‘You can’t give me anything I truly desire! I want to marry a man who makes my heart race and my blood sing—’

Strong hands closed on her upper arms, and she gaped up at the starkly sculpted face suddenly so close. A passing light played over him. Far from being coolly remote, heat ignited in Raul’s eyes. His expression sent adrenaline surging.

His head lowered and his warm breath feathered her face.

‘Like this, you mean?’

Raul’s mouth claimed Luisa’s, pressing, demanding, till on a gasp her lips parted and he took possession.

About the Author

ANNIE WEST spent her childhood with her nose between the covers of a book —a habit she retains. After years preparing government reports and official correspondence she decided to write something she really enjoys. And there’s nothing she loves more than a great romance. Despite her office-bound past she has managed a few interesting moments—including a marriage offer with the promise of a herd of camels to sweeten the contract. She is happily married to her ever-patient husband (who has never owned a dromedary). They live with their two children amongst the tall eucalypts at beautiful Lake Macquarie, on Australia’s east coast. You can e-mail Annie at www.annie-west.com, or write to her at PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

PRINCE OF
SCANDAL

ANNIE WEST

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Karen, Reeze and Daisy,

who celebrate with me

and who understand all the rest.

Thank you!

CHAPTER ONE

RAUL stared unseeingly out of the chopper as it followed the coast south from Sydney. He shouldn’t be here when the situation at home was so delicately poised. But he had no choice.

What an unholy mess!

His hands bunched into fists and he shifted his long legs restlessly.

The fate of his nation and the well-being of his subjects were at risk. His coronation, his right to inherit the kingdom he’d been born to and devoted his life to, hung in the balance. Even now he could scarcely believe it.

Desperately the lawyers had sought one legal avenue after another but the laws of inheritance couldn’t be overturned, not till he became king. And to become king …

The alternative was to walk away and leave his country prey to the rivalries that had grown dangerous under the last king, Raul’s father. Civil war had almost ripped the country apart two generations ago. Raul had to keep his people safe from that, no matter what the personal cost.

His people, his need to work for them, had been what kept him going through the bleak wasteland of disillusionment when his world had turned sour years before. When paparazzi had muckraked and insinuated and his dreams had shattered around him, the people of Maritz had stood by him.

He would stand by them now when they most needed him.

Besides, the crown was his. Not only by birthright. By dint of every long day, every hour he’d devoted to mastering the myriad royal responsibilities.

He would not renounce his heritage. His destiny.

Tension stiffened every sinew and anger simmered in his blood. Despite a lifetime’s dedication to the nation, despite his experience, training and formidable capacity, it had all come down to the decision of a stranger.

It scored his pride that his future, his country’s future, depended on this visit.

Raul opened the investigator’s report, skimming familiar details.

Luisa Katarin Alexandra Hardwicke. Twenty-four. Single. Self-employed.

He assured himself this would be straightforward. She’d be thrilled and eager. Yet he wished the file contained a photo of this woman who would play such a pivotal role in his life.

He closed the report with a snap.

It didn’t matter what she looked like. He wasn’t weak like his father. Raul had learned the hard way that beauty could lie. Emotions played a man for a fool. Raul ruled his life, like his kingdom, with his head.

Luisa Hardwicke was the key to safeguarding his kingdom. She could be ugly as sin and it would make no difference.

Damn! The cow shifted, almost knocking Luisa over. Wearily she struggled to regain her footing in the bog at the edge of the creek.

It had been a long, troubling morning with early milking, generator problems and an unexpected call from the bank manager. He’d mentioned a property inspection that sounded ominously like a first step to foreclosure.

She shuddered. They’d fought so long to keep the small farming co-operative going through drought, illness and flood. Surely the bank couldn’t shut them down now. Not when they had a chance to turn things around.

Overhead came the rhythmic thunder of a helicopter. The cow shifted uneasily.

‘Sightseers?’ Sam shouted. ‘Or have you been hiding some well-heeled friends?’

‘I wish!’ The only ones she knew with that much money were the banks. Luisa’s stomach coiled in a familiar twist of anxiety. Time was fast running out for the co-op.

Inevitably her mind turned to that other world she’d known so briefly. Where money was no object. Where wealth was taken for granted.

If she’d chosen she could be there now, a rich woman with not a financial worry in the world. If she’d put wealth before love and integrity, and sold her soul in that devil’s bargain.

Just the thought of it made her ill.

She’d rather be here in the mud, facing bankruptcy with the people she loved than be as wealthy as Croesus, if it meant giving up her soul.

‘Ready, Sam?’ Luisa forced herself to focus. She put her shoulder to the cow. ‘Now! Slow and steady.’

Finally, between them, they got the animal unstuck and moving in the right direction.

‘Great,’ Luisa panted. ‘Just a little more and—’ Her words were obliterated as a whirring helicopter appeared over the rise.

The cow shied, knocking Luisa. She swayed, arms flailing. Then her momentum propelled her forwards into the boggy mess. Wet mud plastered her from face to feet.

‘Luisa!’ Are you OK?’ Her uncle, bless him, sounded more concerned than amused.

She lifted her head and saw the cow, udder swaying, heave onto firm ground and plod away without a backward glance. Gingerly Luisa found purchase in the sodden ground and crawled to her knees, then her feet.

‘Perfect.’ She wiped slime from her cheeks. ‘Mud’s supposed to be good for the complexion, isn’t it?’ She met Sam’s rheumy gaze and smiled.

She flicked a dollop of mud away. ‘Maybe we should bottle this stuff and try selling it as a skin tonic.’

‘Don’t laugh, girl. It might come to that.’

Ten minutes later, her overalls, even her face stiff with drying mud, Luisa left Sam and trudged up to her house. Her mind was on this morning’s phone call. Their finances looked frighteningly bleak.

She rolled stiff shoulders. At least a shower was only minutes away. A wash, a quick cup of tea and …

She slowed as she topped the hill and saw a helicopter on the grass behind the house. Gleaming metal and glass glinted in the sun. It was high-tech and expensive—a complete contrast to the weathered boards of the house and the ancient leaning shed that barely sheltered the tractor and her rusty old sedan.

Fear settled, a cold hard weight in her stomach. Could this be the inspection the banker had mentioned? So soon?

It took a few moments before logic asserted itself. The bank wouldn’t waste money on a helicopter.

A figure appeared from behind the chopper and Luisa stumbled to a halt.

The sun silhouetted a man who was long, lean and elegant. The epitome of urbane masculinity.

She could make out dark hair, a suit that probably cost more than her car and tractor put together, plus a formidable pair of shoulders.

Then he turned and walked a few paces, speaking to someone behind the helicopter. His rangy body moved with an easy grace that bespoke lithe power. A power that belied his suave tailored magnificence.

Luisa’s pulse flickered out of rhythm. Definitely not a banker. Not with that athletic body.

He was in profile now. High forehead, long aristocratic nose, chiselled mouth and firm chin. Luisa read determination in that solid jaw, and in his decisive gestures. Determination and something completely, defiantly masculine.

Heat snaked through her. Awareness.

Luisa sucked in a startled breath. She’d never before experienced such an instant spark of attraction. Had wondered if she ever would. She couldn’t suppress a niggle of disturbing reaction.

Despite his elegant clothes this man looked … dangerous.

Luisa huffed out a choked laugh. Dangerous? He’d probably faint if he got mud on his mirror-polished shoes.

Behind the house, worn jeans, frayed shirts and thick socks flapped on the clothes line. Her mouth twitched. Mr stepped-from-a-glossy-magazine couldn’t be more out of place. She forced herself to approach.

Who on earth was he?

He must have sensed movement for he turned.

‘Can I help you?’ Her voice was husky. She assured herself that had nothing to do with the impact of his dark, enigmatic stare.

‘Hello.’ His lips tilted in a smile.

She faltered. He was gorgeous. If you were impressed by impossibly handsome in a tough, masculine sort of way. Or gleaming, hooded eyes that intrigued, giving nothing away. Or the tiniest hint of a sexy cleft in his chin.

