Forced Wife, Royal Love-Child(20)

Her eyes widened, her interest obviously piqued. ‘What happened?’

‘A man came forward from the crowd that came to meet the vessel. When he saw who was on board, he promised to cure the girl, and so they carried her to a hut, where his grandmother, an old crow of a woman reported to have magical healing powers, concocted a remedy made from the local herbs gathered from the side of these very cliffs.’



‘The old woman saved her.’

Rafe nodded. ‘The King was so grateful he drafted up a deed declaring Montvelatte a Principality in its own right, with the grandson, the man who’d promised to cure the princess, its first Prince. That man was Vincenzo Lombardi. Two years later the princess returned and became his first Princess of Montvelatte.’

‘She married Vincenzo, to live amongst pirates and prostitutes?’

He shrugged as he leaned back against one arm of the stone seat. ‘Legend has it that it was a great love match, and one that changed the course of Montvelatte forever. Apparently the original part of the Castello, built on the remains of ancient fortresses going back over the centuries, was his tribute to her.’

‘You sound like you don’t really believe it.’

‘Maybe I’m a cynic, but I suspect that Vincenzo wouldn’t have been backward about naming his price for saving the King’s daughter.’

‘But then why would the King have brought his daughter back once they’d got away? Why couldn’t the story be true?’

‘It’s just a fairy tale. It doesn’t work that way.’

‘It’s a legend.’ She shook her head, so that her hair rippled about her head, dancing on the light. ‘But why shouldn’t it also be true? What better way to start a new nation?’

But that would mean loving someone could be a good thing!

He turned away, suddenly not wanting her to see his eyes. She had a way sometimes of piercing his shell and seeing inside him, of reaching into the deepest parts of him, the hidden parts of him, and of asking the questions no one else dared. Because no one else knew how he’d felt growing up and feeling his mother’s pain at being an outcast, discarded like a pair of worn out shoes.



‘Don’t waste your time on love,’ he remembered his mother softly singing as he’d lain tucked up in bed while she rocked his sister to sleep, crooning the words over and over like a lullaby. ‘Don’t lose your heart. Stay strong, my baby, be strong.’

And so he’d grown up determined to be strong and to make it on his own, determined to prove to the world that a title meant nothing, that it was what one made of oneself that counted.

And given the mess his half-brothers had made of things, he had more reason to believe that than ever. He stared out to sea and to the black peak that was Iseo’s Pyramid and wondered about the beast that reputedly lived there. Who needed a beast when so much darkness resided in one’s own heart?

‘So the pirate island becomes a Principality,’ he heard her say. ‘Surely the neighbouring countries objected?’

Rafe turned to see her looking up at the castle, pushing a few wayward strands of hair from her face with her hands. He bit back on a growl, forcing himself to remember his determination to wait for her. Did she have any idea how that action lifted her breasts, displaying their outline to perfection?

Sienna let her arms drop and swivelled around, and he had to prise his eyes back up to hers to meet her gaze.

‘The royal families of both France and Italy held the Karpenthian King in high regard. And while neither had been interested in the island until then, content to leave it to the pirates and criminals, they imposed the condition that only a Lombardi could take the crown, that if the bloodline was broken, so too was the agreement.’

‘And that’s why you had to come back.’

‘That’s why.’

‘What would have happened if you hadn’t?’

‘Then the pressure would have been on Marietta, as heir presumptive, to take the throne. But she’s never wanted it, her links with the island even more tenuous than mine. Besides, I couldn’t put that kind of pressure on her, and I know my mother would never have forgiven me for walking away and allowing Montvelatte to lose its status as a Principality. Its land and wealth, what’s left of it, for the taking.’

‘By Italy?’

‘Or France, depending on who makes the stronger case. Already legal teams in a dozen capital cities throughout Europe are arguing over the details, just in case.’ She nodded, and he watched her stoop to pick a flower from one of the many low-growing bushes around, holding the shell-pink flower up to her nose and breathing in its fragrance. He didn’t tell her that the update he’d received today had suggested that developments on the island were being keenly watched, the identity of the Prince’s apparent new escort and rumours of a royal pregnancy being investigated.

