Royal Babies: Claiming His Secret Royal Heir / Pregnant with a Royal Baby! / Secret Child, Royal Scandal

He reached for a chiku—a fruit he’d never heard of. ‘It looks like a potato.’

‘Wait until you taste it.’

He halved the fruit to reveal pinkish flesh seeded with a mere three black seeds. He scooped out a spoonful and blinked at the intense sweetness.

‘Better than cotton candy.’

She smiled, and once again relief touched him.

‘About last night...’ he said. ‘I know marriage isn’t your ideal option, but I am very glad you said yes.’

‘It isn’t, but it is the best option on the table and I’ve decided to make the best of it. Perhaps if I’d been more upfront two years ago we wouldn’t be in this mess. But we are, and I’ll do my best to be positive about the marriage idea.’

‘Our marriage doesn’t have to be a mess. I think we can make this work. For Amil and for us.’

A pause, and then she nodded. ‘I’ll try. So, what’s the next step in Project Marriage?’

There was no room for further doubts or any more discussion with his conscience. Project Marriage was what he wanted and what he believed to be right for them all. Yet for some reason he felt restless, as if the beauty of the surroundings was somehow tainted. This was the sort of place where real couples should sit and plan their future—couples foolish enough to believe in the concept of love.

‘We need a plan, but I suggest we move this discussion to somewhere else. Is there anything you want to see in Goa? We could hit the beach...visit the old quarter...’

In truth he didn’t care—he needed to move, to get on with the business of the day away from this tranquil fairy tale setting that seemed to accuse him of having behaved like his father, however much logic told him he hadn’t.

Sunita thought for a moment, her tawny eyes dreamy, as if the question needed deeper consideration than it appeared to warrant.

‘I’d like to go to the Dudhsagar Falls.’

There was a nuance in her voice he couldn’t identify. ‘Any reason?’

For a second she hesitated, then she shrugged. ‘My parents came to Goa together and they visited the falls. It’s one of the few memories my mother ever shared about them both—she said it was important sometimes to remember the happy memories or they would all crumble to dust.’

She picked up a rambutan, rolled the lychee-like fruit almost like a dice.

‘I’m not entirely sure what she meant, but I’d like to go somewhere she was happy. Even if that happiness was no more than a mirage.’

He had the feeling that right now Sunita missed her mother—and who could blame her? She was about to step into a whole new world that she didn’t want to enter.

‘I’m sorry you lost her, Sunita.’

‘Me too. But I do feel lucky I had her for the time I did.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t know the details, but I’m guessing you didn’t have much time with your mum.’

‘No.’

Even before the divorce his mother had spent minimal time with him—at least until the divorce proceedings were underway. Then it had all changed, and even now he could remember the glorious happiness his three-year-old self had felt—not the detail, but the joy that finally his mother wanted his company, would hug him, take him out... And then abruptly it had all ceased. She’d gone before the ink had even dried on the papers. The whole ‘loving mother’ act had been exactly that—an act undertaken to up her settlement.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need. You can’t miss what you’ve never had.’

The words came out rougher than he’d intended, but he didn’t want her compassion. He’d got over his mother’s abandonment long ago, buried those emotions along with the rest.

Pulling out his phone, he did a check on the falls, scanned the information. ‘The falls it is—I’ll speak to Security, see how close they can get us. Looks like the official road is closed off because of monsoon season, but I’m sure we can get something sorted.’

‘Actually, I wondered if we could do what my parents did and walk along the railway track to get there. Just us—no security. I know they’re discreet, but today I’d like to be just Frederick and Sunita—before we get caught up in the reality of being a royal couple.’

The wistfulness in her voice decided him—alongside the fact that, however much he trusted his staff, it made sense to thrash out the details of this marriage in private. Plus if he was being honest with himself, he too wanted to be ‘just Frederick and Sunita’ for one day. To put aside the burden of ruling and his complex need for this marriage for one day.

‘Sounds like a plan.’

Surprise etched her face. ‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure. Tell me the route they took and I’ll figure it out.’

She grinned. ‘I think they came back on a goods train.’

‘We can manage that.’

‘The Prince and his future consort hopping on a goods train? I like it.’

