His Majesty's Child (14 page)

Emotion was welling up inside her as some lone voice in her head told her she should have protested. She tried telling herself that he couldn't possibly mean it. But Melissa knew not a moment's doubt about
Casimiro's declaration—it was written on every taut feature of his beloved face. And before her, she saw not a King—but a man who had always put duty first. A man brought up by a grieving father, without the soft and loving touch of a mother's guidance. Who could ever blame him for the brittle exterior he had erected around his heart?

She was so moved that it took a moment before she could speak. ‘I love you, too,' she said, and tears were now pricking at her eyes—she just couldn't help them. ‘I always have and I always will.'

With fingers which still weren't quite steady, Casimiro framed her face within his two hands, shaken by the realisation of what had so nearly been lost but now lay within their grasp. And all they had to do was to reach out and take it. ‘Can you ever forgive me?' he whispered.

She nodded, touching her mouth to his, absolving him with the tender brush of her lips, swallowing down her unshed tears of joy as she looked into his beloved face. ‘It's over. Past. Done. It's the future which matters now—and, of course, the present.'

‘You're my present. Such a beautiful present—which I would like to unwrap this very instant,' he said as he smoothed the winds wept hair back from her face. ‘But since there are lots of men with binoculars in the vicinity—then I guess I'll just have to make do with this.'

‘What?'

‘This.'

He took her by the hand, moving away from the umbrella of the rocks—so that they stepped out into the bright sunshine of the day. And with scant disregard for
protocol or the security men who were lining the cliffs above them—the King took his Queen in his arms and began to kiss her.

A
ND
that was how the monarchy of Zaffirinthos be came a model for the world—with historians and sociologists vying to write endless papers about it. It was seen as a remarkable model—how two royal brothers, both with pretty large egos, could manage to share power so successfully.

In talks which had taken place over several weeks, Casimiro had persuaded Xaviero and his family to move back to the island and for his brother, the Prince, to take on a significant role there. Though, as Melissa pointed out, it didn't really take much persuasion at all. Xaviero loved his land and had begun to miss it—just as Princess Catherine had learned to love it. And they both wanted to bring young Cosimo up on its shores. They had both tired of London and hungered for the pure blue light of the Mediterranean, the quietness and the calm of island life.

The younger royal couple moved into the villa on the eastern side of the island—to the magnificent mansion where Casimiro and Melissa had spent their honeymoon. And Cosimo and Ben began to play together on a daily basis. It was good for both boys to have company, Melissa recognised—and even better was the fact that,
when the time came, they were both going to attend the island nursery school instead of having private tutors. A new generation of royal children had been born and their whole way of life would be different as they moved into a new age. They would be taught that duty need no longer take precedence over love.

Melissa insisted that Casimiro speak to the doctors about his amnesia—especially since he had now confided in his brother what had happened. And, to her darling husband's astonishment, the doctors had been laissez-faire about the revelation. He was given a clean bill of health and told that temporary amnesia was fairly common in serious head injury.

‘You see?' she teased him in the car, on the way back from the new children's rehabilitation centre which they had just opened together—as they undertook many of their engagements together these days. ‘Everything is much better when it's out in the open!'

Casimiro smiled. At the hospital, he had gone on a spontaneous visit to the intensive care unit where he had almost died. It was the first time he had been back there—and yet he had derived a strange strength from seeing the stark white beds and all the high-powered equipment once more. More than anything it threw a light on what was most important in life. And in a life he now saw was blessed, the most important thing he had was his family. His beautiful wife and his beautiful son—who gave him all the love he needed.

And it was all down to this woman, he thought, pulling Melissa into his arms and tipping her face up to look at him. ‘Yes,
mia bella
,' he murmured. ‘You were right. But then, I think perhaps you are always right.'

‘That is the correct answer!' Melissa's smile was impish as she lifted her mouth to be kissed, knowing she could twist her husband right around her little finger—as he could her.

‘In fact, did you read that article I left you yesterday?' he queried indulgently. ‘The one saying that I looked so happy since my marriage that perhaps you are the power behind the throne. Do you think that is so,
cara mia
?'

But Melissa shook her head as he began to kiss her. No way. There was only one power in their lives today and that was the power of love.