Читать книгу The Royal House of Niroli: Innocent Mistresses: Expecting His Royal Baby / The Prince's Forbidden Virgin - Robyn Donald - Страница 12

CARRIE found she was trembling as Nico and Anastasia drove away. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself there must be a woman in Nico’s life, seeing him with someone was more than she could bear. The blacked-out windows of his high-performance car hinted at intimate spaces and close personal contact. How could he fail to touch the princess as he leaned across? How could the princess fail to be intoxicated by Nico’s cologne, or by his clean, warm scent? Princess Anastasia was beautiful, and Nico … Nico was Nico. How could they resist each other? She had seen the way the princess looked at him.

But it was more than physical contact that she resented, much more. It was the intimacy of shared conversation and getting to know each other that tore at her heart. But she had to face facts. She didn’t stand a chance with Nico, she never had. And if he hadn’t wanted her three months ago he would hardly want her now. And when she told him about the baby … What would he think when he compared the mother of his child to Princess Anastasia?

By the time she had dredged up every negative thought and examined it twice, Carrie was close to tears. But as crying wouldn’t get her anywhere she pulled out her purse and paid the stallholder for a simple summer dress and a pair of plastic flip-flops instead.

Wasn’t that the perfect outfit for her meeting with Nico at the palace? Carrie reflected wryly. On impulse she added some new underwear to her purchases. Why not? No one would see the frivolous garments, but she would know they were there. It was a small defiance, but sometimes she found small things the most effective.

Having showered and changed into her new outfit, Carrie splashed cold water onto her face and then tied her hair back. By the time she left the guest-house the temperature was soaring and even the stone beneath her feet seemed to radiate heat, which didn’t bode well for her plastic sandals.

She hadn’t realised how far she would have to walk, or that it would all be uphill. She hadn’t thought about the shops closing in the afternoon, or the fact that they wouldn’t open again until seven that same evening. And she had forgotten her sunglasses and her sun lotion in her rush to fly to Niroli. In fact, she had forgotten all the essentials. It was unlike her to be so reckless and impetuous, but her life had never collided with Nico’s before.

Turning the corner, she frowned with concern seeing how many people were waiting to take the tour of the old city. The queue snaked round another corner out of sight, and she was already exhausted, plus she had developed blisters between her toes where the plastic thong of the flip-flops had rubbed her. Looking down, she saw her feet were bleeding.

Pausing in the shade next to one of the palace control posts, Carrie watched the vehicles driving in and out. There was a guard seated behind a glass window in a small command station, and the palace courtyard was just a tantalising few steps away. Going up to the window, she tapped on it politely.

Thanks to the young shop assistant she knew all about the state banquet, and when the officer looked up she told him that she was one of the casual staff hired for that evening to work in the kitchen.

Consulting his list, the officer shook his head.

‘I’m not there?’ Carrie pretended dismay. ‘But I must be … they’re expecting me.’

‘This is the wrong entrance,’ the man told her. ‘Waiting staff must go round the back.’ He tipped his chin.

‘What if they don’t have my name there, either?’ Carrie pressed, adding a plaintive note to her voice. Maybe she reminded the guard of his sister, or some other female he knew, because to her relief the guard’s manner changed towards her.

‘All right.’ He gave her a reassuring wink. ‘I’ll call them and tell them to expect you.’

‘Oh, would you? That’s really kind of you. Thank you so much.’ She dropped her gaze and assumed a meek expression, waiting on tenterhooks for the guard to lift his receiver and speak to his opposite number on the other gate.

Without looking at her he waved her on….

She was inside the palace! Steeling herself to inquisitive eyes, Carrie walked quickly through the servants’ door, her heart thundering with apprehension.

‘La cucina?’ she said when anyone stared directly at her. Her knowledge of Italian was limited to the name of the Italian restaurant close to her aunt’s house, which fortunately had been called La Cucina Italia, or The Italian Kitchen.

Everyone was in such a hurry to get to their appointed place no one thought to question her, or notice when she slipped away. Darting up a stone staircase, Carrie had no idea where she was heading, only that reason told her the private apartments of the royal family would be above the servants’ quarters.

This was madness, she decided, pausing on the stairwell to shed her shoes. She would have to chance her luck and take the next door she found….

Stepping cautiously through an arched doorway, Carrie lingered a moment on the plush carpet to get her bearings. She was in a long and splendid corridor where grizzled Fierezza ancestors stared down sternly from the walls. There was a faint aroma of beeswax and lavender and hangings were ruby-coloured silk.

This was Nico’s home, Carrie reminded herself, shivering as she looked around. It was imperial splendour on the grandest scale, but it was cold and unwelcoming … But Nico was here somewhere, and now all she had to do was find him.

