Future King's Pregnant Mistress

by Penny Jordan

  In the corridors dust motes danced on the warm afternoon air. Emily would be back at the villa by now. An image of her slid into his head: she would be sitting in the shade, and when she saw him walking towards her she would look up at him and give him that welcoming smile. She would also look cool and calm, and just seeing her would take the edge off his own frustration. Right now he admitted, he would give anything to share his experiences of the morning with her. Emily, with her understanding and her sympathetic ear—he needed both of those very badly.

  He paused. There it was again, that word, 'need'. It suddenly struck him how very alone he would be feeling right now if Emily hadn't been here on Niroli with him. It was only since bringing her to the island that he had recognised how good she was with people, and at problem-solving, and how much it meant to him to have the safety valve of being able to talk openly to her about the situation with his grandfather. Increasingly he was beginning to feel that he didn't want her to leave either the island or his bed. But whilst he might flout the royal rules for the benefit of his people, where his personal life was concerned he couldn't do the same and succeed.

  The only way he could keep Emily on the island was by elevating her to the position of Royal Mistress, and to do that he would have to procure a suitably noble husband for her one who understood the way in which these things were done. Whilst he knew he would be able to find such a husband, he also knew that Emily would refuse point-blank to enter that kind of marriage and. besides...Besides what? He didn't want her to have a husband...

  He had no time to delve into the inner workings of his mind at the moment, he reminded himself; nor could he go back to the villa—and Emily—no matter how much he wanted to do so. First he must go up to Rafael's village and deal with the situation there before it got any worse. And what about his growing dependence on Emily? When was he going to deal with that—before it got worse?

  ‘Emily’

  She tensed as she heard Marco call out her name as he came out into the sheltered inner courtyard, where she was seated in the shade, one hand lying protectively against her stomach as she tried to come to terms with everything.

  It was early evening and she could hear the sharp edge of something unfamiliar in his voice. What was it? Not tiredness or irritation, and certainly not anxiety, but somehow a something that made her heart ache for him. above and beyond her own pain and fear for herself and their child. Was it always going to be like this? Was she always going to have this instinctive need to give him the best of her love? How could she do so now?

  ‘I would have been back earlier.’ Marco told her ‘but I had to go up to Rafael's village to put an end to some trouble brewing there, as my grandfather informed me with great delight earlier.'

  ‘What kind of trouble?' Emily asked anxiously.

  Marco sat down next to her. She could smell the dusty heat of the day on him but under it she was as always, acutely conscious of the scent that was so sensually him. However, this evening, instead of filling her with desire, it filled her with a complex mix of emotions so intense that they clogged her throat with tears—tears for their baby, who would never know and recognise his fathers scent, tears for herself because she would have to live without Marco. But most of all tears for Marco himself, because he could never share with her the unique feeling that came from knowing they had created a life together.

  Her child, their child, his first-born child. The huge tremor of emotion that seized her shook her whole body, overwhelming her with a flood of love and pain in equal proportions. She wanted this baby—his child—so very much. Its conception might have been wholly unplanned, but if she could go back and change things she knew that she would not do so. She was a modern woman, financially independent, with her own home and her own business, and more than enough love to give to her baby. A baby that would never know its fathers love, she reminded herself as Marco answered her question, forcing her to focus on what he was saying and to put her own thoughts to one side.

  ‘Rafael had tried to stop the villagers using the generator.’ he explained. So Tomasso and some of his friends rebelled and hijacked it. Then Rafael—with my grandfathers approval—had the young fools punished. They were already antagonistic towards a way of life that traps them in the past and my

  grandfather's old-fashioned determination to enforce a way of life on them to their detriment.'

  ‘It can't be good that they feel so disenfranchised.' Emily felt bound to comment.

  ‘I know.' Marco acknowledged. If my grandfather was more reasonable I could discuss with him my concern that these youngsters could, if handled the wrong way become so disaffected that ultimately it could result in civil unrest and even violence. But the minute I tell him that, his reaction will be to have them imprisoned.'

  ‘You need to find a way of getting them onside and opening a dialogue with them that allows them to feel their concerns are being addressed.' Emily offered.

  ‘My views exactly.' Marco agreed. I've told them that it's an issue I intend to take on board once I take over from my grandfather and I've asked them to be patient until then. But I also know that the moment I start instituting any reforms, the old guard is going to react against them, because my grandfather has drip-fed them the fear that change means that they will lose out in some way.'

  Emily listened sympathetically. She could see how passionately Marco felt about the situation. But she also sensed that the more angry and opposed to his grandfather Marco became, the less chance there was of them reaching a mutually acceptable solution.

