Scandals Of The Royals: Princess From the Shadows

She turned sharply and saw Luca, standing right at the edge of the terrace. He had a way of darting from place to place with no warning, her son. It had never really been a problem before.

“Yes, Luca?”

“I’m bored.”

“And tired I’ll bet,” she said.

“No.” He shook his head for emphasis, the serious expression on his face reminding her of her brother Alessandro. She was so thankful that he seemed to have none of his father in him.

“Yeah, I don’t believe that, figlio mio, but nice try,” she said, running her fingers through his dark hair, ruffling it.

“There is a room next to yours,” Rodriguez said, his manner suddenly awkward. Luca did seem to make him nervous and she wasn’t really sure why. “He can stay in there.”

“Good. If we could have his things brought in, that would be great.”

Rodriguez nodded curtly. “After he’s in bed, perhaps you and I can have dinner.”

Carlotta wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She liked having Luca as a buffer. It was much more comfortable.

Ironic that you feel the need for a buffer since you’re planning on having a baby with the man. No buffers then.

That thought had her hot all over. Well, not so much the pregnancy and childbirth aspect of it. She’d hated being pregnant. Every moment of it. It had all been sickness and sadness. A little bit of denial. Only when Luca was placed in her arms had everything truly come together. And from that moment, she’d been lost. Everything that had come before it—the pain, physical and emotional—had paled in comparison to the love that had flooded through her when she’d seen her son for the first time.

She’d already done it once without a man in the picture.

“Great. We can talk more then,” she said, wondering if any amount of talking would ever make the situation seem normal.

After spending a couple of hours getting Luca settled and conked out in his new room, Carlotta went back to her room and selected a nice dress from her collection of, admittedly, out-of-date clothing.

Clothes just didn’t matter when you hardly ever went anywhere and certainly never went on dates. As Queen of Santa Christobel she would need new clothing….

Oh. Madre di dio. She was going to be the Queen of Santa Christobel. She had sort of been stuck on being Rodriguez’s wife. On what it would mean to marry him and share his bed, and have his baby, and uproot her son from his home in Italy. She hadn’t even gotten to the queen bit.

She tugged the dress off the hanger and sat on the bed in nothing but her bra and panties, the plush, silken comforter billowing around her, enveloping her. She clutched the rust-colored dress to her chest and breathed in deeply, trying to stop the room from spinning.

This was not her life.

And what is? Self-imposed exile in Italy? Living it up, aren’t you, Carlotta?

She had known she’d have to get back into the swing of things eventually. Start living life beyond the four walls of her home. She hadn’t really intended on doing it in such a grand way.

Life had seemed … still, for the past five years. No, not still. Because Luca always changed. Every day there was something new and exciting for him, and she lived it, loved it. Loved him. But for her … there had been nothing. It had been like being wrapped in a cocoon. Now she was torn from it, and she doubted she’d had any grand transformation.

She didn’t know if she was ready for this. And she didn’t really have anyone to talk to. Normally she would call Sophia but since she was currently shacked up with Ash in India and Carlotta was now engaged to the man she’d been intended to marry …

Well, she deserved to be dragged into it, all things considered.

Carlotta took her phone out of her purse and tapped the icon on the screen for text messaging. She’d sent Sophia a blistering message when she’d found out she’d run off with Ash. Now, well, she couldn’t really blame her younger sister. This was … it was overwhelming. Maybe if Ash had been standing by with a private plane she would have run off with him too. Though she wouldn’t have hopped into bed with him.

Hope you’re having a blast in India. BTW, I’m marrying the fiancé you ditched. Good choice, he’s an ass.

She hit Send on the message, then tapped the screen again, a smile curving her lips. She hit the New Message icon.

He’s also a total stud. So that’s some consolation.

This time when she hit Send, her smile was smug. She hoped Sophia was happy, whatever she was doing. Well, she had a fair idea of what her sister was doing, since she’d been caught in Ash’s bed on his private plane.