She swallowed carefully and plastered on a smile.

‘Are you lost?’ Luisa stopped a few paces away. She had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye.

‘No, not lost.’ His crisp deep voice curled with just a hint of an accent. ‘I’ve come to see Ms Hardwicke. I have the right place?’

Luisa frowned, perplexed.

It was a rhetorical question. From his assured tone to his easy stance, as if he owned the farm and she was the interloper, this man radiated confidence. With a nonchalant wave of his hand he stopped the approach of a burly figure rounding the corner of the house. Already his gaze turned back to the homestead, as if expecting someone else.

‘You’ve got the right place.’

She looked from the figure at the rear of the house whose wary stance screamed bodyguard, to the chopper where the pilot did an equipment check. Another man in a suit stood talking on a phone. Yet all three were focused on her. Alert.

Who were these people? Why were they here?

A shaft of disquiet pierced her. For the first time ever her home seemed dangerously isolated.

‘You have business here?’ Her tone sharpened.

Instinct, and the stranger’s air of command, as if used to minions scurrying to obey, told her this man was in a league far beyond the local bank manager.

An uneasy sensation, like ice water trickling down her spine, made her stiffen.

‘Yes, I need to see Ms Hardwicke.’ His eyes flicked to her again then away. ‘Do you know where I can find her?’

Something in that single look at her face, not once dropping to her filthy clothes, made her burningly self-conscious. Not just of the mud, but the fact that even clean and in her best outfit she’d feel totally outclassed.

Luisa straightened. ‘You’ve found her.’

This time he really looked. The intensity of that stare warmed her till she flushed all over. His eyes widened beneath thick dark lashes and she saw they were green. The deep, hard green of emeralds. Luisa read shock in his expression. And, she could have sworn, dismay.

Seconds later he’d masked his emotions and his expression was unreadable. Only a slight bunching of sleek black eyebrows hinted he wasn’t happy.

‘Ms Luisa Hardwicke?’

He pronounced her name the way her mother had, with a soft s and a lilt that turned the mundane into something pretty.

Premonition clamped a chill hand at the back of her neck. The accent had to be a coincidence. That other world was beyond her reach now.

Luisa wiped the worst of the dirt off her hand and stepped forward, arm outstretched. It was time to take charge of this situation. ‘And you are?’

He hesitated for a moment, then her fingers were engulfed in his. He bowed, almost as if to kiss her hand. The gesture was charming and outlandish. It sent a squiggle of reaction through her, making her breath falter. Especially as his warm, powerful hand still held hers.

Heat scalded her face and she was actually grateful for the smearing of dirt that concealed it.

He straightened and she had to arch her neck to meet his glittering scrutiny. From this angle he seemed all imposing, austere lines that spoke of unyielding strength.

Luisa blinked and drew a shaky breath, trying to ignore the butterflies swirling in her stomach and think sensibly.

‘I am Raul of Maritz.’ He said it simply but with such assurance she could almost imagine a blare of trumpet fanfare in the background. ‘Prince Raul.’

Raul watched her stiffen and felt the ripple of shock jolt through her. She yanked her hand free and took a step back, arms crossing protectively over her chest.

His mind clicked up a gear as interest sparked. Not the welcome he usually received. Fawning excitement was more common.

‘Why are you here?’ This time the throaty edge to her words wasn’t gruff. It made her sound vulnerable and feminine.

Feminine! He hadn’t realised she was a woman!

From her husky voice to her muddy boots, square overalls and battered hat that shadowed her grimy face, she had as much feminine appeal as a cabbage. She still hadn’t removed the hat. And that walk! Stiff as an automaton.

He froze, imagining her in Maritzian society where protocol and exquisite manners were prized. This was worse than he’d feared. And there was no way out.

Not if he was to claim his throne and safeguard his country.

He clenched his teeth, silently berating the archaic legalities that bound him in this catch-22.

When he was king there’d be some changes.

‘I asked what you’re doing on my land.’ No mistaking the animosity in her tone. More and more intriguing.

‘My apologies.’ Automatically he smiled, smoothing over his lapse. It was no excuse that the shock of seeing her distracted him. ‘We have important matters to discuss.’

He waited for her answering smile. For a relaxation of her rigid stance. There was none.

‘We have nothing to discuss.’ Beneath the mud her neat chin angled up.

She was giving him the brush-off? It was absurd!

‘Nevertheless, it’s true.’

He waited for her to invite him in. She stood unmoving, staring up balefully. Impatience stirred.

And more, a wave of distaste at the fate that decreed he had to take this woman under his wing. Turn this unpromising material into—

‘I’d like you to leave.’

Raul stiffened in indignation. At the same time curiosity intensified. He wished he could see her without that mask of mud.

‘I’ve travelled from my homeland in Europe to speak with you.’

‘That’s impossible, I tell you. I have no—’

‘Far from being impossible, I made the trip for that sole purpose.’ Raul drew himself up and took a pace closer, letting his superior height send a silent message. When he spoke again it was in a tone that brooked no opposition. ‘I’m not leaving until we’ve concluded our business.’

Luisa’s stomach twisted in knots and her nerves stretched to breaking point as she hurried through the house back to the veranda where she’d left her visitor.

The crown prince of Maritz, her mother’s homeland, here at her house! This couldn’t be good.

She’d tried to send him away, turn her back rather than face anyone from that place. The memories were too poisonous.

But he’d been frighteningly immovable. A single look at that steely jaw told her she wouldn’t succeed.

Besides, she needed to know why he was here.

Now, armoured as best she could manage by scouring hot water and clean clothes, she tried to stifle rising panic.

What did he want?

He filled up her veranda with his larger than life presence, making her feel small and insignificant. His spare features reminded her of pictures of the old king in his youth—impossibly handsome with his high cut cheekbones and proud bearing. From his top notch tailoring to his air of command, this man was someone.

Yet royalty didn’t just pop in to visit.

Disquiet shivered through her. A shadow of the stormy past.

He turned to her. Instantly she felt at a disadvantage. With those chiselled aristocratic features and that uncompromising air of maleness he was … stunning. Despite her wariness, heat ricocheted through her abdomen.

His eyes narrowed. Luisa’s heartbeat pattered out of kilter and her mouth dried. With a jolt of shock she realised it was the man himself, as much as his identity that disturbed her.

Luisa laced her fingers rather than straighten her loose shirt, her only clean one after weeks of rain. She wished she could meet him on equal terms, dressed to the nines. But her budget didn’t run to new clothes. Or a new hairdryer.

She smoothed damp locks from her face and pushed back her shoulders, ignoring the way her stomach somersaulted. She refused to be intimidated in her own home.

‘I was admiring your view,’ he said. ‘It’s lovely countryside.’

Luisa cast her eyes over the familiar rolling hills. She appreciated the natural beauty, but it had been a long time since she’d found time to enjoy it.

‘If you’d seen it two months ago after years of drought you wouldn’t have been so impressed.’ She drew a deep breath, fighting down the sick certainty that this man was trouble. Her skin crawled with nervous tension but she refused to let him see. ‘Won’t you come in?’

She moved to open the door but with a long stride he beat her to it, gesturing for her to precede him.

Luisa wasn’t used to having doors opened for her. That was why she flushed.

She inhaled a subtle, exotic scent that went straight to her head. Luisa bit her lip as tingles shot to her toes. None of the men she knew looked, sounded or smelled as good as Raul of Maritz.

‘Please, take a seat.’ She gestured jerkily to the scrubbed kitchen table. Luisa hadn’t had a chance to move the buckets and tarpaulins from the lounge room, where they’d staved off the leaks from the last downpour.

Besides, she’d long ago learnt that aristocratic birth was no measure of worth. He could sit where her friends and business partners met.

‘Of course.’ He pulled out a chair and sank into it with as much aplomb as if it were a plushly padded throne. His presence filled the room.

