The Royal House of Niroli: Innocent Mistresses: Expecting His Royal Baby / The Prince's Forbidden Virgin

‘I prefer this wing,’ the princess had told her, and then Carrie had discovered to her astonishment that they had adjoining apartments. ‘Only special people stay here.’ Princess Laura had said.

Carrie was living a lie she had no stomach for. She wanted nothing more than for the truth to be out in the open, but couldn’t say anything while Nico stood like a roadblock in her way.

A discreet tap on the door of the apartment brought Carrie’s pacing to a halt. But when she opened the door there was no one there. Then she spotted the envelope on the floor. Carrie’s eyes widened as she read the handwritten note. It was from Princess Laura, offering her accommodation at the palace for the duration of her stay in Niroli, which the princess hoped would be for longer than a few days. ‘We have far too many empty rooms here, Carrie, and I did enjoy your company. Please say you’ll stay …’

As Carrie clutched the sheet of paper to her chest she knew that if she could have chosen anyone in the world to be the grandmother of her baby it would be Princess Laura, but Nico would never allow it. Princess Laura was everything a grandmother should be, but the princess was like a golden chalice hanging just outside her baby’s reach.

This was one of the reasons he had left Niroli as a young man of seventeen, Nico reflected dryly as his mother advanced. Having finished his final lap, he checked his time: fifteen hundred metres freestyle in a few seconds over fifteen minutes. Not quite Olympic standard, but close. Planting his hands on the side of the swimming pool, he sprang out, water glistening over his tanned, athletic body.

Snatching up a towel, he buried his face to hide his smile. His mother was in full dragon mode. Behind a deceptively homely face Princess Laura hid a steely determination. He knew that was probably what had saved her when his father had been killed. Tossing his towel into a laundry basket, Nico was thankful for his mother’s strength of character. She had been broken when she had received the news of his father’s death, but had thrown herself into her charity work with renewed vigour, and that had been her salvation.

Straightening up, he wrapped a clean towel around his waist. Raking his hair into some semblance of order, he drew himself up to his full height … all the better to read the invisible banner his mother was waving above her head. It had a single name on it: Carrie Evans.

Carrie was going to stay how long? Grinding his jaw as his mother stalked back the way she had come, Nico vented his silent rage at the sky. He would not tolerate Carrie inveigling her way into the palace and winning over his mother into the bargain. The only reason he’d kept quiet was because he wasn’t ready to reveal Carrie’s state of health, or the lies she kept telling him. Fortunately, his mother didn’t appear to know about the so-called pregnancy, but to be told by her to back off and stop treating Carrie like an underling was insupportable. And to be assured that she was under his mother’s protection.

Right now he could cheerfully throw Carrie Evans over his shoulder and take her to the airport himself and put her on the first flight out of Niroli … But that wouldn’t solve a thing, because, knowing Carrie as he did, she’d get the first flight back again. For now, he would tolerate her presence. He would wait his moment, and then he would expose her for the liar she was.

‘You must have new clothes, my dear …’

Carrie had learned that Princess Laura didn’t do questions, and that statements were more her line. She couldn’t help smiling as she walked back towards the quaint arched doorway that marked the entrance to her apartment. When she had tried to tell Princess Laura that she didn’t need any clothes the princess had silenced her with nothing more than an arched brow. There was a formal dinner that night, she had said, to which Carrie was invited. Carrie hadn’t needed to be told that a market-stall dress wouldn’t do for that.

And now the princess had worked her magic again … Clapping her hands, she had invited dressmakers hovering just outside the open door to join them. And from that moment silks and satins, chiffons and jewelled net had been draped around Carrie, while pins and scissors had flashed in the light. A fabulous ball gown had been created where she stood.

It had been like a dream.

Maybe if it had been a dream she might have thrown herself with more enthusiasm into the pleasure everyone else was getting from her transformation, Carrie thought, but she knew that she would never belong to this life, and that Nico would never accept her. Hearing a tap on the door, she turned. ‘Come in …’

It was the young maid again, who curtsied, making Carrie blush. ‘There’s no need for that,’ Carrie assured her, and now the maid was blushing, too.

‘These are your clothes, signorina.’

As Carrie reached forward to take a few garments from the girl she had to step back as footmen marched past her wheeling a collection of boxes and bags. ‘There must be some mistake,’ Carrie said with concern as she followed the footmen into her sitting room. ‘I didn’t order these.’

‘But Princess Laura insists,’ the maid told her.

Carrie guessed that when Princess Laura gave an order, no one, with the possible exception of Nico, dared to refuse her. And what could she do? The footmen were already unloading the trolley, and now the maid had disappeared into her dressing room and she could hear hangers clicking. drawers opening and closing again. ‘Are you quite sure this isn’t a mistake?’ Carrie insisted, following the young girl into the room.

‘Quite sure, signorina. The princess—’

‘I know,’ Carrie cut her off with a smile, ‘the princess insists.’

