Page 56 of Revelations of A Secret Princess

CHAPTER TWELVE

JAKEWOKEALONEin her bed.

Daylight streamed in yet he couldn’t bring himself to move. Caro’s ‘perhaps just once’ had turned into a long, vigorous night. Good thing he’d had condoms in his wallet. The more he had her, the more he wanted, and Caro had been equally needy.

Now he was content to wait for her to emerge from the bathroom.

Last night’s madness could have been a major error. The last thing he needed, if it did come to a court case, was a sexual relationship with Princess Carolina muddying the waters.

Yet he couldn’t regret that amazing night.

His belly warmed at the memory of her coming apart in his arms, her generous passion and his exultation. Caro had been everything he desired, though more than once he’d observed surprise at some of his caresses, and his ability to bring her multiple climaxes. Ego suggested the quality of his lovemaking surprised her but he suspected she really had been pretty inexperienced.

Which put an intriguing slant on what she’d told him. Some of it was true, possibly most of it. But he couldn’t accept it all without proof, despite what felt like the best sex of his life.

It was tempting to believe they’d shared something extraordinary. His sated body and the smile tugging his lips confirmed it. But Jake was cautious. He preferred to ascribe this feeling to a particularly compatible woman and recent celibacy.

Jake surveyed his surroundings, curious at the difference between this room and the rest of the palace. Despite its high ceilings, ornate plasterwork and spacious dimensions, it wasn’t as opulent. The furnishings looked comfortable, the fabric on the armchair in a shaft of sunlight actually looked frayed.

Probably because Caro only stayed here occasionally. But the bookcase on one wall, stuffed full, proved it was more than a convenient bolthole. Intrigued, he investigated.

Children’s books jostled with classics and tomes on art. On one shelf was a stack of sketch books. He plucked one, leafing through and discovering drawings of formal gardens, a servant in livery and a bird on a branch.

He turned, looking for information about the woman he’d spent the night with. Nearby was a single framed photo. The resemblance was so intense Jake’s pulse jumped.

Picking it up, he saw a woman of about thirty with Caro’s slim build. Her hair was red but not Caro’s dark auburn. This woman’s was lighter, matching Ariane’s, and her eyes, deep violet with that familiar slanting angle that made them look mysterious and happy at the same time, looked like Ariane’s eyes, and Caro’s.

This must be Caro’s mother. Ariane’s grandmother. She held a baby with a fuzz of reddish hair, one tiny hand reaching towards her mother.

Abruptly Jake put the photo down, recalling Neil’s report on Princess Carolina. She’d lost her mother when she was tiny. Her father remarried almost immediately. This photo seemed to indicate a bond with a mother she could barely have known, rather than with the woman who’d raised her.

He thought about Ariane losing her adoptive parents. And Caro’s story of having Ariane stolen from her.

What if it were true?

What if the passionate woman he’d bedded wasn’t a spoiled princess who hadn’t wanted her child? What if she’d genuinely believed her child dead, the maternal bond broken, as with her own mother?

Something lodged in Jake’s belly. A weight that, against the laws of physics, rose within him, crushing his lungs and stopping his breath.

He swung around, needing to find her. She’d been in the bathroom a long time. Too long.

Jake walked past a wooden-faced footman on the ground floor. Either the servants were used to guests ending the night in a royal bed, or too well trained to bat an eye. He didn’t care. What he cared about was locating Caro.

His need to find her had grown from a niggle to a presentiment of trouble. No matter how unaccustomed she was to nights of passion, it was unlike the woman he knew not to face him this morning. His nape tightened.

Finally, when he was almost at the ballroom, he heard a loud voice. Pushing open a not quite closed door, he found himself in an empty sitting room. On the far side French windows stood open to the garden. Following the sound of voices, Jake stepped outside then realised the conversation was taking place in the next room. He moved to another set of French windows and looked inside. It was a study with gilded antiques and floor-to-ceiling books that looked, unlike the ones in Caro’s room, as if they’d never been opened. The occupants didn’t notice him on the threshold.

King Hugo of St Ancilla sat behind an oversized desk. Caro stood before him in a tailored skirt and jacket, spine straight and chin up. Jake silently applauded her, for the monarch wasn’t holding back his tirade in mixed English and Ancillan. Jake’s stomach curdled at his blistering vitriol.

He was about to make himself known when Caro spoke.

‘I did what you insisted, came back and attended every event this week. As for leaving early last night...’ She shrugged. ‘I’m not here to discuss that.’

‘Howdareyou speak to me like that?’ The King’s face darkened.

‘Oh, Idare, Father.’ Amazingly Caro’s defiant tone made the King stop, eyes widening. ‘I only came here because you threatened to send your goons to haul me back, and, in the process, wreck my plans.’

‘Plans? You don’t have plans. You spend your time playing at being a preschool teacher. It’s time you toed the line and came home.’ He sat back, an ugly smile on his face. ‘I’ve a mind to organise your wedding next. There’s a banker in the US I’m cultivating.’ His tone turned sneering. ‘I know your weakness for Americans.’

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