She lifted the kettle, her movements jerky as she stifled hostility. She needed to hear him out. ‘Would you like coffee or tea?’

‘No, thank you.’ His face was unreadable.

Luisa’s pulse sped as she met his unblinking regard. Reluctantly she slid into a chair opposite him, forcing herself into stillness.

‘So, Your Highness. What can I do for you?’

For a moment longer he regarded her, then he leaned forward a fraction. ‘It’s not what you can do for me.’ His voice was deep, mellow and hypnotic, holding a promise to which she instinctively responded despite her wariness. ‘This is about what I can do for you.’

Beware of strangers promising gifts. The little voice inside sent a tremor of disquiet skidding through her.

Years before she’d received promises of wonderful gifts. The future had seemed a magical, glittering land. Yet it had all been a hollow sham. She’d learned distrust the hard way—not once but twice.

‘Really?’ Her face felt stiff and she found it hard to swallow.

He nodded. ‘First I need to confirm you’re the only child of Thomas Bevan Hardwicke and Margarite Luisa Carlotta Hardwicke.’

Luisa froze, alarm stirring. He sounded like a lawyer about to break bad news. The voice of warning in her head grew more strident. Surely her ties with Maritz had been completely severed years ago.

‘That’s right, though I can’t see—’

‘It pays to be sure. Tell me—’ he leaned back in his seat but his eyes never wavered from hers ‘—how much do you know about my country? About its government and states?’

Luisa fought to remain calm as painful memories surged. This meeting had a nightmare quality. She wanted to scream at him to get to the point before her stretched nerves gave way. But that glittering gaze was implacable. He’d do this his way. She’d known men like him before. She gritted her teeth.

‘Enough.’ More than she wanted. ‘It’s an alpine kingdom. A democracy with a parliament and a king.’

He nodded. ‘My father the king died recently. I will be crowned in a few months.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Luisa murmured, struggling to make sense of this. Why was he here, interrogating her? The question beat at her brain.

‘Thank you.’ He paused. ‘And Ardissia?’

Luisa’s fingers clenched as she fought impatience. She shot him a challenging look. He was like a charming bulldozer, with that polite smile barely cloaking his determination to get his own way.

‘It’s a province of Maritz, with its own hereditary prince who owes loyalty to the King of Maritz.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘My mother came from there, as I’m sure you know.’

She shivered, cold sweeping up from her toes and wrapping around her heart as bitter memories claimed her.

‘Now, my turn for a question.’ She planted her palms on the table and leaned forward, fixing him with a stare. ‘Why are you here?’

Luisa waited, her heart thudding hectically, watching him survey her beneath lowered brows. He shifted in his seat. Suddenly she wondered if he were uncomfortable too.

‘I came to find you.’ His expression made her heartbeat speed to a pounding gallop.

‘Why?’

‘The Prince of Ardissia is dead. I’m here to tell you you’re his heiress, Princess Luisa of Ardissia.’

CHAPTER TWO

RAUL watched her pale beneath her tan. Her eyes rounded and she swayed in her seat. Was she going to faint?

Great. A highly strung female!

He thrust aside the fact that anyone would be overcome. That his anger at this diabolical situation made him unreasonable.

She wasn’t the only one whose life had been turned on its head! For years Raul had steered his own course, making every decision. Being fettered like this was outrageous.

But the alternative—to turn his back on his people and the life to which he’d devoted himself—was unthinkable.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Of course.’ Her tone was sharp but her eyes were dazed.

They were surprisingly fine eyes, seen without that shadowing hat. Blue-grey a moment ago, now they sparkled brilliant azure. Like a clear summer sky in the Maritzian Alps. The sort of eyes a man could lose himself in.

She blinked and shifted her gaze and Raul was astonished to feel a pang of disappointment.

He watched her gnaw her lip. When she looked up and flushed to find him watching, he noticed the ripe contours of her mouth. With the grime washed away, her features were pleasant, regular and fairly attractive.

If you liked the artless, scrubbed bare style.

Raul preferred his women sophisticated and well groomed.

What sort of woman didn’t take the time to style her hair?

Pale and damply combed off her face, it even looked lopsided. Anyone less fitted for this—

‘I can’t be his heir!’ She sounded almost accusing.

His brows rose. As if he’d waste precious time here on a whim!

‘Believe me, it’s true.’

She blinked and he had the sense there was more going on behind her azure eyes than simple surprise.

‘How is it possible?’ She sounded as if she spoke to herself.

‘Here.’ Raul opened the briefcase Lukas had brought. ‘Here’s your grandfather’s will and your family tree.’

He’d planned for his secretary, Lukas, to take her through this. But he’d changed his mind the moment he saw Luisa Hardwicke and how unprepared she was for this role. Better do this himself. The fewer who dealt with her at this early stage the better.

Raul suppressed a grimace. What had begun as a delicate mission now had unlimited potential for disaster. Imagine the headlines if the press saw her as she was! He wouldn’t allow the Maritzian crown to be the focus of rabid media gossip again. Especially at this difficult time.

He strode round the table and spread the papers before her.

She shifted in her seat as if his presence contaminated her. Raul stiffened. Women were usually eager to get close.

‘Here’s your mother.’ He modulated his tone reassuringly. ‘Above her, your grandfather, the last prince.’

She lifted her head from examining the family tree. Again the impact of that bright gaze hit him. He’d swear he felt it like a rumbling echo inside his chest.

‘Why isn’t my uncle inheriting? Or my cousin, Marissa?’

‘You’re the last of your family.’

Her brow puckered. ‘She must have been so young. That’s awful.’

‘Yes.’ The accident was a tragic waste of life. And it altered the succession.

She shook her head. ‘But I’m not part of the family! My mother was disinherited when she fell in love with an Australian and refused to marry the man her father chose.’

She knew about that? Did that explain her animosity?

‘Your grandfather blustered but he never disinherited her. We only discovered that recently when his will was read.’ The Prince of Ardissia had been an irascible tartar but he had too much pride in his bloodline to cut off a direct descendant. ‘You’re definitely eligible to inherit.’

How much easier life would be if she weren’t!

If there were no Ardissian princess he wouldn’t be in this appalling situation.

‘I tell you it’s impossible!’ She leaned forward, her brow pleating as she scanned the papers.

The scent of lavender wafted to him. Raul inhaled, intrigued. He was used to the perfectly balanced notes of the most expensive perfumes. Yet this simple fragrance was strangely appealing.

‘It can’t be right.’ She spoke again. ‘He disinherited me too. We were told so!’

Startled, he looked down to find her eyes blazing up at him. Her chin was angled in the air and for the first time there was colour in her cheeks.

She looked … pretty. In an unsophisticated way.

And she knew more than he’d expected. Fascinating.

‘Despite what you were told, you’re his heiress. You inherit his fortune and responsibilities.’ He summoned an encouraging smile. ‘I’ve come to take you home.’

‘Home?’ Luisa shot to her feet, the chair screeching across the floor. ‘This is my home! I belong here.’ She gestured to the cosy kitchen she’d known all her life.

She fought a sense of unreality. This had to be an appalling mistake.

From the moment he’d mentioned Ardissia and Maritz bitter recollection had cramped her belly and clouded her brain. It had taken a superhuman effort to hear him out.

‘Not any more.’ Across the scrubbed table he smiled.

He really was unbelievably good-looking.

Until you looked into those cool eyes. Had he thought her too unaware to notice his smile didn’t reach his eyes?

‘You’ve got a new life ahead of you. Your world will change for ever.’ His smile altered, became somehow more intimate, and to her surprise Luisa felt a trickle of unfamiliar warmth spread through her body.

How had that happened?

‘You’ll have wealth, position, prestige—the best of everything. You’ll live a life of luxury, as a princess.’

A princess.

The words reverberated in Luisa’s skull. Nausea rose.

