by Jennie Adams
She had vague memories of sleeping…on an accommodating shoulder.
Yet she didn’t remember even boarding a flight!
This plane was luxurious. It had landed somewhere. Outside it was dark rather than the sunshiny day she’d looked forward to in Melbourne, and Mel could feel freezing air coming in through the aperture where another attendant waited for a set of steps to be wheeled to the edge of the plane.
She should be feeling Sydney summer air.
Memory of that expensive-looking car rose. Had she been kidnapped? Tension coiled in her tummy. If anything was wrong, she’d left a note saying she was moving to Sydney. Her relatives might be angry to lose their underpaid cook, but she doubted that they would go looking for her. Not at the expense of their time or resources.
Breathe, Melanie. Pull yourself together and think about this.
The driver had asked her if she was ‘sure about this’. As though they already had an arrangement? That would make it unlikely that she’d been kidnapped.
But they didn’t have an arrangement!
Mel turned her head sharply, and looked straight into the stunning gaze of the man who’d placed her in that car.
She’d thought, earlier, that he was attractive. Now Mel realised he was also a man of presence and
charisma. All those around him seemed to almost feel as though…they were his servants?
Words filtered through to Mel again. French words and, among those words, ‘Prince Rikardo’.
They were addressing her driver as a prince?
That was easy, then, Mel thought a little hysterically. She’d fallen down a rabbit hole into some kind of alternative world. Any moment now she would sprout sparkling red shoes. That’s two different fairy tales, Mel. Actually it’s a fairy tale and a classic movie. Oh, as though that mattered! Yet in this moment, this particular rabbit hole felt all too real. And maybe there’d been a book first, anyway.
Stop it!
‘You’re fully refreshed? How are the allergies? You slept almost twenty-four hours. I hope the rest helped you.’
Did kidnappers sound calm, rational and solicitous?
Mel drew a breath, said shakily and with an edge of uncertainty she couldn’t entirely hide, ‘I feel a bit exhausted. The allergies are gone. I guess I slept them off while we travelled between Melbourne and…?’
‘Braston.’ He spoke the word with a slight dip of his head.
‘Right. Yes. Braston.’ A small country planted deep in the heart of Europe. Mel had heard of it. She didn’t really know anything about it. She certainly shouldn’t be anywhere near it. ‘I’m just not quite sure— You see, I thought I’d be flying from Melbourne to Sydney—’
‘We were able to fly very directly.’ He leaned towards her and surprised her by taking her hand. ‘You don’t need to be nervous or concerned. Just stick to what we’ve agreed and let me do the talking around my father, the king.’
‘K-king.’ As in, a king who was the father of a prince? As in, this man, Rikardo, was a prince? A royal prince of Braston?
Stick with the issue at hand, Mel. Why are you here? That’s the question you need answered.
‘You are different somehow to what I have remembered.’ His words were thoughtful.
‘Remembered from our drive to the airport? I don’t understand.’ Her words should have emerged in a strong tone. Instead they were a nervous croak drowned by the clatter of a baggage trolley being wheeled closer to the plane.
Well, this was not the time for Mel to impersonate a scaredy frog waiting to be kissed into reassurance by a handsome prince.
Will you stop with the fairy-tale metaphors already, Melanie!
‘You’re nervous. I understand. I’ll walk you through this process. Just rely on me, and it will be easy for both of us to honour our agreement.’
Mel drew a deep breath. ‘Seriously, about this “agreement”. There’s been—’
‘Your Highness, if you and your guest would please come this way.’ An attendant waved them forward.
The prince, Rikardo, took Mel’s elbow, tucked the wonderful warm wrap more snugly about her shoulders, and escorted her to the steps and down them onto the tarmac.
Icy wind whipped at Mel’s hair and stung her face but, inside the wrap, she remained warm. Floodlights lit the small, private airstrip. A retinue of people waited just off the tarmac.
