by Kate Hardy
‘We could have a tree, if you’d like one,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we can choose one together tomorrow.’ He looked at her. ‘And maybe we can choose a special decoration for our baby. Together.’
‘We’re not going to be together, though,’ she said softly. ‘We come from different worlds.’
‘But the baby’s part of both of us,’ he pointed out. ‘The baby’s where our worlds combine.’
‘I guess,’ she said, and there was a hint of sadness in her face.
He wanted to make her feel better. And the only way he could think of was to go and sit beside her on the sofa, and hold both her hands in his. ‘It’s all going to be OK,’ he said.
‘I know. I just wish...’ She blew out a breath. ‘Nathan would’ve made such a good uncle. Such a good dad. I wish he’d had the chance. But he never talked about anyone special. I’m guessing it was because he felt responsible for Mum and me so he didn’t let himself get close to anyone.’
Antonio thought that was a shrewd assessment. But it was only part of the truth. ‘He loved you both,’ Antonio told her. ‘He didn’t see either of you as a burden. He was so proud of you.’
‘I was proud of him. So was Mum. And I wish Dad could’ve seen him grow up past the age of thirteen—and me past the age of ten.’ She looked at him. ‘I’m sorry. This must be hard for you, too, right now. Your first Christmas without your father.’
He nodded. ‘It’s...a little strange.’
Her fingers tightened around his, giving him comfort. ‘The firsts are hard. Your first birthday without him, his birthday, Christmas, the first anniversary of his death. But he’s still in your heart. Always. That never changes.’
But Antonio’s relationship with his family was very different from hers. Duty came before everything else. And, like the rest of his family, he didn’t allow himself to think about feelings.
Right now, here in the cosy warmth of the room, with Christmas music playing in the background, the view of the mountains lit by moonlight, and the soft glow of the candles illuminating her face, he felt different. As if something was unfurling inside him and spreading through him, something that made him feel warm and mushy and very mixed-up, all at the same time. And he didn’t know how to tell her how he felt, just in case he was making a fool of himself and she didn’t feel the same. After all, this was the woman who’d refused to marry him—even though she was pregnant with his child. Instead, he said, ‘Will you dance with me?’
She blinked. ‘Dance with you? I...’
Of course she didn’t want that. He was expecting way too much from her. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’ He let her hands go.
‘It’s not that. Just...’ She looked wistful. ‘Dancing isn’t really something I’ve done very much.’
No, because when she wasn’t working she was looking after her mum. She probably wouldn’t have gone out to discos at school, or nightclubs, or the kind of glitzy social events he went to. But if her not knowing how to dance was the only barrier between them, he could fix that. Right here, right now. The words spilled out before he could stop them. ‘I can teach you.’
‘Teach me?’
And suddenly it was as if there was a kind of electricity in the air. Something that made it hard to breathe.
Would she let him closer? Or would she make an excuse and back away?
Waiting for her answer made time seem to slow down; every second felt ten times as long as usual, as if he was watching a film in slow motion.
But then she nodded. ‘OK.’
He drew her to her feet. In bare feet, she was more than six inches shorter than he was, and it made him feel even more protective of her.
‘OK. Follow my lead.’
Michael Bublé crooned ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ as Antonio swayed with Tia in the candlelight. And he rested his cheek against her hair, feeling the softness against his skin and breathing in her light floral scent.
* * *
With Antonio’s arms wrapped protectively round her, Tia felt safer than she’d felt for a long, long time. It was amazing to be dancing in his arms by candlelight, to the kind of Christmas music she loved most. It felt as if the room was lit by a thousand stars, and she’d always thought herself a bit clumsy, but right now she was dancing effortlessly in his arms, not putting a foot wrong because he was guiding her.
Just for a moment, she could let herself believe this was real. That he was holding her, not because he was being polite and doing his duty but because he really wanted her—her and their baby. That he cared.
But then the music changed and a choir began to sing ‘Silent Night’.
Her mother’s favourite.
Homesickness washed over her. She missed her mum; she worried about Grace constantly. And Antonio had hit the nail very firmly on the head earlier. Just how was she going to cope with working part time, looking after their baby and looking after her mum? Right at that moment the future felt filled with anxiety.
As if Antonio sensed her tension, he pulled back. ‘Everything’s going to be OK, Tia,’ he said softly.
It was, oh, so easy to say; and much less easy to be sure that it was true. ‘Uh-huh,’ she said, not wanting him to think she was feeble and weak, or that she wanted to give up and let him sort everything out for her. Because that wasn’t who she was. She managed. She always had.
‘You’ve had a very long day and you’ve done a lot of travelling,’ he said. ‘Let me run you a bath and make you some hot chocolate.’
Tia was perfectly capable of running her own bath.
But, at the same time, she was bone-deep tired. And he was right: she’d had a long day and a lot of travelling. She’d been on three planes, two cars and a train. And she was six months pregnant. She had more than herself to think about: there was the baby, too. Just this once, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let him look after her. Right now she was his guest, and you looked after your guests, didn’t you? ‘Thank you. That’d be really kind.’ She gave him a grateful smile.
