Sabrina Philips – Royal Baby: Forced Wife, Royal Love-Child / Cavelli's Lost Heir / Prince of Montéz, Pregnant Mistress (страница 19)

‘That’s not the point. You led me to believe that I could make up my own mind, that it would be my decision. And it will be my decision. I will not be railroaded into marrying you. I want these invitations stopped.’

‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that. Sebastiano informs me that they’ve already gone out.’

‘But I haven’t said I’ll marry you.’

He shrugged. ‘And now you don’t have to.’

‘How dare you!’ She was sick of his arrogance. Sick of his attitude, sick of having all her reservations thrust aside as if they counted for nothing. ‘And what of my life? I’m a helicopter pilot, Rafe, not a princess!’

‘In less than two weeks, you will be both.’

She scoffed. ‘And you would have me believe I can keep my job?’

He slammed the invitation down on the table. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t have my wife running joy flights around the Mediterranean. You will have work here. As Montvelatte’s Princess. As mother of our children.’

‘I worked hard to become a pilot! I worked damned hard to get to where I am now and not by flying joy flights. How can you expect me to throw it all away to fall in with your plans?’

Rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. ‘But don’t you see, you have no alternative. Your flying career crunched to a halt the minute you became pregnant with twins.’

‘And who damn well got me pregnant!’

‘Guilty,’ he acceded, making his way to a sideboard and pouring himself a healthy slug of Scotch that he held up in mock toast to her. ‘And for my sins I will marry you. Surely you can’t ask for more than that.’ He threw the glass back, draining half the contents. ‘Now, if that was all? I do have some work to attend to.’

He was already turning to go when she stepped forward and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Don’t dismiss me like some minion with a petty grievance.’

His eyes glittered with an icy cold ferocity as his eyes scanned upwards from the hand on his forearm to her face. ‘Clearly, that would be a mistake on my part. But let me make one thing patently clear. We are getting married on the date printed on that invitation, whether you like it or not.’

‘And if I refuse?’

‘Then I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the altar, if that’s what it takes.’

‘Why not just club me over the head and drag me there and prove to the world what a beast you really are?’

A muscle popped in his jaw, the fires in his eyes growing even colder. ‘What a tempting prospect. I must keep that in mind. But rest assured, this wedding will happen. Whether or not you embrace the concept is entirely up to you.’

What was her problem? Rafe pulled off his tie and tugged at the buttons at his neck as he strode into his bookshelf-lined study. Couldn’t Sienna see it was the only way? Merda, it solved everybody’s problems in one neat package.

He threw himself into the high-back leather chair behind his desk, took one look at the untidy pile of reports and files sitting on his desk waiting for his attention and swung around to stare out the windows over the neat lines of the courtyard garden and to the azure sea beyond the cliff walls instead. He gazed out of the window, unseeing, knowing he should be tackling the paperwork. With the question of continuing the Lombardi line so neatly wrapped up, he should have been able to spend more time on the more pressing financial problems that threatened to undermine Montvelatte’s economy, and helping with unravelling the intricate web of companies, dummy companies and trusts that his half-brothers had established in an attempt to ensure that the ultimate beneficiaries of the stolen casino funds would never be discovered.

They had been, but with the mess they had left behind, it would take time to get Montvelatte back on a sound financial footing.

But instead of spending time on the problem, he’d had to pander to Sienna’s wishes, spending evenings with her, making her think he was going along with her wish to get to know him better. It hadn’t been that onerous, surprisingly enough, the woman he’d chosen because she was pregnant with his babies, and because of how she could pleasure him in bed, turning out to be an unexpected success with the crowds.

So what was her problem? She’d enjoyed their time together, and he’d had no doubt that a month would be all it would take to convince her that marriage did not have to be the disaster she coloured it.

It had been going so well until she had spotted that invitation. How the hell had she got hold of that?

But what was worse, he’d told her that he’d carry her to the altar if she refused to marry him, and at the time he’d meant every word. Although with the cameras and the guests and the world watching, that was never on the cards. He needed her to walk down that aisle of her own free will.

