Carissa looked around for a weapon.

The gleam of metal on the windowsill caught her eye. She picked up the old cigar tube she’d found when she arrived at the lodge, an idea growing.

Careful to avoid creaking floorboards, she reached her bedroom and felt her heartbeat quicken. The intruder was in there.

Through a small gap in the doorway she saw a man a head taller than she. She swallowed. Lord, he was big—wide at the shoulders and narrow everywhere else. His aristocratic profile tugged at her memory, but before she could pinpoint the reason, she decided it was now or never.

She pushed open the door, moved up behind the man and pressed the cigar tube into his back with all the force she could muster. “Don’t move. I have a gun, and I know how to use it.”

Dear Reader,

Ring in the holidays with Silhouette Romance! Did you know our books make terrific stocking stuffers? What a wonderful way to remind your friends and family of the power of love!

This month, everyone is in store for some extraspecial goodies. Diana Palmer treats us to her LONG, TALL TEXANS title, Lionhearted (#1631), in which the last Hart bachelor ties the knot in time for the holidays. And Sandra Steffen wraps up THE COLTONS series about the secret Comanche branch, with The Wolf’s Surrender (#1630). Don’t miss the grand family reunion to find out how your favorite Coltons are doing!

Then, discover if an orphan’s wish for a family—and snow on Christmas—comes true in Cara Colter’s heartfelt Guess Who’s Coming for Christmas? (#1632). Meanwhile, wedding bells are the last thing on school nurse Kate Ryerson’s mind—or so she thinks—in Myrna Mackenzie’s lively romp, The Billionaire Borrows a Bride (#1634).

And don’t miss the latest from popular Romance authors Valerie Parv and Donna Clayton. Valerie Parv brings us her mesmerizing tale, The Marquis and the Mother-To-Be (#1633), part of THE CARRAMER LEGACY in which Prince Henry’s heirs discover the perils of love! And Donna Clayton is full of shocking surprises with The Doctor’s Pregnant Proposal (#1635), the second in THE THUNDER CLAN series about a family of proud, passionate people.

We promise more exciting new titles in the coming year. Make it your New Year’s resolution to read them all!

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

The Marquis and the Mother-to-be

Valerie Parv

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Books by Valerie Parv

Silhouette Romance

The Leopard Tree #507

The Billionaire’s Baby Chase #1270

Baby Wishes and Bachelor Kisses #1313

* The Monarch’s Son #1459

* The Prince’s Bride-To-Be #1465

* The Princess’s Proposal #1471

Booties and the Beast #1501

Code Name: Prince #1516

† Crowns and a Cradle #1621

† The Baron & the Bodyguard #1627

† The Marquis and the Mother-To-Be #1633

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Interrupted Lullaby #1095

Royal Spy #1154

VALERIE PARV

lives and breathes romance and has even written a guide to being romantic, crediting her cartoonist husband of nearly thirty years as her inspiration. As a former buffalo and crocodile hunter in Australia’s Northern Territory, he’s ready-made hero material, she says.

When not writing her novels and nonfiction books, or speaking about romance on Australian radio and television, Valerie enjoys dollhouses, being a Star Trek fan and playing with food (in cooking, that is). Valerie agrees with actor Nichelle Nichols, who said, “The difference between fantasy and fact is that fantasy simply hasn’t happened yet.”

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Prologue

Excitement gripped Carissa Day as she followed the real estate agent through an overgrown garden toward a rambling house. The pleasantly weathered timber walls, bay windows and shingle roof made the building look at ease in the rain-forest setting. The prospect of living twenty minutes’ drive from the nearest town only added to its charm, she decided.

“Are you sure about the price, Mr. Hass?” she asked, concerned at how close she was to losing her heart. The lodge so exactly fitted her dream of the bed-and-breakfast place she wanted to establish that she had to remind herself it wouldn’t be a picnic. Taming the garden alone would keep her busy for some time.

“I’m quite sure,” the agent said in his elusive accent. “This used to be a country retreat for a wealthy family, but it hasn’t been used for two years. The owner died nine months ago after a long illness, and the new owner instructed me to sell it off. He’s in the Carramer Royal Navy and away a lot, so doesn’t want to be encumbered by a country house.”

“Who was the owner?”

Hass hesitated before saying, “It was someone called de Valmont. He willed the property to his nephew, my client.”

She had met the agent by chance at the Monarch Hotel in Tricot, where she had based herself so she could look at a property in the area. She had told the agent that she was Australian and had lived in Carramer when she was fifteen with her brother and diplomat father. She had never visited this area, but the name of the former owner was familiar. “Aren’t the de Valmonts part of the royal family?”

The agent looked away. “A lot of Carramer families claim royal connections.”

She thought of the de Marigny brothers she had known when she was a teenager. They hadn’t claimed to be royal. They were the real thing. Mathiaz was a baron and Eduard was a marquis. For a time, she had believed she was in love with Eduard. Even now, a flutter in her stomach accompanied the thought of the handsome young royal.

He wasn’t the reason she had chosen to return to Carramer after her father died, she assured herself. Long over that teenage crush, she was only interested in the house’s royal connections as a potential attraction for visitors.

Hass led her along a gravel path to a back door. “The house comes with many of the original furnishings and fittings.”

“That will help. Most of my possessions are in storage.”

His eyes gleamed, and she regretted letting him see how interested she was in the house before she had set foot in it. “Of course it needs a lot of work,” she added, trying to sound like less of a pushover.

“The condition of the house is reflected in the price, which is negotiable.”

She was pleased to hear it. Even at a bargain price, she would be straining her budget to buy the lodge. Hass had confided that the new owner was willing to provide a mortgage with generous terms. But after paying the substantial down payment Hass had named, she wouldn’t have much of her inheritance left for redecorating.

She noticed that the agent was having trouble with the lock, which was broken. He gave her an apologetic smile. “The keys have been lost. That’s why I’m taking you in through the kitchen.” Seeing her frown, he added, “There are sturdy bolts on the inside for nighttime security. If you decide to buy, there’s a locksmith in Tricot who can fit new locks for you.”

“I’ll look into it.”

So much for objectivity, she thought. She was already sold and they both knew it. She must have had a premonition about the lodge, because she carried a bank check for the deposit in her purse, having taken Hass’s advice and withdrawn the money before making the inspection. Now she had seen the place, she hated the idea of anyone else snapping it up.

