Before he could react she started walking across the sand. He looked at his sleeping son. Obviously he couldn’t leave Amil in order to chase after Sunita, which meant...which meant he was stuck here.
His brain struggled to work as he watched Sunita disappear over the rocks. If he called after her he would wake Amil, and that was a bad plan. He stilled, barely daring to breathe as he watched the rise and fall of his son’s chest. Maybe Amil would sleep for the next few hours...
As if he should be so lucky.
With impeccable timing Amil rolled over and opened his eyes just as the sound of the boat chug-chug-chugging away reached his ears. He looked round for his mother, failed to see her, and sat up and gazed at his father. Panicked hazel eyes met panicked hazel eyes and Amil began to wail.
Instinct took over—his need to offer comfort prompted automatic movement and he picked Amil up. He held the warm, sleepy bundle close to his heart and felt something deep inside him start to thaw. The panic was still present, but as Amil snuggled into him, as one chubby hand grabbed a lock of his hair and as the wails started to subside, so did the panic.
To be replaced by a sensation of peace, of unconditional love and an utter determination to keep this precious human being safe from all harm—to be there for him no matter what it took.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SUNITA GLANCED AT her watch and then back at the sketchbooks spread out on the table. Thoughts chased each other round her brain—about Frederick and Amil; she hoped with all her heart that right now father and son had started the bonding process that would last a lifetime.
Her gaze landed back on the design sketches and she wondered whether Frederick had been right—that fear of rejection and self-doubt stood in her way. Just as they did in his. Could she pursue a dream? Or was it foolish for a woman with no qualifications to put her head above the parapet and invite censure? Or, worse, ridicule.
Another glance at her watch and she closed the books, piled them up and moved them onto a shelf. Instead she pulled out a folder—design ideas for the state rooms, where they would move after the wedding.
The door opened and she looked up as Frederick came in, Amil in his arms. There was sand in their hair and identical smiles on their faces. Keep it cool...don’t overreact. But in truth her heart swelled to see them, both looking so proud and happy and downright cute.
‘Did you have fun?’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘Fabulous. Tea is ready.’
‘I thought maybe today I could feed him. Do his bath. Put him to bed.’
Any second now she would weep—Frederick looked as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
‘Great idea. In which case, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a couple of errands to do. I’ll be back for his bedtime.’
Frederick didn’t need an observer—especially when Amil lobbed spaghetti Bolognese at him, as he no doubt would. And perhaps she could do something a little courageous as well. She needed to speak with Therese, the snooty seamstress, about her wedding dress.
Lycander tradition apparently had it that the royal seamstress had total input on the design of the dress, but surely the bride had a say as well. So maybe she would show Therese one of her designs.
Grabbing the relevant sketchbook, she blew Amil a kiss and allowed a cautious optimism to emerge as she made her way through the cavernous corridors to the Royal Sewing Room.
A knock on the door resulted in the emergence of one of Therese’s assistants. ‘Hi, Hannah, I wonder if Therese is around to discuss my dress.’
‘She’s popped out, but I know where the folder is. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you having a look.’ Hannah walked over to a filing cabinet. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
With that she scurried to an adjoining door and disappeared.
Sunita opened the folder and stared down at the picture—it was...was... Well, on the positive side it was classic—the designer a household name. On the negative side it was dull and unflattering. There didn’t seem to be anything else in the folder, which seemed odd.
She headed to the door through which Hannah had disappeared, to see if there was another file, then paused as she heard the sound of conversation. She recognised Hannah’s voice, and that of another assistant—Angela—and then the mention of her own name.
Of course she should have backed off there and then, taken heed of the old adage about eavesdroppers never hearing any good of themselves. But she didn’t. Instead, breath held, she tiptoed forward.
‘Do you think she knows?’ asked Hannah.
‘Knows what?’ said Angela.
‘That that’s the dress Therese had designed for Lady Kaitlin—she was dead sure Lady K would marry Frederick. Everyone was, and everyone is gutted she didn’t. Even that engagement ring—it was the one they had in mind for Kaitlin. Lady Kaitlin would have been a proper princess—everyone knows that. And she would have looked amazing in that dress—because it’s regal and classic and not showy.
As for Sunita—Frederick is only marrying her for the boy, which is dead good of him. He’s a true prince. But Sunita can’t ever be a true princess—she’ll never fit in.’