Princess's Nine-Month Secret

by Kate Hewitt

  Then, on the fourth day after Halina’s departure, Rico read the headline in the society section of the newspaper: Abkaran Princess to Marry Sultan.

  Everything in him stilled as he scanned the few scant lines.

  Princess Halina of Abkar, recently engaged to billionaire tycoon Rico Falcone, is now poised to marry the Sultan of Bahari on Saturday. The Sultan has two wives already, and the Princess will be his third.

  Rico’s head jerked up from the newspaper, shock slamming into him, leaving him breathless. The third wife? He glanced back down at the article and saw a grainy black-and-white photograph of the Sultan, a paunchy old man with jowly cheeks and a smug smile. His skin crawled. He hadn’t let go of Halina for this. He hadn’t sacrificed his own happiness, his own heart, for her to be married off to some old lecher.

  And he was sure, with a stony certainty, that she hadn’t known what she was walking into when she’d returned to Abkar. Her father had tricked them both.

  Rico swore out loud, viciously and fluently. His emotional cowardice had led to this disaster. He’d wanted the very best for Halina, and instead he’d dumped her in the worst situation possible. With his mouth hardening into a grim line of determination, Rico reached for his phone. He’d rescued Halina once before. He could do it again. Only this time it might take a little more finesse.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Rico had found his way forward thanks to a few crucial phone calls. He booked a flight to Bahari and within hours of landing he had a royal audience with the Sultan. Forty-five minutes later, their business was concluded and, after spending the night at a hotel in the desert country’s capital city, he booked another flight to Abkar.

  He stood in front of the royal palace, soldiers barring his way, the golden stone of the palace shimmering under the hot desert sun.

  ‘You may tell the Sultan I am here in regard to Princess Halina’s forthcoming marriage. I have crucial news that I know he will want to hear.’

  The soldiers glared at him uncertainly before one gave a terse nod and spoke Arabic into an intercom. Several tense minutes later Rico was admitted to the palace and led to a small, spartan waiting room.

  The Sultan kept him waiting for nearly an hour before he finally deigned to make an appearance. Rico didn’t mind. He wasn’t going to play the man’s petty games, and he wasn’t going to fall prey to them either. Not any more.

  ‘How surprising to see you here,’ the Sultan remarked, his eyes cold, any pretence at friendliness dropped. ‘I cannot begin to imagine what you have to say to me in regard to the Princess’s marriage, but I decided to humour you.’ He folded his arms. ‘So, say what you will and then be gone.’

  ‘The Sultan of Bahari has called off the marriage.’

  Hassan’s eyes narrowed. ‘You are talking nonsense.’

  ‘I am not. If you wish for it to be confirmed, you may call him.’ He held out his phone, his eyes glinting with challenge. ‘I have access to his private line.’

  ‘What have you done?’ Hassan ground out, staring at Rico’s phone as if it were a snake poised to strike.

  ‘Why don’t you find out?’

  Wordlessly Hassan snatched the phone and swiped to dial. Seconds later they both heard ringing and then the Sultan of Bahari’s unctuous voice. Hassan listened for several taut seconds, his expression becoming grimmer and grimmer, before he ended the call and flung the phone at Rico. Rico caught it neatly.

  ‘Very clever, Falcone. Very clever.’

  ‘It is too bad for you that the Sultan prefers racehorses to wives.’

  ‘How much did it cost you to buy him that horse?’ Hassan asked scornfully. ‘Millions? Money wasted. I am not letting Halina go.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ Rico said evenly. ‘Because, if you don’t, I will do everything in my power, give everything I have, to ruin you. And trust me, Hassan, it can be done. I’ve only just begun, and I enjoy a challenge.’

  Hassan stared at him for a long moment, his eyes cold, his jaw tight. ‘What does it matter so much to you?’ he finally asked. ‘You’ve had dozens—no, hundreds—of women. She’s but one. Why can’t you leave her alone?’

  ‘If she wants me to leave her alone, I will. But that’s her choice,’ Rico returned. ‘Not yours.’