She didn’t try to pretend that she wasn’t delighted with the inside of the house. The old-fashioned kitchen was large with a scrubbed timber table in the center, perfect for preparing the home-cooked meals she intended to offer guests. Beyond was a dining room with a vaulted, timber-lined ceiling, a comfortable living room with old but elegant furniture arranged around a massive stone fireplace and five bedrooms in two wings off a wide gallery hallway. Three of them had en suite bathrooms with traditional claw-footed baths and brass fittings.

As Hass led her back along the hallway, Carissa inspected the portraits lining the walls. “These look like originals.”

“They are excellent reproductions, aren’t they? They come with the house.”

As they returned to the kitchen, she took a deep breath. “How negotiable do you think the new owner is willing to be?”

Chapter One

Eduard de Marigny, Marquis of Merrisand, wondered if he could recognize the terrain well enough to set the helicopter down on the landing pad behind Tiga Falls Lodge. Over two years had passed since his last visit, and he hadn’t piloted his own chopper then. The estate had belonged to his uncle, Prince Henry, and they had driven in a royal cavalcade from Perla, capital city of Valmont Province, a hundred and sixty miles away by road.

Strange to think of the house belonging to him now, Eduard thought, looking down at the rambling timber building nestled in the greenery. Eduard couldn’t honestly say he missed old Prince Henry, who had ruled the province with an iron hand. Eduard’s cousin, Josquin, had succeeded Henry as Crown Regent until the heir, Prince Christophe, came of age. Josquin managed to do an excellent job of running the province while being far easier to get along with than Henry had been.

Still, Henry had kept their branch of the royal family on its toes, insisting that titles and protocol were strictly observed. He had approved of his nephew joining the Carramer Royal Navy, especially when Eduard had gained his commission, but the old prince had disapproved of the informality Eduard permitted among the men under his command.

Eduard wondered what Henry would have made of the Australians he’d met during the last few months while he was seconded to the Australian Navy, on exercises off the coast of Queensland. On duty, military protocol had been observed, but off duty, he had been Ed, or “your lordship” when the Australians wanted to poke fun at him, which had been often.

Now he was home for a few weeks at least, he intended to spend his accumulated leave at the lodge, assessing his future. His brother, Mathiaz, had offered him a government position, but Eduard didn’t see himself as the administrative type. Tiga Falls had beckoned and with it, some serious decision-making to be done.

He spiraled in on the position of the landing pad, almost lost among the trees from this height, but gradually he made it out behind the lodge. A crosswind buffeted the small craft, so Eduard orbited until he was sure of a safe landing, then took her in.

The helicopter settled gently, and Eduard stayed in the pilot’s seat until the rotors stopped spinning. He half expected Henry’s staff to rush out to meet him, but they had either retired or taken up other positions with the family when the lodge was closed up after Henry became ill. Mathiaz had offered to send staff to open things up, but Eduard preferred to take care of himself for the time being, having acquired the habit in the navy.

“Does the word security mean anything to you?” his brother had asked pointedly.

“I didn’t have minders in the navy. I don’t need them at the lodge.”

Mathiaz hadn’t liked Eduard going off into the wilderness without at least one member of the Royal Protection Detail in attendance, but he hadn’t insisted. Eduard looked forward to the solitude, having had little enough of it in his life, either as a member of the royal family or in the military.

He hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder and climbed out of the helicopter, looking around with satisfaction. Henry couldn’t have left him anything that pleased him more. He decided to go inside and look around first. There was plenty of time to bring the rest of his stuff in later.

The key he tried to insert into the front-door lock didn’t fit. He frowned, trying some of the other keys. None of them worked. With a snort of annoyance, he walked around to the kitchen door, coming up short at the sight of a car parked behind the house. Had Mathiaz sent someone anyway?

On closer inspection, Eduard found the vehicle unlocked. It was a few years old and looked barely road-worthy. The only clue to the driver’s identity was a straw sun hat trimmed with silk flowers lying on the front seat. Curious.

The key he tried in the kitchen-door lock didn’t work either. Experimentally, he turned the handle and to his surprise, the door swung open. What was going on here?

He had expected the place to smell musty after being unused for more than two years, but the air was surprisingly fresh. If he hadn’t known better, he would swear he could smell baking. Just as well he didn’t believe in ghosts, because the place was starting to seem haunted.

The ghost was young and female, he decided, as he ducked under a row of lacy undergarments hanging from an improvised line in the kitchen. Evidently she hadn’t gotten around to haunting the lodge’s laundry yet.

The kitchen was vast, as befitted the size of the lodge. He saw no sign of the ghost herself, but evidence of her presence was everywhere, not only in the line of laundry, but also in the washed plates and cup neatly stacked beside the sink.

He left his bag in the kitchen and made his way along the gallery hallway to the bedroom wings. This part of the lodge was also occupied, he found to his annoyance. The novelty was fast wearing off, as he saw that someone had made herself at home in the room he usually preferred. It looked out onto the distant hills, although the view was obscured by overgrown trees now. He planned to attack them while he was here.

Evidently his ghost liked the room for the same reason he did, because the drapes were drawn right back and the window was open, letting a ginger-scented breeze into the room. Whoever his ghost was, she was tidy, and had good taste in bedrooms, although she was fairly lax when it came to security.

He froze as a hard cylindrical object bored into the small of his back and a female voice said, “Don’t move. I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

Returning to the lodge after her walk, Carissa Day heard the helicopter before she saw it. She watched it swoop low then disappear behind the tree line, heading toward the township of Tricot on the other side of the river. She wondered what had brought it here.

She hoped there wasn’t a medical emergency in the town. When she had made an appointment with the local doctor soon after she arrived, he had explained that urgent medical cases had to be flown to the hospital in Casmira, some fifty miles south. He had plainly disapproved of a foreigner taking up residence so far from help when she was pregnant.

She had told him that apart from being plagued by morning sickness, which he’d assured her would pass as her pregnancy progressed, she was fine.

“Is your husband joining you?” he had asked.

She had taken a firm hold of her temper before saying, “No.”

To his credit the doctor hadn’t pressed the issue and she hadn’t explained further. This was her baby and no one else’s. Now they had the lodge as a home and future source of income, they had everything they needed.

She stopped and stretched, pressing both hands into the small of her back. She had assigned herself a daily walk partly for exercise but mostly because she was in love with the lush rain-forest countryside surrounding her new home, and wanted to explore every inch of it while she still could.

