Mr Right All Along

‘Because your girlfriend sold the story?’

The look of outrage and disgust on her face made him smile bitterly. ‘Alessia refused to see him, but he got in to see her anyway. She refused to marry him. She couldn’t give him heirs. She was too ill. He said he didn’t want children—he wanted her for as long as they had left. But she still refused. She sent him back to San Felipe and in the end he had to go. He had to rule. She died a few weeks later.’

He reached past Stella to steer the yacht back on course.

‘He won’t marry now, won’t have children. He promised that to Alessia and he’s determined to keep it true. That is his decision. Duty above all else.’ He glanced up at the flapping sail and pulled on a rope. ‘He could have had a chance with her...even just more time. But I let him down by not telling him. And then by talking to someone I thought I could trust.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she said. ‘You should have been able to trust her. Antonio must have understood that.’

‘Antonio was lost in his own grief and I just made things worse for myself. That was my “playboy prince” period.’ He grimaced. He’d given in to a downward spiral of meaningless sex and parties. His university daze.

‘What made you stop?’

‘It wasn’t fun any more.’

He’d got bored, unhappy, lonely. He’d come home and apologised to an unmoved Antonio and he had been trying to redeem himself ever since. But he was still bound by the limitations his meaningless title imposed.

He sighed. ‘Shall we see how fast we can make her go?’

‘Yes.’

Eduardo loved fast. So did Stella.

Those headlines she’d read—Search for San Felipe’s brides—who will heal Antonio? Who will tame Eduardo? She’d thought it was all glossy marketing speak to help sell the romance of the islands to tourists, but it was based in truth. Eduardo was everything she’d imagined—full of vitality and energy and passion. But he was also full of anger and hurt, and she’d never expected to ache because of that.

Her leg pressed close to Eduardo’s as they sat side by side on the very edge of the vintage yacht, half hanging over the water as they raced as fast as they could.

‘I’d missed out on a promotion,’ she confessed. ‘That day I met you on the beach.’

He looked at her.

‘I was so angry and so alone and I...’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘You didn’t know me. I wasn’t the usual challenge to you—the tough one all the guys placed bets on. I wasn’t the General’s forbidden daughter. I wasn’t anyone. I was just a girl and you were—’ She broke off.

‘The pirate Prince?’

‘You were fun and a...a rogue. And—’

‘You thought you knew me?’ He shook his head. ‘There’s more to me than that. Just as there is more to you than being the General’s daughter.’

‘Yes,’ she muttered—she was learning that about him. ‘But back then I just wanted a moment for me.’

‘Only now you’re paying quite the price?’

She didn’t like the sombre expression that had entered his eyes. ‘A boatload of trouble, you think?’ she teased, pleased when she saw his amusement sparkle back. ‘Are we going to land on that island?’

She sat up and put out her hand to shade her eyes, realising they were getting closer and closer to a land mass.

She rested for the next twenty minutes as Eduardo sailed the small yacht right up to an ancient wooden jetty and leapt to secure it.

He grinned at her and held out his hand to help her up. ‘Come on.’

‘Where are we?’ She stretched and started walking.

‘A tiny town on the coast of Sardinia.’

Stella gaped. ‘We sailed that far?’

‘We’ve been going for hours.’ He pulled a phone from his pocket and, yanking it out of the dry bag he’d stored it in, walked along the dock with her.

‘No wonder I’m starving.’ She jogged ahead, on the lookout for the nearest eatery in this very small town.

‘Stella—’

‘Come on—I’m famished!’ she called as he lagged behind her.

She spotted a small, grimy-looking café. The ‘Closed’ sign was up, but she went inside the open doorway anyway, hoping to convince the proprietor to make them a small snack.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said rapidly in Italian to the worn-looking woman behind the counter. ‘Would you mind—?’ She broke off as sheer amazement and then blushing wonder washed over the woman’s face.

As the woman dropped into a deep curtsy Stella turned to look at Eduardo, walking up behind her. Before her eyes he was transformed from her windswept, sexy companion to ‘the Prince’—the suave, charming man on all those magazine covers. But his smile, while still gorgeous, was slightly set, and that tiny dimple had disappeared. Small changes she wouldn’t have noticed before.

And now she read the brief apology in his eyes.