Christo, but he wanted her there. Over the last few days in Rome he’d missed her more than he’d expected, and the idea of returning to her had held more and more appeal. She might not come with the pedigree that Sebastiano was so hopeful of securing for Montvelatte’s Princess, but her fresh beauty could only give the monarchy a boost, and in terms of a partner, he was much happier to have someone he knew he was compatible with in bed than the pick of some highly strung finishing school graduates. Dio, but how he was looking forward to renewing that part of their relationship.

He swore under his breath as his thoughts turned to rock-hard reality. He had work to do, and the last thing he needed was to feel that familiar tightening in his groin.

He swivelled around in the chair and let his eyes slide over the piles of paperwork requiring his attention before this evening’s dinner meeting with Montvelatte’s Minister of Finance.

And then he remembered the wounded look in Sienna’s hazel eyes as he’d stormed out of the room and instantly his priorities changed. For as much as she liked to call him the Beast of Iseo, he needed her to walk up that aisle willingly …

Rafe found her sitting on the side of the pool, her filmy floral skirt hiked up above her knees as she dipped her calves in the water. She looked beautiful like that, leaning back on her hands and making circles with her feet that spun with light through the water. Beautiful and yet, oh, so sad.

‘Am I disturbing you?’

Sienna glanced briefly in his direction and then away. ‘I thought you had work to do,’ she said, but not before he’d caught the flash of surprise. Surprise and something else that had skated across the surface of her eyes too quickly to pin down, but enough to encourage him. She was angry, but there was something else there as well. That was a start.

‘Work can wait. I needed some fresh air and thought, now that it’s approaching evening, a walk on the cliff path would be good. Have you done that yet?’

She shook her head, sitting straight up now and sweeping her hands clean.

‘Would you like to?’

She blinked once, suspiciously, and then again less so, and finally she gave the briefest of nods. ‘Thank you.’ She swung her legs out of the pool and reached for a towel, but he was already there with it. Their hands met as he passed it to her, and she jerked away, as quickly and gracefully as a startled gazelle.

‘Come,’ he said, once she’d slipped on her sandals. ‘This way.’

It was still warm, but the sun was dipping lower in the sky and the scent of a thousand wild herbs and flowers played on the fresh sea air as he led her, neither of them speaking, around the Castello wall and onto the narrow path that wended its way around the headland. Low scrubby bush hugged the sides of the path, tiny pink flowers jostling with each other in the light early-evening breeze.

In the distance the shard of rock that was Iseo’s Pyramid thrust savagely into the sky, with its ever-changing cloud of sea birds wheeling and circling its heights, and from this angle it looked even more dangerous, as if slicing through the water like an enormous black fin. They stopped to look at it at one point, where an enormous chair had been carved out of ancient rock.

‘Tell me about the legend,’ Sienna asked, standing in front of it, hugging her arms around herself as she looked across the sea to the rocky islet.

Rafe studied her face—the blandness of her expression, the tightness around her eyes. There was a vulnerability about her this evening that he hadn’t seen before, almost as if she’d lost her fight and had become resigned to her fate.

He didn’t like it. He liked her passive even less than he did when she argued with him. At least then she showed the passion for which he knew she was capable.

She turned her head then, her eyes questioning, and reluctantly he turned his eyes away and towards the chunk of rock she seemed to find so fascinating. ‘It was the making of Montvelatte,’ he told her. ‘The waters are treacherous around the Pyramid; many ships have come to grief in trying to negotiate a passage between the mainland and the island. Blown off course, the pyramid was almost a magnet. Many went down. Many men died.’

‘And the beast? How did that story come about?’

‘There were always stories, always a suggestion that there was more to the dangers of the Pyramid than an iceberg carved from rock. And then, on a night with no moon and a savage storm, legend has it that a vessel carrying riches from the east to Genoa was blown onto the rocks and sliced in two. One man miraculously survived, only to witness the breaking apart of his vessel and the deaths of all those he’d sailed with. It was he who first saw the beast when lightning lit up the sky. The beast was standing atop the Pyramid and howling into the storm, the bloodied remains of one of his fellow sailors in its maw. That man was Iseo.’