Now the helicopter rotors had stopped beating, she could hear only birdsong and the whisper of leaves. Perfect peace. Her eyes misted in appreciation of the beauty around her.

A fragment of Yeats came into her mind: “Was there on earth a place so dear…” She might have been born in Australia but she loved Carramer with a fierceness that surprised her at times. Her baby was going to love it, too. She couldn’t imagine a more healthy, nurturing environment in which to bring a child into the world than right here.

She was determined to do better as a sole parent than her father had done. Graeme Day had been too preoccupied with the demands of diplomatic life to accommodate his children’s emotional needs. Their father had treated her and Jeffrey like miniature adults, expecting them to adapt to the different places they were dropped into, as easily as he did himself.

Sometimes they had and sometimes they hadn’t. To Carissa, Carramer was the only posting where she had felt at home. She had been heartbroken when her father announced they were returning to Australia. Too young to remain in the country alone, she had vowed to return as soon as she got the chance.

Her brother had thought she was crazy. “Give me the bright lights, big city” was Jeff’s motto. Carramer had its share of cities, too, but Carissa felt more at home in the lush, tropical regions barely touched by the hand of civilization.

She sighed. Home still needed a lot of work if she was to turn it into the bed-and-breakfast haven of her dreams. It wouldn’t happen by itself. Time she got back and made herself useful.

When she emerged from the rain forest into the clearing, the first thing she noticed was the kitchen door standing ajar. She knew she had closed it when she went out, had even been tempted to lock it until she asked herself who on earth she expected to break in here.

It looked as if she was going to find out.

Skirting the car, which appeared untouched, she peered around the door before going in. The kitchen was empty. Her laundry had dried on the makeshift line, and the smell of her morning’s baking lingered in the air. But it was overlaid with a pine-and-leather scent that hadn’t been there when she left. Silently she stripped the line of clothes, dumping them on a chair. If she had to make a fast exit, she didn’t want obstacles in her way.

She looked around for a weapon. A rolling pin would do the job but might be turned against her, she remembered from the self-defense lessons she’d taken as a teenager. The gleam of metal on the windowsill caught her eye. She picked up the old cigar tube she’d found when she arrived. She turned it over in her hands, an idea growing in her.

The pine scent led her down the hallway. Careful to avoid those floorboards she knew were prone to creak, she reached her bedroom and felt her heartbeat quicken. Someone was in the room. Common sense told her to call the police in Tricot. But what were the odds they could reach her before the intruder heard her talking and came to investigate?

For now she was on her own.

Through the three-finger gap in the doorway she saw the man look around. He was a head taller than she was, with chestnut hair cut in a military style. He half turned and she swallowed. Lord, he was big, wide at shoulder and hip and narrow everywhere else. His aristocratic profile tugged at her memory, but before she could pinpoint the reason, he turned away again.

She took stock of his clothing so she would be able to describe him to the police when she could safely contact them. White shirt, the sleeves rolled back over tanned forearms, open at the neck. The shirt was tucked into snug-fitting denims held up by a plaited leather belt slung cowboy-style around his hips. As he moved to the window, the gleam of his boots jarred her. What kind of prowler polished his boots to a mirror shine?

Now or never, she told herself, pushing the door all the way open. Without giving herself time to think, she moved up behind him and pressed the cigar tube into his back with all the force she could muster. “Don’t move. I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

Eduard lifted both hands to shoulder height, palms outward, careful not to move suddenly. He hadn’t allowed for his ghost to tote a gun and didn’t care for the businesslike way it pressed against his back. “We can work this out. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“You seem sure I’ll regret it.”

The melodious voice reminded him of bells, and he itched to turn around and get a look at the owner. “Have you shot many people?” he asked.

“Only the ones who barge into my home while I’m out. You’re remarkably well dressed for a burglar. Who are you?”

Her home? He decided against arguing for the moment. “My name is Eduard de Marigny.”

He flinched as the gun barrel burrowed harder.

“Right, and I’m Princess Adrienne. I may be from Australia, but I know that de Marigny is the name of the Carramer royal family. You’ll have to come up with a better alias because I’ve met Eduard.”

This was news to him. Unable to resist, he glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of shoulder-length ash-blond hair and a porcelain complexion. Cornflower eyes were trained on him as intensely as her weapon. A very attractive ghost, he judged. Her musical voice definitely held a hint of the Australian heritage she claimed, overlaid with something more European.

He sighed. “My name is Eduard Claude Philippe de Marigny, Marquis of Merrisand, currently with the rank of commander in the Carramer Royal Navy. I have identification in my shirt pocket if you’d care to examine it.”

He heard her indrawn breath as if she recognized his titles. But the gun barrel didn’t waver as she slid a slender hand around his chest and felt her way to his pocket. The lightly caressing touch made his heart pick up speed. He decided there were better ways to introduce himself to the young lady.

Reflexes and training allowed him to grasp her wrist, jerk her off balance, and spin her around in front of him so she fell into his arms. He tightened them around her, seeing that the weapon which dropped from her hand was only an old cigar tube of Prince Henry’s. He had to give his ghost full marks for ingenuity.

He looked down at the woman in his arms. In closeup, her blond hair was sun-streaked and cascaded around her shoulders in soft waves, framing delicate features that wouldn’t have been misplaced on a model.

“A most attractive ghost,” he murmured.

She struggled in his grasp. “What are you talking about? Let me up.”

He held tight, since it wasn’t exactly a hardship. “First I want to make sure that you’re human.”

He hadn’t intended to kiss her, but the temptation was too great. In his arms she felt as light as a feather, but she had her share of muscles, he noticed. Her shape and build suggested someone who took very good care of herself.

Her mouth was a shell-pink bow, curved now in fury, and her eyes sparked a warning at him. He ignored it and lowered his lips to hers. She tasted of the baking he’d smelled when he walked in, yeasty, warm, thoroughly inviting.

She tasted so good that he took his time over the kiss, aware that at some point she gave up fighting him, and brought her arms around him. She probably thought she was stopping herself from falling, but that didn’t explain the way her mouth opened so temptingly. If he’d been kissing her for real, he knew exactly how he would have responded to those parted lips.

But this wasn’t the time. As it was, he had let the kiss go on far longer than was wise, the heat racing through him testifying to how much he had enjoyed it. Setting her upright and away from him took considerable self-restraint.