As the young girl smiled agreement Carrie looked in awe at her beautiful ball gown. It had been run up in record time, and looked even lovelier beneath the lights in her dressing room. Jewels twinkled on the bodice, and the note attached to it said … Carrie’s heart sank as she read the words written in the princess’s unique hand. She was to be Princess Laura’s special guest at the top table, which meant she would be sitting with the royal family practically next to Nico. But how could she keep up the act that he meant nothing to her when he would be seated within touching distance and Princess Anastasia would be drooling over him?

She had to, Carrie told herself firmly, and she should be grateful to Nico’s mother for giving her the opportunity to see Nico under such formal circumstances. If she acquitted herself well he might be inclined to spend more time with her after the meal.

She had nothing to feel embarrassed about, Carrie told herself, glancing at the dress again. Princess Laura had wanted her to feel comfortable at the banquet, and had ensured that the dress she wore was beautiful. The dinner was going to be a glittering affair and it was unlikely anyone would have packed something suitable for an occasion such as this one in their holiday suitcase. She could borrow the dress for one night, and then hand it back. She could have it cleaned first … she would ask the young maid, or the girl at the boutique, where to go. This wasn’t the time to be trying to find an excuse not to go to the banquet; this was the time to seize an opportunity.

Reading through Princess Laura’s note again, Carrie knew she couldn’t refuse. ‘Please do come, Carrie,’ the princess had written. ‘I must have someone decent at my side. These events can drag on so without the right company….’

Decent? The word tolled like an accusation in Carrie’s head. She was about as far from decent as … It made her wish she could tell the princess everything. Their conversations had spanned so much, but had never ventured towards the baby. They had even talked about Carrie’s ambition to become a professional artist one day, when she had almost forgotten how much she wanted that, herself.

She looked up as the maid politely excused herself, saying she would be back later to help Carrie dress. Carrie thought a walk through the grounds might help to relax her in the meantime. She had an idea forming, and was eager to look at the gardens with an artist’s eye. Her intention was to paint something special for Princess Laura to thank her for her kindness.

Carrie found several spots where she would have liked to set up her easel. There were winding paths and woodland glades as well as the more formal gardens. And then, of course, there was the lake and the pavilion … The grounds of the palace went on and on, and she was glad she had brought a pad and pencil so she could make a start with some preliminary sketches.

Slipping off her sandals, she ran across the cool, spiky grass towards the lake. But she drew to a halt long before she reached the water’s edge. Nico was there with Anastasia, and the princess looked so beautiful. She was wearing a slim sheath in brightly coloured patterned silk that hugged her slender body like a second skin, and high-heeled shoes, which Nico was making her take off before allowing her to step into the rowing boat. And now Anastasia was laughing and holding on to his arm as she slipped off the first shoe. When both shoes had been removed Anastasia secured a large-brimmed straw hat to her head and then looked up expectantly at Nico.

Nico didn’t respond, he was gazing away across the lake, Carrie noticed, and seemed distracted, and then very slowly he turned towards her.

He stared at her. Nico stared straight at her. It was as if they had an invisible bond between them. But then the princess, unused to losing anyone’s attention for even a moment, took hold of his sleeve and gave it a little shake. Nico turned back to her, and with a gracious smile and a nod he offered Anastasia a steadying hand as she prepared to board the small boat.

They made a perfect pair, Carrie thought. They were both so good-looking, so confident. They made her feel shabby and insignificant by comparison. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to run back to the palace, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot, forcing her to watch Nico as he climbed into the small craft. He stood with his legs planted firmly to steady it, as Anastasia settled herself in front of him. Anastasia laughed as he cast off, and the sound carried across the silver water like a well-bred reminder of Carrie’s place in life.

Hardly knowing she was doing it, Carrie narrowed her eyes to study the perspective. There was nothing more romantic than watching a man putting his back into a stroke. She gave a little smile as Nico pulled away from the small jetty, and was on the point of returning to the palace when she heard Anastasia calling to her. She certainly had no intention of slinking away. Turning, she smiled and raised her hand to wave.

‘Oh, look, darling … it’s that little girl from your office. Doesn’t she look quaint in that sweet little dress? Good morning, dear …’

As the princess trilled her greeting Carrie’s jaw firmed. An air rifle and a few well-placed shots below the water-line of the little boat might not have gone amiss … Failing that, a reef, though no doubt Nico would negotiate it safely.

But as the boat pulled away and they both lost interest in her Carrie felt stupid and gauche, and the market-stall dress that had been such a life saver in the heat seemed suddenly dull in comparison to Anastasia’s glamorous designer outfit. Then Nico turned as if to check that she had gone, and the look he gave her suggested he knew how she felt about his beautiful companion.

He could think what he liked; she was going to stand and take in every detail. It was more fuel for her paintings.

As Nico increased his stroke the chalky pink scarf the princess wore around her neck floated out behind her. It finished the picture and made Carrie long to paint the scene.the swarthy hero with his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing his powerful forearms, the wide spread of Nico’s shoulders and the flex of his muscles as he drove his oar through the water. The tension in his legs beneath his jeans.