He had to get some air. The artificial atmosphere in the air-conditioned palace was getting to him. But above that, he was in a mood so black he wouldn’t inflict it on anyone, not even his grandfather the king, who was largely responsible for it.

King Giorgio was ninety years old, a fact Nico couldn’t ignore. It was the only reason he hadn’t made his views clear in his usual blunt fashion. His grandfather had proved himself shrewd enough and hard enough to hold the throne and guide Niroli into the twenty-first century, but that didn’t give him licence to construct a future for his heirs. Nico was prepared to accommodate reasonable requests, but he would not allow his grandfather to direct his life….

Increasing the pace of his stride, he took a short cut through the covered walkway leading to the private apartments. He grew angrier as he reviewed his conversation with the king. His grandfather had offered him the kingdom of Niroli as if it were the winning ticket in a lottery. Nico Fierezza, King of Niroli? He had never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. The idea of living at court had never appealed to him. He would rather take a swim in a sea of sharks than become the ruler of a kingdom surrounded by sycophants.

His grandfather’s offer had only proved the king didn’t know him at all. What was he supposed to do? Land on the island, grab a crown and cheer? He had a life and people who depended on him away from Niroli. There wasn’t a chance he was going to leave the team who worked with him in the lurch in order to accept the crown.

But his grandfather was old and ailing, and he couldn’t turn his dearest wish down flat. And so he had agreed to withhold his final answer for a day or two, though his decision was already made. He would find a way to break the news gently to his grandfather in spite of the fact that delay went against everything he believed in.

And then there was the Princess Anastasia, the lure by which his grandfather had thought to tempt him to take the throne. She was beautiful enough, but not for him. Nico preferred his women without adornment, and his sense of humour had suffered a severe malfunction when he had found himself tricked into a lunch date with the overdressed princess. As gaudy as the pennants flying in her honour, Princess Anastasia was about as subtle in her intentions towards him as a bitch in heat.

And now there was a state dinner to sit through, which was also being held in her honour. To soften the harder blow yet to come he had agreed with his grandfather that he would partner the princess, and she was waiting for him now, no doubt sporting half a ton of diamonds.

He wasn’t exactly dressed down, himself, Nico conceded, easing his neck beneath the stiff winged collar. A state dinner required him to wear full regalia, and so he was wearing the official uniform he kept at the palace, complete with the sash that marked him out as a grandson of the king. The formality irked him, but it wouldn’t hurt him to follow tradition for one night.

And he could hardly wear jeans.

Nico’s lips curved briefly in amusement, but quickly flattened again. He had just entered the courtyard leading to the guest suite where Princess Anastasia was staying when he spotted the intruder. Some ragamuffin was sitting on the lip of the fountain dabbling her feet in the pool. ‘This area is closed to the public—’ He froze as she turned around.

‘Carrie …’ The shock hit him like a blow in the chest. What was his secretary doing here? ‘Carrie? Answer me.’ He was beginning to feel irritated. He hadn’t seen her for … how long? And she just turned up like this? Where had she been? What had happened to her? She had disappeared with no explanation at all. She hadn’t warned him, or worked her notice, or even troubled to send him a letter of resignation. Everyone in the office had missed her. He’d missed her. ‘Carrie, speak to me …’

As she stared at him events played fast forward behind his eyes. The night of the party … the devil on his back … his frustration at being forced to stand around making small talk.his gaze settling on Carrie … seeing her looking as uncomfortable as he felt and not half as good as he was at hiding it. He’d wanted to save her embarrassment and had ended up giving way to an urge that had been nagging at him since the first day they’d met. And he’d been surprised by her response—make that amazed. He’d always thought her a mouse, maybe because she had been such a calming influence in the office, going quietly about her duties, making no fuss. He had appreciated her for those very qualities, but that night had completely changed his perception of her.

‘Carrie, what’s wrong with you? Answer me …’ A rush of concern propelled him towards her, but then caution held him back. She looked tired, but today he was a prince and this was Niroli, and Carrie Evans was his secretary, or she had been once.

‘Why are you here?’ His surprise was replaced by suspicion as he ran through the possibilities in his mind. She’d come a long way to find him. Why? He’d never made her any promises. They’d been together one time, and that had been for sex. They both knew it. It could never be anything more and she’d been fine with it at the time.

She couldn’t breathe. Had she really imagined she was ready for this? The passion in Nico’s eyes reminded her of hot, steamy sex; he’d worn that same fierce, intent look then. She found him doubly intimidating dressed as a prince … doubly attractive because he was fresh from the shower, his hair still damply curling, his face already starting to darken with stubble. His cheekbones appeared carved in flint above his unforgiving mouth. How she longed to soften it….

‘Why are you here, Carrie?’ he repeated.