At sixteen she’d heard those same words. It had been like a dream come true. What girl wouldn’t be excited to discover a royal bloodline and a doting grandfather promising a life of excitement and privilege?

Luisa’s heart clutched as she remembered her mother, pale but bravely smiling, seated at this table, telling her she had to make up her own mind about her future. Saying that, though she’d turned her back on that life, it was Luisa’s choice if she wanted to discover her birthright.

And, like the innocent she was, Luisa had gone. Lured by the fairy tale fantasy of a picture book kingdom.

Reality had been brutally different. By the time she’d rejected what her grandfather offered and made her own way home, she’d been only too grateful he hadn’t publicly presented her as his kin. That he’d kept her a cloistered guest during her ‘probation’ period. Only her closest family knew she’d ever been tempted by the old man’s false promises of a joyful family reunion.

She’d been naïve but no more.

Now she knew too much about the ugly reality of that aristocratic society, where birth and connections mattered more than love and common decency. If her grandfather’s actions hadn’t been enough, she only had to recall the man she’d thought she’d loved. How he’d schemed to seduce her when he realised her secret identity. All because of his ambition.

Luisa’s stomach heaved and she reached out blindly for the table, shaking her head to clear the nightmarish recollections.

‘I don’t want to be a princess.’

Silence. Slowly she turned. Prince Raul’s hooded eyes were wide, impatience obliterated by shock.

‘You can’t be serious,’ he said finally, his voice thickening with that appealing accent.

‘Believe me, I was never more so.’

Revulsion filled Luisa as she remembered her grandfather. He’d invited her to join him so he could groom her into the sort of princess he wanted. To do his bidding without question. To be the sort his daughter had failed to be.

At first Luisa had been blind to the fact he merely wanted a pawn to manipulate, not a granddaughter to love.

He’d shown his true colours when news arrived of her mother’s terminal illness. He’d refused Luisa’s tearful, desperate pleas to return. Instead he’d issued an ultimatum—that she break off all contact with her parents or give up her new life. As for Luisa’s begging that he fund further medical treatment, he’d snarled at her for wasting time on the woman who’d turned her back on his world.

That heartless betrayal, so blatant, so overwhelming, still sickened Luisa to the core.

That was who she was heir to! A cruel, ruthless tyrant. No wonder she’d vowed not to have anything to do with her bigoted, blue-blooded family.

She recalled her grandfather bellowing his displeasure at her ingratitude. At her inability to be what he wanted, play the part.

A hand on her arm tugged her from her thoughts. She looked up into a searing gaze. Black eyebrows tilted in a V and Raul’s nostrils flared as if scenting fear.

This close he was arresting. Her stomach plunged in free-fall as she stared back. Tingling sensation spread from his touch.

Luisa swallowed and his eyes followed the movement.

The intensity of his regard scared her. The beat of her blood was like thunder in her ears. She felt unprotected beneath a gaze that had lost its distance and now seemed to flare with unexpected heat.

‘What is it? What are you thinking?’ Gone was the smooth tone. His words were staccato sharp.

Luisa drew a shaky breath, disoriented by the arcing heat that snapped and shimmered in the air between them. By the hazy sense of familiarity she felt with this handsome stranger.

‘I’m thinking you should let me go.’

Immediately he stepped back, his hand dropping. ‘Forgive me. For a moment you looked faint.’

She nodded. She’d felt queasy. That explained her unsteadiness. It had nothing to do with his touch.

The electricity sparking between them was imaginary.

He thrust a hand through his immaculately combed hair as if, for an instant, he too felt that disturbing sensation. But then his dark locks fell back into perfect position and he was again cool, clear-eyed and commanding.

Swiftly Luisa turned to grab a glass. She gulped down cold water, hoping to restore a semblance of normality. She felt as if she’d been wrung inside out.

Finally she willed her scrambled thoughts into order. It didn’t help that she sensed Prince Raul’s gaze skewer her like an insect on a pin.

Setting her jaw, she turned.

He leaned against the dresser, arms folded and one ankle casually resting on the other. He looked unattainably sexy and a little scary. His brow was furrowed as if something perplexed him, but that only emphasised the strength of his features.

‘When you’ve had time to absorb the news, you’ll see going to Maritz is the sensible thing.’

‘Thank you, but I’ve already absorbed the news.’ Did he have any idea how patronising he sounded? Annoyance sizzled in her blood.

He didn’t move but his big body was no longer relaxed. His folded arms with their bunched muscles drew her eyes. Suddenly he looked predatory rather than suavely elegant.

Her skin prickled.

‘The money doesn’t tempt you?’ His mouth compressed. Obviously he thought money outweighed everything else.

Just like her grandfather and his cronies.

Luisa opened her mouth, then snapped it shut as her dazed brain cells finally revved into action.

Money!

In her shock that hadn’t even registered. She thought of the looming debts, repairs they’d postponed, Sam’s outdated milking machine and her own rattletrap car. The list was endless.

‘How much money?’ She wanted nothing of the high society position. But the cash.

The prince unfolded his arms and named a sum that made her head spin. She braced herself against the table.

‘When do I get it?’ Her voice was scratchy with shock.

Did she imagine a flash of satisfaction in those dark green eyes?

‘You’re princess whether you use the title or not. Nothing can alter that.’ He paused. ‘But there are conditions on inheriting your wealth. You must settle in Maritz and take up your royal obligations.’

Luisa’s shoulders slumped. What he suggested was impossible. She’d rejected that world for her own sanity. Accepting would be a betrayal of herself and all she held dear.

‘I can’t.’

‘Of course you can. I’ll make the arrangements.’

‘Don’t you listen?’ Luisa gripped the table so hard her bones ached. ‘I’m not going!’ Life in that cold, cruel society would kill her. ‘This is my home. My roots are here.’

He shook his head, straightening to stand tall and imposing. The room shrank and despite her anger she felt his formidable magnetism tug at her.

‘You have roots in Maritz too. What have you got here but hard work and poverty? In my country you’ll have a privileged life, mixing in the most elite circles.’

How he sounded like her snobbish grandfather.

‘I prefer the circles I mix in.’ Fire skirled in her belly at his condescension. ‘The people I love are here.’

He scowled. ‘A man?’ He took a step closer and, involuntarily, Luisa retreated a pace before the fierce light in his eyes.

‘No, my friends. And my father’s brother and his wife.’ Sam and Mary, almost a generation older than Luisa’s parents, had been like doting grandparents through her sunny childhood and the darkest days. She wouldn’t leave them, ageing and in debt, for a glamorous, empty life far away.

The sharp-eyed man before her didn’t look impressed.

Had her grandfather once looked like Prince Raul? Proud, determined, good-looking and boy, didn’t he know it!

Standing there, radiating impatience, Raul embodied everything she’d learned to despise.

Determination surged anew.

‘Thank you for coming to tell me in person.’ She drew herself up, level with his proud chin, and folded his papers with quick, precise movements. ‘But you’ll have to find someone else to inherit.’ She breathed deep. ‘I’ll see you out.’

Raul’s mouth tightened as the chopper lifted.

Thrilled! Luisa Hardwicke had been anything but. Just as well he’d told her only about her inheritance, not the more challenging aspects of her new role. She’d been so skittish it was wiser to break that news later.

He’d never met a more stubborn woman. She’d all but thrown him out!

Indignation danced in his veins and tightened his fists.

Something motivated her that he didn’t know about. He needed to discover what it was. More, he had to discover the trigger that would make her change her mind.

For an instant back there he’d been tempted simply to kidnap her. The blood of generations of warriors and robber barons as well as monarchs flowed in his veins. It would have been easy to scoop her up in his arms and sequester her till she saw reason. So satisfying.

An image of Luisa Hardwicke filled his mind. She stared defiantly up with flashing cerulean eyes.

Raul recalled her shirt lifting when she reached for a glass, revealing her lusciously curved bottom in snug jeans. The feminine shape outlined by her shirt when she moved. A shape at odds with his original impression.

Fire streaked through Raul’s belly.