Looking confused, she backed away a little, but her cheeks glowed and her eyes glittered as if she had also enjoyed the experience more than she thought she should. “What did you do that for?”

“When I arrived, I thought the place was haunted. I had to make sure you aren’t a ghost.”

“You’re crazy.”

“And you’re trespassing. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

She made a choking sound. “I’m trespassing? You’re the interloper. I own this place.”

His intense gaze raked her, what he saw distracting him from the obvious foolishness of her claim. “You look familiar. Who are you?”

She’d been thinking the same about him. “Carissa Day, and this is my home.”

She saw his memory return in a rush. “Good grief, it is you, Cris.”

“Nobody has called me Cris since I was fifteen. Except… Eduard? It really is you.”

He had changed, she saw. As a teenager, he had worn his dark chestnut hair longer. In the navy he had grown from a shy, slightly bookish teenager into a solidly built man who looked as if he could handle himself in most situations. He folded his arms over his chest, evidently enjoying her astonishment. “Told you so.”

She had also changed, but she doubted if he saw as much progress as she did in him. When he’d last seen her, she had been long-legged and coltish, as if her limbs had outgrown her body. Her hair had been shorter and darker, and she’d worn glasses instead of the contacts she wore now.

Unwillingly reminded of the last time he had kissed her, all those years ago, she struggled to compose herself. “Of all the people who might have walked in here, you’re the last person I expected to see.”

“I don’t know why,” he observed. “Tiga Lodge has been in the family for a century. Prince Henry owned it until he died last year.”

She felt a frown etch itself between her eyes. “That must be why it was on the market.”

He took her arm. “You and I need to talk, Cris… Carissa.”

“It’s okay. Cris sounds good the way you say it.” Like a homecoming, she thought.

Telling herself she was bemused by his sudden appearance, not by his kiss, she let him steer her back along the hall toward the kitchen. She saw his look register that the laundry had been removed from the line, and felt herself color, thinking of him seeing the lacy garments. She was glad she had moved them on the way in. Her days of hoping to attract Eduard’s attention with her feminine wiles were long gone, although the way she felt now suggested otherwise. It was the aftermath of shock, nothing more, she reminded herself. Until a second ago, she had thought he was an intruder.

“Are your father and brother with you?” he asked.

She lowered her long lashes. “Dad died a year ago from a sudden heart attack.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She inclined her head in silent acknowledgment.

“Is Jeffrey still in Australia?”

“Dad left the family home to him.” She couldn’t disguise the bitterness she’d felt when she’d found that out. No doubt Graeme Day had believed he was doing the right thing by specifying in his will that Jeffrey was to look after Carissa until she married. Embarrassed, Jeff had insisted on paying her half of the house’s value in cash, but it hadn’t assuaged her hurt. Or eased the sense of rootlessness that had plagued her all her life.

Their mother had died soon after she was born, and the family had lived in the Australian house for only a handful of years, so there was no reason for Carissa to think of it as home. But it was the only one she had. To have it bequeathed to her brother alone had hurt beyond measure. She had known her father had old-fashioned views about women, but had never dreamed he would do such a thing.

“Your accent doesn’t sound as Australian as I remember,” Eduard said, drawing her back to the present.

“I spent the last few years studying hotel management in Switzerland. After I graduated, I worked there for a while before being offered a job in Sydney.”

Eduard took a seat at the huge kitchen table and his palms skimmed the scrubbed pine surface. “Sitting here takes me back. My brother and I must have spent hours at this table, eating slabs of bread fresh from the oven, swearing the cook to secrecy so our parents wouldn’t find out we’d been fraternizing with the staff.”

Eduard had always been the more informal of the royal brothers, she recalled, unwillingly reminded of how she had once mistaken his friendliness for something more. She busied herself filling a kettle. “Do you still like your coffee black?”

He nodded. “You have a good memory.”

She forebore telling him that she hadn’t forgotten anything that had passed between them. Moments later she carried two cups of coffee to the table. Between them she placed a sliced tea cake. “I made it this morning.”

He took a slice and bit into it. “No wonder I could smell baking when I walked in. This is good.”

Her face twisted into a frown. “The agent selling this place told me the owner was away in the navy. Did he mean you?”

Eduard nodded. “The lodge originally belonged to my uncle, Prince Henry de Valmont.”

“The agent mentioned the former owner’s name. I knew de Valmont was a royal family name, but that’s all. I wonder why the agent didn’t tell me the house had been a royal lodge?”

“Probably because it still is.”

She felt the color drain from her face and gripped the edge of the table so hard that her knuckles whitened. “Oh no.”

“I’m sorry if that comes as a shock to you, Cris.”

Her eyes brimmed and she blinked furiously. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“You’d better tell me the rest.”

She drew a shuddering breath. “You didn’t authorize an agent to sell the house discreetly for you, did you?” She was afraid she already knew the answer.

“I’m afraid not. Tiga Lodge is part of Carramer’s national estate. I have the right to live here and use it as I see fit, but I hold the title in trust for my heirs. No one in the family would consider selling it.”

He leaned forward. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Actually I’m not.” She pushed her chair back so hard that it tumbled over, and ran from the room.

There was a maid’s powder room down the hall, and he followed her to it, finding her kneeling over the pedestal, her shoulders heaving.

As a navy man, he’d dealt with his share of seasick crewmates, although he’d never suffered from the malady himself. He leaned over Carissa, stroking her hair and murmuring reassurance until the dreadful retching sound stopped. Then he helped her to stand, flushed the toilet and dipped a cloth into water to bathe her face. She felt as cold as ice and she trembled in his grasp. Her face was chalk-white as she sipped the glass of water he handed to her.

“All right now?” he asked.

She nodded. “Much better, thanks.”

“Come back to the kitchen and finish your coffee. Unless you’d prefer to lie down. We can sort everything else out later.”

“I would like to lie down, if you don’t mind.”

He helped her back to the room she had claimed, deciding to use another one for the time being. Something was wrong with her. Surely it wasn’t only the shock of finding out that the lodge she thought she owned belonged to him? “Would you like me to send for a doctor? There’s one in Tricot, about twenty minutes’ drive away.”

She stopped turning down the bedcovers and looked back at him. “I’ve already met him. He won’t appreciate being dragged out here.”

He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Rank has its privileges.”

