A princess in disguise...

To find her precious daughter, stolen from her at birth, Princess Carolina will do anything. Including masquerading as a nanny! Jake Maynard, her daughter’s uncle, is all that’s standing in the way of the reunion Caro has yearned for. If only her body got the message he’s the enemy...

Caro knows this powerful billionaire won’t give up the only family he has left. Yet after years of emotional numbness, Jake is reawakening her! He shows Caro a life filled with passion, not protocol, but what will happen when Jake discovers her true identity?

Growing up near the beach, ANNIE WEST spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasising about gorgeous men and their love-lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at annie@annie-west.com or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

Also by Annie West

Seducing His Enemy’s Daughter

A Vow to Secure His Legacy

The Flaw in Raffaele’s Revenge

The Desert King’s Secret Heir

The Desert King’s Captive Bride

Contracted for the Petrakis Heir

Inherited for the Royal Bed

Her Forgotten Lover’s Heir

The Greek’s Forbidden Innocent

Passion in Paradise collection

Wedding Night Reunion in Greece

Royal Brides for Desert Brothers miniseries

Sheikh’s Royal Baby Revelation

Demanding His Desert Queen

The Princess Seductions miniseries

His Majesty’s Temporary Bride

The Greek’s Forbidden Princess

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Revelations of a Secret Princess

Annie West

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09801-4

REVELATIONS OF A SECRET PRINCESS

© 2020 Annie West

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

 Change of font size and line height

 Change of background and font colours

 Change of font

 Change justification

 Text to speech

This story is dedicated to Agnès Caubert, Fabiola Chenet and all the other special women who make up Les Romantiques.

Thank you for your friendship!

Thank you too for your work in hosting the wonderful Festival du Roman Féminin and for always making this visiting Australian feel welcome.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

CARO EMERGED FROM the café, huddling into her coat as the wind swirled around her ankles and bit her face. Funny that her skin could feel numb with cold while inside she was all churning heat. Nothing could extinguish that fire inside.

Except the possibility she might fail.

She faltered to a stop, grasping a lamp post with one gloved hand, fighting nausea.

Her head told her success was unlikely.

Her heart urged her on. Not with logic, but with desperate hope.

She’d never been courageous or adventurous. From infancy she’d been trained to do as she was told, never make waves or put herself forward. Her one attempt to break free and make her own decisions had been disastrous.

But that was years ago. She’d changed, reinventing herself in the aftermath of tragedy and pain. Caro might not be naturally intrepid but she was determined. She breathed deep, swallowing sharp, sustaining Alpine air. She’d do whatever it took now to succeed.

Caro looked up the street of the famous Swiss ski resort, ultra-exclusive with its astronomically high prices. Tourists gaped at the elegant shop windows, but they’d be gone by evening, driven away by the chic resort’s unaffordability.

Up a nearby valley was one of the world’s most iconic mountains. In the other direction lay her destination. Setting her jaw, she crunched over a dusting of late snow and got into her small rental car.

Twenty minutes later Caro nosed the car around a bend and emerged in a cleared space that hung partway up a mountain. The view was spectacular but she barely noticed.

She’d assumed she was driving to a ski lodge or an architect-designed home positioned for a multimillion-dollar vista. Instead she looked up at a wall of pale stone, a fairy-tale profusion of towers with steep, angular roofs. There was even a portcullis, raised to reveal a cobbled courtyard.

Caro stared at the centuries-old castle. This was no romantic ruin. It looked solid and meticulously maintained.

She’d known Jake Maynard was rich but he must have money to burn to live here. Her research told her he hadn’t inherited it. His permanent home was in Australia.

She set her jaw. Caro had seen behind the scenes of the rich and famous and knew human frailties lurked there as they did everywhere. Wealth and overt luxury didn’t awe her.

That was the one tiny advantage she had. Caro clung to it, feeling the nervous lurch of her stomach, tasting desperation on her tongue. Slowly she drove under the portcullis with its security camera, feeling each bump of the old cobblestones. Then she parked in the corner of the courtyard, next to a sleek, black vehicle.

It was only when she switched off the ignition and heard the silence thicken around her that she realised her hands shook.

Firming her lips, she reached for her purse, flicked a look in the mirror and pushed the door open.

She could do this.

She would do it.

Two lives depended on it.

‘Ms Rivage is here.’

At the sound of his secretary’s voice, Jake reluctantly looked up from behind his desk. Neil stood in the doorway, his expression bland.

Logic had urged Jake to excise this woman from the shortlist. She didn’t have the experience of the front-running applicants. Yet one small detail in her application had caught Neil’s eye, and Jake’s. Small but vitally important. He raked a hand through his hair and told himself he’d give her fifteen minutes.

Neil stood aside and she walked in.

Jake felt his eyebrows channel down in a frown, his senses humming like the rigging on a yacht when a sudden wind rose. The nape of his neck prickled and his nostrils flared as if sensing...something.

She looked like a nanny straight from central casting. Yet at the same time not. He surveyed her plain skirt suit, scraped-back hair and apparent lack of make-up.

What was it about her that didn’t fit? He’d learned to rely on his instincts and right now they sensed...something.