‘I came to see you, Nico.’ Planting her hands on the cold stone behind her she braced herself for disappointment.

‘You look exhausted.’

The concern growing in his eyes made something catch in her heart. ‘I have to talk to you … Could we go somewhere else?’ She glanced around the courtyard.

‘Why not here?’

‘Because I’d like to speak to you in private.’

Suspicion replaced the concern in his eyes. Nico’s reading of the situation was making her nervous. And then he glanced at his watch, a clear indication that he had somewhere else to be.

‘I can give you about ten minutes,’ he said.

Ten minutes.

Nico’s apartment at the palace was like nothing Carrie had ever seen before, not even in magazines. It was exquisite, delicate, refined and restrained. Classical music played softly in the background and candles flickered in silver sconces.

‘Well?’ he said, but she could see he was itching to get away and she needed his full attention.

He had to distance himself from her … he had to put physical distance between them so he couldn’t inhale her fragrant scent or feel the warmth of her body reaching out to him. Seeing her again had affected him far more than he had expected. What was it about the woman? She wasn’t beautiful. She had no skill at repartee. But even that made him smile, for he wasn’t noted for his small talk, either. She had a fabulous figure and glorious hair, but other than that she was plain. Even so, she touched him in some way he couldn’t name. She tempered him. Except in one way, of course. ‘Come on, Carrie,’ he prompted, conscious of time slipping by.

Nico was staying as far away from her as possible. She remained by the door wishing she hadn’t been so naïve, hadn’t misread the situation so badly. She could have sent him a solicitor’s letter, but now she was here she had to go through with it.

She walked deeper into the room and stopped just in front of him. He stiffened as if wondering what she was going to do next, and then a look she knew well came into his eyes.

‘Oh, I see,’ he murmured.

And then she was enfolded in his scent, in his warmth, in the sheer power of him, and all of it so blessedly familiar. He didn’t give her chance to speak or to breathe before teasing her lips with his tongue and his teeth, urging her in a low, rough voice to do all manner of wicked things. Parting her lips she drank him in, and was already scrambling up him by the time he backed her towards the wall. After vowing to resist him she was forced to accept there were some things reason had no power over, and this was one of them.

Her briefs came down in the same moment Nico freed himself. He paused briefly to make some comment about the sexy red lace. She only caught a glimpse of him, but it was enough to know he was engorged and magnificent. And she was ready. Cupping her buttocks, he helped her to lock her legs around his waist, and then thrust deep. Holding her weight as if it were nothing he forced her back against the wall, working efficiently, pounding rhythmically until she came, which was almost at once. She cried out so loud he was forced to put a hand over her mouth in case the servants heard her. Only Nico brought out this wild side in her nature and she bit him for his trouble. Snatching his hand away, he stared at it, looking in amazement at the teeth marks she had left. And then he laughed.

She laughed, too … softly, intimately, relishing the shared moment until he grew serious and, holding her gaze, very deliberately sank into her again.

It was more pleasure than she had ever known. Throwing back her head, she dragged in air. Nico was calmer and more controlled now and took his time.

‘Was that good?’ He eased out of her.

Good.

But moments after lowering her to her feet, he added, ‘Was that what you came for, Carrie?’

The remark was like a dash of cold water in her face. How could she have forgotten why she was here?

‘I take it that is why you came to Niroli?’ His lips tugged up in a cynical smile and he eased his shoulders as if he’d had a good workout. ‘You can use the bathroom off the corridor while I take a quick shower. When you’ve finished I’ll have someone show you out …’

The way she felt … failure didn’t even begin to cover it. She walked numbly in the direction he indicated and then stopped by the door, lacking the will to move until Nico left the room.

He paced up and down outside the bathroom door waiting for her to come out. What was keeping her?

He stepped back as she opened the door. She looked like a wraith. What had happened to Carrie since she had left the office? And what was coming next? He couldn’t help remembering her raunchy underwear. There was a whole lot more to this woman he wasn’t getting.

She glanced up and blushed as if she sensed his mood deteriorating. She was right to be worried. How she could she be so sexually charged one moment and so meek and mild the next? It was enough to make any man suspicious.

But then she stumbled, and he caught her, and when he had to hold her close he felt things he didn’t want to feel. He’d fought emotion all his life. He reacted the usual way, with swift rejection of his feelings. ‘What’s happened to you, Carrie?’

‘You happened to me, Nico …’ She quickly recovered and, straightening up, brushed away his steadying hand. ‘You’re like a drug … A drug I find dangerously addictive.’

It was such a piece of drama coming from his mouse he almost laughed. They both knew what they had, and that it wasn’t going anywhere. It was then he saw her feet were bleeding. ‘For goodness’ sake, Carrie, why didn’t you say something?’