Perhaps there would be compensations after all.

Luisa Hardwicke had a wholesome prettiness that appealed far more than it ought. He’d made it his business these last eight years to surround himself only with glamorous, sophisticated women who understood his needs.

He grimaced, facing a truth he rarely acknowledged. That if he’d once had a weakness it had been for the sort of forthright honesty and fresh openness she projected.

The sort he’d once believed in.

Sordid reality had cured him of any such frailty. Yet being with her was like hearing an echo of his past, remembering fragments of dreams he’d once held. Dreams now shattered beyond repair by deceit and betrayal.

And, despite his indignation, he responded to her pride, her pluck.

It was an inconvenience that complicated his plans. Yet perversely he admired the challenge she represented. What a change from the compliant, eager women he knew! In other circumstances he’d applaud her stance.

Besides, he saw now, a spineless nonentity would never have been suitable for what was to come. Or so surprisingly appealing.

Raul tugged his mind back to business. He needed a lever to ensure she saw sense. Failure wasn’t an option when his nation depended on him.

‘Lukas, you said the farming co-op is in debt?’

‘Yes sir, heavily so. I’m amazed it’s still running.’

Raul looked back at the tiny speck that was her home. A sliver of regret pierced him. He’d wanted to avoid coercion but she left him no choice.

‘Buy the debts. Immediately. I want it settled today.’

The roar of a helicopter brought Luisa’s head up.

It couldn’t be. After rejecting her inheritance yesterday there was no reason for her path and Prince Raul’s to cross again. Yet she was drawn inexorably to the window. It couldn’t be but it was. Prince Raul—here!

To Luisa’s annoyance, her heart pattered faster as she watched his long, powerful frame vault from the chopper.

Twenty-four hours had given her time to assure herself he wasn’t nearly as imposing as she remembered.

She’d been wrong.

Luisa had searched him on the web yesterday, learning his reputation for hard work and wealth. The reports also referred to discreet liaisons with gorgeous women.

Yet no photos did justice to his impact in the flesh. Her breath caught as he loped up the steps. Good thing she was immune.

‘Luisa.’ He stood before her, wide shoulders filling the open doorway, his voice smooth like dark chocolate with a hint of spice as he lingered on her name.

A tremor rippled through her as she responded to the exotic sound of her name on his tongue. It maddened her that she should react so. She pulled herself together, fiercely quelling a riot of unfamiliar emotions.

‘Your Highness.’ She gripped the door hard. ‘Why are you here? We finished our business yesterday.’ Surely he had VIPs to see, deals to forge, women to seduce.

He bent over her hand in another courtly almost-kiss that knotted her stomach. She had to remind herself not to be impressed by surface charm. Been there, done that.

Yet her gaze riveted on his austerely handsome face as he straightened. The flash of green fire in his eyes sent tendrils of heat curling through her. His fingers squeezed and her pulse accelerated.

‘Call me Raul.’

It went against the grain but to refuse would be churlish.

‘Raul.’ It was crazy but she could almost taste his name in her mouth, like a rich, full-bodied wine.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ One dark eyebrow rose lazily as if her obstinacy amused him. She bit down on a rude response. He must have good reason to return. The sooner she heard it the sooner he’d go.

‘Please, come in.’ She led the way to the lounge room, ignoring the jitter of nerves in her stomach.

Instead of making himself comfortable, he took up a position in front of the window. A commanding position, she noticed uneasily as premonition skittered across her nape.

She didn’t like the glint in his eye or his wide-legged stance, as if claiming her territory for his own. She stood facing him, refusing to be dominated.

‘You haven’t changed your mind?’

She lifted her chin a fraction. ‘Not if the cash comes with strings attached.’

Desperate as she was for money, she couldn’t agree.

She’d spent yesterday afternoon consulting her solicitor. There must be a way to access some of the money she was in line to inherit without giving up her life here. She didn’t trust Raul, a man with his own agenda, to be straight with her on that.

It was too soon to know, but the possibility she could negotiate enough funds to give the co-op the boost it needed had given her a better night’s sleep than she’d had in ages. It buoyed her now, strengthening her confidence.

‘Can I persuade you to reconsider?’ His mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile, yet even that should have come with a health warning.

Her breath sawed in her throat and her pulse quickened.

Luisa thought of the enquiries being made on her behalf.

She’d be a fool to give in to his preposterous suggestion. ‘Absolutely not.’ The very thought of accepting made her ill.

‘That’s unfortunate.’ He paused so long her nerves stretched taut. ‘Very unfortunate.’ He looked grim.

Finally he reached into his jacket pocket. ‘In that case, these are for you.’

Bewildered, Luisa accepted the papers. ‘You want me to sign away my inheritance?’ She’d sign nothing without legal advice.

He shook his head. ‘Take your time. They’re self-explanatory.’

Confused, she skimmed the papers. Unlike yesterday’s, these weren’t rich parchment. They looked more like the loan documents that were the bane of her life.

Luisa forced herself to concentrate. Hard to do with his stare on her. When finally she began to understand, the world spun around her.

‘You’ve bought the co-op’s debts.’ Disbelieving, she shuffled the papers, eyes goggling. ‘All of them!’

And in one day. Each paper had yesterday’s date.

Was it even possible?

Bewildered, she looked up. The gravity of his expression convinced her more than the typed words.

Luisa sank abruptly onto the arm of a chair, her knees too wobbly to take her weight, her breath choppy.

What strings had he pulled to manage that in a single day? Luisa couldn’t conceive of such power. Yet, staring up at the man before her, she realised he wielded authority as easily as she managed a milking machine.

The realisation dried her mouth.

‘Why?’ Her voice was a hoarse rasp.

He paced closer, looming between her and the light from the window. ‘On the day you sign the documents accepting your inheritance, I’ll make a gift of them. You can rip them into confetti.’

Relief poured through her veins so suddenly she shook.

He was so obstinate! He still didn’t accept her rejection. No doubt he thought it embarrassing that the heir to a royal title was neck-deep in debt.

It was a generous gesture. One she’d compensate him for if she found a way to access the funds.

‘But I’m not going. I’m staying here.’

‘You won’t.’

Had anyone ever denied him what he wanted?

Impatient energy radiated off him. And that chin—she’d never seen a more determined face.

Luisa stood. She needed to assert herself and end this nonsense. It was time he accepted she knew her mind. ‘I’ve got no plans to leave.’

He held her gaze as the seconds stretched out. His expression didn’t change but a frisson of anxiety skipped up her back, like a spider dancing on her vertebrae.

‘Knowing how committed you are to the well-being of your family and friends, I’m sure you’ll change your mind.’ His voice held steel beneath the deep velvet inflection. ‘Unless you want them to lose everything.’

He spoke so matter-of-factly it took a moment to register the threat.

Luisa’s face froze and a gasp caught inside as her throat closed convulsively.

Blackmail?

She opened her mouth but no sound emerged. Paper cascaded to the floor from her trembling hands.

‘You … can’t be serious!’

Slowly he shook his head. ‘Never more so, Luisa.’

‘Don’t call me that!’ The way he said her name, with the same lilting accent her mother had used, was like a travesty of a familiar endearment.

‘Princess Luisa, then.’

She took a furious step forward, her hands clenching in frustration. ‘This has to be a joke.’ But no humour showed on his stern features. ‘You can’t foreclose! You’d destroy the livelihood of a dozen families.’ And her father’s dream. What she had worked for most of her life.

After she’d returned home to nurse her mother, Luisa had never found time to go back and finish school. Instead she’d stayed on to help her father, who’d never fully recovered from the loss of his wife.

‘The decision is yours. You can save them, if they mean as much as you claim.’

He meant it! The grim determination in his granite-set jaw was nothing to the resolution in his glittering eyes.

‘But … why?’ Luisa shook her head, trying to find sense in a world turned topsy-turvy. ‘You can find another heir, someone who’d be thrilled to live the life you’re offering.’ Someone happy to give up her soul for the riches he promised. ‘I’m not princess material!’