* * *
Antonio was almost surprised that she’d given in so easily. Then again, she was six months pregnant and it had been a long day. He wasn’t going to make a big deal about this, and then hopefully it would soften her stance and she would let him do more to help.
Though he had no idea what kind of form that help could take. Tia Phillips was independent to a fault.
Again and again, the only thing he could come back to was that they should get married. She was expecting his baby. A baby who was fourth in line to the throne of Casavalle. It was the honourable thing to do. The right solution. He could look after her, look after the baby, and look after her mother.
Though she’d made it clear that she’d only get married for love.
Did he love her?
They hardly knew each other. He wasn’t even sure that he believed in love, let alone love at first sight; how did you even know how love felt? How did you know someone was ‘the one’? How did you know it would last?
As a prince, he couldn’t afford to risk a relationship that might go wrong and make things awkward for his family. Duty always came first.
And yet... There was something about Tia that drew him. He liked her. He enjoyed her company. He was definitely attracted to her. So that was a start. Somehow, over the next three days, he needed to make her happy and show her that this could work out. That they could have a proper partnership. Work as a team. Learn to love each other, if that was what she wanted.
Once she was back downstairs, clad in pyjamas and with her hair wrapped in a towel, he settled her on the sofa in the living room with a mug of hot milk and a fleecy blanket. ‘It must’ve been hard for you growing up, losing your dad and with your mum ill.’
‘We managed,’ Tia said. ‘Mum took in sewing and mending and she worked from home, so she could rest when she needed to.’
> And he’d just bet that Tia had picked up the slack. Now he thought about it, Nathan had been good with a needle, too. No doubt he’d also helped with their mother’s work.
‘Nathan got a job at the corner shop working weekends, and I had a paper round,’ Tia explained. ‘I took over at the shop when he joined the army. The manager was brilliant—she knew the situation with Mum, so she’d let me nip home to check on Mum if she was having a bad day. Between us, Nathan and I sorted the housework when Mum couldn’t do it.’
Meaning that Tia had had to do it all on her own after her brother joined the army. It was so far away from Antonio’s own life of privilege, and he really admired Tia’s strength. And Nathan’s, too; although his friend had never confided much about his past, he’d had amazing strength of character.
‘It must’ve been tough, though. What about school?’
She shrugged. ‘I got by.’
But not, he thought, with the kind of grades her brother thought she was capable of. Even if you were bright, if you were caring for someone else you simply wouldn’t have time to keep up with your schoolwork and your grades would suffer. He could see how Tia’s dreams of travelling and becoming a primary school teacher just hadn’t been possible.
‘Don’t judge my mum,’ she said softly. ‘If the authorities had known how ill Mum was and how much help we needed to give her, they might’ve taken us away from her and put us in care—and they probably would have made Nathan and me live with different families. That happened to someone in my class and I was terrified that it would happen to me. I didn’t want to be taken away from Mum and Nathan, and he didn’t want to leave Mum and me, either. So we just got on with things and made sure the teachers and everyone didn’t really know how ill Mum was. It was fine, because we had each other and we were together.’
This was so much worse than Antonio had realised, and his heart ached for Nathan and his equally brave little sister. ‘You didn’t have any family who could help? Any grandparents?’
‘Mum was an only child, and her parents died before I was born,’ Tia said. ‘And Dad’s family didn’t like my mum. There was a big row when they first got together, and they never made it up. Nathan wrote to them after Dad died, but they never replied. But it’s OK.’ She spread her hands and smiled. ‘You don’t miss what you’ve never had. And my mum’s brilliant. Even when she’s having a really bad day, she never complains. She’s the kindest, most loving mum anyone could ask for and I’m really grateful I have her.’
Guilt flooded through him. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been there to support you both since Nathan died.’
‘Support us? Mum and I don’t need your money, Your Royal Highness,’ she said crisply. ‘We’re not a charity case.’
He looked at her, horrified to realise she thought that he’d meant money. ‘Of course you’re not, and I wouldn’t insult you by treating you that way.’ He knew she was proud. Offering her money would be the quickest way to put a barrier up between them.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and bit her lip. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Just... I guess I’ve learned that rich people tend to think about everything in terms of money.’
‘And, as a prince, I’m from a very wealthy background, so it figures you’d think I’d be even more that way,’ he said grimly. ‘Though I didn’t mean money. I meant I should’ve come back and given you some emotional support—you and your mother. And instead I disappeared and just left you to it.’
‘You told me you weren’t at Nathan’s funeral because you had to go on another mission, and then your dad died so you had responsibilities in your own family. Of course you didn’t have time to come and support us. And I apologise. I didn’t mean to insult you just now by implying...’ She grimaced. ‘I suppose it sounded as if I thought that you were trying to buy my silence.’
‘But you must’ve felt that I’d abandoned you when I didn’t come back and see you.’
‘Not so much me—I was angry with you for my mum’s sake,’ Tia admitted. ‘I thought it wouldn’t have been that much of a sacrifice for you just to spend a few minutes with her, sharing your memories of my brother. Or send her a photograph or a personal note or something. Just so she knew he mattered.’