Neither did he tell her of the report he’d received from the security check Sebastiano had had run on Sienna’s background. And one thing shone out like a beacon. There had been no other men in her life around the time he had pursued her, or for several months before. He was the only one, confirming all he’d believed and more.

More reason then ever to get married and quickly.

They continued together, circling around the high walls of the Castello to where the hill dropped away into a steep valley behind. Terraced vineyards lined the slopes, leading down to a narrow river that curved away to the harbour where the buildings of Velatte City huddled along the shoreline. He heard her gasp as she took in the beauty before them, as mountain-bred vines gave way to the familiar white architecture of the city, which ended in a row of casinos, each more magnificent than the next, lining the white-fringed harbour far below.

‘It’s so beautiful from up here,’ she said. ‘I had no idea this path even existed.’ And he felt a stab of remorse that he’d kept her largely locked away within the Castello walls, expecting her to be entertained with dusty books and language lessons when he wasn’t parading her in front of the world’s paparazzi, with not a hint of sharing with her the real beauty of the island that would now be her home.

And now her eyes sparkled, her smile broad as she surveyed the world over which she would soon rule by his side, and he couldn’t help but take her hand in his own as she stood there, marvelling at the view. Her eyes briefly darted to his, but she didn’t pull away, and he moved closer by her side, pointing out the peaks of craggy hills just visible behind the other side of the valley. ‘The island extends another fifteen kilometres beyond Velatte City to the south. Predominantly small villages situated amongst vineyards and olive groves or on the coast. And, of course, like any Mediterranean island, you will find the obligatory hotel resorts, although Montvelatte’s main tourism thrust has been via the casinos.’

‘So beautiful,’ she repeated. He watched her as her gaze scanned from one spectacular end of the valley to the other, her free hand held up to shield her eyes from the setting sun while the silken fabric of her skirt shifted and rippled around her legs in the barely there breeze.

‘Without a doubt.’

And she turned towards him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes questioning.

‘You could be happy,’ he said, ‘living here.’

And the lights in her eyes dimmed a little then. ‘Rafe,’ she said softly, so softly he felt his name on her breath even as he read it on her lips. Lips that beckoned him and drew him closer. Lips that made him ache with wanting her.

She shook her head, the barest, almost imperceptible movement from side to side, which he refused to accept as meaning she didn’t want his kiss. Not when her eyes gave him a different message and her lips were already parted and ready for him.

And so he cupped her warm cheek with his hand, and on a tiny track, below the Castello Montvellate and above the magnificent sweep of valley below, his world shrank to just one woman, and one moment in time.

And that moment held its breath and hovered between them, shimmering with intensity as he lowered his mouth to hers. She shuddered into the kiss, and he slid his hand around the back of her neck to steady her, weaving his fingers into her hair, the taste of her flooding his senses and firing his blood.

She tasted of sunshine and vanilla, of warmth and woman, and the way her lips moved under his told him he was not the only one involved in this kiss. She was there, every part of her. She was his. He gathered her to him with his free arm, finding that sweet spot in the curve of her spine that brought her fully against his aching length.

She gasped into his mouth but she didn’t fight, didn’t move away. Instead she settled even closer, the subtle squirm of her hips a sweet agony that he poured into his kiss, to her lips, to her cheeks, to her eyes. And everywhere he kissed just fuelled the need that had been building ever since she’d stepped out of that helicopter, a need that refused to be compartmentalized and set aside.

I want you, he wanted to whisper, while his teeth nuzzled at her lobe. She trembled as if he’d said the words and threw her head back, forcing her breasts harder against his chest, so that he ached to free them and reacquaint himself with their satin perfection, longed to draw their pebbled peaks deep into his mouth.