The Royal House of Niroli Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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in,’ she told him, ‘and…’ She paused, unsure of just how much she dared say without giving herself away completely.
‘And?’ Marco probed as they bounced along the narrow track past a cluster of small houses.
‘And I wouldn’t want that someone to be anyone else but me,’ Emily told him simply.
A young man, tall and gangly and outgrowing his clothes, was standing in the middle of the road in front of Marco’s car waving his hands, his face alight with excitement.
Emily looked questioningly at Marco.
‘Tomasso,’ he informed her as he brought the car to a halt. ‘He is the leader of a gang of young Vialli hotheads, and he is also the person I have chosen to be my representative in taking care of the generator and introducing his village to its benefits.’
The moment Marco opened the car door and got out, Tomasso bounded up to him exclaiming, ‘Highness, Highness, it is here! The generator, just as you promised. We have built a special place for it. Let me show you…’
An elderly woman appeared from the nearest house, tutting and looking very disapproving as she came over to join them.
‘What is this—where is your respect for our Crown?’ she demanded. ‘Highness, forgive my thought-less grandson,’ Emily could hear her saying as she curtseyed to Marco.
This was a side of him she had never seen, Emily thought to herself as Marco leaned forward and assisted the elderly woman to her feet, accepting her homage with easy grace, whilst maintaining a very specific formal dignity that Emily could see the elderly woman liked. As more villagers surrounded him, he was very much the future king, so much so that Emily’s emotions blocked her throat. She felt so proud sitting in the car watching him and yet, at the same time, so painfully distanced from him. What she was witnessing was making her even more aware of how impossible it would be for them to sustain a long-term relationship. Already she could see the curious and even hostile glances being directed towards her, and she guessed when Marco turned to look at the car that he was being asked who she was.
She looked away, her gaze caught by an array of brightly painted and beaded leather purses spilling out of a basket, just outside the door to one of the houses. Her artist’s eye could immediately see how, with some discreet direction, highly desirable objects could be made by adapting the leather and bead-work to cover boxes. She was constantly on the lookout for such accessories to dress her decorating schemes; they walked out of her shop faster than she could buy them. She made a mental note to ask Marco a bit more about the leather-work and those who produced it.
It was nearly half an hour before he returned to the car, having been pressed into going and viewing the generator in its new home. When he returned he was accompanied by a group of laughing young men, whilst Emily noticed the older people of the village held back a little, still eyeing her warily. One of them, a bearded and obviously very old man, went up to Marco and said something to him, shaking his head and pointing to the car. Emily saw the way Marco’s expression hardened as he listened.
‘What was that old man saying to you?’ she asked him, once he was back in the car and they had driven out of the village.
‘Nothing much.’
‘Yes, he was. He was saying something about me, wasn’t he?’ Emily pressed him. ‘He didn’t like you taking me there.’
Marco looked at her. Rafael, the elder of the village, was very much his grandfather’s man. He did not approve of the generator and had said so, and then, when he had seen Emily in the car, he had berated Marco for—as he had put it—'bringing such a woman to Niroli'. ‘Where is her shame?’ Rafael had demanded. ‘She shows her face here as boldly as though she has none. In my day, such a woman would have known her place. It is an insult to us, the people of Niroli, that you have brought her here,’ he had told Marco fiercely.
‘Rafael has a reputation as someone with very strong views. He is even older than my grandfather and tends to think of himself as the guardian of the island’s morals.’
‘You mean he disapproves of me being here with you,’ Emily guessed.
Marco was negotiating a tight bend, and Emily had to wait for him to answer her.
‘What he thinks or feels is his business. What I choose to do is my own,’ he told her grimly.
But the reality was that it wasn’t, and that whatever Marco chose to do was the business of the people of Niroli.
In an attempt to change the subject, she asked him brightly,
‘I saw a basket of leather purses…’
‘Yes, the women of the villages make them. They sell them to tourists, if they can, although these days the visitors who come to Niroli would far rather have a designer piece than something fashioned out of home-made leather.’
‘Mmm…I was thinking that, with a bit of time and effort, the leather could be used to cover trinket boxes, the bead ornamentation was so pretty, and I know from my own experience there is a huge market for that kind of thing. If, as you say, the villagers are short of money, then…’
‘It’s worth thinking about, but there’s no way I want my people involved in any kind of exploitation.’
‘It was only a thought.’
‘And a good one. Leave it with me.’
When the time came for him to marry, Marco reflected, he would need a wife who would take on the role of helping him to help his people. Emily could easily fulfil that role. Somehow, that thought had slipped under his guard and into his head where it had no right to be. Just as he had no right to allow Emily into his heart. Into his heart? Now, what was he thinking? Just because Rafael’s objection to her presence had made him feel so angry and protective of her, that didn’t mean that she had found her way into his heart. Did it?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMILY sighed to herself as she parked the car Marco had hired for her to use whilst she was staying on Niroli outside the island’s elegant spa. Although he had made love to her last night and it was at his suggestion that she was visiting the spa today, she knew that she would far rather have had his company. Marco, though, was too busy with royal affairs to spend time with her. His purchase and distribution of the generators had led to yet another row with his grandfather, which had resulted in Emily asking Marco if there wasn’t someone within his family who could mediate between the two of them.
‘Someone, you mean, like my sister Isabella?’ he had replied. ‘She claims that my grandfather doesn’t value her because she is female. No, Emily.’ He had shaken his head. ‘This is something I have to deal with myself.’
To Emily’s relief, she had now gone three whole days without being sick, although she had noticed that, despite the fact that she wasn’t eating very much, the waistline of one of her favourite skirts was now uncomfortably tight, and even more uncomfortable were her breasts, which felt swollen and tender. It must be due to too-rapid a change of climate, she had told herself this morning as she’d dressed.
Marco had told her that the spa was owned and run by Natalia Carini, daughter of Giovanni, the Royal Vine-keeper. Emily had been a bit hesitant about coming here and putting herself forward for ‘inspection’ when she was at her most vulnerable. But as she walked into the spa foyer she heard the pretty girl behind the reception desk saying to another client, ‘I’m sorry, but Miss Carini isn’t here today.’
Emily hadn’t really been sure how she felt about meeting someone who might have known Marco when he was younger. Like any woman in love, she longed to know everything there was to know about him and yet, at the same time, the reality of her position in his life made her feel that she wanted to remain anonymous. In London, it might be acceptable for a couple to live together as lovers without any intention of making their relationship permanent, but she suspected that things were different here on Niroli—even if Marco weren’t who he was and destined to be King and,