His Majesty's Child Read Free Page B

requests for shots of the new Prince with his mother and father.’ She paused. ‘And if you give the press their shots, afterwards they’ll hopefully leave you alone.’
    He narrowed his eyes as he listened to her, knowing that she was only expressing the fundamental truth of the situation. Along with his own people, the world was already half in love with his little nephew—for a royal baby captured the collective imagination as little else did. In truth, he couldn’t blame them—not just because the child was cute, but because his lusty new life promised so much.
    Didn’t the infant Cosimo symbolise hope for the future—and the continuity of one of the oldest royal blood lines in Europe? And hadn’t his birth increased the pressure on Casimiro to find himself a bride and to produce a child of his own?
    His mouth hardened. Well, he would not play ball. Not any more. He had followed orders all his life and he would certainly not procreate to order. If the past months had taught him anything, it was that he could no longer continue with this way of living. He had all the trappings that most men lusted after, but they were called trappings for a reason—they tied you down and constrained you with their golden snare, and he wanted to break free from them once and for all.
    Deep in his veins ran a restlessness which had been even more pronounced since the accident and a restless king could not be a good king. Casimiro’s mouth tightened. And there was another reason behind his proposed plan. Something else which had haunted him ever since he had awoken from his coma…
    â€˜Would you have any objections to that, Your Majesty?’
    Her soft accent cut into his thoughts and he looked at her with his eyebrows raised. ‘What?’
    â€˜A supervised photo-call with your brother and his family?’ she continued smoothly.
    â€˜Objections?’ He gave a short and bitter laugh as her question broke into his troubled thoughts. ‘At least a hundred—and then a hundred more—but I can see the sense behind your words. Speak to my people about security,’ he ordered. ‘And ensure they don’t run over time—because they’ll try their damnedest. Too much flash photography is not good for a small child. Not particularly good for adults either,’ he added on a sardonic aside as he met her eyes with a look which was resigned, rather than interested. ‘What next?’
    â€˜Dinner for two hundred. And your brother is makinga short speech afterwards to thank you for throwing the party. Then the fire works. After that—’
    â€˜Wait.’ His peremptory request silenced her and he was surprised by the stone-like feeling deep in his heart. ‘I wish to make a speech myself,’ he said heavily. ‘Before my brother.’
    Melissa sat up in alarm. ‘But, Your Majesty—’
    His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘What?’
    She thought about the foreign royal families, the dignitaries and the glitterati who were arriving from mainland Europe and from the United States, the security services who were already working to the tightest of schedules, and she drew a deep breath. Surely he couldn’t spring something like this on her at the last minute which would throw all her plans out? ‘The time table has been worked out down to the last second.’
    â€˜Then damned well un work it,’ he drawled unhelpfully. ‘Isn’t that what you’re being paid for?’
    Again, his cutting words drummed in her lack of status—but somehow Melissa kept the hurt from registering on her face.
    â€˜Very well, Your Majesty—if…if you can let me know how long you need to say your piece, then I’ll work it into the schedule and inform everybody of the change. It can…it can all be sorted out, I’m sure.’
    Aware that her words were stumbling out of her lips like some sort of plea, she