  ‘I don't have to tell you that your grandfather is an old man.' she replied. It may be that his pride won’t allow him to admit that he has got things wrong and they've gone too far or that the way the island is ruled needs to change. You might have to backtrack a little. Marco, and find a way to offer him a face-saving way of accepting your changes. Maybe you could handle them in such a way that he could feel they were his ideas—in public at least.' She could see from Marco's expression that he wasn't willing to take on board what she was saying. It seemed to her that he and his grandfather were two very proud and stubborn men and that neither was prepared to give in to the other.

  ‘You haven't seen anything of the island yet.' he told her abruptly. We’II remedy that tomorrow.' For Emily's benefit, or for his own because he needed to put some distance between himself and his grandfather?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ARE you sure you've got time to do this? Emily queried as Marco held open the door of the car for her before they set off to see something of the island. The morning sunshine cast sharp patterns on the worn flagstones of the courtyard and Emily was glad of the welcome coolness of the air-conditioned car. Hadn't she read somewhere that pregnancy increased the blood flow and made one feel warmer?

  Pregnancy. She ached to be able to share her joy with Marco and yet at the same time, she was also afraid of his reaction. If he should try to pressure her into having a termination it would break her heart, but logically, what else could he do? Even if he was prepared to understand and accept that she wanted to have this baby and bring it up alone, she suspected that his grandfather would be totally opposed to the idea. The old king would surely put pressure on Marco to deal with her. She didn't want to put Marco in that position and she wanted to keep her child as far away as possible from what increasingly she felt was a very negative kind of environment. The Nirolian royal family might be the richest in the world, but so far as Emily was concerned they seemed to be as dysfunctional as they were wealthy.

  Money wasn't important to her so long as she had enough for her needs. She wanted her child to grow up confident that he or she was rich in love rather than money. What she wanted, she admitted, was for her child to be raised somewhere very far away from Niroli and without the burden of being a royal bastard. So what was she going to do? Return to London without telling Marco she was having his child?

  That was certainly her easiest option. Emily felt. But did she have the st
rength to do it? Could she walk away from Marco without telling him? She loved her child enough already to do whatever she had to do to protect him or her. including leaving the man she adored; she knew that, almost without having to think about it. However, did she also love Marco enough to spare him the necessity of having to take on board prospective fatherhood and the problems that would cause for him? Was she strong enough to deny her instinctive longing to share her news with him even though she knew he couldn't, and wouldn't, share her growing joy at the prospect of having his baby?

  It was an extraordinarily wonderful gift that fate was giving her: a child, and not just any child, but the seed of the man she loved. She could picture him now; somehow Emily already knew that her baby would be a boy. He would have Marcos features and perhaps a little of his arrogance. He would look at her with Marcos eyes and she would melt with love for him and the man who had fathered him. And. later, when he was old enough to demand his fathers name? She would deal with that when it happened. For now what concerned her most was her baby's health and whether she could leave Niroli without Marco suspecting anything. So how was she going to do that? She couldn't just tell him she didn't want him any more. He would never believe her.

  Perhaps he would believe her if she told him she wasn't comfortable with her role in his life. She wasn't even his formally recognised mistress, and she felt it could reflect on her business reputation. Marco's own pride meant that he would be able to identify with that. Last night, when they had made love, he hadn't questioned the way she had encouraged him to gentle his possession of her holding her breath a little, caught as she was between her maternal anxiety for her baby and the intense physical desire he always aroused in her. But Marco was a skilled and a sensual lover, who knew every single one of her body's responses and how to invoke them. There was no way he wouldn't soon notice a new desire on her part to make his penetration of her less intense.

  A small, sad semi-smile touched her lips. Marco didn't know it yet but the sightseeing journey they were taking together today could well be the last they would make together. Now she was destined to set out on a new path, which she would share with this gift he had given her.

  ‘Seat belt.’ Marco reminded her. He reached across to secure the belt for her before she could stop him. Immediately Emily breathed in protectively. There was no bump of any kind to betray her but still she felt a sharp clutch of anxiety for the vulnerability of her child. It would be like this for the rest of her life, she recognised. No matter that one day this baby she had conceived so unintentionally would be an adult; as a mother she would always be fiercely protective. Though, of course, there would be many things she could not protect her child from, foremost amongst which would be the pain of knowing his father hadn't wanted him.

  ‘Emily?'

  To her shock Marco had placed his hand flat against her belly. Fearfully she turned to look at him. Had he, by some intuitive means, actually guessed?

  ‘You're looking so much better than you did when you first arrived here.' she heard him tell her. Niroli's sunshine has done you good.'

  Shakily Emily released her pent-up breath. He hadn't guessed; it was just her own anxiety that was making her think that he must have done.

  ‘I don't think anyone wouldn't enjoy it. I know I haven't seen much of the island...'

  Today, we're going to see as much of it as we can.' Marco told her as he started the car and my royal duties will just have to wait.'

