Сьюзен Мейер – Royal Babies: Claiming His Secret Royal Heir / Pregnant with a Royal Baby! / Secret Child, Royal Scandal (страница 20)
‘I don’t think I will.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘For a start, I want to resume my modelling career—and I can’t see that going down a storm with the people.’
Or with him. He masked his reaction, but not fast enough—he hadn’t taken that into the equation.
‘You don’t like the idea either?’
‘I neither like nor dislike it. I agree it might be problematic for the people to accept, but it’s a problem we can work around.’
‘But it doesn’t have to be a problem. Don’t marry me—marry someone like Kaitlin...someone with the qualities to be a true consort.’
Even as she said the words a strange pang of what she reluctantly identified as jealousy shot through her veins. Jealousy? Really? She didn’t even know who she was jealous of. It meant nothing to her if Frederick married someone else. Nothing. As for being jealous of Kaitlin—that was absurd.
Sunita forged on. ‘You know I’m right. Tell me about your agreement with Kaitlin. What else did she bring to the table apart from her background?’
‘This is not a constructive conversation.’
‘I disagree. This isn’t only about Amil. This is about us as well. Your life and mine. You want to make me a princess—I deserve to know what that entails, what your expectations are. You said it yourself.’
‘What I expected from Kaitlin and what I would expect from you are different.’
Ouch. ‘In what way?’ Ice dripped from her tone as she forked up a piece of succulent fish with unnecessary violence.
‘You are two different individuals—of course I would have different expectations.’ Frustration tinged his voice, along with what looked like a growing knowledge that he’d entered stormy waters and was in imminent danger of capsizing.
‘Well, I’d like to know what you expected from Kaitlin.’ From your ideal candidate, her treacherous heart cried out.
‘Fine. Kaitlin was brought up for this role—she has dozens of connections, she speaks four European languages, she has diplomacy down pat. I planned to use her as a royal ambassador—she would have played a very public role. I also hoped she would be influential behind the scenes—play a part in turning Lycander round, in shaping policy.’
For Pete’s sake! Sunita didn’t think she could bear to hear any more. Lady Kaitlin had obviously been on a fast track to royal sainthood, and the role of Lycander princess would have fitted her like a silken glove. Whereas Sunita was more fitted for the lost sock that languished behind the radiator.
The realisation hollowed her tummy and she shook her head in repudiation. ‘There you have it. I think you owe it to Lycander to marry someone else.’
Surely she’d made her case? She understood that Frederick wanted to be part of Amil’s life, but he had to see that Sunita was quite simply not princess material.
‘No.’ His voice was flat. ‘I have already considered everything you’ve said. And, incidentally, you and my chief advisor are in complete agreement. But you are Amil’s mother, and that trumps all other considerations. He is my son. I want him to live with me—I want him to be Lycander’s Crown Prince after me. I also want him to live with his mother. So marriage is the only option.’
‘No, it isn’t. What if I decide not to marry you?’ He couldn’t actually force her to the altar. ‘You would still be an important part of Amil’s life.’
‘Stop!’
‘What?’ Her stomach plummeted as she saw the expression on his face—weariness, distaste, sadness.
‘Don’t do this.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because if you don’t marry me I will fight for joint custody.’
Joint custody. The words sucker-punched her. ‘You promised that you wouldn’t take him from me. You said he needs me.’
‘I also told you I will be a real part of his life. What would you suggest? A weekend here and there? He is my son as well.’
‘Yes. But you’ll marry someone else—have another family.’
‘And you think that should make me want Amil less—is that the message you want to give our son?’
‘No!’
Damn it—she couldn’t think. Panic had her in its grip, squeezing out any coherent thought. All she could think of now was losing Amil for half of his childhood. Of Amil in Lycander with a stepmother—whichever new multilingual paragon of virtue Frederick eventually married—and half-siblings.
History on repeat with a vengeance.
Memories of her own humiliations, inflicted by the hands of her stepmother and her half-sisters—the put-downs, the differentiation, the horror—were chiselled on her very soul. No way would she risk that for Amil.
‘I won’t agree to joint custody. I can’t.’
But she could see his point. She had already deprived him of fourteen months of Amil’s life—how could she expect him to settle for the occasional week? Regular phone calls and Skype? Would she settle for that? Never in a million years.
She inclined her head. ‘All right. You win. I’ll marry you.’
It looked as if Princess Sunita was about to enter the land of fairy tales. It was a good thing she knew that happy-ever-afters didn’t exist in real life.
‘ALL RIGHT. YOU WIN. I’ll marry you.’
The words seemed to haunt his dreams, and by the time the distinctive fluting whistle of a golden oriole penetrated his uneasy repose it was a relief to wake up, hop out of the slatted wooden bed and head for the shower. He could only hope the stream of water would wake him up to common sense.
He had won, and there was nothing wrong with winning—it meant he would have a life with his son, would be able to give Amil his principality. That was good news, right?
The problem was Sunita’s words had not been the only ones to permeate his sleeping mind. His father’s voice had also made a showing.
‘Every woman has a price. Find her weakness, exploit it and then you win, Freddy, m’boy.’
He switched off the shower in a savage movement. Time to man up. Yes, he’d won—and that was OK. It was a cause to celebrate—not the equivalent of what his father had done. He was striving to keep Amil with Sunita full-time. He hadn’t destroyed a family—he’d created one. Ergo, he was not his father. It wasn’t as if he had threatened her with joint custody. It had been the only other option—an option he’d known she would knock back.
Rationally, the facts were undeniable. Sometimes in life you had to choose between the rock and the hard place, and he’d done his best to make the rock a comfortable choice for her. He’d offered her the chance to be a princess—most women would have grabbed the baton and run with it.
End of.
Now it was time to figure out the next step.
He pulled on chinos and a navy T-shirt and headed into the courtyard and the early-morning sunshine.
‘Over here.’
He heard Sunita’s voice and spotted her sitting under the shade of a tree, simply dressed in a rainbow-striped sundress, sunglasses perched atop her raven hair. Sunlight filtered through the green leaves of the banyan tree, dappling her arms and the wood of the table, lighting up the tentative smile she offered as he approached.
It was a smile that seemed to bathe his skin in the warmth of relief, pushing away any lingering doubts about his actions.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey...’ He sat down opposite and surveyed the array of fruit. ‘Wow.’
‘I know, right? It’s hard to know where to begin!’
‘I’m not even sure I can name them all.’
‘Chiku, papaya, guava, pineapple, rambutan. They all taste different and they are all delicious.’
He reached for a chiku—a fruit he’d never heard of. ‘It looks like a potato.’
‘Wait until you taste it.’
He halved the fruit to reveal pinkish flesh seeded with a mere three black seeds. He scooped out a spoonful and blinked at the intense sweetness.
‘Better than cotton candy.’
She smiled, and once again relief touched him.
‘About last night...’ he said. ‘I know marriage isn’t your ideal option, but I am very glad you said yes.’
‘It isn’t, but it is the best option on the table and I’ve decided to make the best of it. Perhaps if I’d been more upfront two years ago we wouldn’t be in this mess. But we are, and I’ll do my best to be positive about the marriage idea.’
‘Our marriage doesn’t have to be a mess. I think we can make this work. For Amil and for us.’
A pause, and then she nodded. ‘I’ll try. So, what’s the next step in Project Marriage?’
There was no room for further doubts or any more discussion with his conscience. Project Marriage was what he wanted and what he believed to be right for them all. Yet for some reason he felt restless, as if the beauty of the surroundings was somehow tainted. This was the sort of place where real couples should sit and plan their future—couples foolish enough to believe in the concept of love.