The gleam in his eyes suggested he agreed.

‘There is no one else, Luisa. You are the princess.’

‘You can’t dictate my future!’ Luisa planted her hands on her hips, letting defiance mask her sudden fear. ‘Why are you getting so personally involved?’

When her grandfather had made contact it had been through emissaries. He hadn’t come to her. Yet Raul as crown prince was far more important than her grandfather.

He took her hand before she could snatch it away. Heat engulfed her, radiating from his touch and searing her skin even as his intentions chilled her marrow.

‘I have a stake in your future,’ he murmured.

Automatically she jerked up her chin. ‘Really?’ The word emerged defiantly.

‘A very personal stake.’ His grip firmed, all except for his thumb, which stroked gently across her palm, sending little judders of awareness through her. ‘Not only are you the Ardissian heiress, you’re destined to be Queen of Maritz.’ He paused, eyes locking with hers.

‘That’s why I’m here. To take you back as my bride.’

CHAPTER THREE

LUISA watched his firm lips shape the word ‘bride’. Her head reeled.

There was no laughter in his eyes. No wildness hinting at insanity. Just a steady certainty that locked the protest in her mouth.

Her lungs cramped from lack of oxygen as her breath escaped in a whoosh. She lurched forward, dragging in air. He grasped her hand tight and reached for her shoulder as if to support her.

Violently she wrenched away, breaking his grip and retreating to stand, panting, beside the window.

‘Don’t touch me!’

His eyes narrowed to slits of green fire and she sensed that behind his calm exterior lurked a man of volatile passions.

‘Explain. Now!’ she said when she’d caught her breath.

‘Perhaps you’d better sit.’

So he could tower over her? No, thank you! ‘I prefer to stand.’ Even if her legs felt like unset jelly.

‘As you wish.’ Why did it sound like he granted her a special favour in her own house?

He had royal condescension down to an art form.

‘You were going to explain why you need to marry.’ For the life of her, Luisa couldn’t say ‘marry me’.

His look told her he didn’t miss the omission.

‘To ascend the throne I must be married.’ At her stare he continued. ‘It’s an old law, aimed to ensure an unbroken royal lineage.’

A tremor scudded through her at the idea of ‘ensuring the royal lineage’. With him.

It didn’t matter how handsome he was. She’d learnt looks could hide a black heart. It was the inner man that counted. From what she’d seen, Raul was as proud, opinionated and selfish as her detested grandfather.

The way he looked when she challenged him—jaw tight and eyes flashing malachite sparks, was warning enough.

Luisa’s heartbeat pounded so hard she had trouble hearing his next words.

‘It’s tradition that the crown prince take a bride from one of Maritz’s principalities. When we were in our teens a contract was drawn up for my marriage to your cousin, Marissa, Princess of Ardissia. But Marissa died soon after.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Luisa said gruffly. She searched his features for regret but couldn’t read anything. Didn’t he feel something for his fiancée who’d died?

She pursed her lips. Obviously the heartless arranged marriage was still alive and thriving in Maritz!

‘After that I was in no hurry to tie myself in marriage. But when my father died recently it was time to find another bride.’

‘So you could inherit.’ Luisa shivered, remembering that world where marriages were dynastic contracts, devoid of love. She crossed her arms protectively. How could he be so sanguine about it?

‘My plans were curtailed when your grandfather’s will was read and we discovered you would inherit. Before then, given what he’d said about disowning your mother, your branch of the family didn’t feature in our considerations.’

He made them sound like tiresome complications in his grand design! Indignation rose anew.

‘What has the will got to do with your marriage?’

‘The contract is binding, Luisa.’ He loomed far too close. Her lungs constricted, making her breathing choppy.

‘But how?’ Luisa paced away, urgently needing space. ‘If Marissa is—’

‘Everyone, including the genealogists and lawyers, believed your grandfather’s line would die with him. The news he had a granddaughter who hadn’t been disinherited was a bombshell.’ He didn’t look as if the news had pleased him. ‘You should be thankful we were able to find you before the media got the story. You’d have had press camped here around the clock.’

‘You’re overdramatising.’ Luisa’s hands curled tight as she forced down growing panic. ‘I’ve got nothing to do with your wedding.’

One dark eyebrow winged upwards. ‘The antiquated style of the contract means I’m bound to marry the Princess of Ardissia.’ He paused, his mouth a slash of pure displeasure. ‘Whoever she is.’

‘You’re out of your mind!’ Luisa retreated a frantic step, her stomach a churning mess. This truly was a nightmare. ‘I never signed any contract!’

‘It doesn’t matter. The document is legal.’ His lips twisted. ‘The best minds in the country can’t find a way out of it.’

She shook her head, her hair falling across her face as she backed up against the window. ‘No way! No matter what your contract says, you can’t take me back there as—’

‘My bride?’ The words dropped into echoing silence. Luisa heard them repeat over and over in her numbed brain, like a never-ending ripple spreading in a still, icy pool.

‘Believe me; I’ll do what’s necessary to claim my throne.’ His chin lifted regally, making clear what he hadn’t put in words: that he didn’t wish to marry someone so far beneath him. Someone so unappealing.

Why was he so desperate? Did power mean so much?

Luisa choked on rising anger. Twenty-four years old and she’d received two marriage offers—both from ambitious men who saw her as nothing but a means to acquire power! Why couldn’t she meet a caring, honest man who’d love her for herself? She felt soiled and cheap.

‘You expect me to give up my life and marry you, a total stranger, so you can become king?’ What century had he dropped out of? ‘You’re talking antiquated nonsense.’

His look grazed like shards of ice on bare skin. ‘It may be antiquated but I must marry.’

She jutted her chin. ‘Marry someone else!’

Something dangerous and dark flashed in his eyes. But when he spoke his words were measured. She sensed he hung onto his control by a thread.

‘If I could I would. If you hadn’t existed or if you’d already married, the contract would be void and I could choose another bride.’

As if choosing a wife took a minimum of time and effort!

Though in his case it might. With his looks, sexual magnetism and wealth there’d be lots of women eager to overlook the fact they tied themselves to a power hungry egotist!

His deep voice sent a tremor rippling through her overwrought body. ‘There’s no more time to find a way out. I need to be married within the constitutional time limit or I can’t inherit.’

‘Why should I care?’ Luisa rubbed her hands up chilled arms, trying to restore warmth. ‘I don’t even know you.’

And what she did know she didn’t like.

He shrugged and unwillingly Luisa saw how the fluid movement drew attention to those powerful shoulders. The sort of shoulders that belonged on a surf lifesaver or an outback farmer, not a privileged aristocrat.

‘I’m the best person for the kingship. Some would say the only suitable one. I’ve trained a lifetime for it.’

‘Others could learn.’

He shook his head. ‘Not now. Not in time. There was unrest in the last years of my father’s reign. That’s growing. A strong king is what the country needs.’

The sizzle in his eyes stopped her breath.

‘That leaves only one option.’

She was his only option!

‘I don’t care!’ Cool glass pressed against her back as he took a pace towards her and she stepped back. ‘Let them crown someone else. I’m not a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter.’

His lips curled in a knowing smile that should have repelled her. Yet her heart hammered as she watched his eyes light with a gleam that warmed her from tip to toe.

‘You think marriage to me would be a hardship?’ His voice dropped to a low pitch that feathered like a sultry breeze across her suddenly flushed skin. ‘That I don’t know how to please a woman?’

Luisa swallowed hard, using her hands to anchor herself to the windowsill behind her rather than be drawn towards the glittering green gaze that seemed now to promise unspoken delights.

He was far more dangerous than she’d realised.

‘Be assured, Luisa, that you will find pleasure in our union. You have my word on it.’

A beat of power, of heat, pulsed between them and she knew how an animal felt, mesmerised by a predator.