Mel had an overwhelming urge to turn around and climb back onto the plane. She might not be down a rabbit hole, but she was definitely Alice in Crazyland. None of this would have happened if she’d been completely herself when she ordered that ride to the airport and believed it had arrived. Mel would never take someone else’s medication again, even if it were just an over-the-counter one that anyone could buy!
‘Please. Prince…Your Highness…’ As she spoke they moved further along the tarmac. ‘There truly has been some kind of mistake.’
What could have happened? As Mel asked the silent question puzzle pieces started to come together.
If he’d called at the right address, then he had expected to collect a woman from there.
Her cousin had been in a strange mood, filled with secrecy and frenetic energy. At the end of the dinner party, Nicolette had rushed to her room and started rummaging around in there. Had Nicolette been…packing for a trip?
Rik had said he’d arrived earlier than he’d expected to. That would explain Nicolette not being ready. Mel had thought that he’d called her by her first name of Nicole, but it could have easily been ‘Nicolette’ that he said. She and her cousin looked heaps alike. Horror started to dawn. ‘It must have been Nicolette—’
‘Allow me to welcome you on to Braston soil, Nicolette.’ Rikardo, Prince Rikardo, spoke at the same time. He stopped. ‘Excuse me?’
Oh. My. God.
He’d mistaken Mel for Nicolette. Mel’s cousin had made some kind of plan with this man. That meant Rikardo really was a prince. Of this country! As in, royalty who had made an arrangement with Nicolette.
Mel, the girl who’d worked in her aunt and uncle’s kitchen for years, was standing here in a foreign country with an heir to the throne, when it was her cousin who should be here for whatever reasons she should be here. How could the prince not realise the mistake? Surely he’d have seen that Mel wasn’t Nicolette, even in dawn light and with Mel affected by allergies? Just how well did this prince know Nicolette?
Yes, Mel? And how many times has Nicolette become furious when one of her acquaintances mistook you for her when they called at the house?
‘Unless we’re in the public eye, please just call me Rik.’ He hustled her into the rear of another waiting car and climbed in beside her. A man in a dark suit climbed into the front, spoke a few words to the prince in French, and set the vehicle in motion.
The prince added, ‘Or Rikardo.’
‘You probably have five given names and are heir to a whole lot of different dukedoms or things like that.’ Mel sucked up a breath. ‘I do watch the news and see the royal families coming and going.’ She just hadn’t seen this particular royal. ‘The most famous ones. What I mean is, I’m not an overt royal-watcher, but I’m also not completely uninformed.’
Which made her sound like some kind of overawed hick who wouldn’t have a clue how to behave in such august company. Exactly what Mel was! ‘Please…Prince…Rik…I need to speak to you. It’s urgent!’
‘We have arrived, Your Highness.’ The words, spoken in careful English, came again from the driver.
He’d drawn the car to a whisper-quiet halt and now held the door open for them to alight. Rikardo would get out first, of course, because he was, after all, a prince.
A burst of something a little too close to hysteria rose inside Mel’s breast.
‘Thank you, Artor, and also for speaking in English for the benefit of our guest.’ Rikardo helped Mel from the car. He glanced down into her face. ‘I know you may be nervous but once we get inside I will take you to our suite of rooms and you c
an relax and not feel so pressured.’
‘S-straight to the rooms? We won’t see anyone?’ Well, of course they would see people. They were seeing people right now. And what did he mean by their suite? ‘Can we talk when we get there? Please!’
‘Yes, we will talk. It shouldn’t be necessary at this late stage, but we will discuss whatever is concerning you.’ He seemed every inch the royal as he said this, and rather forbidding.
Mel’s stomach sank even further. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She hadn’t meant to do anything other than take a taxi to the airport. She had to hope it would be relatively easy to fix the mistake that had been made.
Rik whisked her up an awe-inspiring set of steps that led to a pair of equally stunning studded doors. As they approached the doors were thrown open, as though someone had been watching from within.
