by Penny Jordan
‘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 king’s, 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 Marco’s 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 son’s 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 interior’s 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 she’d 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 given 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 Emily’s 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. Marco’s terse words, along with his grim expression, were increasing her fear.
Marco paid the taxi driver and, still carrying her basket, put his free hand under her elbow, for all the world as protective as though he were a committed husband.
But he wasn’t, and Emily knew she must not give in to her longing to turn to him and get him to reassure her that she had no need to worry, and that everything was going to be all right.
The hospital’s reception area could well have been that of an expensive hotel, Emily recognised, looking at the two receptionists who were stunningly attractive and very smartly dressed.
It was Marco, and not she, who stepped forward and gave her name. But any thought she had of objecting to his highhanded manner or to his taking charge disappeared when she heard him telling the receptionist very firmly, ‘Please inform Emily’s obstetrician, Mr Bryant-Jones, that we are here.’
‘My appointment with him isn’t until after I’ve had my scan,’ Emily reminded Marco. She could see that he was about to say something, but before he could do so a smiling nurse came up to them, asking, ‘Emily? We’re ready for you now, if you’d like to come this way.’
‘I shall be coming with her,’ Marco informed the nurse imperiously.
‘Yes, of course. It’s this way,’ the nurse replied pleasantly.
‘This isn’t where I had my last scan,’ Emily commented anxiously.
‘No. Mr Bryant-Jones has requested a three-D scan this time.’
‘A three-D scan—what’s that?’ Emily asked apprehensively.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ the nurse reassured her cheerfully. ‘It’s just a special imaging process that gives us a clearer, more in-depth picture of the baby, that’s all.’
‘But why…I mean, why do you need that?’
Emily wasn’t aware that she had stopped walking until she felt Marco reach out and take hold of her hand. Anxiously she looked up at him, mutely telling him that she didn’t feel able to go any further.
‘Here we are,’ the nurse announced, opening a door several yards up the corridor and holding it open, waiting for Marco and Emily to catch up with her. ‘I’ll hand you over to Merle, now,’ she told Emily as another nurse came forward to direct her over to the waiting bed.
‘Once you’ve put on your gown, the ultrasonographer will start the scan. I’ll be putting some gel on your tummy, like the last time,’ she told Emily kindly.
‘You don’t need to be here for this, Marco,’ Emily told Marco firmly as she pulled the curtains round the bed and got undressed. For once, the thought of the potential indignity of wearing the universal hospital gown, with its open back fastening, didn’t bother her. All she could think about was her baby. Why wouldn’t anyone tell her anything? Part of her was relieved that Marco was ignoring her request and not making any move to leave, but another part of her felt even more anxious. If there was something wrong with their baby, Marco’s pride. It didn’t matter what Marco thought. She would have her baby, no matter what.
When Emily had changed into her gown and she drew back the curtains, she looked both vulnerable and afraid. Just looking at her caused a sensation in Marco that felt like a giant fist squeezing his heart and wringing from it an emotion so concentrated that it burned his soul.
The nurse helped Emily lie down on the bed next to the scanner and covered her legs with a blanket, then she started applying the necessary gel.
Given she was around twenty weeks pregnant, her stomach was only gently rounded. Emily held her breath anxiously as the ultrasonographer, a very professional-looking young woman passed, the probe over her bump, whilst studying the resulting images on the screen in front on her.
‘Why am I having to have this kind of scan?’ Emily asked her.
‘See—look, your baby is yawning.’ The ultrasonographer smiled, ignoring her questions. Emily stared at the screen, her heart giving a fierce kick of awed joy as she stared avidly at the small but perfect form.
‘Maybe he’s not a he, but a she.’
Emily had been so engrossed in watching the screen that she hadn’t realised that Marco had come to stand behind her and was looking over her head at the image of their baby.
‘Oh, I think we can safely say that he is a he,’ the girl told him with a broad smile and pointing, before suddenly going silent as she moved the scanner further up the baby’s body. Then her smile gave way to a frown of concentration.
Why wasn’t she saying anything? Emily worried. Why was she staring at the screen so intently? Her heart thumped with fear.
‘What is it?’ Emily asked anxiously. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I’m almost finished and then you’ll be able to go and get dressed,’ the girl told her smoothly. ‘You’ve got an appointment to see Mr Bryant-Jones, I think?’
