LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’ Millie began to shuffle her books in order to put an end to a line of questioning which struck her as extremely inappropriate, but it seemed he was not to be deterred.

      ‘Your face is…familiar.’

      She guessed she couldn’t have it both ways—she couldn’t pull rank if she was trying to keep her identity secret! It was true that as she had been sitting at the back of the class only the tutor would have seen her face—but she couldn’t do that week in, week out. And when she stopped to think about it hadn’t she been living in cloud-cuckoo land even thinking that she could—with a dirty great bodyguard stationed outside the door?

      ‘Is it?’

      He gave a low laugh. ‘You are the image of our new Queen!’

      Millie sighed. ‘That’s because I am.’

      ‘You are joking me?’

      Millie laughed as his English deserted him in his confusion. ‘Okay, I am!’

      He gave a long, low whistle. ‘I have the Queen in my class?’ he questioned incredulously. ‘The Queen of Mardivino?’

      Millie smiled. ‘Is that a problem for you?’

      ‘For me, no! But perhaps for you?’

      ‘I don’t see why.’ She allowed herself to believe the illusion and it was both heady and seductive.

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you not being taught within the Palace?’

      ‘Perhaps I want to experience life outside it,’ she answered slowly.

      ‘The caged bird?’ he questioned thoughtfully. ‘Who longs to break free?’

      ‘You’re being very impertinent!’ she remonstrated.

      ‘Am I?’ He stared at her. ‘You say you wish to experience life—and life outside the Palace means that people say what is on their minds.’ He hesitated. ‘What must I call you?’

      She gave it only a split-second’s thought. In this—if only in this—she would be like everyone else. ‘My name is Millie,’ she said firmly. ‘You must call me Millie.’

      ‘And I am Oliviero.’ He smiled then, a genuine smile which made his eyes crinkle. ‘Your secret is safe with me…Millie—though I doubt that it will remain so. But I can and will tell you this—while in my class, you are simply another pupil, and the others will respect that or they will be…’ He shrugged and clicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture.

      ‘Turfed out?’ supplied Millie helpfully.

      ‘Turfed out? Yes, it is just that!’ His smile grew wider. ‘I sometimes forget that it is the teacher who also learns!’

      And Millie smiled back.

      The challenge of studying added an extra dimension to her life, and she threw herself into her work with a new-found enthusiasm which was very gratifying.

      She wasn’t naïve enough to suppose that the rest of the class remained oblivious to her true identity, for their manner towards her was subtly deferential. But no one bothered her, or questioned her, or was intrusive.

      She was always the last to leave—mainly to avoid being seen with her bodyguard, but also because she had grown to enjoy her little chats with Oliviero. He alone, of all people, treated her just as Millie. With him she felt like the person she knew she really was, deep inside. Not the Queen—a person who always led the conversation and was listened to with deference—but someone with whom she could have a genuine laugh. A small thing, but a precious and cherished one, and it reminded her of a very different life indeed.

      Millie hadn’t realised quite how much freedom she would lose when she married her Prince, but in a tiny way this compensated.

      Her false paradise lasted for precisely one month, until the morning when Alesso knocked at the door of her sitting room. She had been sitting looking at an Italian newspaper. Oliviero had told her that she would understand almost none of it—and he had been right!—but that the best way to become fluent with a language was to familiarise yourself with it as much as possible. Each word she correctly identified felt as though she had found a nugget of gold!

      ‘Come!’ she called, and saw the tall, dark figure of Alesso, his face unsmiling. ‘Oh, hello, Alesso!’ she said brightly.

      ‘Majesty.’ He gave a deep bow.

      ‘I’m just finishing up here.’ She glanced at her watch, wondering what had prompted this rare and unheralded visit. ‘I don’t have to be at the Women’s Refuge for another hour, do I?’

      ‘The King wishes to speak with you.’

      It was pointless to say, Couldn’t the King have come and told me that himself? Because that wasn’t how it worked. Millie rose to her feet. ‘Very well. He is at work?’

      ‘He awaits you in your suite, Majesty.’

      ‘At this time of day?’ she asked in surprise. But it was a rhetorical question and Alesso said nothing. Even if he had known the answer he would still have said nothing, for his first loyalty lay towards Gianferro. As did everyone else’s.

      Still unsmiling and unspeaking, Alesso accompanied her through the long portrait-lined corridors towards their suite of rooms, and Millie began to feel unaccountably nervous. ‘I do know the way!’ she joked.

      ‘I gave His Majesty assurance that I would conduct you there myself,’ he said formally.

      The unwelcome thought flitted into her mind that it was like being led towards the gallows. A little knot of unknown fear at the pit of her stomach began to grow into a medium-sized ball, and by the time Alesso knocked and then opened the door her heart was racing.

      It raced even harder when she saw Gianferro standing there, his face a study in anger, dark and brooding, and looking like she had never seen him look before.

      ‘Grazie, Alesso,’ he clipped out.

      There was silence as she heard the door being closed behind his aide, and then Gianferro spoke, in a harsh voice she didn’t recognise.

      ‘I think you owe me some kind of explanation, don’t you, Millie?’

       CHAPTER NINE

      MILLIE stared at the unfamiliar sight of a Gianferro whose face was contorted by fury. Normally it was implacable. Enigmatic. It wasn’t just that he had been brought up to conceal his innermost feelings—Gianferro didn’t do big emotions. She felt the shivering of apprehension suddenly tiptoeing over her skin as she stared at him.

      ‘Explanation for what?’

      The fury became transmuted into a look of icy disdain, and somehow that made her even more apprehensive. ‘Oh, come, come, Millie,’ he said silkily. ‘I am not a stupid man.’

      ‘Perhaps not,’ she said shakily. ‘But you are being a very confusing one right now. How can I give you an “explanation” when I don’t have a clue what it is I’m supposed to have done!’

      The black eyes narrowed and he regarded her silently, and Millie was reminded of some dark, jungle predator in that infinitesimal moment of stillness before it pounced.

      ‘How is Oliviero?’ he clipped out.

      For a moment she had no idea what he was talking about—and when she did it made even less sense. Millie frowned. ‘You mean my Italian teacher?’

      ‘Or your lover?’

      She stared at him. ‘Are you…crazy?’ she whispered.

      ‘Maybe a little, but perhaps I am not the only one.’ His mouth curved into a cruelly sarcastic

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