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The Royal House of Niroli: Innocent Mistresses: Expecting His Royal Baby / The Prince's Forbidden Virgin
Robyn Donald
Susan Stephens
Forbidden seductions and secret passions shock Niroli to the coreExpecting his Royal Baby Plain Carrie Evans was an ordinary secretary – and a virgin – until one magical night with her boss Prince Nico changed everything. Yet now Nico has returned to Niroli to rule and marry a suitable bride Carrie’s sure she has no chance with him…until he discovers she’s carrying his child!The Prince’s Forbidden Virgin Stunningly handsome Max is the last known heir to the Niroli throne…but he’s more concerned with his failing vineyard! Rosa offers to help him save it, but can he fight his dangerous desire for the one woman he should never touch…?The richest royal family in the world – united by blood and passion, torn apart by deceit and desire
THE
ROYAL
HOUSE OF NIROLI
SEMPRE APPASSIONATO, SEMPRE FIERO
Always passionate, always proud
The richest royal family in the world— united by blood and passion, torn apart by deceit and desire
Complete your collection with all four books!
The Royal House of Niroli:Scandalous Seductions
The Royal House of Niroli:Billion Dollar Bargains
The Royal House of Niroli:Innocent Mistresses
The Royal House of Niroli:Secret Heirs
WELCOME TO NIROLI!
Nestled in the azure blue of the Mediterranean, the majestic island of Niroli has prospered for centuries. The Fierezza men have worn the crown with passion and pride since the Middle Ages. But now, as the King’s health declines, and his two sons have been tragically killed, the crown is in jeopardy.
The clock is ticking—a new heir must be found before the King is forced to abdicate. By royal decree the internationally scattered members of the Fierezza family are summoned to claim their destiny. But any person who takes the throne must do so according to ‘The Rules of the Royal House of Niroli’. Soon secrets and rivalries emerge as the descendants of this ancient royal line vie for position and power. Only a true Fierezza can become ruler—a person dedicated to their country, their people … and their eternal love!
THE
ROYAL
HOUSE OF NIROLI
Innocent Mistresses
SUSAN STEPHENS
ROBYN DONALD
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Expecting His
Royal Baby
SUSAN STEPHENS
MORE ABOUT
SUSAN STEPHENS
SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern™ style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)
Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an after-dinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.
Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks and plays the piano to relax and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net—she loves to hear from her readers all around the world!
SUSAN STEPHENS
QUESTIONS & ANSWERS
Did you enjoy the experience of writing about Niroli?
Writing about a beautiful fictional island, which I imagine to be something like Sardinia or Sicily, was an inspiration and allowed me to use my great love of the Mediterranean to the full. And, of course, on a sun drenched fantasy island anything is possible …
Would you like to visit Niroli?
I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to visit Niroli with its glorious weather, clean white powder beaches and clear blue sea—not to mention the hunky men who hang out there. If you stay for long enough you might even meet a prince.
Which of the ‘Rules of Niroli’ would you least like to abide by?
The rule about the monarch dictating the education of all members of the royal house. What if the ruler’s aspirations weren’t all that high, or their imagination was stunted—should everyone suffer?.
How did you find writing as part of continuity?
It was a privilege to be writing in a team of such talented authors, not to mention the support we all received from an excellent editorial team.
When you are writing, what is your typical day?
You really don’t want to know! I get up at five to make a start before the phone starts ringing. After that it’s hanging on to a train of thought while I do, or think about, a dozen other things.
Where do you get your inspiration for the characters that you write?
The heroine is always me—younger and far more beautiful, naturally, but me. I add all the bits (make that large chunks) that I admire in my friends, together with quirks, hobbies and interests that make someone unique. It’s great for me to imagine I’m playing a new role with each book I write.
What, in your opinion, makes a great Modern™ hero?
A Modern™ hero might appear at first meeting to be hard and unredeemable, but on closer acquaintance we find he is a true hero in every sense of the word, The leader of the pack, he is strong in both character and principle and always true to himself. He is a caring and competent individual, capable of great love as well as deep passion.
Tell us about the project you’re working on at the moment.
The love story I’m writing at the moment is about two wounded souls who if they only realised it have much in common, but the horrendous incidents in their past are pushing them apart. Can a strong man be brought to his knees by love, and can a woman who has survived a monstrous ordeal see beyond her fight for the island she loves to a man who needs her every bit as much as the islanders do?
For everyone involved in this exciting journey to
Niroli, especially Jenny and the team
at Harlequin Mills & Boon
PROLOGUE
AS HE WATCHED the tiny dot appear through the clouds the ambassador of Niroli’s throat dried. What if this precious heir to the throne should perish? And with Nico Fierezza’s addiction to extreme sports that seemed extremely likely; if not today, then some day soon. The ambassador’s nerves refused to steady even when the dot turned into six feet four of solid muscle and Nico hit the ground on target. Only Nico didn’t hit the ground, he landed like a cat.
As someone took away his parachute Nico lifted off his helmet and stared straight at the ambassador. He had detected the distinguished visitor in the same instant he had located the cross hairs on his jumping target and was relieved to see that duty rather than disaster had brought him to the field.