He got to his feet and walked around the desk, hand outstretched.

‘Ms Rivage.’

His hand engulfed slim, soft fingers, yet her grip was firm as she returned his gesture. Most of the other applicants had non-existent handshakes. Either they’d simpered up at him, or were content to let him take the lead. This one looked him square in the eye.

But only for a moment. Then her brown gaze slewed from his and he knew she stifled anxiety.

Of course she’s anxious. She’s applying for a job. She must know her qualifications aren’t impressive.

Yet his sixth sense tickled, telling him this was more than interview nerves.

‘Please, Ms Rivage, take a seat.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Maynard.’

Her voice was deeper than he’d expected, with a husky resonance that teased an altogether earthier part of his consciousness. Perhaps it was the hint of an accent colouring her perfect English. But Jake had never been swayed by a sexy accent. Not unless it was accompanied by an equally sexy body.

Caro Rivage’s body was hard to define behind the boxy jacket and skirt. She was tall in those heels, just half a head shorter than he, and her long legs were slender. She subsided into the chair with a grace that seemed at odds with the sombre suit. Brown clothes, brown eyes, dark, dull brown hair. She should look forgettable yet Jake found it hard to drag his gaze away.

Maybe it was the neat way she angled her ankles beneath her, accentuating an innate femininity that plain suit belied. Or the creamy skin that contrasted so startlingly with the dark suit.

Not completely pale. His gaze traversed her small, lush mouth and high cheekbones, both tinted the palest pink. Not, he’d swear, from make-up. This looked like the genuine article, a peaches and cream complexion, unblemished by the years of sun exposure he was used to seeing in his fellow Australians.

She shifted, her eyes lifting almost to his, then away, making Jake aware he was staring. The knowledge disturbed him. He wasn’t interested in Ms Rivage’s skin. Even if it looked as soft as a petal.

He pulled out his chair and sank into it, sprawling comfortably. Again that swift almost-stare from his guest before she looked down and smoothed her skirt.

Was she afraid of men?

But then she lifted her chin and their gazes collided. He felt the impact as a wave of heat.

Jake stared back, intrigued. What was this sensation? Attraction? Surely not for such a sparrow, even if she did have nice legs and an intriguing face. Suspicion?

Something about her made him cautious.

‘Tell me about yourself, Ms Rivage.’ He leaned back, elbows on the chair arms, and steepled his fingers under his chin.

Jake Maynard’s voice was a delicious rumble that she felt like a burr of pleasure in her veins. Caro blinked, ordering herself not to be fanciful. She was immune to male charm—once bitten, twice shy. Yet even as the thought surfaced, she knew this man wasn’t trying to charm. Despite the gesture of welcome and the barest hint of a welcoming smile, she sensed an intensity of purpose that made her pulse quicken.

Or maybe it was the laser-sharp keenness of his grey eyes beneath coal-black eyebrows. It made his eyes seem diamond bright and knowing, as if he saw beyond her carefully constructed appearance to those secrets she hoarded close.

It took everything she had not to shift in her seat or betray any other sign of weakness. Or break away from that glittering stare.

She drew a deep breath, conscious of the unfamiliar new suit, the pantyhose and heeled shoes that felt so different from the comfortable jeans, skirts and flat shoes she’d worn for the past few years.

The very act of putting on these clothes made her simultaneously grateful for the camouflage and unsettled by the reminder of her other life.

One black eyebrow climbed his broad forehead towards thick, ebony hair, reminding her he was waiting. With that hard but handsome face, powerful physique and enormous fortune Jake Maynard probably wasn’t used to women making him wait.

The thought dampened the worst of Caro’s nerves, helping her focus. She’d been distracted by the aura of strength emanating from him, courtesy of broad shoulders. By even features and that slash of a dimple in one cheek when he offered his half-smile. By his air of strength and dependability.

As if any man could be relied on!

She folded her hands and began. ‘My application speaks for itself. I love working with children and I’m very good at it. As you’ll see from my references.’

Her chin lifted as if anticipating an argument. Even now her father’s habit of squashing her self-confidence had its effect. She expected Jake Maynard to disagree with her claim, though it was true.

For too long those cool eyes held hers, then his gaze fell to the papers before him. Caro’s breath rushed out in relief. She’d have to do better than this if she were to convince him and win the job.

The possibility of being rejected was unthinkable. She bit her lip as he looked up, brows contracting as he read her features.

‘You don’t have formal qualifications.’

‘A degree in early childhood education?’ She shook her head. ‘My experience is all hands on. But you’ll see I’ve done a number of short courses on specific early learning issues.’

He didn’t bother to check her application again, letting it fall to the desk. Caro’s heart plunged with it. Surely that wasn’t it? He wouldn’t write her off so easily, not when he’d decided to interview her!

‘I have to tell you the other short-listed applicants have both practical experience, years of it, plus excellent formal qualifications.’

There it was, the brush-off she’d feared. Nausea churned at the idea of being given her marching orders.

‘Have you read my references? I believe you’ll find them persuasive.’

He sat back further in his chair, as if getting comfortable while he watched her squirm. He didn’t bother glancing at her application.