Her smile broadened and it caught at his heart, causing a sudden unfamiliar tug of hope that perhaps this might all work out.

* * *

Sunita glanced up at the sky, and for the first time in the past forty-eight hours her thoughts slowed down as she absorbed the grandeur of the bright grey monsoon clouds.

Most tourists flocked to India in the summer months, but she loved monsoon—always had, even as a child. Loved the drum of the rain, which brought the country much needed water and succour from heat, and lavished verdant green to the trees and fields.

‘It doesn’t seem possible that there can be so many different shades of green—it makes me wish I could paint, somehow capture all this.’ Her outswept arm encapsulated the winding track, the surrounding green and the skies above. ‘Photos never seem to catch the reality of it—they look fake, somehow.’

‘Then commit it to memory,’ Frederick said, putting out a hand to steady her as she stumbled slightly over an awkward rock.

The touch of his hand against hers almost made her gasp out loud, adding an extra level to her already overcrowded senses. In an almost involuntary movement she clasped her fingers around his.

‘Like my mother did. She described this walk to me so many times it almost felt like a story.’

Perhaps a real-life fairy tale, in which a moment of happiness had not led to a lifetime of happily-ever-after.

‘It’s odd to think that they walked here once...maybe took the exact same steps we’re taking now.’ She turned to him. ‘You must feel that a lot as a ruler—the idea of history being always around you. Your ancestors’ spirits looking over your shoulders.’

For an instant she’d swear a small shiver shot through him, and understanding smote her. Perhaps for him it was the spirit of his older brother that haunted his every move and decision.

Yet his voice was light as he answered, ‘I am more worried about current judgement and the opinion of posterity than the line of my progenitors.’

He slowed as they approached a tunnel, half turning for evidence of any oncoming train.

They stepped inside the dark and now it was her turn to shiver at the dank confines. Water trickled down the damp mossy walls and he tightened his grip on her hand. Without thought she moved closer to the strength of his body.

‘It’s safe. Even if a train does come through there is ample space as long as we keep to the side.’

Yet suddenly it didn’t feel safe—though it was no longer the train she was worried about. Frederick was too close, and that proximity was playing havoc with her body.

Did it matter any more? They were to be married—their physical attraction could now be acknowledged. The idea jolted a funny little thrill through her—one she short-circuited instantly. Two years ago physical attraction had lambasted her self-control and her pride. No way would she enter that thrall again.

As they emerged into sunlight she dropped his hand, under the pretext of tugging her hair into a ponytail, and then turned to him.

‘I think we were talking about current judgement and public opinion—and on that topic we need to decide how to announce our engagement.’

For an instant his gaze locked on her hand and then he nodded. ‘I think we keep it low-key. I don’t want to announce this as a romantic fairy tale—that would be disingenuous, and way too reminiscent of my father’s marriages. Every engagement, every wedding was an extravaganza, with proclamations of eternal love.’

‘Did he love any of them?’

‘According to his own criteria he did—but in reality I believe it was little more than lust and an ability to kid himself.’

‘Perhaps he did it for children?’

‘My father never did anything unless it was for himself.’ His tone was factual, rather than bitter. ‘But that isn’t the point. I don’t want to lie and present our marriage as some sort of perfect love story. I’d rather be honest.’

Sunita stared at him. ‘That is hardly the most gripping headline—Prince Proposes to Legitimise Heir.’ Irrational hurt threatened at his reminder that this was the only reason for their union. Well, so be it. ‘I don’t believe in fairy tales, but I do believe in good publicity.’

‘So what would you suggest?’

‘An old flame is rekindled. Prince Frederick of Lycander and Sunita decide to wed! Both the Prince and his bride profess delight at the prospect of being a real family.’ Her pace increased slightly. ‘I mean, that is just off the top of my head—I’m sure your spin people can work on it. We don’t have to profess undying love, but anything is better than indifference.’

Admiration glinted in his eyes and warmed her.

‘I’d forgotten what a natural you are with publicity. You’ve definitely not lost your touch.’

