Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter
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still holding her close, climbed onto the bed. He carefully stroked her back, pleased when she didn’t try to slip away. Instead she snuggled down, her head on his chest, her body half blanketing his.
‘You have such courage, Stella,’ he whispered roughly. Her strength felled him. ‘He’s crazy not to know how amazing you are.’
But he felt her shake her head.
‘I’ve been so alone for so long,’ she confided in a quick rush of words, as if afraid to admit it.
‘You’re not any more,’ he promised. He was here for her. He wanted to be here for her. And he wanted her to lean on him. Because of him she’d have to face so many firsts. He wanted to be at her side for all of them.
He felt her release another shaky breath and she burrowed closer still. He toed off his shoes and awkwardly reached for a soft blanket to keep them both warm.
‘Just sleep, sweetheart.’ He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers, his own tension ebbing as her fingers tightened on his. ‘Everything is going to be okay.’
And maybe it would be.
He kissed the top of her hair and held her as close as he could. Eventually her breathing became more regular, then deepened. A wholly different kind of satisfaction thrummed in his blood. Contentment. She’d turned to him and he’d comforted her. She rested easy now, in his arms.
He wanted her to be happy. Seeing all those people clamouring for a piece of her tonight had made him think properly for the first time all week. She’d handled it beautifully, but he’d changed her life, taken so many choices from her. Hell, he’d even stopped her from running in fresh air. He wanted to fix that as best he could—he wanted to make this work.
When he woke they were still fully clothed in their formal ball wear, curled tightly together in that close embrace. She was still deeply asleep, and it was hours past her usual wake-up-and-train time. Her peace gave him immeasurable pleasure. But he couldn’t wait until she woke. He needed to make plans.
Carefully he disentangled himself and crept out of the bedroom to shower and dress in another room.
Walking through the lounge twenty minutes later, he checked the newspapers that had been delivered. He’d been right: her approval rating was sky-high. They all thought she was beautiful. They’d captured stunning pictures of her in that soft dress and they’d caught Eduardo looking at her in a way that would leave no one in any doubt of his desire for her.
His phone buzzed.
That last picture on page one is perfection.
Matteo commenting. Matteo knowing that Eduardo would have checked today’s papers already. Yeah... Because Eduardo always did his job very well.
But he didn’t want their relationship to be a job. And now the lack of privacy rubbed at old, unhealed wounds. He didn’t want the world encroaching on something that had become so personal. He needed time and space to find balance with Stella.
And to get that he was going to have to tell his iced-up brother the truth.
SLEEPILY STELLA REACHED out a hand, but encountered only the cool, empty sheet. She opened her eyes. Was Eduardo awake and gone already?
She checked her watch and was stunned to see she’d slept in for the first time in years. And she was still in her ballgown! She rolled onto her back, bereft of his company. She should go for her run, but for once she didn’t want to. She wished Eduardo was still holding her with such care. Her whole body ached with want for that. Her heart ached too. For once she’d felt treasured.
But she made herself move. She’d go for a swim. Water always eased raw wounds.
She stripped out of her dress, pulled on a swimsuit and robe, then stole down the stairs to get to the ground level. As she darted along the rose-covered walkway towards the poolhouse she saw the two brothers standing near the tennis court gate. And as she stepped closer, she could hear, because their voices were rising in volume.
‘This was the best—’
‘You should have told me beforehand,’ Antonio interrupted Eduardo, icily furious.
‘This is the heir, Antonio. Don’t you see that?’ he snapped back.
Stella knew she shouldn’t stay and listen. She should turn and walk away before they saw her. Or step forward so they did see her. But she couldn’t. She stayed right where she was, hidden by foliage.
‘What I see is that you’re a bigger fool than I thought possible.’
Stella realised Eduardo had just told his brother about the baby—and now the Crown Prince was more disapproving than ever. As she’d known he would be.
‘I’m not the impetuous idiot I once was. From every angle this was the best solution,’ Eduardo answered back. ‘You know I’m right.’
‘This is not what I wanted for you,’ Antonio said harshly, his voice an icy whip.
‘She’s exactly what we need her to be.’ Eduardo now sounded as ice-cold as his brother. ‘Haven’t you seen the papers? After that wedding picture was leaked Matteo planted the few details necessary for her to be a hit. After last night’s performance her success is snowballing. She’s just what San Felipe needs. I can control this, Antonio.’
‘Can you control her?’
‘Of course.’
Stella closed her eyes at Eduardo’s arrogance and his cold, businesslike assumption. After he’d been so tender last night. This hurt. This hurt so much more than anything.
‘So this is not a love match?’ Antonio said bluntly.
Stella’s world stopped in that moment of silence before Eduardo answered. And then her husband was as brutally blunt as his brother.
‘What prince has ever married for love?’
Humiliation burned a hole in her heart. Swiftly she turned, sprinting back inside. She’d known she shouldn’t have listened. She’d known this was an orchestrated marriage of convenience. But to know that Eduardo wanted his child to become the Crown Prince, even when he saw his brother suffer under the weight of the role, even when he railed against the constraints on himself...
She didn’t want those pressures and limitations and ‘controls’ for her child. She didn’t want the lack of choice. She didn’t want the lack of love.
And she didn’t want it for herself. She wanted what she’d had a taste of last night—tenderness, caring, someone to be there for her. But it had been a charade—part of his Prince Charming act. It had only been to control the situation, to control her and create a successful ‘story’ for the royal family—more San Felipe myth.
She’d thought she was no longer alone. She’d been so wrong. She’d never been as alone as she was now. And it had never hurt so much.
Eduardo realised his mistake as soon as he’d made the facetious reply. He’d been trying to play it as emotionlessly as Antonio. But he’d forgotten.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.
It was too late. His brother had disappeared beneath an even thicker layer of ice. Eduardo hadn’t been able to break through it in a decade. He didn’t think anyone would.
Antonio had vowed to devote his life to duty when Alessia died and he was cemented in it now. Eduardo had made a vow too—to help his brother however he could. To try and make amends. To try and share some of his burden.