Maybe the contrast between his bronzed skin and the dark jacket he wore teased her imagination, or perhaps it was his almost insulting air of indolence, but for a second Caro fancied something demonic in the knowing slant of those dark brows. Something fierce and compelling and totally at odds with this comfortable room full of old, leather-bound books.

‘I’m supposed to be awed because one of your referees is a countess?’ Had he memorised her application? Caro was surprised he recalled that level of detail. ‘Unfortunately for you, Ms Rivage, I’m not swayed by an aristocratic title.’

His sneer rankled. Stephanie was a dear friend as well as a client. She’d given her reference in good faith. Caro sat taller, fixing her slouching interviewer with a stare.

‘The key part of the reference is the description of my work, Mr Maynard, not my employer’s title.’

Those straight eyebrows rose as if he was surprised at her response. Did he expect her to sit silently while he picked her application and her friends apart?

‘Her son faced a range of difficulties when I began working with him. Together we made considerable progress.’

‘You claim all his improvement was because of you?’

‘No. It was a team effort that included some specialised programmes. But I was there with him every day, a major part of that.’

That might not sound as good as I did it all myself, but it was the truth.

No sign of approval on those stark features. Maybe that was how Jake Maynard looked while processing information—gaze sharp, brow frowning and mouth pursed. The expression emphasised the heavy planes of his jaw and the slant of his high cheekbones. He reminded Caro of a picture that had fascinated her as a child, of a medieval knight frowning in concentration as he pinioned a flailing dragon the size of small Shetland pony with his lance.

Her sympathies had always been with the little dragon.

‘You think four or five years working as a nanny and preschool assistant make you the best person to look after my niece?’

She’d been wrong. The steely glint in his eyes was more condescending than the medieval knight who hung in a dark corner of the upstairs corridor. It reminded her of her father’s chilly stare. The one that through her childhood had reduced her to apologetic silence.

That, as much as her desperation, stiffened Caro’s spine.

Slowly she shifted position, sitting back in her seat and lifting one leg, crossing it over her other knee, feeling the slide of silky pantyhose. A flicker in that grey-eyed stare told her Jake Maynard noted the movement.

For some reason her chest constricted, as if the air turned thick and hard to breathe. She refused to let it show, instead adopting what she hoped was a relaxed pose.

‘I can’t speak about the other applicants, but if I’m given the opportunity I’ll devote myself to your niece totally. You won’t have any complaints.’

‘That’s a big claim.’

‘But true. I know my capabilities, and my dedication.’ In that at least she was absolutely the best person for the job.

Her stomach plunged. He didn’t look impressed. Why should he? No doubt he had hordes of ultra-qualified specialists at his beck and call. The very real possibility of being ejected without a chance to prove herself seemed more likely by the moment. Then where would she be? What other opportunity would she have?

Caro re-crossed her legs. ‘Clearly you were interested enough in my application to interview me.’

Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stifled fear at the prospect of failing. She’d known her chances were slim yet she’d obstinately clung to hope. This was her one opportunity to make things right. If Jake Maynard had any inkling of why she was really here she’d be out of the door before her feet touched the ground.

The thought flushed heat through her, eddying deep inside and burning her cheeks. Was his niece somewhere close even now?

‘Perhaps I was interested in meeting a woman so confident despite her lack of solid credentials.’

Caro stiffened. His tone hadn’t changed, hadn’t even sharpened, but his words were like harpoons piercing soft flesh.

Fortunately it took more than words or dismissive stares to discomfit her these days.

‘I’m sure, Mr Maynard, you wouldn’t drag applicants out into the wilds of the Alps on a mere whim.’

At least she hoped so. Surely this interview meant she had a chance?

‘Wilds?’ He shook his head. ‘You object to the location? The advertisement made it clear this is a live-in position.’

If he was looking for an excuse to reject her it wouldn’t be that.

‘No, I’m quite content to live in the country. In fact it’s what I’m used to.’

Silvery eyes bored into hers and Caro looked back calmly. Her heart might be hammering an out-of-kilter tempo and her palms might be damp with nerves, but she wouldn’t show it. Better to take the initiative.

‘I understand your niece is from St Ancilla—’

‘Who told you that?’ He leaned forward abruptly, hands planted on the desk, as if ready to vault across the polished wood. Now she registered what his chilly expression had concealed. Protectiveness.

Maybe it was the innate caution of a wealthy, good-looking bachelor, a target for the paparazzi. Yet Caro sensed his protectiveness was for his niece. Caro warmed to him a little. She was glad the little girl had someone to stand up for her and keep her safe.

Out of nowhere emotion swept in, blindsiding Caro. It rose, a choking ball of heat in her throat, making her swallow convulsively. It roiled in her belly and prickled the backs of her eyes. If only she’d been stronger—

‘Are you going to answer me?’

Caro blinked and met that searing stare, hating that moment of weakness. ‘I did my research before applying for the position.’

For the first time since she’d walked into this room, Jake Maynard didn’t look completely in control, despite his perfectly tailored clothes, his big desk and air of authority. ‘That’s not common knowledge.’

