‘Your brother made his position very clear, just as I made mine.’ As Nathaniel spoke he watched her closely. Judging by her demeanour, there was nothing to suggest Catalina had any knowledge of her father and brother’s threat to cut her and the baby off. It was better she didn’t know, he decided. It was too cruel and too personal a threat from her own flesh and blood, and not something that would ever come to fruition, not now that he’d agreed to the marriage. Catalina and their baby would be safe.
A glimmer of a smile played on her pretty lips but the hint of sadness surrounding it negated any humour. ‘My brother takes his role as heir and protector of the House of Fernandez very seriously.’
He cleared his throat, biting back the retort on his lips. Whatever his personal feelings towards Dominic, he was her brother and her loyalty would lie with him. ‘Getting back to the business at hand, I want to be clear that you’re in agreement to everything your father’s demanding.’
‘Yes. I am in agreement.’
‘Then it is done.’ He got to his feet. ‘I need to make a move.’
Her remarkable chocolate eyes were fixed on him. ‘Already?’
He didn’t like the tinge of disappointment in her voice. ‘I have somewhere to be.’
Dominic chose that moment to come barrelling into the room. ‘You’ve had your ten minutes.’
Nathaniel noticed the way Catalina withdrew into herself at Dominic’s return, how her lips tightened in the most subtle of fashions.
He remembered the malice on Dominic’s face when he’d threatened to make Catalina homeless and penniless. The Prince was the least deserving person of his title he could think of.
‘This really is my cue to leave.’ He had no wish to spend another minute in the palace. This family room was as plush as anywhere he’d been, lavishly adorned with antique furniture and portraits dating back centuries. But there was nothing homely about it, not even with the enormous Christmas tree sitting in the corner. This room, as with the rest of the sprawling stone palace, was cold.
‘Father will be hosting a select party for you two on Saturday,’ Dominic said. ‘My people have made contact with La Belle magazine—’
Nathaniel cut him off before he could speak any further. ‘Tell your father he’s welcome to host a party but I will not be there and I will not be speaking with any magazine.’
‘He has already—’
‘Let me make this very clear—I will not be a part of the House of Fernandez circus. I will marry your sister to legitimise our child and formalise my legal rights to it, but that is the end of my obligation. I don’t want a title or anything else from your family.’ He nodded at Catalina, who appeared to be frozen in her seat. ‘I’ll see you at the wedding.’
‘TRY HIM AGAIN.’ Catalina dug her nails into the palms of her hands, the only outward display of her inward disquiet. ‘Ask him if he’s free on Thursday.’
She’d asked Aliana to call Nathaniel and request a dinner date for Wednesday. He had politely declined, citing a prior engagement.
Aliana disappeared into the adjoining small office, leaving Catalina alone with Marion, whose sharp little eyes were studying her with unabashed curiosity.
‘I would like you to take one of the palace cars and go to Madame Marcelle’s shop and bring me back a selection of her laces.’ She didn’t give a reason. She didn’t have a reason. All she wanted was to get rid of her cousin for a time.
‘I can call and have it brought to the palace.’
‘No. I wish for you to go personally. You know my tastes so I know you will choose wisely,’ she added, playing to Marion’s ego.
Unable to refuse, Marion nonetheless made a great show of searching for her handbag, which was at the foot of her chair.
As soon as she’d gone, Catalina breathed out and closed her eyes. Marion’s behaviour, including all those sly smiles and blatant eavesdropping, had become intolerable. Or was it that the limits of her own patience had finally been reached? The pregnancy hormones were certainly rampaging through her. It was becoming a struggle to keep the poise she’d held throughout her life.
Aliana reappeared, shaking her head. ‘He has a prior appointment Thursday night too.’
‘And probably Friday and Saturday night,’ Catalina muttered, thinking quickly. It had taken all of her courage to ask for Nathaniel’s private number from her father but he had surprised her by handing it over. He hadn’t looked at her though. He hadn’t looked her in the eye since he’d called the life growing inside her a bastard.
It had been five days since their worlds had imploded. Since Nathaniel’s visit to the palace and his agreement to the marriage, there had been only silence.
She’d spent the intervening days getting her head clear. She’d pushed aside the fleeting romantic notions she’d had, those few moments when she’d seen a future that could possibly be happy.
She didn’t even know where those notions had come from. She didn’t expect or want love. Love was a kind of witchcraft, a power strong enough to destroy the person suffering from it. A marriage built on mutual respect was the most she had ever hoped for, although hopes were an indulgence she rarely allowed herself.
Nathaniel was a commitment-shy womaniser of the highest order. Their brief marriage would be over before it had begun and she would remarry. Now all she cared about was the welfare of the tiny life she carried. She needed to protect it, but all she sensed was danger.
She took a long breath and straightened her spine. She would call him herself. Let him make his excuses not to see her personally.
Before she could move to her office, she rushed to the bathroom and brought up her breakfast.
* * *
Nathaniel’s phone vibrated noisily on the desk.
Swearing, he cursed himself for not turning the vibration facility off when he’d switched it to silent.
The same number from ten minutes ago flashed at him.
He snatched it up, pressed the answer button and put the phone to his ear. ‘Tell the Princess I am unavailable until the day of our wedding and if she doesn’t like it she can—’
‘It’s Catalina.’
The unexpectedness of her voice and the coolness of her tone momentarily froze him.
‘Are you there?’ she asked. He could imagine her sitting at the round French mahogany table of the family room, legs crossed, back straight, as composed as she always was.
He cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I’m here. What can I do for you?’
‘I need to see you.’
‘As I explained