He maintained a distance between himself and the bickering and power play surrounding his grandfather, King Giorgio of Niroli. The Fierezza family had ruled Niroli since the Middle Ages, but Nico was a selfmade man. Niroli, a tiny island set like a jewel in the Mediterranean, was prosperous and beautiful enough to attract the glitterati from every part of the world, which was enough in itself to keep him away. He had built up his own architectural practice in London free from royal privilege or favour and could state categorically that everything he owned he had earned.
He had been drunk on adrenalin when he’d landed, feeling invincible because he’d survived against the odds the highest jump without oxygen ever recorded, but calm reason had kicked in reminding him that, like any emotion, euphoria was a dangerous deception; it clouded the mind.
Tucking his helmet under his arm, he started forward with his usual purposeful stride. He couldn’t account for the insatiable force driving him. He’d had a happy childhood, idyllic compared to most, with a mother who adored him and poured all her love into the family. Perhaps that was it, Nico thought, halting at a point where he and the ambassador could have some privacy, perhaps men like him came with an inborn gene that insisted they must break away from everything that was feminine and soft and loving and drive themselves to the limit just to know they were alive. His father had done this, taking his yacht to the limit of its capabilities, killing himself along with his brother and sister-in-law. It was a miracle his mother had survived and was a lesson he would never forget.
As the ambassador approached Nico ordered himself to go easy on the man, but there could be no compromise. He might be the grandson of the king, but he neither asked for nor expected any favours. ‘Ambassador?’ he said curtly as the portly man arrived.
‘You recognised me …’ The ambassador gave a nervous laugh.
‘Of course.’ Nico’s voice was clipped and controlled. As always he was polite, toning down his need to know in deference to the other man’s advanced age. ‘My mother?’
‘Is quite well, sir. Your grandfather too….’
Nico’s brow furrowed. Why the hesitation? As if he didn’t know. ‘His Majesty wishes to see me.’ It was a statement rather than a question. Nico never wasted his breath on unnecessary questions.
‘That is correct, sir.’
The ambassador was distracted briefly by the whoops of celebration from other skydivers in the competition. Nico’s had been a landslide victory, but he remained unmoved, his thoughts hidden behind his slate-blue gaze.
As he stroked one hand across the sun-bleached hair he kept aggressively short, Nico had no idea how intimidating he appeared to the older man. Lean and tanned from working outside in all weather, Nico Fierezza towered a good six inches over the ambassador. It didn’t matter that an architectural scheme had been conceived in the clinical surroundings of his high-tech office—Nico liked to see his cutting-edge designs up close. So while the ambassador’s hands were soft and white, Nico’s were weather-beaten and rough, and the ambassador hardly seemed to have a beard in contrast to Nico’s black, piratical stubble. But the ambassador worked for a wily monarch and was used to handling every type of situation. He had recovered from his trot across the airfield and his shrewd grey eyes missed nothing. He rested super alert like a pulsing brain as Nico began to speak.
‘Please tell His Majesty that I will attend him the moment my business allows.’
As a cheer went up and calls rang out for Nico to join the other men on the podium he made a holding gesture with the flat of his hand.
The ambassador weighed the facts. Nico Fierezza was easily the best of all the men there. Surely, he must be feeling the same charge they did, the same adrenalin rush? And yet he appeared to be in no hurry to join the celebrations and there was no hint of self-congratulation in his expression. He’d heard this grandson to the king was a stranger to emotion, and it seemed the rumours were true. Nothing could have suited his purpose better. King Giorgio was eager to put an heir in place before his health deteriorated further, and this man had all the qualities they looked for in a monarch. He put duty first and chose to reveal nothing to the outside world. There wasn’t a woman alive who could cause Nico Fierezza embarrassment. The ambassador maintained his impassive expression, but inwardly he was already celebrating.
‘Please apologise to His Majesty,’ Nico continued, ‘and tell him that I will attend him in Niroli at the earliest opportunity.’
The ambassador dipped his head. compromise was an easy thing with victory in sight. ‘His Majesty will understand. He has empowered me to ask you to attend him at a time convenient to yourself.’
The hint of a smile fed into Nico’s stern gaze. Since when had King Giorgio been any more accommodating than he was? His grandfather had to be desperate to see him if he was prepared to wait. ‘It may be one week, or two,’ he said, ‘but no longer than that.’
‘That’s excellent news,’ the ambassador said. ‘I’m sure His Majesty will be delighted.’ A flicker in Nico’s eyes warned him not to overstate the case. ‘Perhaps if we could settle on a date,’ he added.
‘I’ll let you know.’ Nico’s voice had turned hard. His message was clear: one concession was enough for today. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Ambassador …’
As he strode away Nico didn’t see the ambassador dip into the type of bow he normally reserved for the king.
CHAPTER ONE
THERE WAS A single white rose on a coffin splattered with raindrops….
It made Carrie sad to see the tender bloom lying on the brass plate that spoke to a world that would never read it: the name of an aunt who had never loved her. But love could not be controlled at will, and Carrie had loved her aunt in spite of the woman’s rejection of her. Sad as she was, Carrie was glad there were some things words could never destroy and that love was one of them.