‘Thank you kindly, good sir. Publicity is an incredibly powerful tool. I agree that we shouldn’t lie to your people, but what you are doing is a good, principled action for your son—the people should know that. Of course they’ll be interested in a bit of fun and glitz and a celebration too.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘Fun is important—for all of us. I want Amil’s childhood to be full of fun and joy—I want him to have a happy path through life.’

‘So do I.’

‘Good. Then let’s show your people that. Let’s make sure the engagement announcement is honest, but happy. We’ve decided to do this, so we need to make the best of it.’

With impeccable dramatic timing the skies chose that moment to open up, and before Sunita could do more than let out a warning cry the rain sheeted down in a torrential downpour.

Sunita tipped her face up and let it gush over her, revelling in the sheer force of Nature as it provided one of life’s essentials.

Mere moments later the rain ceased. Blue skies replaced the grey, and sudden shafts of bright golden sunshine shot down, illuminating the droplets of water that hung everywhere. The smell of wet earth permeated the air and it seemed impossible not to smile.

‘It’s as if someone switched the tap off and the lights on,’ Frederick said, a note of wonder in his voice as he looked round.

‘That would be Varuna, the god of water. Nanni says that he listens to what the frogs say, and when they croak enough he gives us rain.’

‘I think I’m going to like Nanni.’

‘Of course you are.’

‘So I take it your mother’s family eventually relented and took her and you back in?’

‘No...’ Sunita sighed, feeling the familiar ache of regret and sadness. ‘I wish that was how it had played out, but it didn’t. They didn’t relent.’

Even when they knew her mother was dying.

Anger was suddenly added to the mix. Her grandfather hadn’t even told Nanni that their daughter was ill—hadn’t given her the chance to say goodbye.

‘I met Nanni for the first time when I was pregnant with Amil.’ She glanced across at him. ‘I don’t expect your sympathy, but when I found I was pregnant I felt very alone.’

His expression hardened slightly, but to her surprise she could see an element of frustrated sympathy in his creased brow. ‘So you decided to find your mother’s relatives?’

‘Yes. My mother had left enough information that it wasn’t too hard. It turned out my grandfather had died two years before, and Nanni agreed to see me.’

That first meeting was one she would never forget—her grandmother had simply stared at her, tears seeping from her brown eyes, her hands clasped as if in prayer. And then she had stepped forward and hugged Sunita, before standing back and touching her face as if in wonder, no doubt seeing not just her granddaughter but her daughter as well.

‘She was overjoyed and so was I. She has never forgiven herself for not standing up to my grandfather, for letting my mother go, and I think she sees me and Amil as her second chance.’

‘It isn’t always easy to stand up to a partner if he or she has all the power. Your Nanni shouldn’t be too hard on herself.’

‘I’ve told her that. My mother didn’t blame her either. Nanni was totally dependent on her husband—money, clothes, food, everything—and he made sure she knew it. If she had left with my mother he would have cut her off from the rest of her family, her children...everyone.’ She paused and then turned to him, willing him to understand. ‘I won’t ever let myself get into that position.’

‘You won’t. Our marriage will be nothing like that.’

‘I understand that, but I did mean what I said yesterday—I intend to resume my career. You saw what happened to your mother, your stepmothers. I’ve seen what happened to Nanni—I will not be dependent on you.’

‘You won’t be. We can set up a pre-nup.’

‘In a principality where your word is law? Any pre-nup I sign wouldn’t be worth the paper it was written on.’

‘OK. You will be paid a salary that goes directly into your personal account—you can move that into another account anywhere in the world.’

‘A salary essentially paid by you—one you could stop at any moment?’

His lips thinned. ‘You really do not trust me at all, do you?’

There was a hint of hurt in his voice, but it was something she could not afford to listen to.

‘I can’t trust anyone. Think about it, Frederick. What if I decided to take Amil and leave? Would you still pay my salary? What if you turn out to be like your father? What if you fall in love with another woman?’ Life had taught her there could never be too many ‘what ifs’ in the mix. ‘Then I’ll need money of my own.’

The easy warmth in his hazel eyes vanished, and now his brow was as clouded as a monsoon sky. ‘None of those things will happen.’

‘That’s what you say now, but times change—we both know that.’

A shadow flickered across his face and she knew her point had gone home.