He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh and felt bad seeing tears in her eyes. They were such tiny feet, on closer inspection, and the damage had been done by some cheap plastic sandals. He felt a tug somewhere deep inside him, which he immediately shrugged off. ‘We’ll have to do something about this,’ he said impatiently, glancing at his watch.

The small first-aid room was located just off the palace kitchen. It was tiled in white and smelled of disinfectant. Carrie couldn’t care less about her feet. She was with Nico and now she had to tell him her news.

He ran some warm water into a bowl, and added a drop of disinfectant. Grabbing a towel, he swung it over his shoulder. ‘Put your feet in here. You’ll have to soak them for a few minutes.’

Remembering his ten-minute deadline, Carrie felt hysterical laughter leap in her throat. But she didn’t see the funny side for long. His deadline undoubtedly involved Princess Anastasia. Nico could look forward to his evening with the princess now that he was replete and could relax. He might come from the highest family in the land, but Nico was a primal force who needed a regular outlet for his energy, and she was that outlet when there was no other sport to be enjoyed. Taking her up against the wall when the servants might have come in at any moment and disturbed them was just another form of risk-taking, providing Nico with all the elements of danger he enjoyed.

She had enjoyed it, too, Carrie accepted. More than enjoyed it. Nico’s love-making filled her with joy and with purpose … while it lasted. But lust was no foundation for a family, and maybe she could bear the pain of his rejection, but she didn’t want that for her baby.

When Nico examined her feet and handled them with the greatest care it was all she could do to hold back her tears. All she had ever wanted was a home full of love, a family, and she wanted Nico to be part of that family.

‘How could you do this to yourself, Carrie?’ he demanded reproachfully.

‘I didn’t do it on purpose.’ She kept her voice light. She didn’t want Nico to feel responsible for her. She didn’t want him thinking her weak; he must never think her weak. She wasn’t his mouse, and never would be again, not now that she had a child to consider.

‘These shoes are meant for the beach, not for walking round town.’

‘I only had city shoes with me when I landed, and I couldn’t find any shops—’

‘There are plenty of shops.’

But none she could afford, Carrie thought, not wanting to say as much to Nico. She didn’t want to give him the impression that she was hard up, or a hard-luck case.

He looked at her thoughtfully, as if he knew she couldn’t afford anything from the shops in Niroli, and maybe even admired her a little for keeping silent.

She hoped that was what had brought the softening to his lips. ‘I should have known I can’t wear flip-flops; they always hurt my feet.’

‘If you knew—’ He stopped as if he didn’t want to start an argument and started storming through the cupboards instead. ‘There should be antiseptic cream in here somewhere….’

He insisted on drying her feet on a fluffy white towel, which he rested on his knees. And when he put the cream on he did so very gently.

She had to brace herself. She had to tense every muscle so she didn’t show him how that made her feel, but even so her eyes filled with tears.

‘It isn’t that bad, is it?’ Nico said, straightening up to look at her.

Worse than he knew. ‘No, fine,’ she assured him.

And then he did the one thing she dreaded most. Reaching into the inside breast pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a wad of notes. ‘You really must get yourself some decent shoes, Carrie.’

She could only stare in horror at the money.

‘Here, take it,’ he pressed.

‘I don’t want it …’ She couldn’t stop staring at it.

‘Don’t be so silly,’ he insisted. ‘You used to work for me. Let’s call it severance pay, if that makes you feel better.’

‘Let’s not …’ Firming her lips, she slipped down from the seat. ‘Will you show me out, or shall I find someone else to do it?’

He moved in front of the door to block her way. ‘What’s wrong with you, Carrie? You never used to be like this—’

‘You mean I used to be a pushover?’

‘No, I don’t mean that, and you know it—’

‘Do I, Nico?’ She was conscious that the mood had disintegrated into acrimony. How could she tell him about their baby now? She was determined to choose the right moment, and this wasn’t it. ‘Thank you for bathing my feet.’ She glanced at the door.

‘You’re not leaving until you tell me why you’re here.’

‘Then we’re going to be here a very long time.’

‘I need an answer, Carrie.’

‘Aren’t you going to be late for the princess?’

‘She can wait.’

Nico’s attitude surprised her. It suggested he was in no hurry to see Anastasia. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

He glanced at his watch again. ‘We’ll have to make another appointment. I can’t do this now.’

Carrie’s cheeks blazed red. No doubt a regular meeting while she was on the island would be convenient for Nico.

‘You want something from me,’ he said, fixing her with a firm stare, ‘and I’m going to find out what it is.’

‘Yes, I do want something,’ Carrie admitted, ‘but it’s not what you think—’

‘All right, I’ll make time. We’ll discuss it now.’

‘And make you late for the state banquet?’

‘Like the princess, that can wait.’