In fact, Carrie thought mischievously, she would be quite happy to leave Anastasia out of it. It would make a much better painting, she concluded, turning away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AS SHE prepared for dinner that night Carrie was excited and apprehensive in equal measure. She was also doubly determined not to let Princess Laura down. She fully intended to look her best. But when the maid went to collect her dress they discovered that a calamity had occurred.

The first Carrie knew of it was a distraught cry that brought her running into the dressing room. ‘Are you all right?’ she said anxiously, drawing the girl into her arms when she saw how upset she was.

‘Your dress … the beautiful gown … I can’t find it.’

‘But it can’t have disappeared,’ Carrie said sensibly. ‘Come on, let’s look for it together. We’ll soon find it. You start at one end of the rail and I’ll start at the other …’

But as they searched Carrie’s confidence began to falter. She flicked determinedly through the press of garments a second time. There were so many gowns to search through. If there was one thing she had learned it was that Princess Laura didn’t do anything by halves. Once the dressmakers had taken her measurements they must have been sewing non-stop. But there was only one special gown for tonight, and it was nowhere to be found.

She hid her feelings from the maid, but she had lost more than a gown, she had lost her chance to make Nico see her differently….

‘Maybe you could wear another dress, signorina?’ the maid suggested in desperation.

Carrie’s concerns switched immediately to the young girl’s disappointment. ‘What a good idea. Let’s look for one together,’ she suggested, forcing a bright note into her voice.

But there was nothing to compare with the matchless gown, and after a fruitless hunt the maid suggested checking all the other dressing rooms in the palace in case there had been a mix up of some sort.

‘Whatever’s happened to the gown it’s not worth crying about,’ Carrie assured her. ‘And it’s too late to start searching the palace,’ she pointed out logically. With the maid on the verge of tears again she had to be practical, but it wasn’t easy when the loss of the dress was such a bitter blow.

‘Please, let me go and look for it, signorina,’ the maid pleaded with her. ‘You never know, I might find it.’

‘All right, but I don’t want you to worry if you don’t. This isn’t your fault. While you’re gone, I’ll have another look through the wardrobe. I’m sure I’ll find something else to wear.’

Carrie picked out several formal dresses and then discarded them again for various reasons. Some of the neck-lines plunged to the waist, which with her voluptuous figure was hardly prudent, and others had slits almost to the crotch. All the shoes seemed to have spindly heels, and she dreaded wearing them, but time was marching on and there was still no sign of the maid returning.

Carrie glanced out of the window and her throat dried as she caught sight of the stream of limousines rolling in procession along the road towards the palace. Their passengers would be ambassadors and billionaires, and enough European royalty to fill the pages of a celebrity magazine. Princess Laura had wanted to prepare her for this, and had wanted her to feel comfortable in such elevated company, and now everything had gone wrong. She glanced at the door, she couldn’t wait for the maid any longer. She wouldn’t risk being late for Princess Laura. She would just have to choose something else to wear….

But now Carrie made another worrying discovery—everything in the wardrobe was at least one size too small. It didn’t make sense. Princess Laura’s dressmakers had been so thorough and precise with their measurements and she found it hard to believe they would have made such an elementary mistake. She began to suspect someone had done this on purpose to humiliate her.

Returning to the wardrobe, she selected a beaded sheath with an impressive fishtail train, for no better reason than it fell off the hanger at her feet and she took it for a sign. Now she just had to hope the Fates were on her side.

Having shoehorned her way into the dress, Carrie found she couldn’t fasten all the tiny silk-covered buttons that ran up the back. Glancing at the clock, she grew increasingly anxious. For her to walk into the banqueting hall after the king had sat down was an unimaginable breach of etiquette, and she had no intention of embarrassing Princess Laura.

So where was the maid? Had she been hijacked along the way? Carrie was beginning to think that the loss of the gown was no mistake, and that perhaps the maid had been sent on some new, time-consuming errand by the same person who had removed the gown. Because the dress had been taken, Carrie thought grimly as she battled with the buttons.

The only way she could secure the dress she had chosen was by tugging it round, fastening the buttons, and then heaving it back again. Unfortunately by this time her cheeks were beetroot red, and her carefully dressed hair was hanging in tangles. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she felt like crying. The jewelled bodice barely covered her big bouncing breasts that threatened to erupt out of the confines of her gown at any moment. She looked a mess, and now it was too late to choose something else to wear. The fabulous couture gown didn’t hang on her as it was supposed to. It clung in a most unflattering way, revealing every cream cake she had ever consumed in her life. And she still had to choose some shoes….

How could she choose when she couldn’t bend over? Hopping around, she managed to hook some stratospheric stilettos with her big toe. ‘Lengthen your line’—wasn’t that the advice for small, plump people in women’s magazines? She had certainly done that, and had become a five foot nine walking disaster along the way. Grabbing a handful of hairpins as she tottered towards the door, she stuck them in her mouth, intending to stab them into her hair as she hurried to the banquet.

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