Carissa’s face underwent a sea change. “I should have remembered. But there’s no need, I’ll be fine soon.”

The coldness he heard in her tone puzzled him. He tried to think of a time when they were teenagers when he’d used his rank in some way she might have resented, but too much had happened today. “I’ll let you get some rest,” he said. “If you still feel ill later, I’m calling a doctor whether you want one or not.”

She got into bed fully clothed, as if she felt too weary to undress. He debated whether to offer to help, then decided it wasn’t such a good idea. Kissing her had already affected him more than was good for him. He had always been attracted to Carissa, even when she had been too young for him to make his feelings known except in a teasing way. Now that she was a woman, and a beautiful one at that, teasing hardly seemed appropriate. And he couldn’t risk anything more.

Rank may have its privileges, but it also carried responsibilities. He had to be careful about indulging in romantic dalliances. The consequences could be dire, as he’d seen when his cousin, Michel, had been dubbed the playboy prince, his romances splashed across every newspaper in the country. And when Michel’s sister, Princess Adrienne, had spent a night on a mountain alone with a man, they’d been forced to announce their engagement to avoid public censure. Eduard didn’t want to put himself or any woman he cared about in such a position.

He frowned, thinking of his last disastrous attempt at romance. Lady Louise Mallon had been eminently suitable for him in every way, and Eduard had started to think something might come of their relationship.

The rest of his family would have been delighted, he knew, wondering what they would think if he told them she had become pregnant by another man, then tried to convince Eduard that the child was his. Her face had been a study when Eduard told her he could give her everything except children, which was why he had balked at proposing.

The real father of Louise’s baby had come to Eduard and told him he wanted to marry her and raise the baby no matter who the father was. Eduard didn’t intend to share the truth with a stranger. Prolonged exposure to toxic chemicals while helping to rescue the crew of a damaged ship had left Eduard unable to father children of his own. Apart from the royal physician, the only people who knew the truth were his immediate family.

He suspected he’d accepted the Australian assignment as much to get over the affair with Louise as to strengthen the ties between Carramer and Australia.

The last thing he needed was to create new problems for himself with Carissa. Bad enough that she was already living under his roof. That alone could cause difficulties. So he had two choices—get back into the chopper and go somewhere else, or arrange alternative accommodation for her as soon as possible.

Having just arrived, he didn’t feel inclined to go somewhere less secluded, where his movements might be spied on by the paparazzi. In Tricot, the local people were used to the royal family’s presence and respected their privacy. And no matter what Carissa believed, he owned the lodge. From the sound of things she had been the victim of a clever con artist. However sorry Eduard felt about that, she would have to be the one to leave.

When he looked in on her, she was asleep, her features at rest so she looked like a beautiful porcelain doll. She wasn’t going to go quietly, he suspected, remembering what an emotional teenager she had been. If he’d had the slightest inkling that his intruder was Carissa, he would never have kissed her so impulsively. At least she behaved as if she was long over the crush she’d had on him when they were younger, but there was no point playing with fire.

As he unloaded the rest of his gear and provisions from the helicopter, he let his thoughts linger on the woman sleeping in his bed with one arm over her head and the other curved across her slim body. He’d been tempted to stay and watch her for the sheer pleasure of it, but he’d made himself move. She’d mistaken his attention for something stronger once. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

He winced, remembering what a complete klutz he had been around women when he was in his teens. Carissa had been the only female with whom he could relax and be himself. Whether her Australian informality was the reason, or whether it was something about Carissa herself, he didn’t know. But he had talked to her for hours as they took long walks along the beach at Chateau Valmont.

He had been stranded in the breach between school and university while Carissa was on vacation from the diplomatic high school. Already ahead of her age group, she had intrigued him with her intelligence and quick wit. Laughter had been their common bond and he’d thought she was as comfortable with their friendship as he was himself.

When Carissa threw herself into his arms and kissed him, telling him she was falling in love with him, he simply hadn’t known how to react. He had treated her declaration as a joke. Not knowing what else to do, he had walked away, avoiding her for the rest of her vacation.

Before he left for university, he had tried to apologize and Carissa had accepted his apology stiffly, making him worry that her declaration of love hadn’t been a joke to her. By the time he came home on vacation, her father had been posted back to Australia. Eduard hadn’t heard from her again, so he’d had no further opportunity to make amends.

He knew he would respond differently if she threw herself at him now. She had turned into a beautiful, desirable woman. Holding her had felt better than anything Eduard had done in a long time.

Kissing her had felt better still. Unlike the last time, he knew exactly how to react. He was doing it now, just thinking about her. He would have preferred to send her on her way today, although he wasn’t sure for whose benefit. By the time she woke up, it would be too late for her to go anywhere.

He carried the last of his gear inside, then went out and secured the chopper for the night. He was rated for night flying and could have flown Carissa wherever she wished to go, but he couldn’t bring himself to eject her while she was so obviously unwell, assuming she had somewhere else to go.

Where she went wasn’t his problem, he told himself. He hadn’t conned her into buying the royal retreat. A few simple checks would have revealed the truth, then she wouldn’t be in this fix. Why was she here anyway? She may have fallen in love with Carramer; foreigners frequently did. But lots of places were more accessible than Tiga Falls. The family had built the lodge precisely because of its location, to provide an ideal retreat from royal duty. What was Carissa retreating from?

He let out a long breath. Common sense dictated that he stop wondering and concern himself with seeing her on her way. But common sense had nothing to do with the instant, primitive way he responded to thoughts of her. He had a feeling that getting her out of his hair was going to be easier than getting her out of his mind.

Chapter Two

When Carissa awoke, she was surprised to find it was morning. Although she had slept well enough, she felt lethargic. Last night, Eduard had insisted she stay in bed and had brought her an omelet and a sliced Carramer peach. Impressive for a man who was accustomed to being waited on, she told him, using humor to disguise her reaction to him.

He had learned to cook in his spare time while at sea, he explained. While she ate, he had kept her company, but had refused to let her talk about the lodge, insisting that the problem could wait until morning when she felt better. She wondered if he would be so tolerant if he knew the real cause of her “flu.”

She was violently ill almost as soon as she arose, and was glad that Eduard didn’t see her undignified dash into the en suite bathroom. Why didn’t she tell him she was pregnant? she wondered, as she returned to the bed to catch her breath.