‘Yes,’ Emily confirmed. ‘Look, if there’s something wrong with my baby…’
‘Mr Bryant-Jones will discuss the scan with you.’ The girl was using her professional mask to hold her at a distance, Emily recognised shakily. She looked at Marco. She could see in his eyes that he too was aware of the heavy weight of what the girl had not said hanging in the room. What was it? What was wrong? The tiny being she’d seen on the scan had been yawning and stretching—to her eye, he looked completely perfect. Maybe she was worrying unnecessarily. Maybe this was just a routine check.
Her fingers trembled as she re-dressed herself. On the other side of the curtain, she could hear Merle, the nurse, telling Marco that as soon as Emily was ready she would escort them down to see the obstetrician.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EMILY could feel her anxiety bathing her skin in perspiration as they were shown into the obstetrician’s office. Mr Bryant-Jones was smiling, but not as widely as he had done the first time she had seen him.
‘Ah, Emily, good. Good.’ He was looking past her towards Marco, but before Emily could introduce him Marco stepped forward, extending his hand and saying curtly, ‘Prince Marco of Niroli. I am the baby’s father.’
‘Ah. Yes… Excellent.’
‘Mr Bryant-Jones, why have I had to have another scan?’ Emily demanded, unable to wait any longer. ‘And this three-D scan, what is that—? Why…?’
‘Please sit down, both of you.’ The obstetrician wasn’t smiling any more. He was looking at the scanned images he had on his desk, moving them around. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but it looks as though your baby may have a heart defect.’
‘A heart defect? What exactly does that mean? Will my baby—?’ Emily couldn’t get any further; her pent-up emotions were bursting out and making it impossible for her to speak.
‘The baby will have to be between twenty-two to twenty-four weeks before we can make a full diagnosis. At this stage,all we can tell from the scans is that there is a likelihood that your baby could have a foetal heart abnormality.’
‘You said there could be a heart abnormality.’
Marco’s voice seemed to be reaching Emily from over a great distance, as though she weren’t really here and taking part in this dreadful, dreadful scene, as though she and her baby had gone away somewhere private and safe where nothing bad could touch them.
‘What exactly does that mean?’ Marco questioned the obstetrician.
‘It means that the baby’s heart does not seem to be forming as it should. Now, this can be a small problem, or it can be a far more serious one. We cannot tell which, as yet. That is why you will need to see a cardiac specialist. There is a very good one here in this hospital, who collaborates with our specialist neo-natal unit. My recommendation would be that we arrange for you to visit him as soon as it can be arranged.’
‘Is…is my baby going to die?’ Emily’s voice shook with fear.
‘No,’ the obstetrician assured her. ‘But depending on how severe the abnormality is, there could be a series of operations throughout his childhood and teenage years and, maybe, if things are extreme, there will be the necessity for a heart transplant at some stage. Severe heart malfunctions do limit the kind of life the sufferer can live. If this is the case, your son will need dedicated care; boys like to run and play vigorous games, but it might be a possibility that he’ll not be able to do that.’
Her child could be a boy who
might not be able to run and play like other children, a boy who could be subjected to operation after operation to keep him alive! But he would have a life, and she would give every hour, every second, of her life to him and his needs, Emily vowed fiercely.
Marco looked across at Emily; he could see the devastation in her eyes. He wanted, he realised, to take her in his arms and hold her there. He wanted to tell her that there was nothing to fear and that he would keep both of them safe, her and their child. He wanted to tell her that he was there for them whatever happened and he always would be, and that they were the most, the only, important things in his life. The news they had just received had at a stroke filled him with an emotion so complex and yet so simple that it could not be denied.
Love…
What he was feeling for Emily right now was love: a man’s love for his woman, the mother of his child, for his companion and soul mate, without whom his life would never be complete.
Earlier, while watching the scan take place, he had experienced the most extraordinary sense of enlightenment, of knowing that he had to be part of his son’s life. Now had come the knowledge that nothing could ever be more important to him than guarding this precious, growing life and the woman who was carrying it.
Not power, not wealth, nothing; not even the throne of Niroli.
Marco knew that others would not understand; he barely understood what he was experiencing himself. But, somehow, it wasn’t necessary for him to understand, or to be able to analyse; it was simply enough for him to know. Maybe he had been travelling towards this place, this crossroads in his life, for longer than he realised; maybe there had been many signposts along the journey that he had not seen. However, now, not only had the crossroads been reached, they had been traversed simply and easily, without any kind of hesitation or doubt. He could not be Niroli’s king and his child’s father—certainly not this child’s father, whose young life might always hang precariously on a thread, and who should never be subjected to the rigours of kingship. This boy would need his father’s loving presence. And he would have it. Singularly, neither he nor Emily was strong enough for their child, but together they would be.