Fear rippled through her. Had she slipped up already? Her mind raced, thinking through what she’d said.

‘It may not be common knowledge here, but in St Ancilla it’s no secret.’ She paused. ‘The accident that killed her parents was reported by the local press.’ When still he didn’t say anything Caro continued. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss. It must be a difficult time for you and your niece.’

Caro’s heart squeezed. If her information was right, and she knew it was, little Ariane had been orphaned twice. Once as a newborn and then again a month ago when her adoptive parents died in a severe storm. The poor mite had had a rough start to life.

Caro was determined that the child’s future would be brighter. In so many ways.

‘And you somehow linked that small news item to my advertisement? I don’t recall the St Ancillan press mentioning me.’

He sounded sceptical and she couldn’t blame him. In fact he sounded downright suspicious.

That was the last thing Caro needed.

Jake Maynard was a self-made multibillionaire. You didn’t become a world-class financier without being clever and insightful, or by taking people at face value. Why had she ever thought this might be straightforward?

The answer was simple. Because she needed it to be.

She smoothed her hands over her skirt, buying time to conquer her emotions.

‘A friend lives in that part of St Ancilla and happened to mention that you were now Ariane’s guardian.’ Caro paused, hearing the slight wobble in her voice as she said the little girl’s name. Stupid to let emotion affect her now. She couldn’t afford any sign of weakness. This man would pounce on it mercilessly. She looked straight at Jake Maynard and spread her hands in an open gesture. ‘Later, when I saw your advertisement I put two and two together.’

‘I see.’ He leaned back again and she tried not to let her gaze drift to those imposing shoulders or that strong jaw. ‘You do get around, don’t you? First in St Ancilla, now in Switzerland.’

Why couldn’t Jake Maynard be easy-going and friendly? Eager to employ a nanny from Ariane’s island homeland in the Mediterranean?

Caro met his gaze with the polite smile she’d perfected as a child. The one her father had approved when she needed to look happy for the press.

She had no intention of admitting she only knew of Jake Maynard’s search for a nanny because she’d been seeking a chance to meet Ariane. Let him think she was in Switzerland for some other reason.

‘Fortunately both air travel and the Internet are available to many of us now, Mr Maynard.’

A hint of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth and for a second Caro saw a glimmer of appreciation in that hard gaze, making it look almost warm. The effect was startling.

She sucked in a slow breath, to her consternation feeling her bra scratch flesh that suddenly felt oversensitive. Deep inside flared a kernel of heat that had nothing to do with nerves. It felt like feminine awareness.

Caro told herself she was imagining things. She was immune to men.

‘You think I should give you the job because you come from the same country as my niece?’

She brushed her sleeve, giving herself a moment’s respite from that searching gaze.

‘I think it’s useful that I speak the language and understand the culture. Such things are comforting, especially at a time of loss.’ She paused. ‘Even if she’s not going to live there, there’s a strong argument for her keeping her native language.’

Slowly he inclined his head, as if reluctant to agree. ‘Frankly that’s the only reason you’re here, Ms Rivage. Because Ariane needs someone who can speak Ancillan as well as English. She’s lost her parents but I don’t want her to lose her heritage too.’

His voice hit a gravel note and something shifted inside her. For the first time since Caro entered this imposing library she felt real sympathy for the man before her. His expression hadn’t altered yet that tiny crack in his voice hinted at deep-buried grief.

He might remind her of a sexy fallen angel with that blatantly raw masculinity and a simmering impatience that bordered on arrogance, but he’d recently lost his sister and brother-in-law. Plus inherited responsibility for his niece.

He probably wasn’t at his best.

‘I have some experience of dealing with loss, Mr Maynard. If you give me the chance I’ll do everything I can to support your niece and help her thrive.’

His eyes held hers and for the first time she sensed he wasn’t quite so negative. Was it wishful thinking?

She didn’t have a chance to find out for there was a tap on the door and it swung open.

‘Sorry to interrupt, Jake, Ms Rivage.’ It was the secretary, Neil Tompkins, who’d escorted her upstairs. ‘There’s a call I really think you need to take. The Geneva consortium.’

Jake Maynard pushed his chair back. ‘My apologies, Ms Rivage. This is bad timing but it’s crucial I take this.’

Even so, Caro gave him credit, he didn’t simply march out, but waited for her response.

‘Of course, Mr Maynard.’

‘I won’t keep you long.’ Then the pair disappeared, the studded oak door closing behind them.

Caro shot to her feet as if from a catapult. Sitting under that icy scrutiny had taken its toll. Leaving her bag beside her chair, she paced the room, drawn to the incredible vista of snowy mountains, so different from her Mediterranean home.

Her mind raced through what he’d said and how she’d responded. What she could have said better. What she could say to sway him on his return.

If the other applicants were so much more experienced it was unlikely he’d entrust his precious niece to her. On the other hand, Ancillan wasn’t a common language. Its origins were ancient, with roots in classical Greek and even, the linguists thought, Phoenician, but influenced over the centuries by trade and conquest so it had traces of Italian, Arabic and even Viking borrowings. If she was the only applicant who could speak it she had a chance.

