by Penny Jordan
‘Am I? Take a look at yourself. Marco, and try seeing yourself through my eyes, and then repeat what you have just offered as a solution. You want to bribe another man to marry me so that—so that what? You can have your child here, conveniently legitimised by a convenient marriage between two strangers, though I'm sure that won’t stop the gossip. But what about me? Am I expected to be a dutiful bride to this noble husband you're going to find for me? Am I supposed to submit willingly to having sex with him bear his children, be his wife in all senses
of the word?’
‘No. there will be no question of that.' The harshness of his own immediate denial caught Marco off guard. But he couldn't retract his words, nor deny the feeling of fierce possessiveness that had gripped him at the thought of Emily in another mans bed.
‘What kind of man are you. Marco, if you think that I would be willing to sell myself into such an arrangement? But then I was forgetting: you aren't a mere man are you? You are a king! I'm not staying on the island a minute longer than I have to. Everything you've just said underlines all the reasons why I don't want my son growing up here. Your proximity to the throne has corrupted you but I don't intend to let it corrupt my child.'
‘And I don't intend to let you leave Niroli.'
They had been the closest of lovers, but now they were enemies locked in a battle to the bitter end for the right to decide the future of their child.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE plane had taken off but Emily was holding her breath, half expecting that, somehow. Marco still could prevent her from leaving Niroli.
Shed hated having to appeal to Marcos grandfather for help behind his back. At first, the king had refused to see her when shed made her secret visit to the palace. She had been expecting his rejection, though, and so had lifted her chin and told the stiff-faced, uniformed equerry who had told her that the king would not receive her. ‘Please tell His Majesty that the favour I want to ask him will benefit both of us and the throne of Niroli.’
She had been made to wait over an hour before she had finally been shown into the royal presence. It had shocked her to see how very like the king Marco was traces of Marcos stunning good looks still visible in the older mans profile.
She had chosen her moment with care, waiting until she knew that Marco had gone up to the mountains to see Rafael before she visited the palace.
‘I want to leave Niroli’ she told King Giorgio. 'But Marco does not wish me to leave. He has said he will do everything in his power to stop me and to keep me here.’ She didn't tell the king about her pregnancy, just in case he echoed Marcos insistence that her child be brought up under the cover of an arranged marriage between herself and a nobleman.
‘Only you have the authority to enable me to leave without Marco knowing.
‘Why should I do that?1 the king challenged her.
Emily was ready for that. Because you do not want me here.’ she replied. You do not consider me good enough to be Marcos mistress.’
‘He is not the man I thought if he cannot provide sufficient inducement to keep you in his bed if that is where he wants you.’
‘Marco is more than man enough for any woman.’ Emily defended. ‘But I am too much of a woman to be prepared to share him with the throne and everything else that entails.’
She thought she saw a glimmer of grudging respect in the king’s eyes before he gave a stiff nod of his head. ‘Very well. I will help you. A royal flight will be made ready for you and I shall ensure that Marco is kept out of the way until it has taken off.'
The king had kept his promise to her and now she was on her way home. She closed her eyes against the acid burn of her tears and pressed her hand against her body as though in mute apology to her baby for what she was doing. ‘You may not understand it now, but I'm doing this for you and for your future.’ she whispered to him.
‘How dare you do this?’ White-faced with rage. Marco towered over his grandfather, royal protocol forgotten in his fury. Now he knew why Rafael had kept him at the village for so long with his endless complaints against young Tomasso and his friends.
When he had returned to the villa to find Emily missing, he had summoned Maria, and she had been the one who had told him that a car bearing the royal crest had arrived for her.
He had gone straight to the palace, demanding to see his grandfather. Emily applied to me for aid because she feared you would force her to remain here on Niroli against her will. Naturally I helped her
‘Naturally.’ Marco agreed grimly, registering even more grimly that her departure had elevated Emily from being a floozy to someone his grandfather was prepared to speak of with far more intimacy. 'After all, you never wanted her here.’
Whatever role she might have played in your life in London, there is no place for her here on Niroli. She herself accepts this and in doing so she shows far more sense and awareness of the importance of your future role than you do. Marco. I confess that she impressed me with her grasp of your responsibility. She fully understands what will entail when you become Nirolis king.’
‘She also fully understands that she is to be the mother of my child.’ Marco told his grandfather sharply. That is why she has left—but I don't expect she told you that, did she?’
‘She is having your child?’
‘Yes.’ Marco confirmed unashamedly.
