had been replaced by a glint of anger. ‘I’m sorry—you’ve lost me. What does the breaking off of your engagement have to do with me? We had a one-night stand with unwanted consequences, that’s all. Two people who planned never to see one another again. Nothing has changed.’