They would have been, wouldn’t they? Mel glanced up, and up again, and still couldn’t see the ending of the outside of this enormous palace. Parts of it were lit, other parts melted into the surrounding darkness. It looked as though it had been birthed here at the dawn of time. Mel shivered as the cold began to register, and then Prince Rik’s hand was at her back to propel her the final steps forward and inside.
Voices welcomed their prince. Members of the royal retinue of staff stood to attention while others stepped forward to take the prince’s coat, and Mel’s wrap.
How silly to feel as though the small of her back physically held the imprint of the prince’s fingers. Yet if he hadn’t been supporting her Mel might have fainted from the combination of anxiety and feeling overwhelmed by the opulence.
The area they entered was large, reaching up three levels with ornate cornicing and inlaid life-sized portraits of royal family members fixed into the walls. A bronze statue stood to one side on a raised dais. Creams and gold and red filled the foyer with warm resplendence. It would be real gold worth more than an entire jewellery store.
‘Welcome to the palace.’ Rik leaned closer to speak quietly into Mel’s ear.
‘Thank you. That is…’ Mel’s breath caught in her throat as she became suddenly very aware of his closeness.
She’d laid her head on his shoulder, had slept the hours of the flight away inhaling the scent of his cologne. On some level of consciousness, Mel knew the pace of his breathing, knew how it felt to have him sleep with his ear tucked against the top of her head. The feel of the cloth of his suit coat against her arm, his body warmth reaching her through the fabric.
For a moment consciousness and subconscious memory, nearness and scent and whatever else it was that had made her aware of him even initially through a fog of medication, filled Mel. She forgot the vital need to explain to him that he’d made a mistake and she had, too. She forgot everything but his nearness, and the uneven beat of her heart.
And then Prince Rikardo of Braston spoke again, softly, for her ears only.
‘Thank you for agreeing to help me fulfil my father’s demands and yet maintain my freedom…by temporarily marrying me.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘THERE’S been a terrible mistake.’ Rik’s bride-to-be paced the sitting room of his personal suite. Tension edged her words. One hand gestured. ‘I don’t belong here. I’m not the right girl. Look at all this, and I’m—’
‘You won’t be staying here all that long.’ Not for ever. A few months… Rik tried to understand her unease. She’d been fully willing to enter into this arrangement. Why suffer a bout of cold feet about it now? She’d stepped into his suite, taken one glance around and had launched into speech.
‘This is an interlude,’ he said, ‘nothing more.’ And one they’d agreed upon, even if she hadn’t yet signed the official contract. Rik’s aide had the paperwork in a safe place, but it was ready and waiting, and Nicolette had made it clear that she was, too. So what had changed?
She drew a shuddery breath. ‘This is gilt and gold and deep red velvet drapes and priceless original artworks and cornices in enormous entryways that take my breath away. This is more than a rabbit hole and a golden pumpkin coach and a few other fables meshed together. This is—’ Her brown-eyed gaze locked with his and she said hotly as though it were the basis of evil: ‘You’re a prince!’
‘My royal status is no surprise to you.’ What did surprise Rik was how attractive he found the sparkle in her eyes as indignation warred with guilt and concern on her lovely face. He’d never responded this way to Nicolette. He didn’t want to now. This was a business arrangement. His lack of attraction to Nicolette was one of the reasons he’d chosen her. It would be easy to end their marriage and walk away.
So no more thoughts such as those about her, Rik!
‘But it is a surprise. I mean, it wouldn’t be if I’d already read about you in a magazine or something and I certainly completely believe you.’ Shaking fingers tucked her hair behind her ear.
She didn’t even sound like the woman he remembered. She sounded more concerned somehow, and almost a little naïve.
A frown started on his brow. He’d put down her openness, the blurting of a secret or two to him when he collected her, to the influence of the allergy medication. But that had worn off now. Suspicion, a sense of something not right, formed deep in his gut. He took a step towards her, studied her face more closely and wished he had taken more notice of Nicolette’s features years ago. Those freckles on her nose—? ‘Why do you seem different?’