Sophia was the one person who didn’t seem completely ashamed of her and Luca. But while she wished her sister a lifetime of happiness, and if that included a torrid affair with Ash, fine with her, she deserved a little goading, all things considered.

Her phone pinged and she picked it back up. New message from Sophia.

At least our father will be pleased to have both of us marrying fellow royals.

Married? She’d just thought Sophia was sleeping with him. Well, then things really had worked out in her father’s favor. One daughter to a maharaja, the other, the one who’d been mired in total disgrace, married off to a prince.

She typed in another quick message. Congrats, Soph. Love ya.

She snorted and tossed the phone onto the bed. Yes, this was all working out great for Eduardo Santina. Hopefully it would work out even half as well for her.

There was a sharp knock on her door and she scrambled from the bed, stepping into the dress and contorting her arm so that she could tug the zipper up. “Just a second.”

She got it midway up, then reached over her shoulder and grabbed it from above, tugging it up the rest of the way. She looked in the mirror and pulled on the neckline, trying to make sure everything was in its proper place. Her figure was a bit fuller since her pregnancy and sometimes she wasn’t quite sure what to make of her new curves.

Not that they were pin-up worthy or anything. But at least she could fill out the top of her dress now, with a little cleavage.

She wondered what Rodriguez would think. If he would check her out. That made her cheeks feel hot. She tried to find some hold on her control, tried to keep in command of her body’s reaction.

This is what happens when you give in. When you’re weak.

That was what her father had shouted at her the day she’d told him she was pregnant. The day she’d told him who the father of her baby was through heartbroken sobs. It was so easy to feel the shame, the sick, crawling feeling of dirt on her skin, as she confessed the truth about Gabriel.

She was determined never to be weak again.

“Ready,” she said, turning away from her reflection, redirecting her thoughts.

The door swung open and Rodriguez was there, leaning against the frame. He didn’t look last season, not even close.

His crisp, white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a wedge of golden brown skin and just a little bit of dark chest hair. His dark hair was disheveled. He looked like a man who’d just come from his lover’s bed.

She wrinkled her nose. She’d been upstairs for a couple of hours, it was entirely possible that he’d …

“So, how was your evening?” she asked, stepping past him, out into the corridor.

“Fine. I had some work to see to.”

“Great.”

“You?”

“Luca seems settled in. I don’t know if he really understands that we’re staying here. But then, I guess that makes two of us.”

“Three,” he said, walking ahead of her, taking the stairs two at a time. She followed as quickly as her kitten heels would allow.

“You don’t feel at home here?”

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at the painted ceiling. “I never have.”

“You could … redecorate.”

A short laugh escaped his lips and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks. “That’s almost like suggesting I paint over the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling. I mean, not quite, but as far as Santa Christobel and our history is concerned, it is.”

“Well, that would be a bad idea then.”

“Very likely.”

He paused and turned to her, placing his hand on her lower back. She felt the heat of his touch blaze through her, like fire had ignited in her bloodstream, moving through her like a reckless spark on dry tinder.

Was she so desperate for a man’s touch that such a simple thing could turn her on so quickly? Well, clearly she was. A man she didn’t even know, a man she wasn’t sure she liked. She truly was no better now than she’d been six years ago. It was still there, that reckless passion. The one she’d worked so hard to shove down deep, to lock away forever. It was a sobering, gutting realization.

“This way,” he said, unaware of the turmoil his hand on her back had caused.

She kept her shoulders straight, tried to keep it so his hand only touched the fabric of her dress and didn’t press it down so that it came into contact with her back again. Because that had been far too disturbing.

The dining room was as opulent and formal as the rest of the house, the sprawling ceiling mural continuing through, with scenes of a massive feast painted just above the long, expansive table.

“Cozy,” she said.

That earned a laugh from Rodriguez. “Isn’t it? Perfect for an intimate dinner for two. Plus twenty.”

“The palace in Santina is a bit like that. It’s daunting. Luca … he’s not used to this.”

“Why did you take him away from Santina?”

“The press,” she said, her voice soft.

