After she’d finished and put her napkin down, she looked up at him, her face suddenly serious.
‘Eleonora showed me the gallery today,’ she said.
‘Good. I wanted you to see as much of the palace as possible.’
She traced a figure of eight on the linen tablecloth with the tip of her finger before looking up.
‘I noticed two paintings of the same woman. Beautiful paintings—in a specially lit section of the gallery.’
He nodded. ‘Yes. Two of Kristjan Wheeler’s finest works. Conall Devlin acquired one of them for me.’
‘Yes, I knew he was an art dealer as well as a property tycoon,’ she said. ‘But what I was wondering was...’
He set down his glass of red wine as her voice tailed off. ‘What?’ he questioned coolly.
She wriggled her shoulders and her hazelnut curls shimmered. ‘Why Eleonora seemed so cagey when I asked about the paintings.’
He shrugged. ‘Eleonora has always been the most loyal of all my aides.’
‘How lovely for you,’ she said politely. ‘But surely as your wife I am expected to know—’
‘Who she is? The woman in the paintings?’ he finished as he picked up his glass and swirled the burgundy liquid around the bowl-like shape of the glass. ‘She was an Englishwoman called Louisa De Lacy, who holidayed here during the early part of the last century. She was an unconventional woman—an adventuress was how she liked to style herself. A crack shot who smoked cheroots and wore dresses designed to shock.’
‘And is that relevant? She sounds fun.’
‘Very relevant. Mardovia was under the rule of one of my ancestors and he fell madly in love with her. The trouble was that Miss De Lacy wasn’t deemed suitable on any grounds, even if she’d wanted to be a princess, which she didn’t. Despite increasing opposition, he refused to give her up and eventually he was forced to renounce the throne and was exiled from Mardovia. After his abdication his younger brother took the crown—my great-great-grandfather—and that is how it came to be passed down to me.’
‘And was that a problem?’ she questioned curiously.
He shrugged. ‘Not for me. Not even for my father—because we were born knowing we must rule—but for my great-great-grandfather, yes. He had never wanted to govern and was married to a woman who was painfully shy. The burden of the crown contributed to his early death, for which his wife never forgave Louisa De Lacy, and in the meantime...’
‘In the meantime, what?’ she whispered as his voice trailed off.
‘Unfortunately the exiled Prince was killed in a riding accident before he could marry Louisa, who by then had given birth to his child.’
Her head jerked up. ‘You mean...’
Luc’s temper suddenly shortened. Maybe it was because he was tired and frustrated. Because she was sitting there with that cascade of curls flowing down over her engorged breasts and he wanted to make love to her. He wanted to explore her luscious body with fingers which were on the verge of trembling with frustration, not to have to sit here recounting his family history. Because this was not the wedding night he had anticipated.
‘I mean that somewhere out there a child was born out of wedlock—a child of royal Mardovian blood who was never seen again—and they say that there is none so dangerous as a dispossessed prince.’ His voice grew hard. ‘And I was not prepared for history to repeat itself. Because I have no brothers, Lisa. No one else to pass on the reins to, should I fail to produce an heir. Succession is vital to me, and to my land.’
‘So that’s why you forced me to marry you,’ she breathed.
He nodded. It was not the whole truth, but it was part of it—because he was slowly coming to realise that there were worse fates than having a woman like Lisa by his side. Duty, yes—he would not shirk from that—but couldn’t duty be clothed in pleasure?
Wasn’t she aware that now he had her here, he had no intention of letting her or the child go? If she accepted that with a good grace then so much the better, but accept it she would. His will was stronger than hers and he would win because he always won.
And then something else occurred to him—a fact which he had pushed to the back of his mind because the sheer logistics of getting her here had consumed all his thoughts. But it was something he needed to address sooner rather than later. He tensed as he realised that until they consummated the marriage, their union was not legal. His heart missed a beat. He realised that, but did she?
He remembered her defiant words on the plane—a variation on what she’d said just now, when she’d announced she had no intention of sharing a bed with him. He didn’t doubt her resolve, not for a moment, for Lisa was a strong and proud woman. Yet women were capricious creatures who could have their minds changed for them. But only if you played them carefully. He had learnt his first lessons in female manipulation from the governesses who’d been employed to look after him after his mother’s death. Run after a woman and it gave her power. Act like you didn’t care and she would be yours for the taking.
Duty clothed in pleasure.
He had vowed to be a good husband as well as a good father, so surely one of his responsibilities was making sure his wife received an adequate share of sexual satisfaction? He looked at her green-gold eyes and as he detected the glint of sexual hunger she could not disguise, he smiled.
His for the taking.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE NEXT FEW weeks were so full with being a new wife, a new princess and mother-to-be that Lisa had barely any time to get homesick. Eleonora introduced her to most of the palace staff, to her own personal driver and the two protection officers who would accompany her whenever she left the palace. She was given her own special servant—Almeera—a quiet, dark-eyed beauty who chattered excitedly about how much she loved babies. She met the royal dressmaker who said she’d happily make up Lisa’s own designs for the duration of her pregnancy, or they could send to Paris or London for any couture requirements the Princess might have.
She also had her first appointment with the palace obstetrician, Dr Gautier, who came to examine her in her royal apartments, accompanied by a midwife. At least Eleonora made herself scarce for that particular appointment, although Lisa was surprised when Luc made a sudden appearance just before the consultation began.
Her heart began to pound as he walked into the room, nodding to the doctor and midwife who had stood up to bow, before coming to sit beside her and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. And even though she knew the gesture was mainly for the benefit of the watching medics, she stupidly felt reassured. Could he feel the thunder of her pulse? Was he aware that her breasts started to ache whenever he was close? She wondered if they looked like any other newly-wed couple from the outside and what the doctor would say if he realised they hadn’t had sex since the night their child was conceived. And she wondered what Luc would say if he knew how at night she lay there, wide-eyed in the dark—unable to sleep because her body was craving his expert touch...