The king was frowning imperiously. But that alters everything. Why did you not say something to me about this? She must be brought back, and at once! What if this child she is carrying should be a son? It is unthinkable that he should be brought up anywhere but here. Sons are a precious commodity. Marco, even if they are illegitimate. It is important that this child grows up on Niroli knowing his duty and his responsibility to the Crown. That knowledge cannot be instilled in him too early. When is the birth expected? There is much to do—the royal nursery will have to be prepared, and a suitable household established to take charge of him. The mother can stay in London if she wishes, in fact it would be better if she did.’ the king continued dismissively.
His grandfather was only painting a picture that was similar to the one he himself had put before Emily. But instead of feeling vindicated Marco could feel a cold heaviness seeping through him as though leaden weights had been tied to his hands so that he was effectively imprisoned.
‘You will order the woman to return, and when you do you will inform her that it is against the law of Niroli for anyone to remove a child of royal blood from the island, on penalty of death.’
Marco shook his head. 'Don't be ridiculous Grandfather. Once in some mediaeval age it might have been possible to make such a threat, but I can tell you now that the British courts will take a dim view of it and that Emily is totally within her rights to want to keep her child with her. I would certainly support her in that. I want my child to grow up here yes but I also want his mother to be here for him as well.'
'Ridiculous sentimentality. I blame your mother for it. And your father. He should have insisted that she followed tradition and handed you over to those appointed to be responsible for your care as a future king, instead of meddling in matters that did not concern her. It is thanks to her that you developed this stubborn streak that puts you at odds with your duty.’
Marco forced himself not to say anything. Instead he focused on his childhood. He could see himself playing, running and his mother chasing him and he could see too the disapproving looks of the elderly courtiers his grandfather had insisted were to be responsible for his upbringing and formation. His mother, had she still been alive, would have supported Emily and helped her. They would have got on well. His father had struggled to oppose the king’s insistence that Marco was brought up to be a prince, rather than as a member of a warm and loving family. His grandfather would try to impose his will on his great-grandchild. Marco knew.
He frowned, suddenly sharply aware of his own desire to protect his child from the cold discipline and royal training he had known in his own childhood. He
was not his father, he reminded himself. He was more than strong enough to ensure that his son was not subjected to the misery of his boyhood.
'Whilst you are here; his grandfather was continuing imperiously. I have decided that the generators will have to be removed from the island completely. They are causing too much conflict between our peoples. It is just as I had thought, these young dissidents in the mountains have been encouraged by the Viallis to band together and challenge the authority of their village elders. And the blame for that can be laid at our door. Marco. By publicly going against my wishes, you have turned yourself into a figurehead for their rebellion. Various informants have told me of their concern that they are only waiting until you are on the throne to force your hand and make demands that can never be granted. If there is any more trouble. I shall impose a curfew—that will teach them to respect the law and the Crown.’
‘If these youngsters are angry and filled with resentment, who can blame them?’ Marco demanded. They need the controls on their lives relaxing, not tightening to the point where there is bound to be increased conflict. By imposing a curfew, all you will be doing is driving their feelings underground and alienating them further. What we need is to establish a forum in which they feel they can be heard and their views properly addressed.’
‘What, reward them for their rebelliousness and their disrespect? They need teaching a lesson, not to be indulged.'
‘Have a care. Grandfather.’ Marco warned. 'Feed their sense of injustice by imposing your royal will, and in the end we will all pay a heavy price’
'Bah...! You are too soft, too much the modern liberal. You cannot rule Niroli like that, Marco. You rule it like this!’ The old king closed his fist and banged it down hard on the table in front of him. ‘By letting them know what it is to fear your anger.’
As he had learned to fear his grandfather's anger as a child? As his son would be forced to learn to fear it? Marco was filled with a sense of revulsion. He had returned to Niroli committed to working to improve things for its people, but now he was beginning to question his ability to do that. With his grandfather so opposed to the changes he wanted to make, and his own views so diametrically opposed to the kings, weren't they more likely to tear Niroli apart between them than anything else? Perhaps Emily was right to refuse to allow their child to be brought up here?
Marco closed his eyes, deep in thought. No. his son should be here because he his father, was here. Emily would have to accept his determination to play his royal role, whether she liked it or not...
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EMILY sat huddled in the squashy, cream-ticking-covered chair in the pretty sitting room of her Chelsea home, staring numbly at the letter she was holding. Not that she needed to read it again. She knew its every word off by heart, she had read it so many times since it had arrived two days ago: the consultant at the hospital where she had been for her twenty-week pregnancy scan wanted her to return, so that they could do a further test.
She had of course rung the hospital the moment she had received the summons, and the nurse she had spoken to had assured her that there was no need for her to worry. But Emily was very worried. In fact, she was worried sick, reliving over and over again that tell-tale moment during the ultrasound when the young operative had suddenly hesitated and then looked uncertainly at Emily before carrying on. Nothing had been said; she knew the scan had shown that her baby had all the right number of fingers and toes, and had even confirmed her belief that she was carrying Marcos son.