‘Because I’m not who you think I am,’ she blurted, and drew a sharp breath. Silence reigned for a few seconds as she seemed to gather herself together and then she squared her shoulders. ‘My full name is Nicole Melanie Watson.’
‘Nicole…’
‘Yes.’ She rushed on. ‘I’m known as Melanie and have been since I went to live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin Nicolette when I was eight years old. Nicolette would fit right in here. I’ve tried to figure this out since I woke up in your private jet and realised I wasn’t at Sydney airport about to get off a plane there and go find a hostel to stay in while I searched for work because I could no longer stay—’
She broke off abruptly.
Sydney airport? Hostel? Search for work? There was something else about her statement, too, but Rik lost the thought as he focused on the most immediate concerns.
‘I am not certain I understand you.’ His tone as he delivered this statement was formal—his way of throwing up his guard. ‘Are you trying to tell me—?’
‘I think you meant to collect Nicolette and you got me by mistake. I don’t see what else could have happened. When you said my name before, I thought you said Nicole, not Nicolette. I thought I must have given my full name when I ordered the taxi.’
‘If what you say is correct…’ Rik’s eyes narrowed. Could this be true? That he’d collected the wrong woman? ‘I haven’t seen Nicolette for a number of years, just a photo sent over the Internet. I thought when I collected you that you’d changed and that you looked younger than expected. If you are not Nicolette at all—Do you look a great deal like your cousin?’ He rapped out the words.
‘Y-yes, at least a fair amount. And I sound like her. It really annoys her. Acquaintances do it all the time when they come to the house. Mistake us for each other, I mean.’ The woman—Melanie—wrung her hands together. ‘This is all just a horrible mix-up. I was zonked out on medication, and waiting at the kerb for my ride to the airport to start a whole new life and you took me instead of taking Nicolette, who probably should have been waiting but she’s never on time for anything, and you said you were early.’
Horror came over her face. ‘Nicolette will be furious at me when she finds out what’s happened.’
‘It is not up to your cousin to take out any negative feelings on you if a mistake has been made.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘While I thought you were your cousin, you…mistook me for a taxi service?’
‘I didn’t know then that you were a prince!’
Did his lips twitch? She sounded so horrified, and Rik had to adm
it the idea of being mistaken for a cab driver was rather unique. His amusement faded, however, as the seriousness of the problem returned to the forefront of his thoughts. He didn’t notice the way his face eased into gentleness as he briefly touched her arm.
‘I’m sure there’ll be a solution to this problem.’ He bent his thoughts to coming up with that solution. He had planned all this, worked everything out. And after a long flight to get to Australia from Braston…he’d collected a cousin he’d never heard of, who had no idea of his marriage plans, the bargain Rik had struck with his father, King Georgio, or the ways in which Rik intended to adhere to that bargain but very much on his terms.
If he couldn’t straighten this all out, his error could cost him the whole plan, and that in turn could cost the people of Braston who truly needed help. Rik held himself substantially responsible for that need.
‘It’s kind of you not to want to blame me.’ She spoke the words in a low, quiet tone and gazed almost with an edge of disbelief at him through a screen of thick dark lashes.
As though she didn’t expect to be given a fair hearing, or she expected to be blamed for what had happened whether she was in the wrong or not.
‘There’s no reason to blame you, Nicol—Melanie.’ For some reason, Rik couldn’t shift his gaze from the surprised and thoughtful expression in her eyes.
She looked as though she didn’t quite feel safe here. Or did she always carry that edge of self-protectiveness, that air of not knowing if she was entirely welcomed and if she could let down her guard?
Rik had lived much of his life with his guard firmly in place. As a royal, that was a part of his life. But he knew who he was, where he fitted in the world. This young woman looked as though she should be happy and carefree. She had said she’d been about to start a new life. What had happened to make her come to that decision? To leave her family at dawn with all her suitcases packed?
Had Nicolette contributed to that sudden exit on Melanie’s part?
You have other matters to sort out that are of more immediate concern.
