‘I’ve never been very ambitious.’ Holly sipped her drink, wondering if honesty would destroy the atmosphere. ‘I know it isn’t trendy or politically correct to admit to it, but all I really wanted was to have a baby. When other girls wanted to be doctors or lawyers, I just wanted to be a mum. Not just any mum, but a brilliant mum. And before you say anything, yes, I suppose a psychologist would have a field day with that and say I wanted to make up for my parents’ deficient parenting—but actually I don’t think that had anything to do with it. I think I just have a very strong maternal instinct.’
‘You’re right, it isn’t politically correct to admit that.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Most of the women I know think babies are something to be postponed until they’ve done all the other things in life.’
Not wanting to think about the women he knew, Holly looked away. ‘I always saw children as a beginning, not as an end.’ She glanced towards the open glass doors and saw several members of staff hovering. ‘Do you think—could they just put the dishes on the table and leave us alone?’
She didn’t even see him gesture and yet the staff melted away and the doors were closed, leaving them alone.
‘I love it when you do that.’ Holly grinned and picked up her fork. ‘Do the whole powerful prince thing: “you are dismissed”. Do you ever eat in restaurants?’
‘Occasionally, but it usually causes too much of a security headache for all concerned. You enjoyed the opera, didn’t you?’
‘It was fantastic. The costumes, the music.’ She sighed. ‘Can we go again some time?’
‘You’ve never been before? But you were living in London—a mecca for culture.’
‘If you have money. And, even then, London can be a pretty lonely place,’ Holly said lightly. ‘Loads of people all going about their business, heads down, not looking left or right. I hated the anonymity of it—the fact that no one cared about anyone else. I always thought it would be great to live in a small village where everyone knows everyone, but I needed the work, and there’s always work in a city.’
‘You don’t like being on your own, do you?’
Holly played with her fork. ‘No. I suppose I was on my own a lot as a child and I hated it. After my dad left, my mum had to go out to work, and she couldn’t afford childcare so she pretty much left me to my own devices. Then she died, and—’ She poked at the food on her plate. ‘Let’s just say I don’t associate being on my own with happy feelings. Screwed-up Holly.’
‘You seem remarkably balanced to me, considering the state of the world around us.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘A little dreamy and naïve perhaps. Did you read fairy tales as a child?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t believe in fairies, if that’s what you’re asking me.’
‘But you believe in love,’ he drawled, curling his long fingers around the slender stem of his glass.
‘Love isn’t a fairy tale.’
‘Isn’t it?’ The flickering candles illuminated the hard planes of his handsome face and the cynical glitter of his eyes.
‘Do you realise how weird this is? I mean—you’re the prince with the palace and you’re telling me you don’t believe in fairy tales. Bizarre.’ Holly laughed. ‘And, if you were already living out the fairy story, what did your nannies read you? Something about normal people?’
‘I was swamped by literature drumming in the importance of responsibility and duty.’
Pondering that revealing statement, Holly studied him thoughtfully. ‘So it was all about what your country needed. Not about you as a person. What was your childhood like? Did it feel weird being a prince?’
‘I’ve never been anything else, so I have no idea. But my childhood was pretty normal.’ He leaned forward and topped up her glass. ‘I was educated at home, and then went to boarding school in England, university in the States and then returned here to work on the tourist development programme.’
‘Everyone says you did a brilliant job. Do you miss it?’
‘I still keep my eye on all the projects. I’m probably more involved than I should be.’ He was unusually communicative, and if Holly was only too aware that they weren’t talking about any of the difficult stuff, well, she decided it didn’t matter. At least they were talking about something. And at least they were alone together instead of surrounded by a crowd of dignitaries.
‘I wish we could do this more often,’ she said impulsively and then blushed as he rose from the table, a purposeful gleam in his eyes.
‘We will. And now that’s enough talking.’ He pulled her gently to her feet and she stood, heart thumping, and he slid his hands around her face and gave an unexpected smile.
‘For the rest of the evening,’ he murmured softly, ‘It’s actions, not words. How does this spectacular dress come off?’
‘Zip at the back,’ Holly murmured, offering no resistance as he lowered his head to hers.
As always the skilled touch of his mouth sent her head into a spin, and she gave a moan of pleasure as his arms slid round her and he pulled her hard against his powerful frame.
‘I want you.’ He murmured the words against her lips, his mouth hot and demanding. ‘I want you naked, right now.’
Her tummy tumbling, Holly gasped as he lifted her easily and carried her through to the gorgeous bedroom. The French doors remained open and she could hear the faint rush of the sea as he laid her down on the four-poster bed.
Would he notice that her boobs had grown and that her stomach was now slightly rounded? Holly squirmed slightly against the sheets and he kissed her again, using his skill and experience to drive away her inhibitions.
When he slid a hand over her stomach she tensed, and when his mouth trailed down her body she moaned and arched against him, unable to resist what he did to her.
And he did it over and over again, until she finally floated back down to earth, stunned and disconnected and with no clue as to how much time had passed.
Casper shifted above her, fire and heat flickering in his molten dark eyes as his satisfied gaze swept her flushed cheeks. ‘I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you.’
Heart thudding, Holly gazed up at him. ‘I love you.’ The confession was torn from her in that moment of vulnerability, and she wrapped her arms round him and buried her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of virile male. ‘I love you, Cas. I love you.’
And it was true, she realised helplessly. She did love him.
He was complicated, and he’d hurt her, but somewhere along the way she’d stopped trying to make their relationship work for the sake of the baby, and had started to fall in love.
Or perhaps it had always been there. From that first moment they’d met at the rugby match. Certainly there’d been something. How else could you explain the fact that she’d shared an intimacy with him she’d never shared with any other man?
Shocked by her own revelation, it took her a moment to realise that Casper had made no response.
He hadn’t spoken and he hadn’t moved.
It was as if her words had turned him to stone.
And then he rolled out of the affectionate circle of her arms and onto his back.