  Another minute passed, taut with suppressed tension and resentment. Then Hassan shrugged. ‘Fine. She’s damaged goods anyway, and I would be hard pressed to find someone suitable to take her now. Do what you like with her, but she will not be welcome back here.’

  ‘That,’ Rico answered, ‘is your loss.’

  A short while later he stood in front of the doors to a more ornate reception room, his heart beginning to hammer as doubt chased him yet again. He’d acted precipitously, out of concern for Halina, but what if it had cost her her family? What if she would have rather married the damned Sultan? There was only one way to find out.

  Taking a deep breath, Rico opened the doors. Halina was standing on the far side of the room, once again looking pale and gaunt despite the roundness of her belly. She whirled around as he came into the room, her mouth dropping open in shock.

  ‘Rico...’

  ‘Did your father not tell you I was here?’

  ‘No one’s told me anything.’ She drew a shuddering breath. ‘I’m to marry the Sultan of Bahari...’

  ‘No, you’re not. The wedding’s off.’

  She stared at him in confusion. ‘What?’

  ‘I made a deal with the Sultan of Bahari. He agreed to call off the wedding, in exchange for a racehorse he has been wanting for many years.’

  ‘A racehorse!’

  ‘The owner wouldn’t sell it to him, so I bought it instead.’

  ‘How...?’

  ‘It is done easily enough, when you know the right people and offer the right amount of money. But first, Halina, tell me you’re all right. The baby...’

  ‘The baby’s all right.’ She gave him a wan, tremulous smile. ‘I haven’t had any more bleeding and I’ve felt movement—tiny little flutters.’

  ‘Thank God.’

  ‘But why are you here, Rico? Why have you done this?’

  ‘Because I read about your engagement in the newspaper and I didn’t believe for a second that you wanted that. I feared your father had tricked you into coming home.’

  ‘He did.’ Halina closed her eyes briefly. ‘I should have known better.’

  ‘Cara, so should I. I will never forgive myself for jeopardising your life, your happiness, in such a way.’

  ‘Let’s have no more recriminations, please, Rico. There has been far too much regret already.’

  ‘I need to ask.’ Rico looked at her seriously. ‘Is this what you want? Because your father made it clear that, if you left with me, you would not be welcomed back by your family. It’s a high price to pay, Halina, and one I should have foreseen. Only you can decide if you wish to pay it.’

  ‘And what is the alternative?’ she asked, staring at him with wide, troubled eyes. ‘To marry a man old enough to be my grandfather, and live in shame and seclusion as his third wife with an illegitimate child that would no doubt be taken away from me? Rico, it’s a hard price to pay, but I pay it willingly. You need not fear that.’

  ‘Good.’ He took her hands, which felt small and icy, in his. ‘Then it’s time we departed.’

  ‘Are we going back to Rome?’

  ‘No,’ Rico said, his heart full of both love and pain. He finally knew what love was, and he understood it was so much more than he’d thought. It wasn’t an ephemeral emotion; it was life itself, duty and sacrifice, joy and feeling. He would do anything for Halina because he loved her. He would even let her go.

  ‘Rico...? Where are we going?’

  He smiled at her, his heart aching with both love and loss. ‘We’re going to Paris.’

  CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

  YET AGAIN, WITHIN the space of a week, Halina found herself on a private jet, crossing the world. She felt such an overwhelming mix of relief and sadness that she could barely begin to process the emotions. To have seen her sisters, her family, again only to say goodbye so soon. It filled her with grief, even as she acknowledged the sweet and overwhelming relief at being rescued from a fate so grim she hated even to imagine it.

  But what was going to happen now? She’d asked Rico why they were going to Paris, but he’d refused to be drawn. And, instead of seeming happy to have got her back, he’d withdrawn even more into himself, seeming so quiet and sad that Halina feared the cost her rescue was to him. Were they really better off than they’d been a few days ago before her father had arrived? It felt as if nothing had really changed; Rico was still remote and she still loved him. An impossible situation.