The door banged open and Caro swung around. But it wasn’t Jake Maynard who entered, nor was it the door to his secretary’s office that stood open. It was a door on the other side of the room.

In front of it, poised as if in mid-flight, was a small, dishevelled figure. Her frilly dress was rumpled and her plaits were half undone so her head was surrounded by a bright bronze nimbus of curls.

Caro’s heart stopped.

She breathed. She must have, for she didn’t black out. But she couldn’t move.

Memory swamped her as the little girl turned a tear-stained face and drowned violet eyes met hers.

Caro felt a trembling begin in the soles of her feet and work its way up her legs to her hands and belly. She swallowed then swallowed again, unable to moisten her suddenly arid mouth.

She’d struggled, hoped and prayed for this moment. But nothing had prepared her for the raw shock of reality.

Those eyes. That hair.

She was thrown back in time to her own childhood. To the only person in the world who’d ever loved her. To gentle hands, tender words and a thick mass of curls of the same distinctive burnished bronze.

‘Where’s Uncle Jake?’

The little girl’s words dragged Caro back to the present. She tried to smile but her mouth trembled too much. Her knees gave way and she sank onto the padded window seat, her hand pressed to her middle as if to still the tumult inside.

‘He’ll be back in a minute.’ Her voice was barely audible, rough with emotion.

The girl’s eyes widened. ‘You speak like me!’

Caro hadn’t realised she’d spoken Ancillan.

Then the girl she’d come all this way to find, the girl she hadn’t known about till a few weeks ago, slowly crossed the room towards her.

Caro went hot then cold as relief, disbelief and wonder hit. She was torn between the urge to grin and the need to sob.

Or to gather Ariane close and never let her go.

CHAPTER TWO

OBLIVIOUS TO HER distress, Ariane stopped before her and held up a teddy bear that looked worn and well loved.

‘Maxim’s arm came off.’ Her bottom lip trembled as she held up the separated limb. ‘Can you fix him?’

It took Caro a moment to follow her words. She was so busy taking in the heart-shaped face, wide eyes and smattering of tiny freckles across that little nose.

Despite all the evidence Caro had told herself it was possible there’d been a mistake. Things like this—long-lost relatives and scandalous secrets—didn’t happen in the real world.

But face to face with Ariane, doubt disintegrated. Those eyes, that hair, even the shy, questioning tilt of the head, were unmistakeable. Was it possible for a child to inherit a gesture, a way of holding themselves, if they’d never spent time with their birth family?

The impossible was real. Real and here before her.

Searing emotion smacked Caro in the chest. She gulped a noisy breath, unable to fill straining lungs. Her eyes filled—her first tears in years.

Instantly the little girl backed away.

That was possibly the only thing that could have helped Caro get a grip, the sight of Ariane retreating.

From somewhere Caro conjured a wobbly smile.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.’ She lifted a hand to her eye, blinking back the unshed tears. ‘I think I had something in my eye. Now, tell me about your bear. He’s called Maxim?’

Ariane nodded but kept her distance.

‘That’s a fine name.’ Caro resisted the urge to move closer. She’d already upset the poor kid with her tears. It would do no good to rush this, though instinct urged her to wrap her arms around the child and hold her tight. ‘Did you know there was once a king called Maxim? He was very brave. He fought off the pirates who tried to invade St Ancilla.’

Ariane took a step nearer. ‘That’s where I come from.’ She tilted her head. ‘Are you from there too?’

‘I am.’ Caro let her smile widen. She’d never allowed herself to imagine having this conversation, as if it might tempt fate into obliterating all her hopes.

This was a bittersweet moment. Sweet because after all the grief and years of emptiness, Caro had found the girl she hadn’t known about. Bitter because of those wasted years.

But there was no time for dwelling on past wrongs. Suddenly Caro had never felt more alive, more brimming with excitement.

‘What happened to Maxim? Was he in a battle with pirates too?’

Ariane smiled and Caro felt it like a dart of sunshine piercing her heart. ‘No, silly. There aren’t really pirates.’

‘Aren’t there?’ Caro stared at the bright face with the dimpling cheeks and felt her insides melt.

Ariane shook her head. ‘No. Uncle Jake said so.’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘So don’t be scared if you dream about them. They’re not real.’

‘That’s good to know. Thank you.’

Did that mean Ariane often had nightmares? Again Caro resisted the impulse to gather her close.

Ariane tilted her head, clearly curious. ‘Who are you? You look...’ her forehead scrunched in concentration ‘...like someone I know.’

Caro’s heart thudded high in her throat. ‘Do I? Who do I look like?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

Caro drew in a slow breath, reminding herself Ariane was a little girl. She imagined Caro was familiar, possibly because they were from the same place. Maybe speaking Ancillan made her seem familiar. There was no more to it. Anything else was impossible, even if Caro felt the connection between them as a tangible bond.

‘What happened to Maxim if he wasn’t fighting pirates?’

Ariane pouted. ‘I don’t know. I woke up and he was like this.’

Caro eyed the bear, with its fur rubbed off on one side where he’d clearly been cuddled a lot. She’d guess Ariane usually held him by that arm and the stitching had given way after much use.