But she felt sorry—because she’d broken their brief private peace. Everyone knew who he was. Everyone changed in his presence. He was ‘different’.

As the General’s daughter, in the army she’d been ‘different’ too. Their birth circumstances stood them apart from others, and they each had to play a part.

But hers had been nothing on his. Now she started to understand the strain and isolation he felt when appearing in public. From this one woman’s overwhelmed reaction she saw what it must be like for him, walking into those galleries or gardens or concert halls filled with people craning their necks to have a look at him?

And he did it alone. His brother was too busy and aloof, doing ‘important’ Crown Princely things.

But now—at least for a little while—Eduardo had her at his side. Suddenly she didn’t want to let him down. She wanted to play her new part as well as she could. Except her clothes were wet, and no doubt her hair was wild.

She should have thought before sprinting into the small town and flinging herself into the first café she’d found. But it was too late. The woman promised absolute discretion and bustled away to fix them some food.

‘I should have realised you would be hungry.’ Eduardo fetched a chair for Stella and waited until she was seated. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘We lost track of time, sailing.’ She smiled. ‘It was fun.’

That beautiful, intimate smile flashed on his face, but it disappeared almost instantly when he caught sight of something over her shoulder.

Stella turned.

It was a young child, peeking from behind the café counter. Stella turned back to see Eduardo waving the girl over with a conspiratorial wink. Two minutes later he was laughing at the manageress when she brought their dishes over and came to apologise.

‘It’s okay,’ Eduardo assured them. ‘We would love to talk with you.’

‘You’re Prince Eduardo from San Felipe,’ the girl said.

‘Yes.’

‘Who’s she?’ With the unashamed curiosity of the young, the girl stared at Stella.

‘She’s my princess,’ Eduardo answered.

The little girl’s eyes widened. ‘Did you make her a princess?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you make me a princess?’

Eduardo laughed lightly. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, I had only one crown to give and I gave it to her.’

Like a heat-seeking missile the older woman’s gaze locked on Stella’s hand. Her jaw dropped as she clocked the heavy sapphire and the gold band. Stella turned to Eduardo, but he was too busy talking to the small girl to notice. Yeah...he didn’t just win the hearts of every woman who laid eyes on him, but every person who spent more than two seconds with him.

‘You’ve made their day,’ Stella said softly when the woman returned to the kitchen with the giggling little girl running ahead.

‘It’s not me,’ Eduardo answered drily. ‘It’s the title. It’s my job.’

She lifted her fork and pointed it at him. ‘Your brother is a prince too, and he doesn’t get that reaction from people. It’s you. Not your title.’

He sipped some water.

‘You don’t believe me?’ She jabbed her fork harder in the air. ‘You have such power. You can bring people to everyone’s attention.’

‘Are you prepared for everyone’s attention?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘Sure. Bring it on. I’m not afraid of a challenge.’ She eyeballed him, hot tension swirling between them again.

‘No. Not of issuing them.’

They ate quietly, hungrily. It was simple, but delicious.

‘Come on. Let’s use some of my supposed power, shall we?’ Eduardo said once Stella had lowered her fork, utterly replete. ‘I think they’re on to us anyway.’

‘You think...?’ Stella sighed.

He stood and talked quietly to the woman. The woman’s face lit up like fireworks and she scurried to the kitchen. Seconds later she returned, phone in hand.

Startled, Stella looked at Eduardo. He simply smiled his best ‘Prince Eduardo’ smile.

‘Are you sure?’ Stella whispered out of the side of her mouth as they posed for a photo.

Eduardo merely put his arm around her waist and drew her closer. ‘Smile, my Princess. This is the first of many.’

‘But she’ll probably put it on social media in seconds.’

‘She’ll have snapped some pictures in secret anyway—it’s better to give her permission to make the most of it. And it won’t be social media. I’m sure she’s savvy enough to sell them.’

Stella turned to look up into his eyes and saw the hint of bitterness. He expected not to trust the woman. Expected that his private moments would be sold even when someone had promised him they wouldn’t. Just as his ex-girlfriend had sold his secret about Alessia.

He didn’t trust anyone. Yet he’d told her about Alessia and his own involvement. Did that mean he trusted her?

For a half-second she hoped so. But then she remembered that he’d been savvy enough to ensure she’d signed a contract—binding her to silence. Now she understood why he’d felt the need to.