  The plane finally touched down in Paris and, as they drove into the city, Halina gazed out of the limo’s window in awe and wonder, her nose nearly pressed to the glass.

  ‘There’s the Eiffel Tower!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve only seen it in pictures...’

  ‘You’ll have time to do all the sightseeing you want,’ Rico assured her, and she turned back to him uncertainly. Why did he sound so resigned?

  Realisation began to dawn when the limo turned onto a street of eighteenth-century townhouses, tall and elegant. It parked in front of number eighteen, a lovely old building covered in vines, just like in the children’s story Madeline.

  ‘What...?’ Halina began in a disbelieving whisper. Rico drew a key from his pocket.

  ‘Come,’ he said, and she followed him out of the limo and up the stairs to the front door painted a shiny red. ‘Sorry, there are quite a few stairs,’ he remarked as he fitted the key in the door. ‘But you did say the top floor.’

  ‘My dream...’ she whispered, feeling as if she were in one. She followed Rico into an old-fashioned lift with a grille for a door, up to the flat on the top floor. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside.

  Halina stepped into the little hallway with its antique flocked wallpaper and colourful prints. She turned the corner and gazed in amazement at the living room—the squashy sofa, the grand piano, the shelves of books. It was as if he’d conjured it straight out of her head.

  ‘How did you...?’ she began, walking slowly around the apartment. There was a cosy kitchen with dishes in different colours and fresh flowers on the table. The bedroom had a double bed with a cover decorated in broderie anglaise, the window’s bright-blue shutters open to the October sunshine.

  And the balcony... She pushed open the French windows from the living room and stepped onto the tiny balcony with its wrought-iron railings and pots of herbs and flowers. Below her the streets of the Latin Quarter bustled and the smell of freshly baked croissants drifted up. Halina turned to Rico, shaking her head in amazement.

  ‘It’s as if you pulled this right out of my dreams.’

  ‘Well, you did describe it to me in some detail.’ He smiled faintly, but his eyes still looked sad.

  ‘Yes, but how did you arrange it all?’

  ‘It took some doing. I had very specific requests.’ Rico’s smile deepened. ‘But it was worth it.’

  ‘Rico, I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘The deed is in your name, of course,’ he continued, and Halina blinked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve engaged a housekeeper to come once a week, but of course that’s up to you. I thought you’d want your privacy.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Of course this place might feel small once the baby comes, but we can cross that bridge when you come to it. If you’d like to move somewhere more suitable eventually, it can be arranged.’

  ‘Now I really don’t understand.’ Her voice and body both shook. ‘What are you telling me, Rico?’

  He smiled sadly. ‘I’m giving you what you’ve always wanted, Halina. Your freedom.’

  * * *

  Rico watched Halina’s eyes widen in shock. Seeing her delight in the little flat had brought him such painful joy. She would be happy here. He’d make sure of it. Because, when you loved someone, you wanted their happiness more than anything. More than your own.

  ‘My freedom,’ Halina repeated slowly. ‘You mean, you’re leaving me again?’

  ‘I’m giving you what you want,’ Rico insisted. He’d thought long and hard about what to do when he’d been flying to Bahari and then Abkar. What Halina needed to be happy. ‘You told me—many times you told me—that you wanted your freedom, the chance to choose your own destiny. Well, here it is.’

  ‘But I’m not choosing it,’ Halina said, her voice growing in force and volume. ‘Am I? You’re still choosing it for me.’

  Rico blinked, surprised by her fury. He’d thought she’d be pleased. He’d wanted to please her. Or, he wondered with an uncomfortable pang, had he been trying to assuage his own guilty conscience for backing out on her once before?

  ‘If you don’t want to live here, you don’t have to.’

  ‘I thought... I thought when you came for me you’d come to bring me back with you, because that’s where you wanted me.’ Her breath thickened. ‘With you.’

  ‘I’m trying to do the right thing, Halina—’

  ‘Are you? Or are you trying to do the safe thing? Rico, I love you.’

