Princess's Nine-Month Secret

by Kate Hewitt

  ‘It was mutual,’ Rico said after a brief pause. ‘If I’d had any sense myself, any ability to think straight, I would have realised how innocent you were. And I wouldn’t have touched you.’

  ‘Was it that obvious?’

  ‘In hindsight, yes. So what did your father do?’

  ‘He was livid with me, first of all. Utterly enraged, as well as disappointed. I’m not sure which felt worse.’ She shook her head, the memories assailing her like hammer blows. ‘And when he found out I was pregnant...’

  ‘How did he find out, as a matter of interest?’

  ‘He made me take a pregnancy test,’ Halina said simply. ‘At the earliest opportunity. And then he tried to have Prince Zayed marry me, spoiled goods that I was, because he didn’t think anyone else would have me. And when that didn’t work out...’ She gulped, not wanting to go on, closing her eyes against the harshness of the memory that still hurt her even now.

  ‘What?’ Rico demanded roughly. ‘Whatever it is, tell me, Halina. Surely it can’t be worse than another man claiming my child?’

  She saw how the skin around his lips had gone white, his eyes hard and metallic. He was angry, but with her father, not with her. Would he be even angrier when she told him the whole truth?

  ‘You have to understand,’ Halina said slowly. ‘My father is a good man. A loving man.’ She had to believe that, because if she didn’t what did she have? A father who had never actually truly loved her? ‘But,’ she continued painfully, ‘he was in very difficult circumstances...’

  ‘It sounds as if you were in very difficult circumstances,’ Rico interjected shortly.

  Yes, she had been, but the circumstances had been of her own making. And she supposed she wanted to explain her father’s actions—absolve him, even—because she still loved him and wanted to believe he loved her. Otherwise, what was love, that he could be doting one minute and damning the next? How did you trust it, if it could so easily turn into something else? What was love, if you couldn’t forgive a mistake, an insult, an open wound?

  ‘Halina,’ Rico said, and it sounded like a warning.

  ‘He tried,’ Halina confessed in a low voice, ‘To make me have an abortion.’

  * * *

  Rico stared at Halina, her pale face, her pain-filled eyes, and felt a whole new kind of fury sweep through him—a tidal wave of anger and indignation and, beneath those, a deep, soul-reaching pain.

  ‘He tried?’ he repeated in a growl. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘He insisted, and he wouldn’t listen to me at all. My mother agreed with him, and they took me to a discreet doctor. Forced me.’ She blinked rapidly but a tear fell anyway, glistening on her cheek like a diamond. Rico’s fists clenched on the table. ‘I fought the whole way, tooth and nail.’ She stared at him, her eyes huge. ‘You have to believe that, Rico. I would never want to get rid of my child. I begged and pleaded, I cried and fought. I did.’ She let out a choked cry, one trembling fist pressed to her mouth.

  ‘I do believe it,’ he said in a low voice. It was impossible not to when he could feel her desperation and grief like a tangible thing, a shroud covering her. ‘So, what happened then?’

  ‘The doctor refused to perform the operation,’ Halina whispered. ‘Because I was fighting against it so much. My father was furious, but in the midst of it all I think he saw where his own anger had led him, and he was ashamed.’ She swiped at the tear still glistening on her cheek. ‘I have to believe that.’

  And Rico understood that too, because he’d felt the same about his own father for many years, trying to excuse the inexcusable, to give a good reason for cruelty towards a child. Towards him. You could twist the truth into knots to try to make it an acceptable shape, but it all came apart eventually, and he’d had to acknowledge the hard, unvarnished reality. His father just hadn’t cared.

  ‘So he sent you to the Palace of Forgotten Sands,’ Rico said flatly. ‘He banished you.’

  Halina nodded, swallowing hard in an attempt to restore her shaky composure. ‘Yes, I was meant to remain there until the baby was born.’

  ‘And afterwards?’