The answer came straight away. She didn’t want to disappoint him. After all this time, she still cared what he thought of her. Fool, she lectured herself. How many times did he have to reject her before she accepted that he wasn’t interested? If he were, he’d have answered at least some of the letters she wrote to him after returning to Australia. But he hadn’t. After his stiff apology for hurting her feelings, she hadn’t heard from him again.

She sipped a glass of tepid water, knowing she didn’t regret the baby she was carrying. She had met Mark Lucas, a handsome, personable investment broker, through her brother, who was in the same field. She had been assistant manager of a boutique hotel. After she had learned that her father hadn’t left her a share in the family home, she and Mark had already discussed moving to Carramer, and had set the wheels in motion. Mark had assured her he wanted the move as much as she did, but for different reasons, she knew now. According to her brother, Mark’s business was struggling. He had probably thought moving to Carramer would give him a fresh start.

She and Mark had been seeing one another for six months before they had made love. Mark had wanted to long before, but she had preferred to wait. Then in the aftermath of her father’s death, she had turned to Mark for comfort, too grief stricken to think of taking precautions. When she found out she was pregnant after only one night with Mark, she was so delighted she wondered if that had been her unconscious wish all along. A baby would give her the family she so longed for. Foolishly she had expected Mark to feel the same way.

Her fantasy had been shattered when she’d discovered he didn’t want children. He’d been one of six brothers, and he didn’t intend to struggle like his parents, he told her. When she informed him that she was expecting his child, he had offered her money to, as he put it, “solve the problem.” She realized what he meant and had thrown the offer back at him and walked out.

Whatever her motive for getting pregnant, she wanted this baby with an intensity that astonished her. She linked her hands in front of herself in a protective gesture, although it was too early to feel any changes yet. Mark might think of the baby as a problem, but Carissa cherished the life growing within her because it meant having someone upon whom she could lavish all the love inside her at long last. She didn’t expect Eduard to understand any more than Mark had done.

Finding the lodge had seemed like fate. She had paid the con man half the money Jeff had given her as her share of their father’s house, keeping the rest for redecorating. The con man had told her she could move in right away, assuring her that her mortgage repayments wouldn’t start until the lodge was earning an income. With a doctor available in Tricot to see her through her pregnancy, she had felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Lucky? She almost laughed out loud. If she’d suspected that Eduard really owned the lodge, she would have had nothing to do with it.

She shuddered, remembering how she had believed herself in love with him when she was a teenager. With the Australian Embassy located next door to Eduard’s home in Perla, their paths often crossed socially. In the eighteen months she had lived in Carramer, they had become friends.

On Eduard’s part, that’s all it was, she understood now. Perhaps her lack of family and roots, and her father’s emotional distance, had made her susceptible to reading too much into the relationship, but she had believed that Eduard had shared her feelings.

Knowing he would soon be leaving for university, she had kissed him with all the passion in her soul. He had stood like a statue, his mouth cold against hers and his body stonily unresponsive. When she’d stammered out her feelings, he had dismissed them with unfeeling arrogance. She had wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. The stiff apology he made before he left had only made her feel more stupid and naive.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which burned as hotly as her memories. When he’d swept her into his arms yesterday, he must have been aware of her instinctive response. Was she destined always to make a fool of herself around him?

Her only consolation was that Eduard didn’t seem to remember that teenage kiss. He had been the one to kiss her yesterday. She touched her fingers to her mouth, as if she could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers. He was no man of stone now. No statue could generate the heat inside her that his touch had done. She felt a resurgence of it now, just thinking about him.

Annoyed with herself, she drowned the feelings under a cool shower then dressed in a white shirt and olive cargo pants. Leaving her feet bare, she went to the kitchen to make toast, which was about all the breakfast she could face at present. From the plate and cup on the drainer, she saw that Eduard had already beaten her to it.

Later she tracked him down to the study she had looked forward to using as her own. She felt cheated at seeing him looking so at home behind what she’d thought of as her desk. Nor did she welcome the quick flutter in her stomach at the sight of him.

She placed the worthless sale contract on the desk in front of him. “I should have known this deal was too good to be true.”

Eduard leafed through the papers, stopping to read a clause now and then. When he looked up, he said, “These are good, very good. But the royal family only uses one intermediary and it isn’t…” he glanced at the name of the selling agent “… Dominic Hass. Where did you meet this man?”

She sighed. “I was staying at the Monarch Hotel in Tricot. He must have overheard me talking on my cell phone to my brother. I told Jeff that I was going to look at a property for sale out this way. After I hung up, Hass came up and asked my advice about where to take his mother sight-seeing. His mother! I must have sucker written on my forehead.”

Eduard tilted the swivel chair backward, resting his fingertips on the desk for balance. “Don’t blame yourself. People like Hass can be very convincing.”

“He struck up a conversation. When I told him I planned to open a bed-and-breakfast place in the area, he told me he was the agent for a property that might interest me.” She looked around her. “I should have smelled a rat when he didn’t have a key. The lock was broken, probably by him. He said the keys had been lost.”

This elicited a frown from Eduard. “That explains how he managed to gain entry. The lodge has never been up for sale.”

She couldn’t conceal her bitterness. “I know that now. Hass looked well-dressed and trustworthy.” She might have been describing Mark, she thought with sudden insight. Or Eduard himself. She would definitely have to be more wary of good-looking men.

Eduard leaned across the desk. “How did he convince you of his credentials? I’m not rubbing it in, but the more you can recall about him, the greater the chance of the police catching him.”

“He showed me glowing references from some of the people I remember from my father’s time here, including you.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out a business card. Hass’s name mocked her from the glossy surface as she handed it to Eduard.

He studied the card thoughtfully. “The details are probably as phony as his references. Did he have an accent?”

“Vaguely British, I think, but difficult to pin down.”

“He probably travels around the region, looking for new victims and staying a step ahead of local law. The local authorities may already have a file on him. He probably targeted you, as a foreigner, because…”

“Because I don’t know any better than to buy up chunks of Carramer’s national estate.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not going to see my money back, am I?”

“Probably not.”

She sank onto a chair in front of the desk. With most of her nest egg gone, she couldn’t afford to remain in Carramer for long. Her brother would give her a home until the baby was born, but the thought of confessing her present plight to him didn’t appeal at all.

“Still feeling unwell?” Eduard asked, watching her.

She lifted her head. “A little.”

“You do look washed-out.”

