smiled down at her son. ‘I think he wants to get going—he wants to see all the animal hedges. They seem to utterly fascinate him.’
As they wandered through the lush gardens that abounded with shades of green tranquillity seemed to be carried on the breeze that came from the Arabian Sea, and for a moment it was almost possible to pretend they were an ordinary family out for the day.
Sunita came to a halt near a topiary hedge, one of many clipped into the shape of animals. ‘For some reason this is his favourite—I can’t work out why.’
Frederick studied it. ‘I’m not sure I can even work out what it is. I spotted the giraffe and the elephant and the ox-drawn cart, but this one flummoxes me.’
Sunita gave a sudden gurgle of laughter. ‘I know what Amil thinks it is. Amil, sweetheart, tell Mu—Tell us what the animal does.’
The little boy beamed and made a ‘raaaah’ noise.
Frederick felt his heart turn over in his chest. Without thought he hunkered down next to Amil and clapped. ‘Clever boy. The tiger goes “rah”.’
‘Raaah!’ Amil agreed.
And here it came again—the paralysis, the fear that he would mess this up. He’d never managed any other relationship with even a sliver of success. Why would this be different?
Rising to his feet, he gestured around the garden. ‘This is a beautiful place.’
‘I used to come here as a child,’ Sunita said. ‘It’s one of my earliest memories. I loved the flower clock.’
She pressed her lips together, as if she regretted the words, and Frederick frowned. Her publicity blurb skated over her childhood, chose to focus instead on her life after she’d embarked on her career. Almost as if she had written her early years out of her life history...
‘Come on,’ she said hurriedly. ‘This morning isn’t about my childhood. It’s about Amil’s—let’s go to the Old Woman’s Shoe.’
Five minutes later Frederick stared at the shoe—actually an enormous replica of a boot. As landmarks went, it seemed somewhat bizarre—especially when the words of the nursery rhyme filtered back to him.
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children she didn’t know what to do.
She gave them broth without any bread,
Then whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.
‘Isn’t this a slightly odd thing to put in a children’s playground?’
‘Yes. But I loved it—I used to climb it and it made me feel lucky. It was a way to count my blessings. At least I didn’t live with a horrible old woman who starved me and beat me!’
At least. There had been a wealth of memory in those syllables, and for a daft moment he had the urge to put his arm around her and pull her into the comfort of a hug.
As if realising she had given away more than she had wanted, she hastened on. ‘Anyway, I looked up the rhyme recently and it turns out it probably has political rather than literal connotations. But enough talk. This is about you and Amil. Do you want to take Amil into the shoe? I’ll wait here with the buggy.’
The suggestion came out of nowhere, ambushed him, and once again his body froze into immobility even as his brain turned him into a gibbering wreck.
‘I think that may be a little bit much for him. He barely knows me.’ Think. ‘We haven’t even explained to him who I am.’
The accusation in his own voice surprised him—and he knew it masked a hurt he didn’t want her to see. Because it exposed a weakness he didn’t want her to know. ‘Never show weakness, my son.’ The one piece of paternal advice he agreed with. ‘Show weakness and you lose.’ Just as all his stepmothers had lost. Their weakness had been their love for their children—a weakness Alphonse had exploited.
Heat touched the angle of her cheekbones as she acknowledged the truth of his words. ‘I know. I’m not sure what you want to do. I don’t know what you want him to call you. Dad? Daddy? Papa?’
In truth he didn’t know either, and that increased his panic. Sunita stepped towards him, and the compassion in her eyes added fuel to the panic-induced anger.
‘But remember, he is only fourteen months old—I don’t think he understands the concept of having a dad.’
The words were a stark reminder of her deception.
‘Amil doesn’t understand or you don’t?’
The harshness of his voice propelled her backwards, and he was glad of it when he saw the compassion vanish from her expression.
‘Both of us. Give me a break, Frederick. Until yesterday it was just Amil and me. Now here you are, and you want to marry me and make Amil the Crown Prince. It’s a lot to take in.’
For an instant he empathised, heard the catch in her voice under the anger. But this was no time for empathy or sympathy. Now all that mattered was the knowledge of what was at stake.
‘Then take it in fast, Sunita. You chose to hide Amil from me and now you need to deal with the consequences of that decision. Most people wouldn’t think they were so bad. I am the one who has missed out on the first fourteen months of my son’s life. My son. I am Amil’s father and you need to deal with it.’
There was silence, broken only by the sound of Amil grizzling, his eyes wide and anxious as he looked up at Sunita.
Oh, hell. Guilt twisted his chest. What was wrong with him? This was his first outing with Amil and he’d allowed it to come to this. Shades of his own father, indeed.
He squatted down beside the baby. ‘I’m sorry, Amil. Daddy’s sorry.’ Standing up, he gestured to the Old Woman’s Shoe. ‘You take him up. I’ll wait here with the buggy. I’ve upset him enough—I don’t want to compound my error.’
Sunita hesitated, but then Amil’s grizzling turned to tears and she nodded assent.
‘OK.’ Leaning down, she unbuckled Amil and took him out. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s try some walking.’
Frederick watched their progress and determination solidified inside him. He might be messing this up big-time, but he would not concede defeat. At the very least he would give his son the chance to be a prince. Their outing to the Hanging Gardens might be a disaster, but going to Goa wouldn’t be.
By the end of their time there Sunita would agree to marry him.
SUNITA LOOKED ACROSS the expanse of the royal jet to where Frederick sat. There was no trace of the man she’d glimpsed mere hours ago in the Hanging Gardens—a man who had exhibited a depth of pain and frustration that had made her think long and hard.
Another glance—he still looked