  The words fell into the shocked stillness.

  ‘I’ve loved you for a while, and I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid. But I don’t want to be afraid any longer. I’ve been batted back and forth like a ball in a game and I don’t want that either. I want the freedom to choose, yes, and I choose you. If you’ll have me.’

  His stunned mind couldn’t make sense of her words.

  She continued determinedly. ‘I know you don’t love me, and I’m willing to accept that. I hope in time you might at least come to care for me a little, but in the meantime I want what we had before. I’ll let it be enough. I want us, Rico. I want our family.’

  ‘Stop.’ His voice was so choked he could barely get the single word out. ‘Stop, Halina. I can’t let you say any more.’

  Her eyes clouded and her lips trembled. ‘You can’t?’

  ‘No, because you’re wrong. So wrong. I won’t come to care for you a little in time, because I’m already completely, hopelessly in love with you.’ Her mouth dropped open and he started walking towards her. ‘I’ve been fighting it for a while, maybe even since we first met. Fighting it, because I was so scared of loving someone again, letting myself get hurt. Left. And so I did what I thought I’d never, ever do and I left you instead. I convinced myself I was doing the right thing, the noble thing, but really it was just cowardice. You were right to call me a coward, Halina. Lina. My Lina.’

  He took hold of her hands, drawing her towards him. ‘To hear that you love me...to know it and believe it... I wish I’d told you first. I wish I’d had that much courage. But I’m so honoured, so privileged, to be loved by you. I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t.’

  ‘Deserving doesn’t come into it, Rico,’ Halina said softly as she came into his arms. ‘Love is a gift, freely given, gratefully received. And that’s how it is for me.’

  ‘And for me. I love you so much. So much.’

  ‘And I love you just as much.’

  He kissed her then, because he needed to feel her in his arms, against his mouth. Halina wound her arms around his neck, her pliant body pressed to his as the sun spilled through the windows, and the whole world sang.

  EPILOGUE

  Six months later

  ‘HE’S A HUNGRY little fellow, isn’t he?’ Rico gazed down at his son’s rosebud mouth sucking greedily at his mother’s breast. Halina stroked her baby’s hair and looked up with laughing eyes.

  ‘I don’t mind.’

 
; ‘As long as you’re getting enough rest.’

  ‘Plenty.’ They shared a loving smile as he touched her hand, still incredulous, and so incredibly grateful, that she was here. That they shared this rare and precious happiness.

  The last six months had been tumultuous, with their quiet wedding ceremony taking place when Halina had been seven months pregnant. Her friend Olivia, wife to Prince Zayed, had come, as had her husband, and Rico had found he liked the man. Halina’s mother had come too, the first step of many to healing her fractured family.

  After ten gruelling hours of labour his son, Matteo Falcone, had been born. Named after Rico’s father, because all this had taught him that everyone made mistakes as well as hard choices. He didn’t know which his father had made, but he knew he finally had it in his heart to forgive him. Because of Halina, and the light and love she’d brought to his life. The healing.

  ‘I think he’s had enough.’ Halina lifted their sleepy son up to him. ‘Do you want to hold him?’

  ‘Of course.’ Rico never tired of cradling his precious, tiny son. He marvelled that marriage and family had been gifts, treasures that he’d scorned, and he thanked God that he’d learned otherwise.

  Now he balanced Matteo on his shoulder and gently jiggled him while Halina watched, a faint smile curving her face. She’d blossomed in the last few months through a difficult pregnancy, a tough labour, and then moving house to the villa outside Rome where they lived now, perfect for a growing family. Through it all she’d grown in grace and beauty, basking in his love for her, a love he’d never tire of showing and feeling...even when life was hard. Especially when it was.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Halina asked softly, and Rico smiled.

  ‘How blessed I am.’

  ‘And I am, as well.’

  ‘Yes, we both are.’ He drew her up from the rocking chair and put his arm around her so they were together in a tight circle, the people he loved most in the world. His family. Their family. Together at last for ever.

  * * * * *