Invitation to the Prince's Palace

by Jennie Adams

  ‘That’s Prince Rikardo to you, Melanie Watson, and why would he want to get to know you? You’re a cook. Not even a formally qualified one. You’re not even in his realm.’ She whispered the words and quickly set about putting herself together so she wouldn’t keep the prince waiting.

  Well, she was in his realm—literally right now. But in terms of having anything in common, she didn’t

  exactly fit here, did she? No doubt he would want to speak to her sooner, rather than later, to tell her how he would get rid of her and how soon Nicolette would arrive to make everything as it was supposed to be.

  That would be fine. Mel would co-operate fully. She only wanted to be sent home so she could get on with her life! Preferably avoiding contact with Nicolette in the process.

  Outside in the sitting area, Rik’s gaze caught with his aide’s. ‘I cannot be in two places at once right now. It would be rude to abandon Melanie now that she is awake, but breakfast must be offered, and I need to get to the groves.’

  ‘Permit me to suggest a picnic breakfast for you and your guest after you have attended the groves. It would be easily enough arranged.’ Dominico, too, glanced at the closed door of the guest suite. ‘You might have a nice, quiet place in mind?’

  Rik named a favourite place. ‘That would be convenient to speak to Melanie there and see if she can find her way clear—’

  ‘I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.’ The guest in question pushed her suite door open and stepped into Rik’s sitting room.

  Rik’s head turned.

  His aide’s head turned.

  There were appropriate words to be uttered to help her to feel comfortable, to extend grace. Rik wanted to do these things, to offer these things, but for a moment the words stuck to the back of his tongue as he gazed upon the morning face of Melanie Watson.

  Soft natural colour tinged her cheeks. She’d tied her hair back in some kind of half-twisted ponytail. Straight falls escaped to frame the sides of her face. She wore a long, layered brown corduroy skirt trimmed in gold, brown ankle boots with a short heel and rubber-soled tread, and a cream cashmere sweater. In her hands she held a wool-lined coat. Her lips bore a soft pink gloss and she’d darkened her lashes with a touch of mascara.

  Her clothing was department or chain store, not designer. The hairstyle had not come at the expense of an exclusive salon or stylist but thanks to a single brown hair tie and a twist of her hands. Yet in those five minutes she had produced a result that had knocked Rik out of his comfort zone, an achievement some had striven for and failed to achieve, in various ways, in decades of his life.

  ‘You look lovely.’ The inadequate words passed across his lips. A thought quickly followed that startled him into momentary silence. He wanted his brothers to meet her.

  Maybe they would, if either of them were around today. And maybe Melanie would be on her way back to Australia before any chance of such a meeting could occur.

  He stepped forward, lifted her right hand in his, and softly brushed her fingers with his lips. ‘I hope you slept well and feel rested.’ He introduced his aide. ‘Dominico assists me with all my personal and many of my business dealings.’

  In other words, his aide could be trusted utterly and was completely aware of their situation. At the moment, Dominico was more aware than Melanie.

  Rik truly did need to speak with her, to set all matters straight as quickly as possible. He hoped that Melanie might co-operate to help him but it was a great deal to ask.

  So much for your arrogant belief that you could outwit your father, still get all that you want, and not have to pay any price for it aside from the presence of a fiancée here for a few months.

  Rik had collected the wrong woman and created a lot of trouble for himself.

  So why did he feel distracted by the feel of soft skin against his lips? Why did he wish that he could get to know Melanie?

  He pushed the thoughts aside. There was work to do. A truffle crop to bring to fruition disease-free, and a woman to take to breakfast. ‘Will you join me for a walk outdoors? I need to attend to some business and then I thought we might share a picnic breakfast. I know a spot that will be sheltered from wind and will catch the morning sunshine. We can speak privately and I can let you know the outcome of my discussion last night with my father.’

  ‘A—a picnic breakfast would be lovely, but is it all right for people to see me?’ Her balance wobbled just enough to make him think she might have been about to curtsy to him. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t still awake when you finished speaking with your father last night. It would have been okay to wake me up. I must have crawled under the covers.’