‘So I must make sure myself that I have enough money in the bank for whatever life throws at me.’

To ensure there was always an escape route—that she would never be trapped like her grandmother had been, as she had been as a child.

‘That is non-negotiable.’

‘Understood.’

‘Also, I want to leave Amil with my grandmother when we go back to Lycander.’

‘Why?’ The syllable was taut. ‘Because you think I will snatch him the minute we land on Lycander soil?’

‘No. But I won’t risk taking him there until we have worked out how our marriage will be received. Also, I can get things ready for him; it will be a big change for him and I’d like to make his transition as easy as possible.’

The idea of not having Amil with her hurt, but she could not—would not—risk taking him to Lycander until she was sure of his reception there.

‘I’ll come back to Lycander with you, and then I’ll get Amil.’

‘OK. But we will get Amil.’

She nodded and then there was a silence, broken by a roar in the not so far distance.

‘Dhudsagar Falls,’ Sunita said. ‘We’re close.’

By tacit consent they quickened their pace.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE SOUND OF the monsoon-inflated waterfalls pounded his eardrums, but even as Frederick anticipated the sight his brain couldn’t banish Sunita’s expression, the realisation that she still didn’t trust him.

Not that he blamed her—after all, his father had used his wealth and power to grind his wives to dust in the courts. All except his mother, who had played Alphonse at his own game and duped him—an act his father had never forgiven her for. Never forgiven Frederick for, come to that. But he wished that Sunita did not think so badly of him. Enough. Her opinion shouldn’t matter, and in truth she couldn’t judge him more harshly than he deserved. But...

His train of thought was broken by her gasp from next to him. ‘Any minute now,’ she whispered, as they emerged through a tunnel and onto a railway bridge already populated by a few other visitors.

But they had no interest in Sunita and Frederick—because it was impossible to focus on anything other than the waterfalls, both mighty and terrible. No image could do them justice as the four tiers cascaded and roared in torrents of milky-white water, leaping from the edge of towering cliffs and gusting and gushing down the slippery rock slopes.

The spray drenched him but he didn’t move, utterly mesmerised by the power and glory of Nature’s creation, cloaked in a rising mist that mixed with the shafts of sunlight to create a rainbow of light.

‘It’s beyond description.’

Frederick nodded and moved by awe, on instinct, he reached out and took her hand in his. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but it was long enough that the other tourists dispersed, long enough that another group came and went.

And then Sunita shook her head, as if coming out of a trance. ‘We’d better go.’

He wondered what she’d been thinking all that time—perhaps she’d imagined her parents standing in the same spot, their thoughts and emotions, their hopes and dreams as they’d gazed at the might of the waterfalls.

They continued their trek along the railway tracks in a silence that he instinctively respected until he motioned to the adjacent forest. ‘Shall we explore in there—it looks peaceful?’

‘Good idea.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Sorry I’ve been lost in thought—it was just such an awe-inspiring sight.’

‘It was.’ He reached into his backpack. ‘Time for food—or is that too prosaic?’

‘Nope. I’m starving. And this looks idyllic—if a little damp.’

‘I’ve brought a blanket, and if we spread it here, over this branch, we can perch on it.’

‘Perfect.’

She accepted the wrapped sandwiches.

‘Goan green chutney,’ Frederick informed her. ‘I promised Ashok to tell you the exact ingredients. Coriander leaves, coconut, chili and a little sugar and salt.’

Sunita took a bite. ‘Glorious. That boy is talented.’ She surveyed him. ‘So you went to the kitchen yourself? I’m surprised that was allowed.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning your staff seem to think you shouldn’t lift a finger for yourself.’

‘I’ve noticed. I am trying to re-educate them—in fact I’ve given them all the day off today. The problem is my father expected to be waited on hand and foot, and that is what all Lycander staff seem conditioned to do. I even have someone who chooses all my clothes.’ He grinned. ‘Though, to be fair, Kirsten does a better job of it than I could.’

‘Well, for the record, no one is choosing my clothes for me. That would drive me nuts. I need to fit my clothes to my mood.’