‘It will become the most popular restaurant on the island,’ Stella said as they left the woman and the girl waving from the café.

‘For a while.’ He nodded.

For a long time, she’d bet.

Eduardo looked at his watch, his eyes narrowing. ‘Come on, we need to get going.’ He turned away from the marina and started walking quickly.

‘We’re not going back in Miranda?’

‘It would take too long and we’d get lost at sea.’ He took her hand. ‘I phoned for the plane. It’s here now, and a car is on its way to take us to the airfield. We’ll meet it along this road in a minute or so.’

He’d what?

‘Plane? Where are we flying to?’ Stella hurried to keep pace.

‘San Felipe,’ he answered briefly. ‘It’s only a short flight—we’ll use the baby jet.’

A laugh bubbled from her. ‘That’s what you call it?’

‘It’s not as big as Antonio’s.’ He sent her a look as a sleek car pulled in alongside them.

‘Never mind.’ She patted his shoulder soothingly before she climbed into the back seat. ‘You don’t have to prove yourself to me.’

‘I know,’ he muttered with a wicked smile, his tone mimicking her earlier whisper. ‘Because I’ve already captured your heart.’

He thought it was a joke, but his words held too much truth for her comfort.

Ten minutes later they walked across an airstrip to board the waiting plane. Eduardo might consider it a ‘baby’, but it was the biggest private jet she’d ever been in. All luxurious fittings and gleaming paintwork. But as the powerful engines were fired up she couldn’t relax and enjoy it. She’d thought she’d have more time to prepare before facing mainland San Felipe. She’d thought she have another night alone with him on their secret island.

‘Under no circumstances are we to be disturbed.’

She sank into one of the plush chairs as Eduardo instructed his staff.

‘Of course, Your Highness.’ The man disappeared through the door that Stella guessed led to the cockpit.

She belted up for take-off as Eduardo took the seat opposite hers. She refused to meet his eyes but knew he was watching her relentlessly. She knew what he wanted. Mile High Club, here she came. She’d be willing if she wasn’t so worried about what was going to happen when they landed back on solid ground.

‘Do you play cards?’ He sprawled back in the seat opposite her as the plane levelled out. ‘Doesn’t every soldier carry a deck?’

‘Not all. I do. But I prefer Patience to poker. I’m guessing you’re a poker player?’

‘And I’m guessing you prefer a challenge of skill and strategy over chance and fate?’

‘You’re a quick learner too,’ she acknowledged.

‘Observant.’

He wasn’t just a pretty prince...

‘What about a board game instead?’ He stood and opened one of the storage compartments.

‘You have board games on the plane?’ Somewhat bemused, she watched him pick out the third box from a stack. ‘It’s not all lap-dancing flight attendants and whisky?’

‘Maybe later—if you’re lucky,’ he drawled.

‘You’d give me a lap dance?’ She gazed up at him, for a moment indulging in a vision of him slowly stripping his formal uniform from his body.

He turned and his eyes locked on hers—clashed in a slam of suggestion and want. He actually flushed. Heat burst within her. The plane was suddenly very, very hot. His eyebrows were raised and she looked away, burning up.

He unfolded the playing board on the table between their chairs. He handed her a pile of plastic pieces and sat back down in his seat. ‘See if you can defeat my army and we’ll negotiate.’

Swallowing, she put one of the plastic toys upright on the board with a click, pushing away the unruly X-rated images in her head. ‘Soldiers, huh?’

‘It’s the closest I’m allowed to get to any battlefront,’ he muttered, faux mournfully.

‘You know you can play with this soldier any time?’ she murmured, still enjoying the way she’d made the colour in his cheeks deepen with her lap-dance request.

‘I intend to—once I’ve conquered her every last defence.’ The truly relaxed, flirtatious Eduardo had returned. ‘I’m thinking lap-dancing and whisky...’

But they played the board game for the duration of the flight. It didn’t take long for him to run through the rules and for her to grasp the idea. He was a good tactician, but so was she. Both advanced quickly to secure large tracts of the board. Both claimed territory the other had held. Both took prisoners. Both held the board steady on the table through the descent. And once the plane had landed and slowed to a stop Eduardo met her gaze with a belligerent edge to his jaw.

‘I’m not leaving until you have capitulated control of the south-west quarter,’ he said.