  ‘I...I don’t know.’ Halina bit her lip. ‘My father said he would take my baby away from me, but I hoped... I hoped in time he would change his mind and let me keep him or her.’ She pressed one hand to her belly. ‘I can’t believe he would have been so cruel to me or his own grandchild.’

  Rico sat back, his mind whirling with all the revelations Halina had just levelled at him. He’d misjudged her badly, assuming she’d been acting on her own selfish whims, going to a remote location to keep his child from him. It had been a stupid assumption, founded on his own unfortunate experience and the ensuing prejudices he still had about mothers and fathers, about family, about love.

  Because he’d never experienced a mother’s love, a father’s trust. Because he’d assumed Halina would act in as selfish and capricious a manner as his own mother had done. He’d been wrong. So very wrong.

  ‘I’m sorry you went through all that,’ he said finally. ‘And I’m sorry I assumed...’ He paused, realising how much he’d assumed. How much it must have hurt her, considering her true experience. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.

  Halina nodded, pale-faced and spent now. ‘That’s why I didn’t see an obstetrician,’ she explained quietly. ‘I wasn’t given the chance.’

  ‘I understand.’ Rico spoke tautly, trying to control the raging anger he felt towards Halina’s father. The man had no right to assume control over Halina’s life, over their child’s life. The thought that Halina might have been forced to terminate her pregnancy—end the life of his child—made Rico grind his teeth together. But his rage served no purpose now, not when Halina was looking at him so warily, as if afraid his anger might be directed at her. And why shouldn’t she be afraid? Since snatching her from the desert palace, he’d assumed the worst of her at nearly every turn. Guilt, an unfamiliar emotion, lanced through him.

  From the depths of his soul, a barren landscape until now, Rico summoned a smile. ‘Let’s put such unpleasant things behind us, Halina. The future will be different now—for you and for our baby, who will never know a day without the love of his or her mother and father. That is my promise.’

  Halina nodded, but she didn’t look much convinced, something which made guilt rush through Rico all over again. He could see now how arrogant and inconsiderate he’d been—announcing his dictates, never giving her a choice—and he vowed to do better in the future. He would provide for Halina, he would make her smile, he would see her blossom, so she could rediscover her old spirit and joy.

  He just would do it without engaging any of his own emotions. Because even now, when his heart was nearly rent in two by Halina’s sorrowful story, Rico steeled himself not to care. That was one place he could not go, and one thing he would never, ever give his bride-to-be. His heart. Even now, having shared and been entrusted with so much, he couldn’t risk that much.

  They spent the rest of lunch talking about inconsequential matters, then strolled through the sunshine to the Colosseum.

  ‘Photographs don’t do it justice!’ Halina exclaimed as they walked through an archway, one of eighty. Although partially ruined, the Colosseum was still a magnificent and awe-inspiring structure with its high walls and many archways, the expanse of the old arena.

  They roamed through its many corridors, reading each other bits from the guidebook—how it had been built by three different emperors and then had fallen to ruin a few hundred years later, much of its stone used to build other structures in Rome.

  ‘It’s horrible and beautiful all at once, isn’t it?’ Halina said as they stood on the viewing platform that overlooked what had once been the main arena. ‘The architecture is so impressive, and yet so many people and animals suffered and died here terribly. It’s awful to think about.’

  Ri
co nodded. ‘Beautiful things can be used for evil,’ he said, feeling strangely sombre after their walk around the ancient archways and corridors. He felt as if he was sharing more than a mere tourist attraction with Halina; the way they’d talked together, reflecting on what they’d learned in the guidebook, was something he’d never done with a woman before, or really with anyone.

  He didn’t have friends, not beyond business colleagues, and women had been no more than mistresses, mere objects of sexual desire and fulfillment. Strolling in the sunshine on a summer’s afternoon, sharing ideas, talking and listening, was all incredibly novel. And, he realised with a pang of unease, quite pleasant, which he hadn’t expected at all.

  He’d been viewing this afternoon as an expedient means to an end, a way to improve Halina’s mood, gain her trust. But somewhere along the way it had turned into something else, something deeper and more meaningful, and he really didn’t know how to feel about that because, the truth was, he didn’t want to feel at all.