“Kind of you to say so.” She let her ironic tone thank him for his encouragement.

His aristocratic eyebrows lifted. “I wasn’t criticizing, merely stating a fact.”

“Sometimes ‘facts’ can be damaging, whether you mean them to or not.”

“Would you prefer me to lie to you?”

“I’d rather this whole mess hadn’t happened.” To her horror, she felt tears pool in her eyes. She blinked hard, but two droplets escaped down her cheeks.

Although she dashed them away furiously, Eduard noticed. He stood up, looking distressed. “Cris, please don’t.”

He had never been comfortable with emotions, she reminded herself, determined not to burden him with hers any longer. She got up. “I’ll start packing right away.”

Eduard stayed her with a sharp command. “Don’t go, not like this. I’d like to help if I can.”

Remembering how he had trampled on her feelings once before, she shook her head. “I got myself into this and I’ll get myself out again. I don’t need charity.”

“I’m not offering any, but I have an idea that may help.” He paused, then said, “Haven’t you wondered why I have the title of marquis, theoretically outranking my older brother?”

Her confusion increased. “I assumed it’s a Carramer tradition.” But she sat down again.

Eduard laced his fingers together on the desk. “In a way, it is. The Merrisand title traditionally passes down my mother’s line to the youngest child. One of her ancestors, also a youngest child, managed to offend a past ruler of Carramer and was given the title as an insult.”

What did this have to do with her? Still, she couldn’t resist asking, “Why was it an insult?”

“In Carramer mythology, Merrisand is a place that doesn’t exist except in imagination, what you might call a fool’s paradise.”

She bristled. “I know I’ve been living in one since I got here, but I don’t think…”

“I wasn’t referring to you,” he said before she could finish. “My forebear turned the title into an honorable one by setting up a charitable trust in that name. He built Merrisand Castle which still stands as a tourist attraction, the income going to the trust. With the title, I inherited responsibility for the trust. When Prince Henry left me the lodge, I decided to make it into a tourist facility to aid the trust, not unlike your plans for it.”

“The difference being you own it, I don’t.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Did you own the hotels you worked in?”

She stared at him, perplexed. “Are you offering me a job?”

“You have the skills and experience to run such an establishment, more than I do, come to that. You could set the lodge up and operate it until I finalize my tour with the navy in the next few months.”

“You have staff coming out of your ears.”

Her turn of phrase provoked another smile. “Staff, yes. People accustomed to running palaces and royal tours. It’s hardly comparable to looking after tourists.”

“True.” She quelled the expectancy rising inside her. Could this possibly answer her prayers? “What would I have to do?”

“Help me set up and run the best tourist facility in Carramer in aid of the Merrisand Trust.”

“What happens after you leave the navy?”

“We can discuss that when the time comes.”

By then she would be noticeably pregnant. Her original plan had been to work steadily on the refurbishing for as long as she could, then take the time she needed to have her baby and recover before opening the place to visitors. Eduard was hardly likely to want to wait that long. She found it hard to say, “Thank you, but I don’t think so.”

“Why? It’s not as if you have competing offers.”

She made a face. “You really should stop boosting my ego, or I’ll end up with a swollen head.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Let’s face it, you don’t really want me around. You’re only offering me a job to ease your conscience, but there’s no need. I’ll be fine.” She was probably flouting protocol by not letting him finish. She didn’t care. She only wanted this over with. His job offer tempted her more than she wanted to admit, but her pregnancy made it impossible.

Overseeing the lodge for someone as demanding as Eduard would entail stress she didn’t need right now. And soon her condition would begin to show. How long would Eduard want her on his payroll then? Better to leave with dignity while she still could.

“My conscience is clear,” he surprised her by saying. “I didn’t con you into buying a pig in a poke.”

She hitched her fists onto her hips. “So you’re saying I’m stupid?”

“How do you figure that?”

“Well, I must be, mustn’t I? Any woman with half a brain would have seen through that smooth operator, instead of trusting him with every cent she had in the world.”

This time she did break down, unable to stem the tears cascading down her cheeks. Eduard was at her side in an instant, his arms enfolding her as he murmured to her in the lilting Carramer tongue.

Twelve years had banished much of the language she’d picked up, but the comfort in his tone reached her, his consideration making her feel worse. She dragged in a lungful of air, trying to stop the sobs welling up from her depths.

“Don’t fight it, let the tears come,” he said in English. “You’ll feel better afterward.”

She didn’t want to feel better. She didn’t want to be in his arms, fighting a war with herself over whether to ask him to kiss her again. Hadn’t she learned anything from her experience with her baby’s father, and from the cold way Eduard himself had rejected her? Suddenly she didn’t know if she was crying because of the lousy hand she’d been dealt, or because she knew Eduard wasn’t for her.

Both were excuses to feel thoroughly miserable, she thought sniffing hard. Pregnancy must be playing havoc with her hormones to make her come apart so completely.

Eduard offered her a fine lawn handkerchief with his crest embroidered in one corner, a reminder if she needed one, of his status relative to hers. She blew her nose and dabbed at her streaming eyes. “I’m not usually this much of a wimp.”

“Neither are you entirely well. Maybe we should have this discussion again when you’re fully recovered.”

He began to rub the small of her back. The circular movement of his hand against her back felt so comforting that she wanted to purr. All the more reason to put some distance between them. Why was she finding it so hard to do?

“Eduard,” she began diffidently.

His face was buried in her hair. “Mmmm.”

“You can let me go now. I’m all cried out.”

“Maybe I don’t want to let you go.”

He had been ready enough to do so when she was a teenager. “You can’t make me take the job,” she said.

“Who said anything about the job? You feel fine right where you are.”

Heaven help her, she agreed. After her father had died, and then Mark had rejected their child, she’d felt more lonely than she’d thought possible. She wasn’t usually given to self-pity but the realization that she was officially an orphan had created a chasm inside her that seemed impossible to fill. Her father had been an only child, and hadn’t heard from his parents in England in years. He had lost touch with her mother’s family after she’d died. So, apart from her brother, Carissa had no close family. No wonder her desire for a child of her own had overwhelmed her common sense.

She told herself the surge of pleasure she felt in Eduard’s arms was only because she was lonely. Unable to resist, she lifted her head and looked at him. He must have read the naked need in her gaze, because he bent his head and claimed her mouth, filling her with desire so wild it was like a bushfire tearing through her.