‘The answer is still no,’ she whispered hoarsely, shocked at the need to force down a betraying weakness that made her respond to his sensual promise. Why did her dormant hormones suddenly jangle into life around him?

For a long moment they stood, adversaries in a silent battle of wills.

‘Then, sadly, you leave me no choice.’ The fire in his eyes was doused as if it had never been. A flicker of what might have been regret shadowed his gaze then disappeared. ‘Just remember that decision, and the outcome, are entirely yours.’

Already he turned away. Only her hand on his elbow stopped him.

‘What do you mean?’ Fear was a sour tang in her mouth.

He didn’t turn. ‘I have business to finalise before I leave. Some farms to dispose of.’

Panic surged. Luisa’s fingers tightened like a claw on the fine wool of his suit. She stepped round to look up into his stern face.

‘You can’t foreclose! They haven’t done anything to you.’

His stare pinioned her. He shook off her hand.

‘In a choice between your relatives and my country there is no contest.’ He inclined his head. ‘Goodbye, Luisa.’

‘I’m sure Mademoiselle will be happy with this new style. A little shorter, a little more chic. Yes?’

Luisa dragged herself from her troubled reverie and met the eyes of the young Frenchwoman in the mirror. Clearly the stylist was excited at being summoned to the Prince’s exclusive Parisian residence. Unlike the nail technician who’d barely resisted snorting her displeasure when Luisa had refused false nails, knowing she’d never manage them. Or the haughty couturier who’d taken her measurements with barely concealed contempt for Luisa’s clothes.

The hair stylist hadn’t been daunted at the prospect of working on someone as ordinary as Luisa.

Perhaps she liked a challenge.

‘I’m sure it will be lovely.’ Another time Luisa would have been thrilled, having her hair done by someone with such flair and enthusiasm. But not today, just hours after Raul’s private jet had touched down in Paris.

It had all happened too fast. Even her goodbyes to Sam and a tearful Mary, crying over the happy news that Luisa was taking up her long lost inheritance.

How she wished she were with them now. Back in the world she knew, where she belonged.

Luisa gritted her teeth, remembering how Raul had taken the initiative from her even in her farewells.

When she’d gone to break the news it was to find he’d been there first. Her family and friends were already agog with the story of Luisa finally taking her ‘rightful place’ as a princess. And with news their debts were to be cancelled.

Yet Luisa had at least asserted herself in demanding Raul install a capable farm manager in her place to get the co-op on its feet. She refused to leave her friends short-handed.

In the face of their pleasure, Luisa had felt almost selfish, longing to stay, when so much good came out of her departure. Yet she’d left part of herself behind.

Her family and friends would have been distraught, knowing why she left. They wouldn’t have touched the Prince’s money if they knew the truth. But she couldn’t do that to them. She couldn’t ruin them for her pride.

Or her deep-seated fear of what awaited her in Maritz.

She shivered when she thought of entering Raul’s world. Being with a man who should repel her, yet who—

‘These layers will complement the jaw line, see? And make this lovely hair easier to manage.’

Luisa nodded vaguely.

‘And, you will forgive me saying, cut even on both sides suits you better, yes?’

Luisa looked up, catching a sparkle in the other woman’s eye. Heat seeped under her skin as she remembered her previous lopsided cut. She tilted her chin.

‘My friend wants to become a hairdresser. She practised on me.’

‘Her instincts were good, but the execution …’ The other woman made one last judicious snip, then stepped away. ‘Voila! What do you think?’

For the first time Luisa really focused. She kept staring as the stylist used a mirror to reveal her new look from all sides.

It wasn’t a new look. It was a new woman!

Her overgrown hair was now a gleaming silky fall that danced and slid around her neck as she turned, yet always fell sleekly back into place. It was shorter, barely reaching her shoulders, but shaped now to the contours of her face. Dull dark blonde had been transformed into a burnished yet natural light gold.

‘What did you do?’

Luisa didn’t recognise the woman in the mirror. A woman whose eyes looked larger, her face almost sculpted and quite … arresting. She turned her head, watching the slanting sunlight catch the seemingly artless fall of hair.

The Frenchwoman shrugged. ‘A couple of highlights to accentuate your natural golden tones and a good cut. You approve?’

Luisa nodded, unable to find words to describe what she felt. She remembered those last months nursing her mother, poring with her over fashion and beauty magazines borrowed from the local library. Her mother, with her unerring eye for style, would point out the cut that would be perfect for Luisa. And Luisa would play along, pretending that when she’d finally made her choice she’d visit a salon and have her hair styled just so. As if she had time or money to spare for anything other than her mother’s care and the constant demands of the farm.

‘It’s just long enough to put up for formal occasions.’

Luisa’s stomach bottomed at the thought of the formal occasions she’d face when they reached Maritz.

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. How could she have agreed?

Suddenly she needed to escape. Needed to draw fresh air into her lungs, far from the confines of this gilt-edged mansion with its period furniture and discreet servants.

It hit her that, from the moment Raul had delivered his ultimatum, she’d not been alone. His security men had been on duty that final night she’d slept at home. Probably making sure she didn’t do a midnight flit! After that there’d been stewards, butlers, chauffeurs.

And Raul himself, invading her personal space even when he stood as far from her as possible.

The stylist had barely slid the protective cape off Luisa’s shoulders when she was on her feet, full of thanks for the marvellous cut and turning towards the door.

Her thoughts froze as the Frenchwoman looked at something over Luisa’s shoulder then sank into a curtsey.

‘Ah, Luisa, Mademoiselle. You’ve finished?’ The deep voice curled across her senses like smoke on the air. She reminded herself it was distaste that made her shiver.

‘Yes. We’ve finished.’ Stiffening her spine, she turned.

Clear afternoon light spilled across the parquet floor and highlighted Raul where he stood just inside the doorway. Once again his splendour hit her full force. Not just the elegance of hand-stitched shoes and a beautifully crafted suit that clung to his broad shoulders. The impact of his strong personality was stamped on his austere features.

Even knowing his ruthlessness, it was hard not to gawk in appreciation. Luisa saw the stylist surreptitiously primping.

Annoyance sizzled. It wasn’t just her. He had this effect on other women.

‘I like your new look.’ Raul’s sudden smile was like warm honey. The flare of appreciation in his eyes even looked genuine. She told herself she didn’t care.

‘Thank you.’ Her tone was stiff.

Yet Luisa’s pulse raced. She put it down to dislike. How dared he come here with his gracious smile and his fluent French, charming her companion as if he were a kind benefactor!

Finally, after a long exchange of compliments, the stylist headed to the door. Luisa followed.

She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. A firm hand grasped her elbow as she walked past Raul.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out.’ She looked pointedly at his restraining hand.

‘That’s impossible. You have another appointment.’

The simmering fury she’d battled for days spiked.

‘Really? How strange. I don’t recall making any appointment.’ She raised her head, meeting his regard head-on. Letting her anger show.

Ever since she’d consented to go with him it had been the same. Exquisite politeness from him and deference from his staff. Yet every decision had been made for her.

At first she’d been in a state of shock, too stunned to do more than be swept along by the force of Raul’s will. But her indignation had grown with each hour. Especially when she’d been told, not asked about appointments with the beautician, the pedicurist, the manicurist, the hair stylist, the couturier …

As if she were an animated doll, not a woman with a brain of her own.

His hand dropped.

‘You’re upset.’

‘You noticed!’ She drew a slow breath, fighting for control. She was rigid with outrage and self-disgust.

Luisa had spent enough time battling bullies. From her despotic grandfather to big banks eager for immediate returns. To this man who’d taken over her life.

She should have been able to stand up to him!

She’d never felt so helpless.

That scared her more than anything. And provoked her fighting spirit. She’d had enough!

‘You’re tired after the long journey.’ Did his voice soften? Surely not.

She hadn’t slept a wink, even in the luxurious bed assigned to her on the long haul flight to Europe. Yet fatigue was the least of her worries.