  She hadn’t. Rik had tucked her in. Had paused to gaze at a face that seemed far too beautiful. He suspected it had occurred to her that he might have tucked her in. The flush in her face had deepened.

  Rik realised he still had hold of her hand. He released it and stepped back. ‘It will indeed be fine. You are dressed well for the conditions. Shall we?’

  Rikardo led Melanie through corridors and along passageways and past vast rooms with domed ceilings. Everywhere, staff worked with silent efficiency, going about their day’s tasks.

  Without making it seem a big deal, he explained that she never needed to curtsy to anyone but his father or mother, and to them only in certain formal circumstances.

  ‘Am I likely to meet your mother this morning?’ Mel glanced about her and tried not to let an added dose of apprehension rise.

  Rikardo shook his head. ‘No. The queen is away from the palace.’

  ‘Well, thank goodness for that, anyway,’ she blurted, and then grimaced.

  But Rikardo merely murmured, ‘Indeed,’ and they fell silent.

  In that silence, Melanie tried not to let her mind boggle at the thought that she was walking through a palace beside a prince, and feeling relieved not to be about to meet a queen, but it all did feel quite surreal. Rikardo nodded to a staff member here or there. He’d said it was fine to be seen out with him by anyone they came across, so Mel would take that at face value. He’d obviously come up with some explanation for her presence.

  ‘The kitchens here would be amazing.’ She almost whispered the words, but she could imagine how many staff might work there. The amazing meals they would prepare. Mel felt certain the royal staff wouldn’t have cake plates thrown at their heads as her cousin had done to her that final night.

  Rikardo turned to glance at her. ‘You can see the kitchens later if you wish.’

  Before she left for the airport. Mel reminded herself deliberately of this.

  ‘I didn’t know that Braston grew truffles. I probably should have known.’ She drew a breath. ‘I’ve never cooked with them. My relatives loved throwing dinner parties but they were too—’

  She bit the words back. She’d been going to say ‘too stingy’ to feed their guests truffles.

  ‘Truffles have been referred to as the diamonds of the kitchen. Along with tourism they have represented the main two industries for Braston for some years now.’ Rik stepped forward and a man in liveried uniform opened the vast doors of the palace and suddenly they were outside in the morning sun with the most amazing vista unfolding all around.

  ‘Oh!’ Melanie’s breath caught in her throat. Everywhere she looked there were snow-capped mountains on the horizon. A beautiful gilded landscape dotted with trees, hills and valleys and sprinkled with snow spread before them. ‘I didn’t see any of this last night. Your country is very beautiful. I’m sure tourists would love to see it, too.’

  ‘It is beautiful, if small.’ Pride found its way into Rikardo’s voice. ‘But much of Europe is, and there are countries with more to offer to travellers. I would like to see an improvement in the tourist industry. If my brother Anrai has his way that will also happen very soon.’

  Melanie liked his pride. Somehow that seemed

  exactly as it should be. And also the warmth in his tone as he referred to a brother. That hadn’t been there when he�
��d spoken about the king or the queen, and, even if she’d only met the king briefly and had tried not to catch his attention too much, Georgio did seem to be a combination of forthrightly spoken and austere that could strike a girl as quite formidable.

  You could handle him. If you managed yourself among your aunt and uncle and cousin for that many years and held onto your sense of self worth, you can do anything.

  It hadn’t hurt that Mel had set up a back-door arrangement and sent lots of cakes and desserts and meals out to a local charity kitchen to be shared among the masses. Her relatives never had caught on to that, and Mel had had the pleasure of giving away her cooking efforts to people who truly appreciated them.

  Well, that life was over with now. Over the past year or so the family had forgotten to give her the kind moments that had balanced the rest. They had focused on the negative, and Mel had started saving to leave them. Now she just had to get back to Australia and to Sydney so she could start afresh.

  It would be all right. She’d get work and be able to support herself. It didn’t matter if she started out with very little. She pushed aside fears that she might not be able to find work before her meagre savings ran out.