  Halina glanced down at the guidebook. ‘It says we shouldn’t miss the museum in the inner walls of the top floor,’ she remarked. ‘It’s dedicated to Eros.’

  ‘Eros?’

  ‘The god of love.’

  ‘I know who Eros is,’ Rico returned. ‘I just don’t know why they’d have a museum dedicated to him in a place that was used for torture and death.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why, to bring some light and hope to a place that has been the stage for so much darkness.’ Halina’s smile was teasing and playful, but her eyes looked serious and Rico felt a twinge of alarm, a deepening sense of unease.

  Love did not bring light to the darkness; it wasn’t the hope held out in a broken and damaged world. No, love was nothing but risk and pain, loss and weakness. He knew that because he’d made the grievous mistake of loving his father. A broken childhood might not be the best reason to avoid love, but it was Rico’s, and it had affected him to the depths of his soul. It had made him determined not just to avoid love but revile it and all it meant. Because the alternative was unthinkable. Unbearable.

  As he took Halina’s arm and led her towards the stairs, Rico sincerely hoped that she wasn’t holding out for some remnant of love from him. Surely she knew him better than that, even if their acquaintance had been limited so far?

  If she didn’t know it, he reflected grimly, he would certainly tell her as soon as possible, gently but firmly. He didn’t want to hurt Halina any more than he already had, but the last thing he needed or wanted was a wife who was looking for that damnable emotion—love.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HALINA GAZED AT her reflection in the mirror, noting the colour in her cheeks, the new sparkle in her eyes. It had been two weeks since she’d arrived in Rome with Rico and the nausea was finally abating, thanks to plenty of rest, healthy food and fresh air, as well as simple time. She was nearly at the end of her first trimester, and her pregnancy—her baby—was becoming more real with every passing day.

  The last two weeks had been surprisingly unpressured. Rico had been focused on restoring her health, and Halina had appreciated the chance to take long naps and baths, or simply sit out in the sun on the huge terrace off Rico’s apartment. He’d hired a cook to make fresh, nourishing meals and had cancelled all his social engagements so he could be home as much as possible in the evenings after work.

  He was acting every inch the loving, considerate husband except...he wasn’t. After that first shocking conversation when he’d told her about his childhood, Rico had buttoned up, sharing no personal details, inviting no intimate conversations. Halina had missed it, had tried several times to engage him again, but any questions about his childhood, his feelings, his very self, had been firmly and sometimes brusquely shot down. Halina had a suspicion he regretted sharing as much as he had with her, and this was his way of retrenching.

  That had been most apparent when they’d visited the museum dedicated to Eros at the Colosseum. They’d strolled through the galleries of frescoes and sculpture, terracotta vases and bas-reliefs, while Halina had read from the guidebook.

  ‘The ancient poets describe Eros as an invincible force that can bring happiness but also destroy it.’

  Rico had snorted, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. ‘The latter is certainly true.’

  Halina had glanced at him over the edge of the guidebook. ‘You sound as if you’ve been in love,’ she’d remarked, trying not to feel an inconvenient twinge of jealousy at the thought. Was that why he kept to mistresses, none of whom lasted longer than a week? To keep his heart from being broken again?

  ‘Not in love,’ Rico had corrected, then had refused to say anything more.

  ‘I’ve never been in love,’ Halina had remarked with an insouciant shrug. ‘Never even close. Never had the chance.’

  ‘Consider yourself fortunate, then.’

  ‘What have you got against it?’ She tried to keep her voice light, to disguise the hurt and, yes, the yearning she knew she felt. She might never have been in love but she wanted to be one day. And if she married Rico, when she married him, it seemed likely that she wouldn’t be.

  ‘You heard what the ancient poets said.’ Rico paused to study a statue of Eros stringing his bow. ‘It can destroy happiness. Who wants to tangle with that? And what about the whole concept of love being an arrow that hits you?’ He nodded towards the marble figure. ‘Something that is alleged to bring joy actually brings pain. That sounds about right.’

