Royal Babies. Cat Schield

your business, but you didn’t mention politics or social beliefs. Now your enthusiasm, your beliefs, are palpable.’

      The all too familiar push and pull of guilt tugged within him.

      ‘This isn’t about my enthusiasm or my beliefs. It is about Axel—it’s about fulfilling a promise. The people and the country suffered under my father’s rule. The real reason there was no rebellion was that they knew one day Axel would succeed him, and that kept the unrest at bay. Axel had a vision—one that I will make happen.’

      That had been the promise he’d made in his very first speech and he would fulfil it.

      ‘What about your vison? The way you speak of Lycander—I can hear your pride in it.’

      ‘I never had a vision for Lycander. I had a work hard, play hard lifestyle.’

      ‘But you’ve changed?’

      ‘Yes, I have.’

      But the cost of that had been his brother’s life.

      Her frown deepened. She leant forward and he could smell her exotic scent with its overtone of papaya, could see the tiny birthmark on the angle of her cheekbone.

      ‘I know you will be a good ruler. Whether you rule because it is your duty or because your heart is in it.’

      There was silence. She was close. Way too close. And he had had a sudden desire to tell her the truth about his ascent to the throne—a desire mixed with the longing to tug her back into his arms and damn common sense and practicality.

      Neither could happen, so he rose to his feet and looked down at her.

      ‘Thank you. But the point I was trying to make is that I will ensure the principality Amil inherits will be a good place, with a strong economic foundation. Of course he will still have much responsibility, but I hope it will not be a burden.’

      ‘What if he doesn’t want the job? What if he has other ambitions, other aspirations?’

      ‘I would never force him to take the crown. He could abdicate.’ He met her gaze. ‘Provided we have more children.’

      ‘More children?’ she echoed.

      ‘Yes. I would like more children in order to secure the succession.’ After all, there was no hope of his brothers ever having anything to do with Lycander. ‘To take the pressure off Amil.’

      ‘Is that the only reason?’

      ‘For now. I haven’t really got my head around having Amil yet.’

      Right now he was terrified about his ability to parent one child—it wasn’t the moment for a rose-tinted image of a functional, happy group of siblings.

      ‘Do you want more kids?’

      Sunita hesitated. ‘I don’t know...’ A small smile tugged her lips upwards. ‘I haven’t really got my head around it all yet either. Until yesterday it was just me and Amil. My happiest memories are of my mother and me—just us. After—’

      She broke off, looked away and then back at him, and he wondered what she had been about to say.

      ‘Anyway,’ she resumed, ‘I’m not sure that the whole “happy family” scenario always works. Are you close to your other brothers?’

      ‘No.’

      His half-siblings... Stefan, who loathed all things Lycander, had left the principality as soon as he’d reached eighteen and hadn’t returned. The twins, Emerson and Barrett, still only twenty, had left Lycander only days after their father’s death and hadn’t returned.

      There was a definite pattern there, and it wasn’t woven with closeness. The way they had grown up had made that an impossibility—their father had revelled in pitting brother against brother in a constant circus of competition and rivalry, and in the end Frederick had retired from the field, isolated himself and concentrated on his own life.

      ‘But that was down to our upbringing. I hope that our children would do better.’

      Perhaps it was a fruitless hope—there was every chance he would prove to be as useless a parent as his own parents had been, in which case perhaps a large family was a foolish idea.

      But now wasn’t the moment to dwell on it.

      Relief touched him as the pilot announced their descent to Goa before Sunita could pursue the conversation further.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      SUNITA’S EYES STRETCHED so wide she wondered if her eyeballs would actually pop out of her head.

      ‘This is incredible.’

      In truth it was beyond incredible—and she hadn’t even seen the inside of the villa yet.

      The drive itself had been unexpected—their chauffeur-driven car had traversed remarkably peaceful roads until they’d reached an idyllic village seemingly untouched by tourism. Winding lanes had displayed a number of villas draped with greenery, and now they had arrived at Sangwan Villa.

      The Portuguese-built, newly renovated building was nestled amidst verdant grounds where teak and jackfruit trees thrived, giving the air an evocative smell of leather with a hint of pineapple.

      Her gaze rested on the structure itself. With its pillared verandas and high roof it looked like a vision out of a fairy tale.

      The thought jolted her. She needed to remember that fairy tales were exactly that—tales, fiction. And most fairy tales had a dark side, a grim under-story, and the myths they were built on didn’t have any happily-ever-afters.

      ‘How on earth did you get it at such short notice?’

      ‘It was closed for maintenance—I made it worth the owners’ while to postpone the work.’

      A woman walked towards them, a smile on her face, her white and green sari very much in keeping with the verdant backdrop.

      ‘Your Highness. Welcome. I am Deepali and I will be looking after you during your stay. Your staff have been settled in and your suites are ready, if you will follow me. I will show you your rooms and then I thought you may wish to have an evening drink by the pool before dinner. There are menus in your rooms—just call through when you are ready.’

      ‘That sounds wonderful,’ Sunita said. ‘And thank you so much for making this available at such short notice.’

      Minutes later she was looking around a sumptuous suite. ‘It’s beautiful...’

      But it was more than that—it was quirky and cosy, with its warm aura countered by the cool of the tiled floor. The sitting area boasted comfy overstuffed armchairs, where she could imagine curling up with a book and a cup of coffee, or simply gazing at the courtyard outside, resplendent with shrubbery. Two steps led down to the bedroom, where a luxurious wooden bed sprawled against decadent red walls.

      Her suitcases had been deposited by a large lacquered wardrobe and she opened one, needing the confidence fresh clothes would give her. A floaty dress with a vivid bird print gave her instant cheer, and as she made her way out to the courtyard she allowed herself to revel in the sound of kingfishers and the sight and scent of the opulent lilies in the ornate pond.

      Frederick sat on a recliner chair, a frosted beer bottle on the small table behind him and his blond head slightly tipped back to absorb the rays of the evening sun. Her breath caught as her gaze snagged on the strong line of his throat, the strength of his jaw—Adonis could eat his heart out.

      But enough voyeurism...

      He turned as she approached and smiled, and for a moment the clock turned back, transported her to two years before, when that smile had quite literally bewitched her, causing her to forget common sense and every promise she’d made herself.

      Not