‘Well, I’m not leaving until I have your ultimate surrender,’ she answered smugly.

‘You do not do things by halves, do you?’ He shook the dice furiously. ‘And you never give in.’

‘As if you do!’

Their eyes met again, the frisson of tension building. She liked it that he was as determined, as competitive, as dominant as she. She liked so damn much about him. And the more she got to know him, the more she liked. Which made her even more determined to beat him—to have something over him, just the once.

She had no idea how much time passed before his phone buzzed. He ignored it the first time. And the second. It wasn’t until the seventh consecutive buzz of the device that he finally reacted.

With an irritated sigh he read the messages and then looked up, his expression grim. ‘We have to go to the palace—now.’

He sent a quick text reply and less than a minute later the aircraft door was opened.

The back of her neck prickled as she saw the uniformed attendants. ‘How long have we been sitting here?’

‘Too long,’ he admitted wryly.

She stood and realised he was right. ‘I’m stiff.’ She considered herself to be fitter than most, but the sailing had used muscles she didn’t know existed.

‘If you’re lucky—’ Eduardo paused at the top of the stairs and turned back to send her a heated look ‘—I’ll give you a massage when we get home.’

‘Don’t forget the lap dance.’

She stepped out after him. He took her hand and walked her into the terminal. More uniformed staff whisked them along a private corridor and out to a waiting limousine before she could believe it. Her smile faded when she saw Matteo sitting in the car waiting for them, an iPad in his hand.

‘Problem?’ Eduardo asked as he opted to sit beside his lawyer.

‘I’m sorry, Eduardo.’ Matteo glanced back at the screen. ‘I tried, but there was no way to hold back the flood.’

Stella’s blood iced.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

STELLA SAID NOTHING Eduardo grabbed the iPad and stared at the screen. He swiped it a few times, scrolling down. Then he looked at her. Without saying anything he tilted the tablet so she could see what he’d been reading.

Eduardo’s Secret Soldier Bride!

The headline was emblazoned across the top and there was a picture beneath... Shock rolled through Stella.

‘How did they get that photo?’ All the amusement of the past few hours disappeared. ‘Someone leaked it?’

Eduardo was like granite. Expressionless. Unmoved.

‘Not Giulia?’

‘No.’ Eduardo shook his head. ‘She has been in service with my family for decades.’

‘All her life?’

‘All mine,’ he replied shortly. ‘She was my nanny.’

‘Really?’ She was momentarily diverted, touched that he’d wanted his old carer present at his marriage. And now she understood why Giulia had worked so quietly and endlessly to help her get ready. The woman had a soft spot for the spoilt second son. ‘Then who?’

He frowned and turned away. ‘I will find out. But it does not matter—it was going to become public anyway.’

Stella looked at the photograph, scarcely recognising herself. She was standing just outside the chapel, at the moment when Giulia had gone to check all was ready. They must have Photoshopped it because she looked soft and pretty, and so happy, holding that bouquet of roses up with a small smile curving her lips.

She scrolled down and read the text. Her name. Her history. Her entire service record, there for everyone to read. Horrified, she scanned the words.

‘How did they find all this out?’ she asked. ‘How did this happen?’ She squinted at the screen. ‘Do they know about—?’

‘It is not mentioned.’ Eduardo guessed her concern and answered, flicking a glance at Matteo, who was busy scrolling through another iPad. ‘I’ve checked the other papers—they’ve picked up on the story but there is nothing.’

It was all suddenly very real. And yet it wasn’t real.

‘It says we’ve been in love for ages.’ She could hardly speak for the shock. ‘That we fell in love in the palace. That you met me there because of my father...’ The Prince and the General’s daughter. Star-crossed lovers whose relationship was forbidden by the Crown Prince...

‘You might want to hit Refresh,’ Matteo said apologetically.

Stella stared as new pictures were loaded onto the screen. There were the ones from the café. And then pictures of them walking across the tarmac from the ‘baby jet’. Pictures taken only five minutes ago. They looked dishevelled, in their water-stained shorts and tee shirts, her hair in a loose, wild ponytail.

The headline made a meal of them having spent an hour on the tarmac before disembarking. They’d speculated that it had been so that the new Princess could make herself pretty before being snapped by the paparazzi... But then she and Eduardo had stepped out and she’d looked like that. Apparently it was ‘obvious’ that they’d spent the time engaged in ‘other pursuits’. But she knew the flush she’d worn wasn’t from orgasmic pleasure but board-game victory.