‘That’s easily fixed.’

‘It is?’

‘Of course. All we need is a needle and thread to sew him back together.’

Ariane stepped closer and held out the brown bear and his separated arm. ‘Can you fix him now? Please?’

Those huge eyes in that grave little face would make any heart melt. As for Caro, it took everything she had to keep things light.

‘I don’t have any thread with me but we can patch him up till we get some.’

‘Patch him?’

‘Yes. If you get my bag from near the desk I’ll see what I can do.’ Because even now her knees felt too wobbly to take her weight.

She watched the girl dart across the room. Obviously Maxim was a much-loved bear. Who’d given it to her? Her parents? Her Uncle Jake?

Caro thought of the self-contained man who’d interrogated her across the desk and tried to imagine him with this precious little girl. She couldn’t conjure the image, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. He was protective of Ariane.

‘Here.’ She held out Caro’s capacious bag.

‘Thank you.’ Caro barely stopped herself calling the child by her name. ‘My name is Caro. Can you say that?’

‘Caro. That’s easy.’

‘And what’s your name?’

‘Ariane.’

‘What a pretty name.’

‘My daddy said he and Mummy picked it because I was so pretty.’ Those big eyes filled with tears and Ariane’s chin wobbled.

Caro’s excitement shattered, her insides curdling. Ariane had lost her parents. She was grieving.

‘I can see that,’ Caro said slowly as she reached for her bag and began to rummage in it. ‘I know some girls in St Ancilla who are called Ariane. They’re named for a famous lady. She was very pretty, but more importantly she was kind and brave too.’

‘She was?’ Ariane blinked up at her, diverted.

‘Oh, yes. She lived a long time ago before there were good hospitals and medicines. When all the people were very sick from a bad illness the lords and ladies shut themselves away because they were afraid they would get sick too. But Ariane came out of her castle and visited the poor people. She made sure they had food and clean water and helped them get better.’

‘I want to be like her. I want to help.’

‘Well,’ Caro said slowly, withdrawing a scarf from her bag, ‘you can get some practice now, helping Maxim. Here. Can you hold his arm like this?’

Ariane nodded and stood by Caro’s knee, head bent as she concentrated on holding the bear and his arm in just the right way. Caro felt the brush of her soft little hand. A flutter of sensation rippled up Caro’s arm, arrowing to her heart. She tugged in a tremulous breath and focused on fashioning the scarf into a sling.

There’d be time for emotion later, when she was alone. She couldn’t give in to it now. That would be self-indulgent, besides scaring a child who knew her only as a stranger.

But as Caro knotted the scarf, her attention wasn’t on the bear but on Ariane, whose world had been ripped apart. Who needed stability, kindness and above all love.

Caro vowed that, whatever it took, she would be the one to provide that.

Jake stood in the doorway, watching the pair with their heads bent over the teddy bear.

There was nothing especially arresting about the sight. Yet there was something about the woman and the girl together that hit him like a fist to the ribs.

Because it should have been his sister Connie here with Ariane?

Jake released a slow breath from searing lungs.

That went without saying. He’d give everything he had to see Connie here, alive and well. But this skitter of preternatural awareness didn’t spring from loss. Or not loss alone.

What was it about this pair that stopped him in his tracks?

They spoke Ancillan so he didn’t understand their conversation. Yet he’d understood Ariane’s sadness and the way Caro Rivage had directed the conversation, allaying the tears he’d seen brim in his niece’s eyes.

His confidence in this woman as a potential nanny soared. Anyone who could make Ariane smile these days was good in his book. He liked Ms Rivage’s sensitivity, the deft way she’d handled what looked like a fraught moment.

Not that he was ready to give her the job. Her qualifications were laughably light compared with some of the experts who’d worked in the field for decades.

Jake frowned, watching her wind something around the teddy’s arm, murmuring to Ariane.

There was something there he couldn’t put his finger on. Some...similarity between them. His nape prickled as instinct stirred.

It wasn’t their colouring. Ariane’s was vibrant whereas Caro Rivage had dull brown hair and dark brown eyes. Ariane’s face was heart-shaped and Caro Rivage’s was oval. Yet the slanting set of their eyes looked similar and maybe something around the shape of the nose.

He shook his head as his brain cleared. There was no link. It was merely the way they worked together, both intent, both speaking Ancillan. He imagined things.

For some reason his sixth sense had worked overtime ever since Caro Rivage arrived. So much that after the phone call he’d checked her application again at Neil’s desk, looking for anomalies. But there was nothing that didn’t fit. The references and qualifications of all the shortlisted applicants, including Ms Rivage, had already been checked.

His first assessment had been right. She was ordinary, not outstanding.

Jake always chose outstanding. He didn’t have time for ordinary. That was how he’d built his business and his personal fortune, through excellence. Yet he couldn’t stifle the idea that perhaps it wasn’t outstanding Ariane needed but someone ordinary. Someone to help her grope her way back to normalcy after her trauma.

He frowned. That was crazy. He wanted the best for Ariane.

Jake ploughed his fingers through his hair. Maybe he was oversensitive when it came to choosing Ariane’s nanny. This wasn’t like his usual decisions. Then there was nothing at risk but money, albeit lots of it.

