dwell on the fact that he had cut back significantly on his working hours so that he could spend
time with her. It was important that they established a friendly relationship before the baby was
born, but he was surprised and faintly dismayed by how much he enjoyed her company.
Kitty was no longer the wary and reserved person she had been when he had first brought her to
Athens, and since he had appointed her as head of the Larissa Petridis Foundation her confidence
had soared. She took her charity work seriously and the media had dubbed her the Caring
Princess. She had become something of a celebrity in Athens, and even he was privately amazed
by her transformation from a shy, reluctant royal to a graceful and breathtakingly beautiful
princess.
Without him being aware of her doing it, she had encouraged him to talk about the issues that
still haunted him, in particular his feeling that he had failed to protect his first child. Thanks to Kitty he was slowly coming to terms with his past, and he was looking forward to the future
when he would be a father. But although he trusted her in a way he had never believed he would
trust any human being, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was holding back from him,
particularly when he made love to her, and that in turn made him reluctant to lower his guard.
The press were waiting for them when they emerged from the hotel. Kitty did not enjoy their#p#分页标题#e#
constant attention, but she dealt with it with quiet dignity, smiling and standing with Nikos’s arm
around her waist while the photographers jostled to take pictures.
‘At least it will bring the youth centre to everyone’s notice,’ she murmured when they finally
made it to the car and Stavros sped off. But she was glad they had lost the paparazzi by the time
they reached the hospital. The scan was a private matter for her and Nikos and she didn’t want to
share the experience with the rest of the world.
Inside the private hospital they walked along plush carpeted corridors to the obstetrician’s
office. ‘Dr Antoniadis is the best in Greece,’ Nikos had told her when he had made the
appointment. ‘He will oversee your care and personally deliver the baby.’ Nothing, it seemed,
was too good for Nikos’s child.
Dr Antoniadis carried out some basic checks on Kitty and then chatted to them both about the
type of birth she hoped to have.
‘Painless, hopefully,’ she quipped, feeling a sudden rush of nerves when she thought about the
technicalities of giving birth. To her surprise, Nikos reached across and clasped her hand.
‘I will be with you every minute of your labour,’ he promised. And for some reason the strength
in his voice and the firmness of his fingers gripping hers made Kitty want to cry. Fortunately a
nurse appeared and led her off to change into a hospital gown, ready for the scan, and then, when
she lay on the bed in the scanning room and someone smeared cold jelly over her, she was more
concerned with the size of her stomach, which was already discernibly rounded, to give much
thought to anything else.
‘You won’t see much at this early stage,’ the technician explained as a fuzzy grey blur appeared
on the screen. ‘We really just want to check the heartbeat—and there it is. Can you see it? That
little pulse there is your baby.’
Kitty stared at the screen, at the indistinct blob of cells and the tiny but plainly visible speck that was beating rhythmically, and emotion flooded through her. In that moment her pregnancy
became real. It was no longer something vague: a line on a pregnancy kit and nausea in the
mornings. A human life was developing inside her: her child—hers and Nikos’s. She blinked to
dispel the moisture that had welled in her eyes, and turned to him. And more tears gathered when
she saw his face. He was leaning forward slightly in his chair, staring intently at the grainy
image, and she could see the tension in his shoulders, the absolute stillness, as if he were afraid
that if he moved the picture on the screen would disappear.
‘Nikos.’ Her voice was choked, and he stirred then and gripped her hand, lifted it to his mouth
and pressed his lips to her fingers.
‘We will give our child everything,’ he said rawly.
She knew he was thinking about his own childhood when he had had so little. ‘Of course we
will,’ she assured him softly. ‘But a child needs more than material things. A child needs love,
perhaps more than anything—and we will love it—he or she,’ she added with a smile as she
pictured a little boy with dark hair and flashing eyes, or a girl with pink cheeks—probably