Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride

Her work was methodical, neat and efficient. She was good at giving instructions, too; when she showed him how to clean the leads, she gave him an old piece of lead from her box of tricks under her desk so he could practise first, and corrected his technique without making him feel stupid. Lorenzo liked the fact that she was so direct and clear.

And when the house opened to the public, he discovered that Indigo was far from being the socially inept nerd she’d claimed to be. She was seriously good with people; she was patient, charming, and he noticed that she assessed them swiftly so she could work out whether they wanted a quick and simple answer, or if they’d prefer a longer and more detailed explanation.

Lorenzo noticed how patient Indigo was, never once making her questioners feel stupid or a nuisance. If anything, she went out of her way to make them feel appreciated.

Funny, all the formal training he’d had in diplomacy didn’t even begin to approach this. Indigo was a natural with people, warm and open, and the rigidity of boarding school clearly hadn’t left its mark on her. Lorenzo knew that she could teach him a lot, just by letting him shadow her. And maybe if he could focus on that, on the way that Indigo could help him prepare for his new role, it would stop him thinking of her in a different context. One that would cause too many problems for both of them.

* * *

Once the crowds had left, Lorenzo fetched them both some more coffee.

She looked up at him and smiled. ‘Thank you—that’s really kind of you. Sorry, I’m afraid I’ve rather ignored you this afternoon.’

‘You were busy working and talking to visitors,’ he said. ‘And I have to say, I’m impressed by how at ease you are with people.’

She looked surprised. ‘But you’re a prince. You have to talk to people all the time. Aren’t you at ease with them?’

‘Not in the same way that you are,’ he admitted. ‘You have this natural empathy.’ And, because he was so used to formality, he had to work at being at ease with people. Which pretty much negated the point.

‘I’m surprised they didn’t teach you that sort of thing at prince school.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Very funny.’

‘I still think you’d make an awesome model for a stained-glass angel,’ she said. ‘Though I can understand why you don’t want to sit for me.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t. In another life,’ he said softly, ‘I’d sit for you with pleasure.’ And he’d enjoy watching her sketch him, seeing the way she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she was concentrating. And then maybe afterwards...

‘But in this life it’d be a PR nightmare,’ she said, going straight to the root of the matter. ‘The new King of Melvante has to be squeaky clean.’

‘Yes.’ Until he’d met Indigo, that hadn’t been a problem. But Indigo Moran made him want to break every single one of his rules and then some. To stop himself thinking about it, and to distract her from probing his thoughts too deeply, he made an exaggerated squeaking noise. ‘Like this.’

She laughed. And, to his relief, everything felt smooth and light and sparkly again.

‘I’d better let you get on. You’ve had enough distractions for today.’

She smiled at him again. ‘You can stay if you want to.’

Tempting. So very, very tempting. And he wanted to spend more time with Indigo. He liked this side of her, the fun and the carefree feeling he didn’t normally have time for.

But he really needed to let his common sense get back in charge. Preferably right now. He was supposed to be preparing for his new role, not acting on impulse and indulging himself. ‘Thanks, but I’ll see you later, OK?’ And then, hopefully, the next time he saw her he’d be back in sensible mode and he’d be able to treat her as just another acquaintance. He could be charming and witty, but he could keep his emotions totally in check.

And what he needed more than anything else, right now, was a little time at the ancient grand piano in the library.

Now the visitors had gone and the house was back to being fully private, the family dogs had the free run of the place again, so a couple of minutes after Lorenzo had settled at the piano he discovered that Toto, an elderly golden Labrador he’d known since puppyhood, was leaning against his leg. Just like home, except with a bigger dog, he thought with a smile, and reached down to ruffle the dog’s fur. And then he lost himself in the music.

* * *

Indigo could hear piano music. Which was odd, because she had a very quiet cello concerto playing on her iPod. She reached over and paused the track, and listened again. Definitely a piano, but not something she recognised.

The piece stopped, and there was silence for a moment, before a snatch of something, and then a pause and a few bars of something else, as if someone was trying to decide what to play next.