  Instead, she turned to smile at Rikardo. He looked different out of doors and in profile in these surroundings, more rugged somehow.

  Face it, Mel. He looks attractive no matter what light you see him in, and each new light seems to make you feel that he’s more attractive than the last one. And that moment of shared consciousness when she first stepped into his sitting room this morning. Had she imagined that?

  Of course she’d imagined it. Why would a prince be conscious of…a kitchen hand? A cook. Same difference. They were both worlds away from being an heir to a kingdom.

  ‘We commercially grow black truffles here.’ Rikardo spoke in a calm tone. ‘If you are not aware of it, truffles have a symbiotic relationship with the roots of the trees they grow under.’

  ‘In this case oak trees,’ Melanie murmured while she tried to pull her thoughts together. Was he calm? If so, his threshold for dealing with problems must be quite high. ‘That’s what they are, isn’t it?’

  Her glance shifted below them to the left where grove upon grove of trees stood in carefully tended rows. ‘I’d heard that truffles could be grown commercially in that way. I think in Tasmania—’

  ‘That’s correct, and, yes, they are indeed oak trees.’ He’d taken her arm, and now walked with her towards a grouping of …

  Outbuildings? Was that a fine enough word for buildings within the palace grounds? There were garages with cars in them. Sports cars and other cars. Half a dozen at least. They all looked highly polished and valuable. They would go very fast.

  Did the sun go in for just a moment? Mel turned her glance away. A man drove past them in one of the vehicles. Rik raised an arm as the driver slowed and tooted the horn before driving on. ‘That is Anrai.’

  ‘I thought he resembled you in looks.’ Except Rikardo was far more handsome. And having her arm held by him made Mel way too conscious of him.

  Small talk, Mel. You’re supposed to be indulging in polite, get-to-know-you-but-don’t-be-nosy-about-it small talk. ‘How many brothers do you have?’

  ‘Just the two, both older than me and busy trying to achieve their own plans—’ He broke off.

  A worker walked towards them, leading…a pig with a studded red collar around its neck. When the animal saw Rikardo, it snorted and almost pulled the worker over in its enthusiasm to get to the prince.

  Rikardo looked down at the animal and then turned to Mel. ‘This is Rufusina. She is a truffle hog and will be coming to the groves with us this morning.’

  ‘This is Rufusina?’ For some reason Melanie had pictured a gorgeous woman in an ankle-length fur-lined coat with long flowing brown hair. Maybe the woman had known Rikardo for ever and had secretly wanted to marry him herself.

  Can we say overactive imagination? Well, this was the perfect setting for an imagination to run wild in! Mel tried to refocus her thoughts. ‘She’s a very interesting-looking truffle hog. She looks very…’

  Porcine?

  ‘Very intelligent,’ Mel concluded.

  ‘I am sure that is the first thought that comes to all minds.’ For the second time since they’d met, Rikardo’s lips twitched. Though his words laughed at Mel just a little, they laughed at Rufusina, too, for there was a twinkle in his eye as he watched the hog strain at her leash to get to him, and succeed.

  Rikardo then told the hog to ‘sit’ just as you would say to a dog. The pig planted her haunches and cast an adoring if rather beady gaze up at him. She got a scratch behind each ear for her trouble. Rikardo took the lead.

  They were at the groves before Mel had come to terms with her prince having a pet pig, because, whether he’d said so or not, this animal had been raised to his hand.

  Mel would guarantee it. She could tell. They arrived also before Mel could recover from the beauty of Rikardo’s twinkling eyes and that hint of a smile.

  And what did Mel mean by ‘her prince’ anyway? He certainly wasn’t! She might have him for a few more hours, if that, and all of which only by default anyway because she’d been silly enough to think he was a cab driver.

  Later, after she’d been returned to Australia, she could write her story and send it in to one of those truth magazines and say she’d spent a few hours with a royal.

  She wouldn’t, of course. She wouldn’t violate Rikardo’s privacy in that manner.