  Halina stopped where she was and lowered the guidebook. ‘Who hurt you, Rico?’ she asked quietly. He jerked as if shot by the aforementioned arrow, his eyes narrowed.

  ‘No one.’

  ‘That can’t be true, not with the way you’re talking.’

  He shrugged one powerful shoulder. ‘It was a long time ago.’

  ‘How long ago?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Halina.’ His tone couldn’t have been more repressive, and Halina didn’t have the courage to press any more. But she wondered. Oh, how she wondered. What kind of woman had captured Rico’s heart and made him as cold and closed-off as he was?

  Because that was what she’d discovered over the last two weeks, pleasant as they had been. Rico had no interest in getting to know her, or being known himself. No desire to have a conversation that probed more deeply than the weather or the latest films. There was no need to deepen their relationship now that they were going to be married.

  Tonight’s party would be his way of introducing her to Roman society as his wife-to-be, and Halina quailed at the thought. She’d only been to one party before, and look how that had turned out. How was she going to be able to manage with everyone’s eyes on her, and Rico remaining so solicitous yet so cold?

  ‘Halina?’ He knocked on the door of her bedroom. ‘The limo is here.’

  ‘All right.’ Taking a deep breath, Halina gave her reflection one last inspecting glance. Yesterday Rico had taken her to the prestigious Via dei Condotti to shop in the city’s most exclusive boutiques. She’d emerged from the various shops with half a dozen gold-corded bags filled with everything imaginable—lingerie, day dresses, casual clothes, evening gowns.

  ‘I’m not sure what the point of all this is,’ she’d told Rico. ‘I’m going to start getting bigger soon and nothing will fit.’

  He’d merely shrugged. ‘You can wear them again after the baby is born. And you have a responsibility to look the part as my wife.’

  A remark that had made her want to ask what their marriage was going to look like, what Rico expected from her in all sorts of ways. But she’d held her tongue because she wasn’t ready for that conversation. Two weeks of rest had helped her a great deal in recovering both physically and emotionally from the last couple of harrowing months, but she didn’t think she had the strength yet to tackle that emotional, explosive subject.

  ‘I’m ready,’ she called
and, reaching for her gauzy wrap, she turned to the door. She took a deep breath and opened it to find Rico standing there, looking as devastatingly sexy and charismatic in his tuxedo as he had when she’d first laid eyes on him.

  ‘Bella,’ Rico murmured, his pupils flaring as his gaze travelled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He made no effort to disguise the heat simmering in the silvery depths of his eyes. ‘Molta bella.’

  Pleasure coiled within her like a tightly wound spring. She’d taken care with her appearance, styling her hair in a complicated up-do and applying make-up that was both subtle and effective, emphasising her lush mouth and dark eyes. As for the dress...

  She’d chosen to wear one Rico hadn’t seen during their shopping trip, an emerald-green full-length evening gown with a halter top and a plunging neckline. It was quite the most daring and sexy thing she’d even worn, and when Rico looked at her with so much unabashed desire she felt heady and powerful. She felt the way she had that fateful night two and a half months ago, and realised afresh how and why it had led her to abandon all common sense.

  Rico stretched out one hand and drew her by the fingertips towards the living room and onto the terrace. The night was sultry and warm, the terrace lit only by a sliver of moon and the wash of lights from the buildings spread out before them in a living, breathing map.

  ‘I want to give you this,’ Rico said, and withdrew a small black velvet box from the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket.

  Halina’s heart stuttered in her chest. ‘Is that...?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied as he opened it and showed her its contents. ‘It is.’

  Halina gazed down at the exquisite solitaire diamond that was big enough to reach to her knuckle. It glittered and sparkled in the darkness, its many facets catching the moonlight. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘And huge.’

  ‘Try it on.’

  Wordlessly she held out her hand, unable to keep her fingers from trembling as Rico slid the massive ring onto her finger. It felt heavy, so much so that her hand faltered and Rico caught it up in his own, drawing her even more closely to him.