Curious, Indigo made sure that all her electrical equipment was turned off and her pots of acid all had lids on, and went in search of the music. As she neared the library, the music got louder. She paused in the doorway of the library. Lorenzo was sitting at the piano; from her vantage point, she could see that his eyes were closed as he was playing.

In another life, she thought, this could’ve been his career. Though he didn’t have the luxury of choice.

When he’d finished, she clapped softly, and Lorenzo opened his eyes and stared at her in surprise.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘I heard the music,’ she said simply.

He grimaced. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

‘I was going to have a break anyway.’ She paused. ‘You’re very good.’

‘Thank you.’

Lorenzo accepted the compliment gracefully, even a little bit shyly. Indigo had the strongest feeling that this was a part of himself that he normally kept hidden. She couldn’t resist asking, ‘Would you play some more for me?’

‘I...’ He gave her another of those shy smiles that made her heart contract. ‘Sure, if you want. Take a seat.’

She heeled off her shoes and curled up on a corner of the battered leather chesterfield sofa. The Labrador came over and put a paw on one of the cushions, clearly intending to lever himself up next to her.

‘Toto, you bad hound, you know you’re not allowed on the furniture,’ she scolded him.

The dog gave her a mournful look and she sighed and slid off the chesterfield onto the floor. ‘All right, then, I’ll come down and sit with you.’

He wagged his tail, licked her face and then sprawled over her.

‘And you’re much too big to be a lapdog,’ she said, but she rubbed the dog’s tummy anyway and he gave her a look of absolute bliss.

‘You like dogs?’ Lorenzo asked. Then he rolled his eyes. ‘That was a stupid question, because the answer’s obvious.’

‘I love them. But my work takes me all over the place and not everyone’s comfortable with dogs, so I can’t have one of my own. I come and borrow Lottie and Gus’s every so often.’ She paused. ‘I see you didn’t mind Toto leaning against your leg while you were playing. I take it you like dogs, too?’

He nodded. ‘I have dogs at home, but mine are a little smaller than Toto.’

She grinned. ‘Prince Lorenzo, please don’t tell me you have a Chihuahua.’

‘And carry it around with me in a basket?’ He laughed. ‘No. We have various spaniels. And although they’re nearly as old as Toto, they’re not quite as well behaved. They sneak up onto the furniture as soon as you’ve looked away. Especially Caesar. He’s my shadow when I’m at home.’

And she could tell that he didn’t really mind. Which made him seem so much more human. A king who didn’t necessarily expect all his subjects to obey him and would indulge an elderly and much-loved dog.

‘What do you want me to play?’ he asked.

‘Anything you like,’ she said, and listened intently as he ran through several pieces.

‘That was fabulous,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘When you said last night that it helped to get through tough times if you had something... It was music for you, wasn’t it?’

He nodded, and she had to stop herself from walking over to the piano and hugging him. She didn’t want him to think she was pitying him; but she could understand how a lonely little boy, far from his home and his family, needed to take refuge in something. She’d been there herself. ‘Did you ever think about being a musician?’

He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t exactly an option. My job’s been mapped out for me pretty much since I was born.’

She frowned. ‘Doesn’t that make you feel trapped?’

‘It’s my duty and I’m not going to let anyone down.’

She noticed that he hadn’t actually answered the question. Which told her far more than if he’d tried to bluff his way out of it. She knew she’d feel trapped, in his shoes. Stuck in a formal, rigid culture where you were expected to know every single rule off by heart and abide by them all. Stifling. She’d hate it even more than she’d hated the rigidity of boarding school.

‘If you could do whatever you wanted, what would you do?’ she asked softly.

‘Anything I wanted?’ His eyes were very, very dark.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Right here and right now?’

She nodded.

‘I’d do this.’ He got up from the piano stool, walked over to her, drew her to her feet, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

Just like last night. Except it was more intense because, this time, she knew how perfectly his mouth fitted against hers. How his touch made her pulse beat faster. How right it felt.

Oh, help.

She really didn’t want Lorenzo to know how much he affected her. After the way Nigel had betrayed her trust and abandoned her, she didn’t want to be that vulnerable ever again. Hopefully being a little sarcastic with him would defuse the situation and make her feel more in control again.