If she hadn't received the letter requesting her to go back, she suspected she would never have given the girl's hesitation another thought. Why had she hesitated? Was there something wrong with her baby? Oh. please God don't let there be! Was she being punished because of what she had done? Because she had left Niroli? Because she was deliberately planning to lock Marco out of their sons life?
But that was to protect the baby, not punish Marco, she protested to herself. The sound of someone ringing her doorbell brought her out of her painful thoughts: it would be Jemma. The shock of being requested to return for a second scan had brought home to her how alone in the world she was and upset her so much that she had unburdened herself to her friend and assistant. As a result Jemma had started to adopt an almost maternal attitude towards her and had insisted she would accompany her to her repeat scan.
Smoothing down the skirt of the loose linen dress she was wearing. Emily got up to answer the door. Whilst she had been on Niroli a heatwave had come to the city and. at first, when she opened the door the light pouring in from the fashionable London street outside dazzled her so much that she thought she must be imagining things: it couldn't possibly be Marco who was standing on her immaculate doorstep, the formality of his dark business suit a perfect foil for the bright red of the geraniums that filled the elegant containers that flanked the entrance.
But it was Marco, and he was stepping into her hallway and closing the door behind him looking just as impressive against the interiors old-English-white walls as he had done outside.
For a while after her return from Niroli she had barely slept for fear that he would come after her and demand she go back. But there had been no sign of him. Then, the arrival of the letter had given her something much more worrying to keep her awake at night. Her heart was thumping in jerky uncoordinated beats; he had brought with him in the hallway, not just his presence, but also his scent. Helpless tears of longing pricked in her eyes, blurring her vision.
Is this what you're planning to take to the hospital?' Without waiting for her response. Marco leaned down to pick up the pale straw basket into which she had packed everything she thought she might need.
‘The hospital?' Her voice faltered she was shocked by those words, her face nearly as pale as her hall walls.
‘I've just been round to the shop. Jemma told me about the scan. I've got a cab waiting. Where are your keys?'
'Marco, there's no need for this. Jemma's coming with me’
‘No. she's not. I am going with you—there is every need for me to do so. This is my child you are carrying. Emily. Are you ready?'
She shouldn't be letting him take charge like this. Emily told herself, but the stress of the last few days was telling on her and she simply felt too weak and drained to argue with him. And. besides...if she was honest, wasn't there something comfortingly bitter-sweet about having him here with her...with them...Her hand went to her tummy as inwardly she whispered comforting words to her baby, promising it that, no matter what the scan showed, no matter what anyone said, he would have life and she would love him.
The stress of worrying about the baby had stolen from Emily the bloom she had gained whilst she'd been on Niroli. Marco recognised as he took hold of her arm and guided her to the waiting taxi.
Marco gave the driver the name of a private hospital, ignoring Emily's small start of surprise. It hadn't been difficult getting Jemma to tell him what had happened. In fact she had been so relieved to see him that she had told him everything he needed to know without him having to probe. He had come to London with the sole intention of taking Emily back to Niroli with him, and of telling her that their child would be born on the island and would remain there; whether or not she chose to do the same was up to her.
Since he had last seen her his feelings towards Emily had turned both angry and hostile. She had gone behind his back to his grandfather; she had walked out on him she had insulted him. She’d given him for no good reason whatsoever, sleepless nights analysing what shed said and what she hadn't, trying to find ways he could fit together the pieces of the jigsaw his life now was working out what would make it possible for him to have her living on Niroli with him—and willingly. And then going over everything he had already analysed once more, to double-check that the reason he wanted her there was only because of his child. Because, somehow, though he found it hard to admit, deep down inside, a suspicion still lurked that he wanted Emily.
But the news Jemma had give
n him about Emily being called back for a second scan had caused a seismic emotional shift within him so that all he could think about now all that concerned him and occupied his thoughts, was Emily and their baby.
The hospital was one of London's most exclusive and private and Emilys obstetrician had been likely recommended to her. He was a charming middle-aged man, with a reassuring smile and a taste for bow ties. In his letter, he had stated that he would be on hand once Emily had had her repeat scan to discuss the results. It made her feel sickly cold inside every time she thought about the underlying hint that there might be some kind of problem.
‘Has anyone said why you are having to have a second scan?’ Marco asked her as the taxi pulled up outside the hospital.
Emily shook her head.
'But you have asked?’
‘I rang Mr Bryant-Jones, my obstetrician, and he said that sometimes a repeat scan was needed.’
‘But he didn't explain why?’
'No.' Emily admitted shakily. Marcos terse words, along with his grim expression, were increasing her fear.
