in the last eight weeks.’
Sebastiano nodded, looking more satisfied than he had all day, and gave a little bow. ‘It will be done.’
Rafe watched him take his leave and felt a pang of regret that one had to be so careful, knowing it had to be done, and knowing equally that if there was any dirt to be had on Sienna Wainwright, Sebastiano would dig it out.
He just hoped there was none.
Sienna picked up the telephone in the library and listened for a dial tone, hoping that, unlike the phone in her room, this one would not be switched through to the housekeeper. Satisfied, she nervously dialled the direct number of her boss at Sapphire Blue Charters and waited what felt like agonizing seconds for the call to be answered.
She’d been thinking about it all night. She had no way of getting to the town except by foot and she had no doubt that Rafe would find her and bring her back as promised, even if she’d had the money to buy a fare off the island. And there was no point calling the police, because the palace guard were the ones who’d threatened to arrest her if she didn’t accompany them to the Castello in the first place. Asking for help from the Australian Embassy was tantamount to taking out a full page ad, and that was hardly the way she wanted to slip quietly out of Rafe’s life. But Monsieur Rocher might send a helicopter, once he knew she was being held against her will.
‘Oui?’ The grunting voice of the owner-manager of Sapphire Blue greeted her.
She took a deep breath and crossed the fingers of her free hand. ‘Monsieur Rocher, c’est moi, Sienna Wainwright. Je suis désolé—’
‘Bonjour, Sienna!’
Sienna listened in amazement as the tongue-lashing she was expecting turned into high praise as she learned she had been retained on an ongoing basis as Montvelatte’s private pilot, and for three times the going rate, in response to which Monsieur Rocher had awarded her employee of the month.
‘Mais non—’
But Monsieur Rocher was too full of praise to be interrupted. He wished her well, thanked her for her good work and bade her a hasty, ‘Au revoir’, before the line went dead.
‘Can I help you with something?’
Sienna turned, still reeling from the phone call, to find Sebastiano standing in the doorway, his expression looking anything but helpful. Quickly she replaced the receiver, knowing she’d been caught out. ‘I … I was just calling my boss.’
‘So I gathered. And did you find everything to your satisfaction.’
‘I’ve been made employee of the month.’
He gave a slight mocking bow. ‘Congratulations.’
Sienna straightened. It was clear from just his tone that Sebastiano didn’t welcome her presence here, but then little wonder if she’d put paid to his plans of Rafe marrying someone from the noble classes. She could take offence that he clearly thought her unbefitting of the role of Montvelatte’s Princess, or she could use it for her own purposes.
She laced her fingers together and took a step closer. ‘Sebastiano, maybe you can help me.’
His eyes honed in on her suspiciously. ‘In what way?’
‘You could help get me off the island.’
This time those eyes narrowed, and he looked around before closing the door behind him. ‘To what purpose?’
‘So Rafe can marry someone more suitable.’ She saw the glimmer in his eyes that betrayed how appealing he found her words.
‘But you are carrying Prince Raphael’s child, are you not?’
‘It’s still me he would be marrying.’
His expression remained guarded, suspicious, while his eyes looked thoughtful. Then he shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I cannot help you. But if you would like to make any more phone calls, perhaps you should know that all calls to and from the Castello are monitored for security reasons.’
Sienna shivered. So that was how he’d found her. ‘Thank you, Sebastiano. So if I call my landlady to enquire after my apartment?’
‘Please, feel free. But you will discover that your rent has been paid and your personal belongings sent for, to make your stay here more comfortable.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, I think, allowing herself to be led away, and feeling the noose around her neck growing tighter by the minute.
The next day under the trellised vines shading the terrace, Sienna daydreamed, thinking back to a time she could only imagine, another time when her mother had discovered she was pregnant, with a marriage to Sienna’s father hastily arranged in that discovery’s wake.
Had her mother felt this terror, this fear of having a new life growing inside her and all the unknowns that went with it? Had she been secretly afraid of the prospect of marrying a man who had blown into town on the tide? Or had love blinded her to those fears, so that the prospect of marrying the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, and of bearing him a child, was so utterly exciting that she’d had no doubts?
She’d been so young, barely eighteen at the time and eight years younger than Sienna was now. Surely she must have had doubts, no matter how much she’d thought she’d loved him? Surely she must have wondered if the wanderlust father of her child could ever really change?
‘It’s time for your ultrasound.’
Rafe’s voice intruded into her thoughts, and she blinked, the present world suddenly coming back into sharp focus as she looked up and he filled her vision, instantly kicking new life into her heart rate. How he still had that effect on her when she was basically his prisoner here, she couldn’t understand and didn’t want to analyse. She only knew that the sooner she could put a lid on this inner turmoil she felt whenever he so much as looked at her, the better.
To him she might only be the vessel that carried his child, and a convenient solution to a problem that threatened the Principality, but there was no way she could consider marriage to a man like Rafe—a prince—in such clinical terms. And yet if she was going to have to go through with this, she needed to be able to.
A strange fear zipped up her spine. The fact she was even considering marrying Rafe—when had that change in her thinking taken place? And more importantly, why? It was anathema to her—marrying for the sake of a child—and yet she was entertaining the idea as if it were a done deal. Last night again she’d thought about getting help. Why shouldn’t she call the Embassy, and who cared if the calls were monitored? By the time they discovered who she was calling, help could be on its way, and to hell with the fall out. He had no right to keep her here against her will.
And again she’d shut herself in the library, meaning to call, fully intending to. But she’d only got as far as lifting the receiver. Only pressed it to her ear, before the fingers of her other hand had cut the connection, and she’d slammed the receiver down in frustration.
What was happening to her?
Three days she’d been on the island now. Yesterday had been filled with an endless parade of specialists, nutritionists and exercise gurus,