She fanned herself with one hand. ‘You’re not too shabby at this, Your Royal Highness,’ she drawled. ‘Did they teach you this at prince school, too?’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Indigo, will you please shut up about prince school?’

But her idea of a defence mechanism turned out to be a total failure, because then he kissed her again, tiny nibbling kisses that inflamed her senses and left her breathless. And she ended up kissing him right back.

This had to stop. Now. ‘Had a lot of practice, have we?’

It didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. ‘That’d be telling, and a prince should never kiss and tell,’ he shot back. ‘You talk way too much, Indigo Moran.’ He caught her lower lip between his, sending her pulse skyrocketing again. ‘But, since you clearly want to talk—let’s talk about last night,’ he said. ‘At dinner. That dress.’

She frowned. ‘What was wrong with my dress?’

‘Nothing.’ He sighed. ‘Apart from the fact that it made me want to pick you up, haul you over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift, and carry you to my bed.’

Which put another set of pictures in her head.

If he carried on like this, she was going to do something seriously stupid.

‘Droit de seigneur?’ she asked.

‘No.’ He kissed her again. ‘For the record, I don’t believe in forcing anyone to do anything they don’t want to do. Being a troglodyte and carrying you off to my bed is—’ he licked his lower lip ‘—well, a fantasy. Which I would only do if you liked the idea, too.’

Now he’d said it like that, she could really picture it. And what would come after, too...

She shivered.

‘What’s the matter, Indigo?’ he asked softly.

‘You’ve just made it hard for me to breathe,’ she admitted.

‘Good. Now you know how that dress made me feel last night. And your shoes. I noticed just how long your legs are. And if you’d had any idea how much I wanted to touch you...’ He traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of his forefinger. It made her tingle all over and she couldn’t help parting her lips in response.

And then he actually grinned.

Oh, really? she thought. He honestly believed he had more self-control than she did? Well, two could play at that. She held his gaze, then sucked the tip of his finger into her mouth.

Instantly his pupils dilated and there was a slash of colour in his cheeks.

‘Touché,’ he whispered. ‘Indigo, we need to stop this. Now.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘It wouldn’t be fair or honourable of me to lead you on. I’m going back to Melvante soon. My life’s going to change out of all recognition.’

Of course it was.

He looked tortured. ‘I can’t offer you a future.’

‘I know. And even if you could, I’d be the worst person you could ask,’ she said. What with the scandal surrounding her birth, and the fact that she’d been naive enough to trust Nigel and not work out for herself that he was already married, she was totally unsuitable even to be a king’s mistress. ‘I take it you need to find yourself a princess.’ Which would put her totally out of the running. Not that she wanted the formal, rigid life of a royal family.

He rolled his eyes. ‘I probably do have to choose a bride within the next six months, yes. And she probably has to be from a noble family. Though, just for the record, I don’t care if your parents aren’t aristocrats. It’s how you treat other people that matters to me, not how many coronets are in your family tree.’

‘Actually, my father’s an earl.’ He looked surprised, and honesty made Indigo add, ‘The problem is, though, he was still married to his countess when he had a fling with my mother and she fell pregnant with me.’

‘So that’s why you ended up at the same school as Lottie?’ he asked.

‘It was my father’s idea of providing for me,’ she said dryly.

‘Money instead of attention?’

He’d hit the nail right on the head. ‘My father and I are never quite sure if we ought to acknowledge each other or not,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to hurt his family by claiming him as kin—I mean, I’m the child of an affair, and it’d be horrible to rub their noses in that. It wasn’t their fault that he behaved badly. So it’s easier...’ She sighed. ‘Well, for me not to acknowledge him and for him to pretend that I don’t really exist.’

‘But that hurts you.’

Did it still show? Or was Lorenzo just particularly perceptive? She shrugged. ‘I’m lucky: my grandparents loved me. I was never deprived of love, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘But your grandparents let you go to boarding school at such a young age?’

‘They didn’t exactly have a lot of choice. My grandmother wasn’t very well at the time—they had enough on their plates without having to look after a small child.’

He frowned. ‘What about your mother? Why didn’t she look after you?’