She tried ordering herself to relax. Hormones, only hormones, she told herself. She wasn’t going to give any man the chance to treat her badly again, remember? So who was that woman answering his kiss with so much passion?

Her mind reeled as his tongue met hers in an unbelievably seductive dance. She placed her hands on his chest, thinking to push him away, but he trapped her hands against the fiery heat of his body, right where his heart pounded under her fingers. She could feel hers keeping time.

Heat flickered through her, making nonsense of her attempt to remain aloof. When had she been able to do any such thing around Eduard de Marigny? As a boy, he had enchanted her with his darkly handsome looks and challenging air of reserve. As a man he was even more handsome, but with a strength and self-assurance that had been missing from the boy. The result was breathtaking, literally.

“I can’t do this,” she said, all but suffocated by sensation.

“You’re doing remarkably well,” he murmured.

She persisted, pressing her palms against him to signal her seriousness. “Everything’s moving too fast. First I thought the lodge was mine, now I find it’s yours.”

“No reason you can’t be part of the package,” he said.

“No!” This time she made sure he understood her rejection of this notion.

He created a heartbeat of space between them and looked down at her, his gaze puzzled. “What’s the matter, Cris? To me, this feels pretty right.”

“You could have fooled me.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

A frown etched a deep V in his forehead. “What do you mean?”

She hadn’t intended to remind him, but she was committed now. “When I was fifteen, I kissed you and you treated me as if I’d just crawled out from under a rock.”

He released her. “I was only eighteen myself. I didn’t have much skill at dealing with women.”

And now he did. The thought wasn’t as comforting as she knew he meant it to be. A wave of something very like jealousy overcame her. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you were attracted to me.”

Eduard let out a long breath. “I was.”

She hadn’t expected this. “Then why did you go out of your way to avoid me until you left for university?”

“I didn’t know any other way to handle a lovestruck fifteen-year-old. I obviously couldn’t encourage your attention.”

“Because I’m not royal like you?”

He crooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. “Because you were still a child.”

She wasn’t a child any longer, and his closeness threatened to overwhelm her defenses. “Just as well it was only a crush. I got over it.”

“Did you, Cris?”

“Of course.” The shakiness in her voice made the lie obvious.

Evidently not to Eduard. “Then all I can say is I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to kiss you.”

If he only knew. “People change,” she said with a lightness that didn’t quite come off.

“I haven’t. Not where my affection for you is concerned.”

“Don’t, Eduard, please.” To find that he had cared about her after all was almost more than she could bear.

“Is there someone in your life?”

“Yes.” She didn’t tell him the someone was her unborn child.

“I see.” He turned away and paced to the window. “Is he planning to join you here?”

“We haven’t worked out the details.”

Eduard spun around. “Then why not stay and manage the lodge? There’s a caretaker’s cottage that could be made into a separate home.”

Dare she say yes? She knew he meant that she and the man he believed she was involved with could use the caretaker’s cottage, while she helped him get the lodge ready to open. Did it matter if the other person in her life turned out to be a baby? Of course it did, she accepted. Look at the damage one misunderstanding between them had done. Who knew what harm could come of starting out with another?

“Don’t give me your answer yet,” he urged before she could say anything. “I’d like to look around the estate first, get a feel for what might be done with it. Will you stay while we work up a plan of action?”

The pleasure shafting through her was out of all proportion to his suggestion. But it meant she could stay for a few more days. And she would be gone before he found out about the baby, so he need never feel disappointed in her. Now she knew that he had been attracted to her, she didn’t think she could cope with that.

“I’ll stay. Once we report what happened with the con man, I’ll need to be available for the police to interview me,” she said, knowing the excuse sounded lame. She could be interviewed equally well at the hotel in Tricot.

“You should.” He matched the seriousness of her tone.

She laughed nervously. “You said they would want to.”

“And your con man might have left the country by now.”

His comment plunged her into gloom, emphasizing that she stayed by Eduard’s grace and favor. The thought took some of the gloss off the idea. She was tempted to change her mind. Playing house in what she had thought of as her home only postponed the inevitable. She still had to make a life for herself and the baby. With only the money she had set aside to redecorate the lodge, it wouldn’t be easy. Why not face it now and get it over with?

Her expression must have telegraphed her intention, because Eduard said, “I mean to put our arrangement on a business footing, starting now.”

“What?”

“I intend to pay you a salary while you’re assisting me.”

She studied him suspiciously. “You wouldn’t be trying to make up for my losses, would you, your lordship?”

He lifted his hands, flattening his palms. “When we were younger, you called me that when you thought I was getting high and mighty. Offering to pay you isn’t in that class.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Putting you on my staff would serve to defuse any gossip that might arise out of your presence here.”

“It’s okay for you to have a female under your roof, as long as she’s a servant?” She knew she sounded angry and couldn’t make herself care. She felt as if she was fifteen again, being put in her place. “I think it’s best if I leave now.”

He touched her arm. “Cris, I didn’t ask to be royal. Things are simpler this way, trust me.”

His statement took the wind out of her sails. “I know, and I shouldn’t overreact. But if I’m to be paid for working for you, I want to do a real job.”

He looked relieved. “I can turn into a slave driver if you prefer. Some of the men under my command already think of me as one.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She had seen firsthand how autocratic he could be when he wanted. Catching sight of the twinkle in his dark gaze, she realized he was joking.

“Do we have a deal?”

Her sigh gusted out. She had known what she would say the moment he offered her the job. She wanted to stay with him. “Deal.”

He smiled and her heart turned over. “I’ll brush up on my slave-driving skills just for you.”

He wouldn’t have to, she knew. This was familiar territory. Challenged by his offer, her mind was already racing ahead as she ticked off requirements on her fingers. “We’ll need a business and financial plan for the lodge. That would be your department.” She took a breath. “As soon as the financials and decorating theme are in place, I can draw up a schedule for trades-people to do the work, and a program for hiring and training staff, starting with a house manager, catering manager, executive housekeeper and front office staff.”

He looked slightly bemused. “Agreed. Right after you put your feet up for a while.”

Shock jolted through her. Had he guessed her secret already? “Excuse me?”

“You’re still recovering from the flu. No feudal lord worth his salt makes his serfs work when they’re ill. Serfs are expensive to replace,” he added when she shot him a quizzical look.

“You’re the boss,” she admitted.

His gaze glimmered with satisfaction. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

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