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How could he fail to touch the princess as he leaned across? How could the princess fail to be intoxicated by Nico’s cologne, or by his clean, warm scent? Princess Anastasia was beautiful, and Nico…Nico was Nico. How could they resist each other? She had seen the way the princess looked at him.
    But it was more than physical contact that she resented, much more. It was the intimacy of shared conversation and getting to know each other that tore at her heart. But she had to face facts. She didn’t stand a chance with Nico, she never had. And if he hadn’t wanted her three months ago he would hardly want her now. And when she told him about the baby…What would he think when he compared the mother of his child to Princess Anastasia?
    By the time she had dredged up every negative thought and examined it twice, Carrie was close to tears. But as crying wouldn’t get her anywhere she pulled out her purse and paid the stallholder for a simple summer dress and a pair of plastic flip-flops instead.
    Wasn’t that the perfect outfit for her meeting with Nico at the palace? Carrie reflected wryly. On impulse she added some new underwear to her purchases. Why not? No one would see the frivolous garments, but she would know they were there. It was a small defiance, but sometimes she found small things the most effective.

    Having showered and changed into her new outfit, Carrie splashed cold water onto her face and then tied her hair back. By the time she left the guest-house the temperature was soaring and even the stone beneath her feet seemed to radiate heat, which didn’t bode well for her plastic sandals.
    She hadn’t realised how far she would have to walk, or that it would all be uphill. She hadn’t thought about the shops closing in the afternoon, or the fact that they wouldn’t open again until seven that same evening. And she had forgotten her sunglasses and her sun lotion in her rush to fly to Niroli. In fact, she had forgotten all the essentials. It was unlike her to be so reckless and impetuous, but her life had never collided with Nico’s before.
    Turning the corner, she frowned with concern seeing how many people were waiting to take the tour of the old city. The queue snaked round another corner out of sight, and she was already exhausted, plus she had developed blisters between her toes where the plastic thong of the flip-flops had rubbed her. Looking down, she saw her feet were bleeding.
    Pausing in the shade next to one of the palace control posts, Carrie watched the vehicles driving in and out. There was a guard seated behind a glass window in a small command station, and the palace courtyard was just a tantalising few steps away…Going up to the window, she tapped on it politely.
    Thanks to the young shop assistant she knew all about the state banquet, and when the officer looked up she told him that she was one of the casual staff hired for that evening to work in the kitchen.
    Consulting his list, the officer shook his head.
    â€˜I’m not there?’ Carrie pretended dismay. ‘But I must be…they’re expecting me.’
    â€˜This is the wrong entrance,’ the man told her. ‘Waiting staff must go round the back.’ He tipped his chin.
    â€˜What if they don’t have my name there, either?’ Carrie pressed, adding a plaintive note to her voice. Maybe she reminded the guard of his sister, or some other female he knew, because to her relief the guard’s manner changed towards her.
    â€˜All right.’ He gave her a reassuring wink. ‘I’ll call them and tell them to expect you.’
    â€˜Oh, would you? That’s really kind of you. Thank you so much.’ She dropped her gaze and assumed a meek expression, waiting on tenterhooks for the guard to lift his receiver and speak to his opposite number on the other gate.
    Without looking at her he waved her on….

    She was inside the palace! Steeling herself to