She blew out a breath. ‘You might as well know the worst. When it was obvious that the earl wasn’t going to leave his wife for my mother, she left me with her parents and bolted.’ She looked away. ‘With someone else’s husband.’

* * *

Lorenzo knew first-hand what kind of damage affairs could cause. Collateral damage, too. His own mother’s affair had blown his whole world apart. If she’d been able to cope with life in the royal family, then she wouldn’t have had the affair—and his father wouldn’t have reacted by driving their car into a wall. And just maybe he would’ve grown up with both his parents, in a happy family, and it would’ve been another thirty years before he’d had to think about becoming king.

Or maybe it would’ve been a different kind of unhappy childhood, with his parents always arguing in private and pretending everything was just fine and dandy where the public was concerned.

Not that he was going to tell Indigo about that. He didn’t talk about the scars on his heart to anyone. Ever. ‘That’s tough on you.’

She shrugged. ‘As I said, my grandparents loved me.’

The implication was clear: her mother hadn’t. ‘Do you see your mother now?’

Indigo shook her head. ‘She ended up in a yachting accident with Married Man Number Four. She drowned. All I have of my mother are photographs and some very fleeting memories.’

It was the same for Lorenzo. Photographs and fleeting memories. Except nobody knew the true circumstances of his parents’ accident. Nobody except his grandfather and their legal adviser. They wouldn’t have told him the truth, except some papers had been misfiled and he’d come across them when he was eighteen and discovered the truth for himself. He’d gone off the rails for a week, shocked to the core that his father could’ve done something so terrible. The paparazzi had taken a picture of him looking haggard and with the worst hangover in the history of the universe; and then his grandfather had hauled him back to the palace, had a very honest and frank discussion with him, and Lorenzo had reassumed his stiff upper lip.

‘That’s tough on you,’ he said again.

‘It was tougher,’ she said, ‘proving to everyone that I wasn’t like my mother.’

Yeah. He knew all about that, too—having to convince his grandfather that he wasn’t like his father.

‘Especially when I wanted to leave boarding school. But I hated the rigidity of the place, and the sense of entitlement that so many of the girls had.’

‘What did you do?’ he asked.

‘Gave my father a business plan,’ she said. ‘If I went to a normal state school at the age of fourteen, he’d save four years of fees—which would be enough to buy my grandparents’ cottage. If he let them live there rent-free for the rest of their lives, then he’d get his investment back when he sold the cottage. Win-win. He got money, and I got freedom.’

Lorenzo’s heart bled for her. How could her father have been so cold-blooded that she had to offer him a business plan as a way out of a school that she hated? ‘And he agreed to it?’

‘Yes.’

For a second, he saw pain in her eyes.

And then she grinned. ‘I told him the alternative was that I’d behave so badly, I’d get thrown out of every boarding school in England. But he knew I was right. And I proved to my grandparents that I wasn’t like my mother. I wasn’t running away, I was making the right choice. I got a weekend job in the local supermarket as soon as I was old enough, and a bar job to keep me going through art college until I graduated.’

‘And you got a First?’ he asked.

She inclined her head. ‘I made my grandparents proud of me before they died.’

Though her father had obviously not acknowledged her achievements. ‘Indi. I’m not pitying you, but right now I want to hug you,’ he said.

‘It’s OK. I’m a big girl. I learned to deal with it years ago.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s the earl’s loss, not mine.’

And what an idiot the man was, not realising what a treasure he had in Indigo.

Lorenzo stole another kiss. ‘Indigo. Will you please tell me to stop this?’

She kissed him back. ‘Colour me bad, Your Royal Highness, but what’s the alternative to stopping?’

His breath hitched. ‘I think you’ve just spiked my blood pressure. Are you suggesting...?’

‘We both know where we stand. You’re about to take over from your grandfather and become king. You don’t have time for a relationship. I have an empire to build with my business—I don’t have time for a relationship, either.’ She paused. This was crazy. But, at the same time, it was safe, because what she was proposing involved a time limit. Which meant she wouldn’t get involved with him. ‘I’m here until the end of the month. You said you don’t have to go back to Melvante for a little while. Are you staying here until you go back?’