He pulled a chair out for her and she sat, touching the golden fork that was set beside an ornate dinner plate.

“It was bad for you?” Rodriguez took his seat opposite her.

She looked nice tonight, pretty even. She dressed too plainly for his taste, her hair too well ordered and smooth for his liking. But she was attractive, more than he’d given her credit for the first time he’d seen her.

She looked up, her green eyes hard. “I have the only illegitimate child in the entire Santina family. Going back generations.”

An incredulous laugh escaped him. “That anyone has ever owned up to. Do you honestly think there haven’t been others?”

“My father said …”

“I’m sure there are descendants of Santina bastards all over Europe. It’s the nature of things.”

She gritted her teeth, her eyes suddenly bright with rage. “My son is not a bastard.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Pick your words a bit more carefully then.”

She had teeth. And claws. Neither of which he’d seen in the interaction with her father. However, when it came to the boy, she was fierce. Good. It would make her a good mother for his heir. Protective. Strong. Something that had certainly been lacking in his life.

She would be a good queen too. While he found her a bit plain, it would suit her position. She had that regal quality to her. He preferred a sex-on-legs quality when it came to his bed partners, but a wife needed something else entirely. And Carlotta had that something else.

He hadn’t fully appreciated it until that moment.

“Noted, princesa.”

“Anyway,” she said, looking back down at her empty plate. “That’s why I’ve been in Italy. It’s simpler there. I came back for the engagement party. A chance to see someone else mess up.”

“You think your brother is making a mistake?”

“In my father’s eyes he is. It’s petty. But … I don’t like being the bad one.”

“I’ve never minded bad girls.” He watched her eyes round with shock, and he also saw a spark of interest flash in those green depths. Perhaps his bride-to-be wasn’t quite as plain as he had imagined.

Maybe there was more beneath that prim and proper exterior.

It was certainly a fascinating thought. One that caused a flash fire of arousal to roar through his blood. Six months without sex. Dios, that was a long time. The longest he’d gone since he was sixteen and he’d found out that life came with some very lush and interesting perks.

Women were just another of the many reasons he didn’t mourn the loss of his childhood. Giving women pleasure, taking his pleasure with them, had provided him with moments of total release. Oblivion. He had always treasured those moments.

“No, you haven’t, according to your tabloid reputation,” she said. “Which reminds me, and I’m sorry to bring it up just before dinner, do you have a clean bill of health? I mean, have you had a recent physical? Because from what I’ve read, you’ve been around.”

“Not wrong of you to bring it up,” he said, ignoring the unfamiliar prickle of shame. “Being safe is important. And I always am. And it so happens, I have a doctor’s report for you.”

“I … That’s more than I expected.”

“It’s reality. I’ve never denied living a certain lifestyle, but I’m careful, and I make sure to protect my lovers. As I will make sure to protect you.”

Carlotta felt her body getting hot again. She felt the need to remind herself that she’d done the swept-off-her-feet-and-into-bed-with-a-stranger thing before. And while it had been a glowing, heady few weeks, it had been a cold and stark reality when she’d woken up to the truth about the man she’d given her virginity to. The man who’d left her pregnant and alone.

Well, whether he’d left or not, she would have kicked him to the curb once she learned the truth. He’d just saved her the trouble. And the truth had kept her from tracking him down.

A little sliver of flame wound its way through her body as she studied Rodriguez. She took a deep breath, hoping that might help extinguish it. That she would be able to maintain control over herself.

It was proving to be more difficult than it should.

“And how will you be certain of your health if you’re … if you’re taking other lovers?” She swallowed. “Don’t make a fool of me. If you sleep around, I want to know. Don’t ever lie to me.”

She supposed in a way, she would deserve a cheating husband. Poetic justice in many ways. She would be the one at home with the children, wondering how her husband’s business trip was going while he was really wining, dining and bedding another woman.

She nearly gagged.

“Just don’t lie,” she said again. That was the part she couldn’t stand. The lies. Being manipulated into believing a man was someone he wasn’t. Falling in love with the facade.

He looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “You want to know about the other women?”

“I will not be treated like I’m stupid.” Even if she was. Even if she had been terminally stupid in the man department at one time. She never would be again.

“I will give you my honesty. What you choose to do with it is up to you, but I will never lie to you. If you want the truth, you can have it.”

It would probably be easier to just take her charming husband into her bed when he was home, and ignore him when he wasn’t. But she wouldn’t live that way. She wouldn’t be that woman.

“I do.”

“I will have the same, princesa.”

“Of course. And fidelity while we are trying to conceive is non-negotiable. You are not having me and a harem at the same time.”

“You are not quite what I expected.” He leaned back in his chair and appraised her, his gaze open, honest as he said he’d be. He didn’t bother disguising the fact that he was assessing her. Didn’t bother to hide it when his eyes dropped to her breasts.

And she couldn’t suppress the mild bit of satisfaction she took in him checking her out.

“Well, of course I’m not,” she said, trying to ignore the little of prickle of heat that was starting at her scalp and migrating down. “You were expecting to marry my sister. We’re not even remotely similar. She’s shorter for one thing.”

“And quieter, if I remember right. Though I don’t know that I ever engaged her in conversation.”

“You’re hardly marrying for the conversation though, are you?”

“You’re more engaging than I imagined you to be, it might actually have just moved up on my list of desirable qualities in a wife.”

“Good thing, because you appear to be stuck with me.”

“And you like making … conversation?”

“I’m a little bit out of practice making any kind of conversation that doesn’t involve the physical ailments of stuffed animals, or require me to refer to myself as Mama.”

She noticed a little bit of tension in his brow, the lines of his handsome face tightening. For all his carefree manner, there was more to Rodriguez than he showed the world. Although she wasn’t sure if it was better than what he did show.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat and tapping the dinner plate with her fork. “Are we … eating?”

As if on cue a man came in carrying a tray with two plates on it, which he set on top of the fine china in front of Rodriguez and in front of her.

“Paella del mar,” he said. “I hope you like shellfish.”

“It would be sacrilege if I didn’t. Santina is a part of the sea. It’s the life force of the country.”

“As it is here in Santa Christobel. That, at least, should be similar to your home.”

She looked down at the rice and pushed the shell of a muscle with the tip of her fork. “Santina hasn’t been my home for a long time. How will your people feel about this?”

“About what?”

“You marrying a woman who has a child. Clearly, I’m not your standard-issue virgin princess.”

“I doubt my people are under the illusion I have any desire for a virgin princess. I’m certainly not a virgin, neither do I pretend to be one.”

For some reason, his immediate dismissal of the idea gave her a strange rush of pleasure. She shouldn’t care whether he approved of her or not, and yet, for some reason, it satisfied her to know that he hadn’t really expected, or cared, if his bride were pure as the driven snow.

“What you desire, and what’s expected, are two very different things.”

“I assume you’re an expert?”

“I can claim a bit of experience in the area, yes,” she said. She really didn’t want the conversation to go in that direction. Someday, maybe. But not now. She was fairly certain her brothers didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding Luca’s birth. She wasn’t really eager to spread it around. “I’m just not certain what your people will make of you taking a single mother as your bride.”

“I didn’t ask them,” he said simply, taking a bite of paella.

“That simple?”

“I am to be their king.”

“But there are appearances to worry about and … appearances.” Appearance was of the upmost importance to her father. Her mother and father conducted themselves with an old-world grace. They maintained an aristocratic distance from their people, and from the press, that was rare in the modern era. At least, they had. Until she had shattered some of that respectability with a very high-profile, undeniable mistake.

She knew her father might have forgiven her for her mistakes, but he’d never forgotten them. She’d never forgiven herself for it. And here Rodriguez was talking as though appearances didn’t matter?

“Do you honestly think I care about the way the media sees me? The way the people see me? I have done well for them, and while my father has been fading from this world I have already been seeing to the duties of the king. I will continue to do well for them, to make the country prosper. I will marry and I will continue the line. No more can be asked of me.”