They ate in companionable silence and then Frederick leant forward, unsure why he felt the need to say his next words, but knowing he had to take heed of the urge to show her that their hopes and dreams didn’t have to be built on an altar of falsehood and misunderstanding.

‘Sunita?’

‘Yes.’

She turned her head and his heart did a funny little jump. Dressed in simple khaki trousers and a red T-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, her features make-up free, she looked absurdly young and touchingly vulnerable.

‘I understand why you want to go back to your career, and I understand your need for independence, but let’s not go into this marriage expecting the worst. We’ll be OK,’ he said, even as he realised the ridiculous inadequacy of the words.

‘You can’t know that.’ She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘But I appreciate the sentiment.’

‘There are some things I do know, though. I won’t turn into my father.’ Please God! ‘I won’t fall in love with someone else and take Amil away from you.’

‘You can’t know that either.’

‘I don’t do falling in love, and that will not change. As for Amil, I will not take him from you. You have my word.’

‘Words are meaningless.’

Her fierce certainty told him that someone had lied to her with devastating consequence, and increased his need to show her that he would not do the same.

‘Sunita, I couldn’t do it.’ The words rasped from his throat. ‘I would have done anything to have a mother. I witnessed first-hand what my father did to his wives, how it affected my brothers. I could not, I will not let history repeat itself.’

Her whole body stilled, and then she rose and moved towards him, sat right next to him, so close a tendril of her hair tickled his cheek.

‘I’m sorry—I know what it’s like to lose a mother through death, but for you it must have been pain of a different type...to know she was out there. And your poor mother...to have lost you like that—I can’t imagine how it must have felt. Not just your mother but Stefan’s and the twins’.’

For a moment the temptation to let her believe the fiction touched him. To let her believe the false assumption that his mother had been wronged, had spent years in grief and lamenting, that his mother had loved him. After all, he had no wish to be an object of pity or allow the ugly visage of self-pity to show its face.

But as he saw the sympathy, the empathy on her face, he realised he couldn’t let her waste that compassion. ‘My mother didn’t suffer, Sunita.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘My mother sold me out for generous alimony and a mansion in Beverly Hills. She played my father like a fine fiddle—conned him into believing she would do anything to keep custody of me, would be devastated to lose me. At the time he was still worrying about his popularity—many people hadn’t got over the way he’d married my mother mere weeks after his first wife’s death. He wanted to hurt her by taking me away—however, he didn’t want to come across as the totally cruel husband again, so he offered her a generous settlement and she skipped all the way to the bank.’

‘But...’ Disbelief lined her face, along with a dark frown. ‘How could she?’

‘With great ease, apparently. Hey, it’s OK. I came to terms with it long ago. I didn’t tell you because I want to discuss it, or because I want sympathy. I told you because I want you to know that I could never take Amil from you. I know first-hand that a child needs his mother. From my own experience and my siblings’. Stefan, Barrett, Emerson—they have all been devastated by the custody battles and having their mothers torn from them. I would not put you or Amil through it. You have my word, and that word is not meaningless.’

‘Thank you.’ Shifting on the branch so that she faced him, she cupped his face in her hands, her fingers warm against his cheeks. ‘Truly. Thank you for sharing that—you didn’t have to. And I do believe that right here, right now, you mean what you promise.’

‘But you don’t believe I’ll make good?’

‘I...’ Her hands dropped to her sides and, leaning forward, she dabbled her fingers in the soil of the forest floor, trickled it through her fingers and then sat up again. ‘I don’t know.’

She shrugged.

‘Perhaps it’s my turn to share now. I told you how my father left when he found out my mother was pregnant. He promised her that he loved her, that they had a future.’ She gestured back the way they’d come. ‘Maybe he said those words at the falls. Hell, maybe they even sat here, in this very forest. But that promise meant nothing. And, you see, that wasn’t the only promise he made.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘He came back.’ Her eyes were wide now, looking back into a past that he suspected haunted her. ‘When my mother found out she was terminally ill she managed to track him down. She had no one else. And he came, and he agreed to take me in. He explained that he was married, with two other daughters, but he promised—he swore that I would be welcomed, that I would have a family, that he would love and cherish me. He said that he was sorry and that he wanted to make it up to her and to me.’