November Harlequin Presents 1(43)

The rush that hit him was the best he’d ever known. He didn’t need the test to be sure. She was the only woman he had ever wanted; she was the only mother he wanted for his child. The mother of his child would be brave and have spirit like Carrie. He would do anything it took to make her see his point of view, and if that meant renouncing the throne of Niroli, then he’d do that, too.





CHAPTER TWELVE




SEALING the envelope, Carrie got up from her dainty seat at the delicately carved escritoire by the window in her sitting room to ring the bell. When the footman arrived she handed the letter to him. ‘Would you be kind enough to deliver this to Princess Laura for me, please?’

‘Certainly, Signorina Evans.’ With a dip of his head the footman went swiftly about his duty.

As Carrie took a last look around she knew she would never forget these few days in Niroli, or the kindness she had been shown. She was sad to be leaving, and knew how lucky she was to have been invited to stay in a palace, and luckier still to have made a friend like Princess Laura.

The note she had written to Nico’s mother was the coward’s way out, but she couldn’t risk the princess trying to persuade her to stay. After a bout of morning sickness Princess Laura had guessed she was pregnant, though as yet, she didn’t know who the father was. She had to leave Niroli before Princess Laura discovered the truth. Things had reached such a pitch with Nico she had no alternative. She had to go before Princess Laura found out and decided to take up her case with him, or, worse still, concluded she was nothing but a conniving trickster who had wormed her way into her affections for the sole purpose of engaging the support of a powerful ally.

She wouldn’t risk losing the friendship of a woman she had come to admire, Carrie thought as she locked the catches on her suitcase. The best way forward for her was to seek legal advice in England. She had wasted enough time on some schoolgirl notion that Nico was entitled to know about his baby. Nico had forfeited his right with his suggestion of a marriage of convenience. She had to go home and get on with her life. All that remained was to wait for the taxi to take her to the airport and her time in Niroli would be over.



‘Under what circumstances did Ms Evans leave the palace?’ Nico was seething with rage as he towered over the royal attendant. ‘Why wasn’t I informed of her departure immediately?’ He bit down on the rest of the questions thundering in his brain. He had always believed hectoring servants to be the mark of a bully. And if the man had known, it was more than his job was worth to pass on below-stairs gossip. ‘Never mind,’ he said crisply.

Closing the door, he leaned against it and exhaled heavily. Having failed to contact Carrie by telephone, he had visited her apartment only to find it empty. He had searched the grounds and the palace, and even the old town, finally bringing himself to confront his mother who had refused to see him and had sent her manservant to tell him that thanks to him Carrie had flown home to London.

Flown home to London? London was a big place, and, as far as he knew, she didn’t have a home to go to.

Crossing the room, he picked up the phone. It wasn’t in his nature to chase after something, or someone in this case, without proper preparation. In this instance the only preparation he needed to make was one call to Airport Security to have Carrie stopped at the departure gate.

It should have been simple, but he was stopped by a phone call from the king’s office. His grandfather wanted to see him at once. ‘The king will have to wait.’ He ignored the gasp of astonishment on the other end of the line, though he softened his refusal with a brief apology. And then his mother rang, begging him not to throw away his one chance of happiness.

What chance of happiness? He stamped down hard on the accelerator pedal of his sleek grey Aston Martin. Only he knew what it took to make him happy, and so far everyone in Niroli had gotten it spectacularly wrong. It wasn’t the throne of Niroli, or an advantageous marriage to Anastasia. It was Carrie, Carrie Evans, his mouse.

Before leaving the palace he had written a formal letter renouncing all claim to the throne of Niroli. He had claimed exemption through one of the ancient rules: ‘No member of the royal house may be joined in marriage without previous consent and approval of the ruler. Any marriage concluded against this rule implies exclusion from the house, deprivation of honour and privileges’. He was going to marry Carrie for love, not convenience, and she meant more to him than some arcane hokum. Carrie had shown him an alternative way to live his life. His answer had been to throw the opportunity she had given him back in her face. And now he had to catch the London flight before it left or risk losing her for good.