“Just because you … said so?”

“Yes, just because I said so.”

“And you’ll adopt Luca.”

“I will give him my name, as I said I would. I keep my word, princesa.”

“I don’t have a great track record with men and their word,” she said, regretting the words as soon as she spoke them.

“On this you can trust me, Carlotta,” he said, his voice low, sincere, the mocking edge to his lips gone. “I don’t play with people. Power is one of those things that can make a man feel invincible. It can make him feel as though he’s entitled to harm those he sees as beneath him. I am everything that the press says I am. The stories are all true. So yes, I have some sins to my credit. But I don’t hurt people. I don’t lie.”

Carlotta looked at him, at his dark eyes, and she felt her heart rate speed up. “I believe you.”

CHAPTER THREE

“MY JEWELER will be arriving later.”

Carlotta looked up from the drawing Luca had just handed her and nearly choked as she watched Rodriguez walk into the playroom. The staff had spent the afternoon furnishing and arranging everything. Now Luca was fully equipped with a new bed for his room, a small table and chairs, where he was currently sitting, coloring, and a matching, hand-carved toy box for his most prized possessions. Although his favorite stuffed owls held pride of place on a shelf by his bed.

“What jeweler? What for?” she asked, the answer landing about the time the words left her mouth.

“For your ring.”

She looked back down at the paper. “Right.”

Luca turned in his chair. “Hi.”

Rodriguez attempted a smile, his jaw tightening. “Hi, Luca.”

“Why do I need to see the jeweler?”

He lifted one dark brow, his focus shifting back to her. “So you can choose the ring.”

“Well, I don’t see why I really need to choose it.”

“Do you have a crown?” Luca asked, his green eyes still fixed on Rodriguez.

Rodriguez looked back at Luca, a flash of discomfort crossing his handsome face. “There is a crown. One that has been in the Anguiano family for a long time. But I don’t wear it.”

“I would,” Luca said, turning back to his drawing.

Rodriguez’s brows locked together. “What were you saying?” he asked, his dark eyes not leaving Luca.

“I don’t see why I need to choose the ring.” Carlotta bent and set the picture down on the table, then straightened. “I mean, it’s a ring.”

“Your engagement and wedding ring.”

“Yes, but it isn’t as though …” She looked down at Luca and frowned. “Luca, I’m going to go talk to Rodriguez for a moment.”

Luca looked up. “But I’m going to color.”

“That’s fine, just stay at the table. Color on the paper only. Out here.” She stepped out into the corridor and Rodriguez followed, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

“You don’t seem to be distracted by Luca’s interjections,” he said.

“He’s a kid. He does that.”

“I would not have been permitted to do that.”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “And you don’t think he should be allowed to?”

“There is very little from my childhood I would use as a model when raising a son. I don’t mind his comments. I’m just not used to it.”

“Oh.” She relaxed her stance. “I was saying it’s not like our marriage has a whole lot of significance. You intend to do as you please. It isn’t as though the ring will have any real value to me.”

“You’ll want it to match your style, sì?” he asked.

“I suppose but …”

He frowned, his forehead creasing. “Why aren’t you pleased?”

“Pleased?”

“You get to look at diamonds and pick your favorite. Women like that.”

She shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of diamonds.” Jewelry didn’t mean anything. It was money, money could buy a lot of things. Jewels sent to her at birthdays and holidays while her family stayed hundreds of miles away, that didn’t do a lot to offer comfort.

“And you do not want … more?”

“Does it bother you?” she asked.

“I thought this would please you,” he said, his tone exasperated.

“I didn’t say I was displeased, Rodriguez. I just … I didn’t know you were going to the trouble of having a jeweler come with a display for me to peruse. I wasn’t expecting it. Neither do I require it.”

“Let me give you something,” he said. The tone in his voice changed, there was something different there, something dark. She didn’t truly understand it, but in some ways, she doubted if he did either.