Before her eyes crude joke after crude joke filled the ‘comments’ section.

‘I must see Antonio,’ Eduardo said grimly. ‘Release the wedding pictures,’ he said to Matteo. ‘They will counteract these.’

‘Wedding pictures?’ Stella asked faintly.

‘Matteo took some inside the chapel,’ he answered distractedly, scrolling through the images again.

He had? She’d not been aware of anything but Eduardo in that moment.

And now Eduardo was busily tapping out emails. Wham-bam—back to business. She had to remember that this marriage was little more than another of his business deals. They’d signed the paperwork and everything.

This was not a fairy tale. This was not for ever. Their fantasy escape was over.

CHAPTER TWELVE

STELLA STRODE QUICKLY, trying to match Eduardo’s pace through the vast gilded corridors to his private rooms. Even though she’d spent chunks of her childhood in the immense palace, she now found it forbidding, and she’d certainly never been into the Princes’ wing before. Now she’d learnt that Antonio had one floor, Eduardo another, and there were formal reception rooms on the floor between the two, where they’d meet.

‘There’s a gym, but I will have a treadmill brought up to our rooms so you can have greater privacy,’ said Eduardo as he opened a door, waving away the servants who’d materialised.

‘I prefer to run outside.’

‘You can’t here,’ Eduardo said flatly, closing the door behind them but not stepping further into the room. ‘It isn’t safe, and I don’t want the paparazzi getting pictures of you pounding the pavement.’

‘That isn’t what princesses do?’ she asked wryly. ‘It seems I have a lot to learn.’

‘You’ll do fine.’ He met her sharp look. ‘I already know you’re a fast learner.’

The atmosphere smouldered between them but the constraints niggled at her. ‘You’d better tell me what else I can and cannot do.’

‘Just continue to be your discreet, dutiful self and you’ll be fine.’

She scowled, but Eduardo had already turned away.

‘I must see him,’ Eduardo said distractedly. ‘Shower and change. I’ll come for you in half an hour.’

Stella walked through his expansive apartment. It was beautifully decorated but impersonal—there was none of the ‘stuff’ that had littered the shelves of the library on Secreto Real.

In the sumptuous bedroom there was an adjoining dressing room. Her clothes, cleaned and pressed, hung on the rack. There were other clothes too—the outrageously expensive ones, purchased especially by a servant, that she’d never worn. The ones that would make her look the part. She turned her back on them. She wasn’t going to pretend to be anything other than herself when she dealt with the Crown Prince.

It wasn’t Eduardo who fetched her forty-five minutes later, but one of the liveried staff.

The second she walked in she knew things weren’t going well. The brothers stood on opposite sides of the room. Eduardo had that fiery, ruthless look he’d had the day he’d announced they were marrying. Antonio had no expression at all. They shared much—the same colouring, similar stature—but where Eduardo’s eyes were hot, Antonio’s were ice.

‘You are Carlos’s daughter?’ Antonio addressed her.

‘Yes.’

He didn’t look at her—he looked through her. It was like being dunked in an Antarctic dive-hole.

‘May I offer my congratulations?’

Stella couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He was expressionless. Bloodless. So unlike his brother.

‘All of Europe will wish to do the same,’ Antonio added. ‘So the ball scheduled for Saturday shall become a marriage celebration—’

‘Antonio, no.’ Eduardo interrupted him, moving to stand beside Stella. ‘You’re not still planning—?’

‘It has been planned for months, as you well know,’ Antonio said brusquely. ‘Guests have been arriving all week while you’ve been “ill”.’

‘But she’s not ready—’

‘I am cast as the evil older brother in this scenario you have created.’ Antonio turned his icicle eyes onto his brother. ‘I will not remain so.’

Eduardo glared back. ‘Antonio—’

‘The ball has been planned for months—or do you expect us all to act rashly and ruin the happiness and expectations of others? You have deprived the nation of a royal wedding. This celebration is the least you can give the people,’ Antonio went on, his cold fury now evident. ‘She has less than forty-eight hours to get “ready”.’ Antonio sent her another dismissive glance. ‘But the sapphire, a dress and a smile are all that will be necessary.’