‘Carrie Evans?’
Carrie turned to find a man standing behind her. He was sheltering beneath the oily spread of a black umbrella, which made the shadows on his saturnine face all the deeper, adding to his air of gloom. There were only four people at her aunt’s funeral other than herself—the minister and three undertakers—and it was hard to feel brave as the small group peeled away to allow her some privacy. Lifting up her chin, she gazed squarely into the face of the man. ‘I’m Carrie Evans. Can I help you?’
‘Sorry, miss … I tried the house.’
Carrie didn’t know the man, but she could guess what he had come for. He was here to serve papers evicting her from her aunt’s house on the instructions of relatives who hadn’t been to visit Aunt Mabel in Carrie’s living memory. A solicitor had rung her yesterday to explain.
Yesterday, the day when everything in her life had changed for good….
Carrie was twenty-five, but she looked much younger. Her complexion was pale and she dressed conservatively, keeping her luxuriant hair scraped back neatly in a practical twist. She found the lush tresses an embarrassment. Her natural hair colour was a rich golden red that painters called titian, and she believed it better suited to an actress or a glamour model. She had even thought about dying her hair a pale shade of brown, but the upkeep would have been too much on a secretary’s salary. Her eyes were large and cornflower-blue and were perhaps her most expressive feature. Widely set and fringed with sable lashes, they were quick to darken with emotion, but could turn steely when there was something or someone to defend.
The man addressing Carrie saw a capable young woman, a little too plump to ever be called stylish, but determined, nonetheless, he concluded.
‘I have already cleared my belongings from my late aunt’s house,’ she told him without rancour, ‘and as soon as we’re finished here I will collect my suitcase and deliver the house keys to my aunt’s solicitor….’
She couldn’t do any more, and he felt some sympathy for her. He’d heard she had nowhere to go since her aunt’s heirs had turned up and laid claim to the house where she lived. ‘You’re so well organised,’ he said, trying to soften the blow for her, ‘I hardly need to give you this….’
‘I think you do,’ she told him.
Her tone was serious and exposed his attempt to console her for the sham it was. She held his gaze as she reached for the documents he was carrying and, as he handed over the eviction notice, he couldn’t help thinking that, in spite of the downturn in her fortunes, the young woman in front of him possessed a quiet dignity that commanded his respect.
She had forgotten how cold and bare her attic room was. The eviction notice allowed her twenty-four hours to clear out her things. She neither wanted nor needed twenty-four hours. She missed her aunt, but she was pleased to be leaving such a sad and lonely place. Her aunt’s house could so easily have been filled with love and laughter if only Aunt Mabel had been able to forget that Carrie’s father had chosen Carrie’s mother over herself.
But things could be worse. Carrie’s mouth tipped down wryly as she totted up the facts. She was jobless, homeless, single and pregnant.
Carrie’s wry smile turned into a smile of true happiness when she thought about her baby. The pregnancy was a source of great joy to her that nothing could dim. She was going to have someone to love; someone who would love her, someone she could care for and champion. The only problem was her baby’s father. He would have to be told. He had a right to know, Carrie thought, even as her stomach clenched with apprehension.
Unfortunately, her baby’s father was the hardest and most unfeeling man she had ever known. He was about as approachable as a tiger with a thorn in its pad. He was also the man she was in love with, the man she had loved since the first moment she had set eyes on him; the only man she could ever love … The same man who barely knew she was alive. And the longer she left it, the harder it would be to tell him that he was about to become a father.
Crossing her arms over her stomach in a protective gesture, Carrie determined she would not allow anything to stand in the way of her baby’s future happiness, certainly not her own lack of nerve. She had to face up to him and she would. She didn’t want anything for herself, but she did want recognition and security for her child. Her baby’s father was a very wealthy man and she wondered if he could be persuaded to set up a trust fund to provide for college fees when the time came.
Before Carrie had learned she was pregnant she had dreamed of leaving the office where she had worked as a secretary to try and turn her hobby of painting into a profession, but that was out of the question now. She planned instead to find some cheap accommodation and work until the baby came. Her goal was to build up a small nest egg so that one day she could buy a modest property with a child-friendly garden. A solid base was important. She didn’t want a child of hers to be pushed from pillar to post as she had been after her parents’ tragic accident. She might be homeless today, but not for long.
Nico Fierezza. It was the only name the King of Niroli had allowed to be spoken in his presence for days, and he had just been informed that his grandson Nico was on the final flight path to Niroli.
Nico piloting his own jet. King Giorgio’s mouth curved with appreciation. Nico lived the life he would have enjoyed had not royal duty claimed him. And now the only task remaining in his long and eventful life was to tame this wild grandson of his and persuade him to accept the throne.
Tame Nico Fierezza? King Giorgio’s eyes clouded over. Even a king might find that a challenge. Then his crafty gaze brightened. Maybe there wasn’t a man alive who could tame Nico Fierezza, but a woman might …
What was he doing in Niroli? Nico asked himself as he brought his jet down in a perfect landing. What was he doing back on this small, lush, glamorous island? Niroli, the island of dreams for so many, but not for him.
