unbearably right. Yet Ben had barely been able to form the word care. And then those qualifiers: I didn’t expect to. I didn’t want to. Had he actually thought he was saying something she wanted to hear?
She let out a shuddering breath and slowly drew herself up, shoulders back, head tilted. A princess. And a woman, she knew now, who wanted love after all, in all of its fearful beauty and wondrous glory. Not someone who reluctantly, resentfully cared.
Not, Natalia reminded herself, that she would get either. She was about to meet the ambassador of Qadirah, a small island principality in the Arabian Sea, with a thirty-year-old bachelor sheikh and heir to the throne. A possible husband, and she’d never even met him. She didn’t want to.
Walking stiffly, still aching, Natalia turned from the room.
The next day when Natalia arrived at the stadium the camp was in full swing, with Ben at its centre, working hard. She watched him run defense for Roberto, the boy he’d taken on as a young protegé. He was shouting instructions, sweat running down his face in rivulets. He looked amazing, but also angry. At least he had the football pitch to work out his frustrations. She’d had an interminable dinner with more veiled and not-so-veiled references to her salacious past, as well as a private conversation with the ambassador from Qadirah that had included a list of the sheikh’s expectations for a bride. Submissiveness and discretion had figured prominently, not two of her best-known qualities. Natalia had barely slept all night, and her body still ached from yesterday’s pummeling as goalie. Today was not going to be a good day.
Her fears were proved true just half an hour later, when a sudden cry sounded from the far side of the pitch and Natalia looked up to see a small knot of children and volunteers gathered around a fallen form. Her heart seemed to leap straight into her throat as she recognised the slight, scruffy figure. Roberto. Ben was bent over him, his face drawn and pale. Natalia knew immediately something very bad had happened.
Quickly she slipped out her mobile and dialed emergency services, requesting an ambulance. Then she hurried over to where Roberto lay fallen. One glance at the awkward angle of his leg told her that he had surely broken a bone. Ben looked up and caught sight of her and she saw a world of emotion in his dark eyes.
‘What can I do?’
‘Ring for an ambulance—’
‘I did.’
Ben looked back down at Roberto, his face contorting in anxious worry and guilt, and Natalia came closer. The boy’s face was pale and beaded with sweat, his teeth clenched. Natalia swept his silky fringe away from his forehead. ‘Fa a un male cane, eh?’ she said with a small smile. It hurts like a dog. ‘If it were me, I’d be screaming and crying. But then I’m not very good with pain.’ Roberto didn’t say anything, but he trained his pain-clouded gaze on her and Natalia kept speaking, barely knowing what she was saying, until she heard the wail of the ambulance’s sirens in the distance.
Ben escorted Roberto to the ambulance, and as he climbed inside he gave Natalia a fleeting yet grateful smile.
‘Thank you—’
‘What about the rest of the camp?’
‘I have to stay with Roberto,’ Ben said. ‘Can you manage?’
‘Right—’ Could she manage? A hundred children playing a sport she barely understood? Natalia straightened. ‘Of course I can.’
The mood of the camp as she returned to the pitch was subdued, the children still gathered in anxious clusters. Natalia gave them all her most cheerful smile and clapped hands. ‘Right. Everyone into a circle.’
She certainly couldn’t coach football, and frankly after the harrowing events of the morning she thought everyone could use a bit of a break. ‘Who knows how to play duck duck goose?’ she asked cheerfully, and proceeded to explain how to play.
They spent the afternoon playing party games, to the children’s delight and some of the volunteers’ chagrin, and even though Natalia kept up a steady stream of cheerful encouragement she felt tired and tense, longing to know how Roberto—and Ben—were both doing.
When the camp was finally dismissed for the day, she helped to clean up and then asked Enrico to drive her to the island’s main hospital, stopping on the way to pick up a few treats for Roberto. Ben wasn’t there, but she found Roberto’s parents waiting outside his room, looking tired and anxious. They stood, scrambling to attention as she approached them.
‘Your Highness …’
‘Scusi, scusi …’
She waved their protestations aside. ‘We don’t need to stand on formality here. How is Roberto?’ She listened as they explained that he had indeed broken his leg, but it was a clean break and should heal. He’d be in plaster for six weeks, with physical therapy afterwards. She saw them both exchange anxious looks, and thought they were probably concerned about the cost. Santina had a national health-care system, but they would surely have to take time off work to care for their son. She realised with a jolt that they were wearing royal uniforms, and knew they must have jobs in the palazzo.
‘Of course my father, King Eduardo, will want to help you with any costs associated with Roberto’s injury,’ she assured them, making a mental note to talk to her father about such a thing. She had no intention of making empty promises.
Roberto was asleep, but she left the basket of chocolate bars and comic books. Impulsively, as she got back in the car, she asked Enrico to drive her to the office.
Ben wasn’t there, but Mariana was, clearing up for the day. ‘Mr Jackson hasn’t been in the office today,’ she said when Natalia asked.
‘Do you have his home address?’
If Mariana was surprised by such a request, she didn’t show it. She looked it up on the computer and wrote it down, handing Natalia the paper. ‘I don’t know if he’ll be home.’
‘That’s all right,’ Natalia said with a breeziness she didn’t really feel. ‘I just wanted to talk to him about a few things.’
Back in the car again she gazed down at the written address, determined to still her hard-beating heart and make sense of the letters. She could do this. It just took time and concentration. ‘Via Ventoso,’ she finally told Enrico in triumph, and he started the car without a word.
Via Ventoso started in the city but then left the buildings behind for a stretch of empty road along the coast with only a few beach houses scattered among the rocks and palms. Enrico pulled into the shaded drive that led to Ben’s house, a sprawling structure of glass and natural rough-hewn stone. Natalia slid out of the car and then, impulsively—for this whole evening had been an impulse—she told Enrico he could go.
The chauffeur hesitated. ‘Are you certain, Your Highness?’
‘Yes … I’ll text you if you’re needed. Thank you, Enrico.’
She waited until the limo had disappeared down the twisting road before she turned towards the house. It looked depressingly dark and empty. What on earth had she been thinking, coming here unannounced? Ben was probably out at some important business meeting and she’d just stranded herself, at least for a little while. She wasn’t about to text Enrico five minutes after he’d left. She still had some pride.
She