  Today, in the broad light of Rikardo’s…kingdom, Mel couldn’t imagine how she’d mistaken him for anything other than what he was, whether she’d been overtired and overwrought and under the influence of an allergy medication or not.

  It wasn’t until they reached the actual truffle groves that Mel started to register that Rikardo seemed to have somehow withdrawn into himself as they drew closer to his destination. She wasn’t sure how to explain the difference. He still had her arm. The pig still trotted obediently at his side on its lead. Rikardo spoke with each person they passed and his words were pleasant, if brief.

  But Rikardo’s gaze had shifted to those rows of oak trees again and again, and somehow Mel felt the tension rising within him as they drew nearer.

  ‘Winnow.’ Rik greeted a spindly man in his fifties and shook his hand. ‘Allow me to introduce my guest, Miss Watson.’

  So that was how Rik planned to get around that one. But would that be enough? Because for all the people that mistook Mel for her cousin, plenty more…didn’t.

  ‘Do you have the results of the soil test, Winnow? Are we infected again with the blight?’

  This time Mel didn’t have to try to hear the concern in Rikardo’s tone.

  ‘The test shows nothing, Prince Rik.’ The man stopped and glanced at Melanie and then back to the prince. ‘I beg your pardon. I mean, Prince Rikardo.’

  ‘It’s fine, Winnow. We are all friends here.’ Rik dipped his head. ‘Please go on.’

  Winnow pulled the cap from his head and twisted it in his hands. ‘The test shows nothing, but last year and the year before…’

  ‘By the time the tests showed positive, it was too late and we ended up losing the crop.’

  ‘Yes. Exactly.’ Winnow’s face drew into a grimace. ‘I cannot prove anything. Maybe I am worrying unduly but the soil samples that I pulled this morning do not look right to me.’

  ‘Then we will treat again now.’ Rikardo didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, it is expensive and a further treatment we hadn’t planned for will add to that expense, but our research and tests show that enough of the treatment will keep the blight at bay. If you have any concern whatever, then I want the treatment repeated.’

  The older man blew out a breath. ‘I am sorry for the added expense but my bones tell me—’

  ‘And we will listen.’ Rikardo clapped the man on the back. ‘Order the treatment. I will draw funds for it.’

  From there Rikardo examined the soil samples himse
lf, and took Rufusina into one of the groves to sniff about. Mel didn’t fully understand the process. The older Winnow kept lapsing into the beautiful local

  dialect as he spoke with Rikardo.

  It was worth not being able to understand, to hear Rikardo respond at times in kind. She felt as though she’d heard him speak to her in the same language but she must have imagined that. In any case it was very lovely, a melodious harmony of tones and textures.

  ‘We will take breakfast up there, if you are agreeable.’ Rikardo pointed to a spot partway up a nearby mountainside. He’d handed the truffle hog over to Winnow, who was about to put her to good use in the groves before seeing her returned to her home. And with an admonishment to ensure the pig didn’t run off, as she was apparently wont to do on occasion.

  But right now…

  There was a natural shelving of rock up high where a bench seat and table had been set into it. The view would be amazing. ‘Oh. That would be lovely.’

  They began the climb. ‘The truffles. Will they be okay?’

  ‘I hope so. We’ve had two years of failed harvests. That has resulted in a devastating financial blow to the country’s economy while we searched for a preventative treatment that would work without affecting the quality of the truffles.’ He led her to the bench seat and table.

  Opposite was a mountain with large sections covered in ice. Mel sat, and her glance went outward and down, over groves of trees and over the village named after the royal family. ‘There must be so much rich history here. I’m sorry that there have been difficulties with the truffle industry. From Winnow I gather you play a key role in this truffle work?’

  ‘I run the operations from ground level to the marketing strategies.’

  Mel’s gaze shifted to the village below. ‘You must care about the people of Braston very much.’

  ‘I do, and they are suffering. Not just here and in Ettonbierre village, but right across the country.’ He drew a breath. ‘I had planned that we should eat while I led up to my request but perhaps it is best to simply state it now and then explain.’