  Whatever else the future held for Marco's child, she was glad that it wouldn't be the dark shadow of duty that fell across Marco's life. Emily decided emotionally. The little boy might have to grow up not knowing his father, but he would be free of the burden Marco carried, and she was passionately grateful for that. Though, at the same time, almost overwhelmed by the intensity of her love for Marco, she reflected as he turned the car off the main road into a much narrower lane that ran close to the high, rocky coastline where cliffs plunged down into the sea.

  ‘This was one of my favourite places when I was a boy.' Marco confided as he stopped the car.

  Emily could understand why. There was an elemental wildness about it; in some ways, the landscape matched the man.

  ‘Come on let's get out of the car.'

  Emily wasn't sure she wanted to. The height of the cliffs gave her an uncomfortable feeling of vertigo. But she could see that Marco was determined and she didn't want to have to explain to him how she felt.

  I used to come here and gaze out to sea and promise myself that one day I'd get away from here and from my grandfather. But of course, even then I knew that ultimately I would have to come back.' Marco confessed, once they were standing a few feet back from the edge of the cliff-top. He bent down and picked up a handful of the thin, stony soil that lay at the roots of the weather-beaten gorse bushes that grew in such abundance along this part of the coast, and flung it as far out to sea as he could.

  Watching him Emily knew that this was a re-enactment of something he had done many times as a boy—as a way of releasing the anger inside him? It was an emotion he had partially dissipated by leaving the island and making a life for himself. But it would never really leave him so long as he and his grandfather struggled for supremacy one over the other. And whilst they were embroiled in that struggle, others would suffer. She could not allow her child to be one of them...

  All of a sudden it hit her: she had to tell Marco that she intended to leave. She couldn't stop herself from reaching out to touch him and placed her hand on his bare forearm. Immediately he turned towards her.

  ‘Marco.’ she began tentatively, and then stopped. Unexpectedly he reached for her and took her in his arms, kissing her with such fiercely sweet passion that it made her eyes sting with tears.

  Why was he doing this? Marco asked himself. He knew that it couldn't go on. Already, deep down inside, he knew he was becoming too dependent on her, and she was becoming too important to him. That couldn't be allowed to happen. There was no room in his life for that kind of relationship with her. He was Niroli's future king and he intended to devote every ounce of his mental and physical energy to his country and its people.

  He would break down the restrictions that centuries of royal rule had placed, he would open the door for Niroli's population to walk freely into the new century. There was no legitimate place in his life for the kind of relationship he had with Emily. He was reeling at the way he felt about her now the intensity that was being demanded of him. It was only recently he had started to feel like this, to recognise there was within him this dangerous need to have her close, a need that went far beyond any kind of sexual desire. But such emotion could not be allowed to exist, it could not be given a name, or a place in his life.

  He started to pull away from her and then stopped, smothering a savage groan before he tightened his hold on her and kissed her again.

  Emilys mouth felt soft and giving beneath his own, her body warm, and he longed to possess her and fill her and lose himself in her and know the passion of loving her.

  ‘Marco! Emily objected, somehow managing to stem her own longing and drag her mouth from beneath his. She was trembling from head to foot, afraid not of him but of herself and the intensity of her feelings, and stumbling over the words in her desperation.

  ‘There's no easy way to say this, but the truth is that I should never have come here. Niroli is different from London, and my role in your life has changed. I can’t live like this. Marco, a semi-secret mistress, despised and ignored by the court, and forced to live in the shadows. I'm going back to the UK just as soon as it can be arranged. It will be best for both of us.’

  She was only saying what he already knew to be true, and yet he felt as shocked as though his guts had been splintered with ice picks. She couldn't do this! He wasn't ready to let her go. He needed her here with him. He should, he knew, be feeling relieved, but instead he felt more as though he had suffered a mortal blow. Pain rolled over him in mind-numbing waves, crashing through
him and drowning out reason, spreading its unbearable agony to every part of him. He could hardly think of it do anything other than try somehow to survive its rapacious teeth as it savaged him and tormented him.

  How could this have happened? How could he be experiencing this? The thoughts and feelings that filled him were so new and unfamiliar that they made him feel as though he was suddenly a stranger to him-self. He felt like a man possessed by...by what? He shook his head, unable to allow the word pulsing in his heart to form. He had wanted it to happen, he had wanted her to leave. But not like this...He'd wanted to be the one to tell her to go...But how? That he didn't want her here because he was afraid that she would come between him and his duty? His whole body shuddered as the pain savaged it once more.

  Why didn't Marco say something, anything? Emily worried anxiously.

  What could she say without risking betraying the truth?

  ‘I loved the life we shared together in London. Marco. But things are different here. The time we're sharing together is borrowed time, stolen time, perhaps; she told him sadly. It’s better that I go now.’