‘I’m tired of you managing my life. Just because I gave in to blackmail doesn’t mean I’ve relinquished the ability to think. I’m not a doormat.’

‘No one would presume—’

‘You presume all the time!’ Luisa jabbed a finger into his broad chest then backed up a step, resolving to keep her distance. She didn’t like the tiny pinprick of heat tickling her skin where she’d touched him. It was there too whenever he took her arm, helping her from a plane or car.

‘You haven’t once asked!’ She spread her hands. ‘Your staff simply tell me what you’ve decided.’

His hooded eyes gave nothing away, but the sharp angle of his jaw told her she’d hit home. Good! The idea of getting under this man’s skin appealed. It was about time he found out what it felt like not to get his own way.

‘Royalty works on a strict timetable.’

‘And dairy farms don’t?’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘After you’ve spent your life getting up before dawn for early milking, then talk to me about managing my time!’

‘It’s hardly the same thing.’

‘No, it’s not.’ She kept her voice calm with an effort. ‘My life might not have been exciting but it was about honest hard work. A real job, doing something useful. Not—’ she gestured to the exquisitely decorated salon and the man who stood so haughtily before her ‘—not empty gloss and privilege.’

A dull flush of colour streaked across Raul’s razor-sharp cheekbones. Deep grooves bracketed the firm line of his mouth and his long fingers flexed and curled. Energy radiated from him, a latent power so tangible she had to force herself to stand her ground.

‘You’ll find royal life isn’t a sinecure.’ His words were glacial shards, grazing her overheated cheeks. ‘Running a country is a demanding full-time job.’

Luisa refused to be cowed. Nothing excused his treatment of her. That had to change. Now.

‘Under extreme duress I agreed to go to your country and accept my inheritance. That doesn’t give you carte blanche to run my life.’

‘Where were you going?’ His question surprised her.

She glanced at the full length windows with their view of a wide, elegant boulevard and a distant park.

‘I’ve never been to Paris.’ She’d never travelled. Except to her grandfather’s home and to Sydney when her mum visited specialists. Neither had been pleasant experiences. ‘I want to explore.’

‘You haven’t time. Your new clothes are here and you need to be fitted. It’s important you look like a princess when you step off the plane in Maritz.’

‘In case I don’t photograph well for the press?’ She almost laughed at the idea of being media-worthy, but the way his face shuttered instantly at her mention of the press distracted her.

‘It’s for your sake as well, Luisa. Imagine arriving in the full blare of public interest, dressed as you are.’

Was that a hint of sympathy in his expression, or did she imagine it?

‘There’s nothing wrong with my clothes! They’re …’

Cheap and comfortable and a little shabby. It wasn’t that she didn’t want beautiful clothes. It was the idea of pretending to be someone she wasn’t, as if the real Luisa wasn’t worth knowing. Yet a tiny voice inside admitted she didn’t want to face a nation’s press as she was.

She didn’t want to face the press at all!

‘Clothes are like armour.’ His voice held a note of understanding that surprised her. ‘You’ll feel more comfortable in clothes that make you look good.’

Did he speak from personal experience? Seeing the proud tilt of his head, Luisa guessed Raul could walk naked before a crowd and not lose one ounce of his regal attitude.

Her breath hitched on the idea of Raul naked. With those long, powerful thighs and that rangy powerful torso.

With an effort she dragged her mind back on track.

‘I don’t need permission to go out.’ She kept her voice low and even but her chin crept up. ‘I don’t answer to you and I do intend to see some of the city.’

She wouldn’t let him dictate to her any more.

‘Then what if I take you out myself, tonight?’ Luisa blinked in astonishment. ‘I have appointments for the rest of the day but after dinner, if you like, I’ll show you some of the sights of Paris.’ He paused for a long moment, his mouth easing into what could almost pass for a smile. ‘Would that suit?’

Blankly Luisa stared. A compromise? That must have cost him!

Instantly suspicion grew that he was up to something. Yet the idea of escaping this gorgeous, claustrophobic house was irresistible.

‘Agreed.’

Six hours later Luisa stood against the railing of a river cruiser, straining forward as each new sight came into view. From the Ile de la Cité with Notre Dame’s flying buttresses illuminated like spread wings against the darkness, to the Pont Neuf and the glittering Eiffel Tower. Paris slid around them, gorgeous and outrageously seductive. Yet still the tension twisted through her.

She and Raul were the only passengers.

Another reminder of what his wealth could buy.

Like her clothes. Stylish black wool trousers and a chic winter-weight cream tunic. Boots and a long coat of leather so soft she had to force herself not to keep smoothing her hands over it. A designer silk scarf in indigo and burnt orange that brought colour to her cheeks.

Except her cheeks burned anyway, remembering the designer’s whispered asides to his assistant about Luisa’s shape, size, posture and walk. Her posture was good, apparently, but her walk! A stride, like a man’s. And she had no notion how to carry off a dress. None!

Yet, despite being an apparently insurmountable challenge, she’d been transformed.

Not that Raul had noticed. He’d escorted her to the car with barely a word. Luisa’s bruised pride had been lacerated that he hadn’t commented on her appearance. Clearly it was a matter of the utmost indifference to him.

And this the man who’d spoken of marriage!

She drew a slow breath. Once in Maritz she’d consult local lawyers. There must be a way out of the wedding contract. Fear scudded through her at the idea of marrying—

‘You’re enjoying yourself?’ In the darkness she saw movement as Raul stood beside her. A trickle of heat warmed her belly and she swallowed hard. She hated the way her traitorous body responded yet she couldn’t douse her excitement. Even in her teens, bowled over by what she thought was love, she hadn’t felt this way.

‘The city is beautiful. Thank you for the cruise.’

‘So you admit there are benefits to our arrangement?’

His satisfied smile set her teeth on edge. He took credit for the beauty of the city, forgetting the blackmail that had forced her hand! It was a relief to let her frustration and indignation surge to the surface.

‘They don’t outweigh the negatives.’

He made an abrupt movement with one hand, a rare sign of impatience that surprised her. Usually he was so calm. ‘You refuse to be pleased, no matter what you are offered.’

‘I don’t recall any offer. That implies choice.’

‘You would rather be with your precious cows instead of here?’ His wide gesture encompassed the magical vista. ‘I give you the chance to be queen.’

‘By marrying you!’ She backed a step. ‘I’ll go with you to Maritz, but as for marriage …’ Luisa shook her head.

The sharp glimmer of his stare triggered her innermost anxieties, releasing a tumble of words. ‘You can’t give me anything I truly desire!’

Years before a man had tried to take her, not out of passion, but calculating ambition. It had left her feeling unclean. That was when she’d decided she’d never settle for anything less than love.

‘I want to marry a man who makes my heart race and my blood sing—’

Strong hands closed on her upper arms and she gaped up at the starkly sculpted face suddenly so close. A passing light played over him. Far from being coolly remote, heat ignited in Raul’s eyes. His expression sent adrenalin surging.

His head lowered and his warm breath feathered her face.

‘Like this, you mean?’

CHAPTER FOUR

RAUL’S mouth claimed Luisa’s, pressing, demanding, till on a gasp her lips parted and he took possession.

Too late he realised his mistake.

The spark of indignation and guilt that had urged him to silence her grievances flared higher. Hotter. Brighter. He tasted her and heat shimmered, molten in his blood. He delved into her sweet, lush mouth and discovered something unexpected.

Something unique.

He slanted his mouth, demanding better access. Needing more. A ripple of stunned pleasure reverberated through him. He’d suspected almost from the start that there was something unique about Luisa. But this …!

His tongue slicked across hers, laved and slid and explored and there it was again.

An excitement, an anticipation he hadn’t felt since he was a green boy.

Still it persisted. The feeling this was different.

He tugged her satisfyingly close between his wide-planted legs. His other hand slid up into the thick silken mass of bright hair that had caught his eye as he’d walked into the salon this afternoon. He’d wanted to touch it ever since.

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