Where his niece was concerned, Jake refused to take risks. She’d been through enough. He thought of his sister and brother-in-law’s car, crushed almost to nothing by a massive tree brought down in a storm. It was a miracle Ariane had survived when her parents died.

He owed it to her and Connie to keep her safe.

He stepped into the room. Instantly the woman in brown jerked her head up, those impenetrable eyes locking on his.

What was it about her that made his hackles rise?

Clearly, despite her apparent absorption in the child, she was attuned to his presence. Jake didn’t know whether that was good or suspicious.

Or maybe, the idea surfaced again as their eyes held and his chest expanded on a deep breath, it wasn’t suspicion tugging at him. Could it be attraction?

Jake dismissed the idea. Caro Rivage might have fine features and a certain understated elegance, and poise...definitely poise. But Jake preferred more in his women. Eye-catching beauty and scintillating personalities for starters. Jake didn’t date dull sparrows.

Nor did he mix work and pleasure. No dating the staff.

He stopped before them, jaw firming. She wasn’t staff. Not yet. Probably never.

‘What happened to Maxim? Is he okay?’

Ariane looked up and he caught a fleeting smile. His niece was pleased to see him, even if not pleased enough to hug him. He stifled a pang of regret.

He couldn’t blame her. He was still almost a stranger. His trips to St Ancilla hadn’t been frequent and though he’d stayed with Connie and her family, he’d usually worked during the day when Ariane was awake.

‘His arm came off. But Caro can fix him. We need...’ She turned to the woman.

‘Thread. Wool to sew his arm on.’

Ariane nodded. ‘Wool. Do you have wool, Uncle Jake? Please? Then we can make him better.’ Pleading eyes turned to him and Jake felt that familiar stab of discomfort.

It was crazy that he should be responsible for this needy child. What she required was someone who knew how to care for her. Someone who could fill the gaps he, with his lack of experience, couldn’t.

‘I’m sure we can rustle some up.’ He hunkered near his niece, enjoying the way she smiled back, clearly delighted with his news.

What he hadn’t counted on was discovering the surprisingly rich scent of the woman holding Ariane’s teddy bear. Jake’s nostrils flared as a hint of her warm, spicy fragrance reached him. It was the perfume of a sensual woman, not heavy but far more intriguing than the predictable floral scent he’d have expected of a prim sparrow. He inhaled deeply then wished he hadn’t as his sense receptors shuddered into awareness.

Jake shot a look at her under lowered brows but she avoided his gaze.

Because she felt that jag of awareness too?

Grimly he yanked his brain back to order. There was no awareness.

‘I’ll call Lotte and we’ll see if she has any wool, shall we?’ The ever-efficient housekeeper would have some, or be able to acquire it.

‘And a needle please, preferably a large one.’

Up close Caro Rivage’s husky voice sounded surprisingly sensual. Was she trying to entice him into giving her the job? She was in for a rude awakening if she thought he’d be swayed by a sexy voice.

Yet once more when he looked she was all but ignoring him. Instead she smiled at Ariane as she put the teddy into the little girl’s arms.

Jake stared, amazed at how that smile turned this passably pleasant-looking woman into someone almost...stunning. The joy in her expression could be bottled and sold as a tonic.

As if sensing his stare, she darted a glance at him then away, fussing over the sling she’d arranged.

‘Please, Uncle Jake. Can you ask now?’

‘Of course.’ He got up and called Lotte on the house phone. The interview had been derailed by Ariane and her damaged bear. But perhaps that was a good thing. Despite requiring the best qualified person, he also had to find someone caring. Someone Ariane could relate to.

As he watched the two females together it seemed as if he’d found just that. Or, he amended, someone who could put on a good initial show but who might not have the depth of experience Ariane needed. The thought loosened the ribbon of tension tightening around his gut.

He didn’t want to give Caro Rivage the job.

Yet there was no denying Ariane liked her. He owed it to his niece to give the woman a chance, despite his doubts. Without a solid reason to reject her she deserved that much.

Ariane spoke again.

‘Can you speak English, Ariane?’ that throaty voice asked. ‘I don’t think your uncle understands Ancillan and it’s not nice to exclude him.’

Spoken like a true governess. As if he cared. He was just glad to hear Ariane sound so animated after weeks of being withdrawn and teary.

‘Exclude?’

‘It means to shut someone out so they feel all alone. It’s not a friendly thing to do. You don’t want to hurt your uncle’s feelings, do you?’

Ariane shook her head yet she looked unhappy. ‘But I like talking with you. It’s like being home, talking with my...’ Her mouth clamped shut and her little chin wobbled and Jake wanted to tell her he didn’t give a damn what language she spoke. He hated it when she withdrew into that grief-stricken bubble where he had trouble reaching her.

He opened his mouth but Caro Rivage spoke first. ‘Of course you want to speak Ancillan. I’m sure you’ll soon be able to do that a lot.’

‘With you?’

Jake’s heart cramped as he looked into that woebegone little face.

‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ Full marks to Ms Rivage for not playing on Ariane’s desperation to make promises she couldn’t keep. She turned to the opening door. ‘Now, is this Lotte?’

