Page 24 of Crowned For The King's Secret

Ah,hello again, Your Majesty.

He nodded, reached out his hand to the kitchen door, no doubt to give Michel the good news that there was a dinner for two he’d cook tonight. ‘I’ll collect you from your room at eight.’

As Victoria strolled off on the way to her rooms, she tried not to think of the butterflies fluttering about in her belly like the ones she’d seen in the walled garden.

Victoria waited, strangely nervous. Like she was going on a first date. Like the first night Sandro had walked up to her at the bar, and spoken to her in the deep, warm voice of his that reminded her of dark winter nights in front of a fire, that had sent a shiver of pleasure tripping down her spine. There was nothing pleasurable about being spirited away from your home. Thrown into a former war zone. Being accused of terrible things; that you were consorting with a murderer, had hidden a child from his father. Being told your life was in danger. Yet she couldn’t help the giddy sensation inside, as if she’d drunk too much champagne. It needed to stop, because Sandro wasn’t that man and she wasn’t that woman. They hadn’t known each other, back then, and they were both different people now.

Victoria checked the time. Almost eight. She went through to Nic’s room, where Isadora sat, reading him a book, his eyelids drooping in his cot. Her heart dissolved, seeing him lying there, all sleepy, tucked into a blanket. She still wasn’t sure about relinquishing his care tonight, but Dora had been shadowing them both, so it wasn’t as though she was a complete stranger.

‘If there’s any problem, please get a message to me. He can be unsettled if he wakes up.’

‘Of course,’ Dora said. Then she smiled in a knowing way. ‘Enjoy your meal.’

Vic took a few more moments watching her little boy then left before she called off the whole evening and stayed in the room. As she did there was a gentle knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat, part anticipation, part nerves. She walked to the door and opened it. Sandro stood outside, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever. Dark trousers that fitted his narrow hips and strong thighs far too well, a matching jacket with corresponding perfect fit. A blue and white striped business shirt which amplified the colour of his eyes. How could he still affect her this way? The breathless feeling, like a teenage crush... It had no sense to it, no reason. As she stood there, his lips lifted into a slow smile.

‘You look beautiful.’

Sandro looked at her with an intensity that almost cut her off at the knees. She ran her damp palms over the front of her simple dress—a soft, flowing silk of blues and greens, like the ocean—basking in his appreciation, although this wasn’t a date and she shouldn’t care that he thought her beautiful or otherwise. Still, she’d been taught to have manners.

‘Thank you.’

He looked over her shoulder to the closed door of Nic’s room. ‘Is Nicolai asleep?’

‘When I left, almost. Did you want to say goodnight?’

Sandro nodded and they went to the nursery together. When they entered, Dora made to stand, probably to curtsey.

‘Your Majesty.’

‘No, please,’ Sandro said. ‘There’s no need for formality.’

He went to the cot where Nic lay sleeping, and smiled again. Something warm, almost wistful this time. Untarnished affection shining on his face.

Love, if she was asked to name the emotion.

‘Buonanotte, mio piccolo principe. Sogni d’oro,’he murmured.

The whole of her softened at the scene. Had she ever had anything like this as a child? All she recalled was cool indifference most of the time. Lance had always garnered more attention from her parents, because he was the heir. But she’d taken affection from the nannies who’d cared for her. In the main, they had been good. But they weren’t what she’d wanted, which was parents who cared. It was why she never wanted a nanny for Nic. She’d never allow him to feel as if she hadn’t wanted him.

Sandro turned to her.

‘Are you ready for dinner?’ he asked.

Ready as she’d ever be. She nodded and they left Nic’s room. ‘What did you say to him?’

Sandro glanced back towards the nursery. ‘I wished him golden dreams.’

Something warm and soft swirled in her belly. This was a man who seemed to care, for his son at least. She couldn’t deny it, not the way he looked at Nic, the things he said. Calling himmy little prince. Wishing him golden dreams.

At least she knew her son would be cared for. Her? She couldn’t be so sure.

They walked together in silence through the palace halls. The place was a strange mix of ostentation in areas and neglect in others. Not so far from her own suite, Sandro unlocked a door then walked through into an entrance foyer of what looked like an opulent apartment, taking her through to an elegant, comfortable lounge area. The whole place seemed warm, inviting with its creamy, soft carpet, and rich autumnal tones. There were antiques, but no overblown gilt that made them look as if they should never be touched. Instead, they were handsome and refined.

She stopped, her heart hammering in her chest. These were his rooms; she was sure of it. Not some neutral corner of the palace. Memories flooded back of going to another room, of shared intimacy that when she was around him she found almost impossible to ignore.

‘Where are we?’ Sheknew, but she needed him to say it. To gauge whether he had ulterior motives. Something about him seemed to be softening, warming, but he’d fooled her before. Instead of remembering their one night together, she should instead remember the day he had visited her home. Convinced her to travel with him under the ruse of an afternoon tea, when all along he’d planned to spirit her and Nic out of the country.

She shouldneverforget that.

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