‘He did matter. He mattered a lot.’ Antonio raked a hand through his hair. ‘And you’re right, I should have made the time to do that. I handled it badly when I came to see you. I’m sorry I got it so wrong.’
‘And I’m sorry for going off at the deep end,’ she said, and the sweetness in her smile ripped his heart in two.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘we could both do with an early night. In separate rooms,’ he added hastily. ‘There are no strings to you staying here.’
‘I’m a bit tired,’ she admitted.
‘We’ll talk again in the morning,’ he said. And, just so she’d know he didn’t make promises lightly, he added, ‘And then we can go and get that tree.’
‘OK,’ she said.
He took her empty mug from her and washed up before heading to bed, but he lay awake for a long time before he finally fell asleep.
Would Tia trust him enough to let her support him?
And, if not, how could he teach her to trust him?
He really needed to think things through properly before tomorrow. He couldn’t afford to get this wrong.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NEXT MORNING, when Tia woke, she felt slightly disoriented. It was strange not to hear the low hum of traffic that she was used to, and even stranger to be lying in a wide bed instead of her narrow single bed. She glanced at her watch, and realised it was a quarter past seven; normally she’d have been up for nearly an hour, getting ready to help her mum and then go to work.
Then again, London was an hour behind Casavalle, so this was pretty much the normal time for her to wake and she wasn’t late. Though maybe, given the time zone difference, it was a little too early to ring her mother in London and see how she was.
Tia climbed out of bed and looked out of the window. The sky was streaked with pink and gold. As she watched, the snow on the mountains gradually turned pink. So pretty, and such a lovely way to start the day.
But this wasn’t how her life was going to be, so she wasn’t going to let herself get used to it.
She showered swiftly and dressed in one of the silky long-sleeved tops and the maternity trousers Antonio’s housekeeper had bought for her. The fabric was so soft against her skin and felt so nice.
Tears pricked at her eyelids, and she grew cross with herself. It was utterly ridiculous, starting to cry over a complete stranger being so kind to her.
‘Get a grip,’ she told herself. ‘You’re here for three days and you need to sort out a compromise with the Prince.’
There was no sound in the house, so she crept quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen to make herself a mug of tea. She thought about making a mug of tea for Antonio, but that would mean taking the mug into his room and she felt too shy to do that. How ridiculous that was, given that she was carrying his baby; but he was almost a complete stranger. They were worlds apart. She was a waitress, living in a tiny flat in a very ordinary part of London, and he was a prince who lived in an enormous fairy-tale palace in the middle of the Mediterranean. He wouldn’t fit into her life and she wouldn’t fit into his.
The problem was she’d felt so close to him last night, when she’d told him about Christmases in the past with her family. It was her favourite time of year—not because of the gifts but because it was a chance to spend time with those you loved, enjoying their company and having fun together.
It sounded as if fun hadn’t been part of Antonio’s Christmases, growing up. Everything had been so formal and stuffy. All the priceless and historic ornaments on the tree that couldn’t be played with in case they were accidentally broken: things that had to be admired from afar. Receiving gifts from people he might
never even have met, and gifts he probably didn’t get a chance to play with. Standing to greet the citizens and doing his royal duties instead of playing games with his family.
His family.
How could they ever accept someone like her? Someone who didn’t have blue blood; someone who didn’t have the first clue about protocol and royal etiquette.
So she needed to keep a lid on the attraction she felt towards Antonio Valenti. She needed to ignore the impulse to wrap her arms round him and hold him close when she thought about how lonely his childhood must have been, because this really wasn’t her place.
She’d promised him a couple of days to talk things over. She’d keep her promise. And then she’d depart quietly for London and leave all this behind her.
With her hands wrapped round the mug of tea, she walked into the conservatory and curled up in one of the big armchairs, enjoying the beautiful view. At least this was a memory she could share with her baby in years to come.
If only she could share it with Antonio, too.
But he didn’t love her, and she wasn’t prepared to commit to a life with him without love—for her or for her baby.
* * *
She’d promised him three days. Antonio really hoped that would be enough to talk her round to his point of view.
He decided to start by bringing Tia a cup of tea in bed, and then possibly bring her a breakfast tray. Then they’d go into the village and find a Christmas tree together, and choose some ornaments. They’d spend the afternoon decorating the tree. And he could drop hints that this was something they could do with their baby. They could follow her family traditions and there would be a new one from a shop every year, and a home-made one.
It was almost the total opposite of the Buschetta ornament tradition that he was used to. But if Tia wanted things handmade and personal, that was exactly what he’d give her. And, even though he couldn’t ever remember sitting down with glitter and glue, he was quite prepared to do that. He’d do whatever it took to make her happy and believe in him. Because maybe, just maybe, Tia and the baby were going to change his life. Fill in the gaps. Just as he could fill in the gaps of her life. He’d thought that these three days were to persuade her, but his feelings towards her had already started to change. She wasn’t just the unexpected mother of his baby, the woman he had a duty towards; he was starting to really enjoy the time he spent with her.
