ever remember, I belong somewhere. With him. And I want to be with him, Rena.’
‘Well, if his personality’s as gorgeous as his looks…’
‘It is,’ Melinda confirmed.
‘And he makes you happy?’
Melinda nodded. ‘Happier than I’ve ever been in my life.’
Serena hugged her. ‘Then follow your heart. I wish you both all the best. And I’m most definitely coming to the wedding—and I expect to be a bridesmaid—so you ring me as soon as you’ve sorted out a date.’
Melinda bit her lip. ‘I don’t think Mamma and Papà will be there.’ Her mother had expressly decreed that morning that there would be no wedding. And Melinda had finally snapped, telling her mother a few things she should have said years ago.
The ensuing row had practically blistered her ears.
They’d presented a united front at the funeral, for the sake of the media. But Viviana Fortesque had made it very clear that if Melinda went back to Cornwall it should only be to sort things out. ‘And then you will come back here, to your rightful place. You are next in line to the throne,’ she’d said coldly. ‘And you know your father needs to abdicate, to take things easier and leave the running of the kingdom to someone else. You cannot walk away from your duty.’
What about her duty to her patients, to her colleagues? Melinda refused to leave them in the lurch. And, most of all, she refused to leave Dragan. And she’d made that just as clear to her mother—who’d responded with the stoniest, iciest silence Melinda had ever encountered.
‘Mamma will calm down. In a week or so,’ Serena said. ‘Papà will talk her round, like he always does.’ She grinned. ‘Though I never thought I’d see the day you got the headlines above Raffi.’
‘It’s not funny, Rena. The timing was atrocious.’ And it had taken every ounce of backbone she’d had that morning, to face her mother’s fury as she’d banged the newspaper onto the table. ROYAL VET’S SECRET LOVER
‘Mamma would’ve had a fit whatever day she’d seen that headline,’ Serena said wryly. ‘Though yes, today was probably not the best of days for it to happen.’ She hugged her sister. ‘Be happy, Lini. And I’ll speak to you soon. Let me know you’ve arrived safely.’
‘I will. And thank you, Rena. For being there.’
‘It’s how families are supposed to be,’ Serena said softly. ‘How I wish ours had been when we were growing up. And how I hope yours will be now.’
So do I, Melinda thought. So do I.
The flight back to England seemed interminable. But finally they landed. As soon as she was through customs, she rang Dragan. And how good it was to hear his voice.
‘I’m in Newquay. I missed you so much, amore mio.’
‘Do you want me to come and pick you up?’
‘Better not—there are paparazzi everywhere.’ And she didn’t want her reunion with Dragan all over the front pages. She wanted that to be very, very private indeed. ‘Have they been bad to you?’
‘They’ve followed me everywhere. But I took your advice: I just smiled and said nothing.’
‘Good. We’ll draft a statement to the press and it will quieten down.’ She bit her lip. ‘Dragan, I’m so sorry it happened like this.’
‘You can’t change the past.’
He sounded calm, but she could hear the hurt seeping through his stoicism. ‘I’m still sorry. Because I never meant to hurt you.’ She paused. ‘I’ll sneak into yours the back way, yes?’
‘Won’t they follow you?’
‘Believe me, I’ve had a lot of practice in avoiding them,’ she said dryly. ‘I could have a PhD in it by now.’
‘I’ll leave the French doors unlocked.’
‘Thank you.’ She paused. ‘Dragan? Volim te.’
‘I’ll see you soon.’
Hell, hell, hell. If he wasn’t responding when she used his own language…this was going to be hard. Knowing Dragan, he was still thinking about her duty and he was putting distance between them to make it easy for her to go back to Contarini.
But that wasn’t what she wanted.
She’d fight for her man.
Because he was worth it.
The drive back from the airport dragged on and on and on. But finally the taxi drove into Penhally—and how good it was to see the bay spreading out in front of her. Home.
The driver dropped her by the Higher Bridge; she knew that the paparazzi, even if they had information that she was on her way back, would be camped outside the veterinary surgery and she would be shielded from their view by the houses in Gull Close. Any other photographers would be stationed at the front of Fisherman’s Row; they wouldn’t expect her to cut round the back of the houses in Bridge Street and through the little alley at the back of Dragan’s house.
She could see him sitting at the table in front of the French doors, reading some medical journal or other. And just the sight of him made her catch her breath. She tapped softly on the glass, then opened the door, locked it behind her and closed the curtains. Just in case.
And then she was in his arms. Holding him so tightly, as if she’d never let him go again.
She had no intention of ever letting him go again.
‘Volim te. I’ve missed you so much.’ She reached up to draw his head down to hers, brushed her mouth against his.
She could feel a reserve there—well, he’d learned the truth about her in the worst possible way, so of course he’d be hurt and wouldn’t quite be sure of her—but please, please, just let him kiss her back. Let him give her the chance to show him exactly how she felt. Skin to skin, body to body, no barriers between them. Let her tell him without words how much she loved him, make him believe the truth: that she was completely his and nothing was ever, ever going to change that.
She pulled back slightly to look into his face. His dark eyes were unreadable. ‘Dragan?’
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ He untangled himself from her arms.
The kettle? She hadn’t seen him for days, he hadn’t kissed her back, and he was talking about making a cup of coffee?
This wasn’t the man she’d left in Penhally.
And she wanted her man back. Right now.
She followed him to the kitchen and, after checking that the blinds were drawn, slid her arms round his waist and rested her cheek against his back. ‘I’ve missed you, zlato.’
Gently, he prised her arms away.
‘Dragan?