‘Yes.’

‘So we’re in a private house. Among friends who would never rat us out to the press. Lottie’s my oldest friend, and I’m guessing that Gus is one of your oldest friends, too.’

‘He is. And I trust him totally.’ He lifted her hand to his face and pressed his lips against her wrist, feeling the way her pulse beat hard against his mouth. Indigo Moran was everything he couldn’t have. A breath of fresh air. Vibrant and lively. Totally unsuitable. And he knew without having to ask that she’d hate his world just as much as his mother had. This was never going to work.

Yet, at the same time, neither of them could deny the attraction between them.

‘So you’re suggesting we have a fling,’ he said slowly.

‘A mad fling,’ she corrected. ‘Because we both know that, although we’re attracted to each other, in the real world we’re not remotely suitable for each other. So we go into this with our eyes open. And we both walk away at the end of it. Intact.’

Which told him someone had walked away from her before, and left her very far from intact. ‘It feels a bit—well, dishonourable. To offer you just a fling.’ Especially now he knew about her background. She was the child of a fling, and she’d paid the price by losing a whole generation of her family.

‘Lorenzo, I’m not suitable marriage material for you, so you’re not in a position to offer me anything else,’ she pointed out. ‘Which means either we have to spend the next couple of weeks having a lot of cold showers and trying to avoid each other, or...’ Her breath caught. ‘Just for the record, I don’t normally proposition men.’

He stole another kiss. ‘I already know that. Despite that dress you were wearing last night, you’re not the type. And I’m very flattered that you should proposition me.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘But you’re going to say no.’

‘My head’s telling me that this is a bad idea,’ he said. ‘But...’ He blew out a breath. ‘I don’t do this sort of thing, either. I’m just a boring businessman.’

‘You’re a king in waiting,’ she corrected.

‘Same difference. Running a country’s the same as running a business. It’s just a slightly different scale.’ He shrugged. ‘Indigo, I always act with my head. I think things through and I look at all the options. I never do anything on impulse.’ Not since that week of getting seriously drunk—and he hadn’t touched brandy ever again after that. ‘Yet I can’t stop thinking about you. And kissing you just now was more impulsive than I’ve been in years.’ He leaned his forehead against hers. ‘Have you ever wanted something so much, you feel as if you’re going to implode?’

She didn’t answer; and he was pretty sure it had something to do with the man who’d walked away from her.

Which was precisely what he was going to have to do.

And he didn’t want to hurt her. Though he had a feeling that it might already be too late for that. She’d been rejected by her father, dumped at boarding school, and left in pieces when someone she loved had walked away from her. The fact that she’d been brave enough to suggest a fling also meant she’d made herself vulnerable.

He pulled back just enough to drop a kiss on her forehead. ‘Cold showers and avoidance it is.’

‘I’m not so sure that’s going to work. I have pictures in my head. And I think you do, too.’ She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue, and he was near to hyperventilating. He really wanted to kiss her again.

‘Indigo, I’m trying really hard to maintain control, here.’

‘What if you didn’t have to?’ She stroked his face, and he turned his head to press a kiss into her palm. ‘What if you could be whoever you wanted to be, just for, say, one night?’

‘What scares me,’ he admitted, ‘is that I don’t think one night with you would be enough.’

‘A week, then. A fortnight. Maybe until you go back to Melvante. Look, you can still do whatever it is you planned to do here—spending time with Gus, thinking things through, sorting out kingly strategies. And I have work to do on the window. I’m not going to back out of my business commitments.’ She paused. ‘But, in between the business stuff, there are spaces.’

He could see what she meant. ‘Spaces where we can just be.’

‘Together,’ she confirmed softly.

He sat down on the chesterfield and pulled her onto his lap. ‘Your arguments are very persuasive, Ms Moran.’

She inclined her head. ‘Why, thank you, Your Royal Highness.’

‘Though I still feel dishonourable, offering you nothing but a fling.’

‘They’re the only kind of terms that either of us is in a position to offer,’ she pointed out. ‘So it’s your choice, Lorenzo. Cold showers—or this.’ She cupped his face in her hands and skimmed her mouth against his.