Jake crossed his arms and leaned against the desk to watch proceedings. As expected, Lotte had wool in several colours, plus needles and scissors. The housekeeper reached for Maxim, offering to sew him better, but she was forestalled by Ariane, who insisted Caro do it.

He saw the women’s gazes meet, assessing and something more. Caro asked permission to use Lotte’s supplies, then sought a second opinion on the choice of colour and needle size. By the time the two had discussed possible stitches and the need to reinforce Maxim’s other arm, the women were firm allies.

Silently Jake applauded Caro Rivage. She knew she trod on the housekeeper’s territory and had adroitly co-opted her as an ally rather than a rival. Lotte fretted over Ariane like a broody hen with a single chick yet now she smiled and nodded, praising the newcomer’s stitching and telling Ariane that Maxim would be as good as new.

Caro Rivage was a smooth operator, able to read people’s sensitivities.

Was that what she tried to do with him? Were those downcast eyes a ploy to make her seem the ideal nanny?

But she’d met his gaze steadily when she had to. He sensed she really was nervous, despite her show of calm. Clearly she wanted this job badly.

Was she broke? Her clothes looked new if unremarkable. Maybe she wanted the kudos of working for him. A stint in his employ would open any door to her.

The idea eased his tension. Why shouldn’t she want the job? This vague sense of something askew dissipated. The woman checked out. She had no criminal record and her references were good.

‘Maxim looks as good as new,’ he murmured when she cut the thread and handed the bear to a grinning Ariane.

‘Thank you, Caro!’

Jake thought Ariane might even hug the newcomer, but instead she cuddled the toy while Lotte looked on, beaming from ear to ear.

Jake cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps, Lotte, you could take Ariane for a snack while Ms Rivage and I conclude our business?’

It took some doing as Ariane didn’t want to leave but finally they were alone. He watched Caro get to her feet. Her hands twisted together before she seemed to collect herself and let them fall to her sides. Her eyes met his and once more he felt the curious blankness of that dark-eyed stare. It struck him that when she was in control of herself she gave little away.

Jake was torn between annoyance and admiration.

‘Shall I sit by the desk again?’ She gestured to where she’d faced him across the expanse of glossy wood.

‘No, Ms Rivage.’ That deep voice rippled across her skin. ‘The interview is over.’

Just like that dismay slammed into her. Her belly knotted with nausea. Caro flexed her fingers then linked them behind her back rather than press them to her roiling abdomen.

He couldn’t dismiss her so quickly! They’d barely begun to talk when they’d been interrupted.

‘I believe you should reconsider, Mr Maynard.’ There. Her voice was even, though a little hoarse. Amazing what desperation could do.

‘Reconsider? You haven’t heard what I have in mind.’

Amusement sparked in his cool, grey eyes as if delighting in her discomfort.

Outrage filled her. She’d been the butt of her family’s amusement so often as a child that it grated. Because she was shy. Because she looked different. Because she didn’t fit with the rest of them.

Okay, it was mainly her stepmother rather than her half-brothers who’d made her feel an outsider, but the wounds carved deep. Especially as her father had merely raised his eyebrows and told her not to be sensitive.

Caro planted her feet more firmly and met Jake Maynard’s sparkling gaze with one of her own. ‘Perhaps you’d like to inform me what you do have in mind?’

Her tone would have done her father proud. Cool, composed and superior. She saw Jake Maynard’s eyes widen then narrow suspiciously but she refused to back down. This was too important. This meant everything.

‘I had in mind to invite you to stay overnight. To give you a trial period with my niece.’

Caro felt the air whoosh from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath. Only years of training at projecting the right image kept her on her feet, for her knees trembled like leaves in a gale. Her heart jammed up in her throat and there was a roaring in her ears, blocking out the rest of his words. She saw him speak, tried to focus and heard something about this not being a promise of employment.

‘Well, Ms Rivage? You haven’t said anything. Does that mean you’re not prepared to stay?’

Caro shook her head, buying time while she found her voice. ‘No, Mr Maynard, it doesn’t mean that at all. I’ll happily stay tonight and get to know Ariane.’

‘Good.’ He nodded but didn’t smile. In fact he didn’t look happy at all, though he was getting his own way.

Perhaps he was so used to everyone jumping to do his bidding he didn’t consider how inconvenient it might be for a job applicant to make an unscheduled overnight stay. Fortunately Caro had the suitcase she’d brought to Switzerland in the car downstairs.

‘Very well. I’ll have my secretary draw up a simple agreement to cover us both in the event of any accident or liability during your stay.’

He really was a businessman through and through. Caro wouldn’t have thought of that. But then she was in such a whirl she was barely capable of digesting what he’d said.

She watched him walk out of the door, heard the murmur of male voices in the outer room and reached out a hand to anchor herself. Her fingers clutched fabric and she blinked. She was grabbing the thick curtain as if it were all that kept her upright.

Caro sank onto the window seat, reeling. She felt hot and cold, anxious yet ecstatic.

She had a chance.

A chance to be with Ariane.

Her long-lost daughter.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.