Dr Gautier flicked through the file which lay on the desk before him before fixing his eyes firmly on Luc.
‘I am assuming that Your Royal Highness already knows the sex of the baby?’ he questioned.
Did Luc hear Lisa’s intake of breath? All he had to do was to ask the doctor what he wanted to know and it would be done. The fact would be out there. Lisa swallowed. Some people might think she was being awkward in not wanting this particular piece of information, but it was important to her. It felt like her last remnant of independence and the only control she had left over her life.
‘My wife doesn’t wish to know,’ said Luc, meeting her eyes with a faintly mocking expression. ‘She wants it to be a surprise on the day.’
‘Very sensible,’ said the doctor, turning to ask Lisa if there was anything she wanted to know.
The questions she wanted to ask were not for the obstetrician’s ears. Nor for the ears of the husband sitting beside her.
How soon can I return to England after t
he birth?
When will Luc let me leave him?
Or the most troubling of all.
Will I ever stop wanting a man who sees me only as the vessel which carries his child?
But some of Lisa’s fears left her that day and she wasn’t sure why. Was it Luc’s simple courtesy in not demanding to know the sex of their baby? Or that meaningless little squeeze of her hand which had made her relax her defences a little? Afterwards, when they were back in their suite, she turned to him to thank him and the baby chose that moment to deliver a hefty kick just beneath her ribs. Automatically, she winced before smiling as she clutched her stomach and when she looked into Luc’s face, she was surprised by the sudden longing she read in his eyes.
She asked the question because she knew she had to, pushing aside the thought that it was a somehow dangerous thing to do—to invite him to touch her. ‘Would you like to...to feel the baby kick?’
‘May I?’
She nodded, holding her breath as he laid his hand over her belly and they waited for the inevitable propulsion of one tiny foot. She heard him laugh in disbelief as a tiny heel connected with his palm and, once the movement had subsided, she wondered if he would now do what her body was longing for him to do—and continue touching her in a very different way. She thought how easy it would be. He could move his hand upwards to cup a painfully engorged breast and slowly caress her nipple with the pad of his thumb. Or downwards, to slide his fingers between her legs and find how hot and hungry she was for him.
But he didn’t.
He removed his hand from her belly and although she silently cursed and wanted to draw him back to her, she was in no position to do so. She wondered if she had been too hasty in rejecting him, particularly when she hadn’t realised he could be so kind. And she was fast discovering that kindness could be as seductive as any kiss.
Maybe that was the turning point for Lisa. The discovery that as the days passed the palace stopped feeling like a prison. Or maybe it was a direct result of Luc’s sudden announcement that he had a surprise for her. One morning after breakfast, he led her through the endless maze of corridors to a part of the palace she hadn’t seen before, where he opened a set of double doors, before beckoning her inside.
‘Come and take a look at this,’ he said. ‘And tell me what you think.’
Lisa was momentarily lost for words as she walked into an airy studio overlooking the palace gardens. She glanced around, trying to take it all in—because in it was everything a dress designer could ever desire. On a big desk were pencils and paints and big pads of sketch paper. There was a computer, a sophisticated music system, a tiny kitchen and even a TV.
‘For when you get bored,’ Luc drawled. ‘I wasn’t sure if artwork on the walls would inspire you or distract you—but if you’d like some paintings, then speak to Eleonora and she’ll arrange for you to have something from the palace collection.’ He searched her face with quizzical eyes. ‘I hope this meets with your satisfaction?’
It was a long time since anyone had done something so thoughtful. Something just for her and Lisa felt overwhelmed—a feeling compounded by the way Luc was looking at her. His skin was glowing and his black hair was still ruffled from the horse ride he liked to take before breakfast each morning. Which she guessed explained why he was never there when she woke up. Why on more than one occasion she’d found herself rolling over to encounter nothing but a cool space where his warm body should have been.
Because he had spoken the truth. It was a big bed. Big enough for two people to share it without touching. For them to lie side by side like two strangers. For her to be acutely aware of his nakedness, even though she couldn’t actually see it. Yet as the dark minutes of the night ticked by—punctuated only by the rhythmical sounds of Luc’s steady breathing—Lisa was furious with herself for wanting him to make love to her. Wondering why hadn’t he even tried to change her mind? Was her swollen belly putting him off? More than once she had wondered what he would do if she silently moved to his side of the bed. She could put her hand between his legs and start to caress him in that way he liked. She swallowed. Actually, she had a pretty good idea what he’d do...
‘I love it,’ she said softly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at her erotic thoughts as she lifted her gaze from the pencils lined up with military precision. ‘Thank you.’
There was a pause as their eyes met. An infinitesimal pause when Lisa thought she saw his mouth relax. A moment when his eyes hinted at that flinty look they used to get just before he kissed her. She held her breath. Hoping. No, praying. Thinking—to hell with all her supposedly noble intentions. He was her husband, wasn’t he? He was her husband and right then she wanted him with a hunger which was tearing through her body like wildfire. He could make love to her right now—she was sure he would be gentle with her. She felt the molten ache of frustration as she imagined him touching her where she was crying out to be touched.
But just like always, he moved away from her. Only by a fraction, but it might as well have been a mile. She found her cheeks growing even pinker; she walked over to one of the pristine drawing pads in an effort to distract herself. ‘I’ll start work on my next collection right away,’ she said.
He turned to leave but at the door, he paused. ‘Has Eleonora told you about the May Ball?’
Lisa shook her head. No. That was something Eleonora must have missed during daily conversations, which usually managed to convey how matey Princess Sophie’s father had been with Luc’s father, and about the blissful holidays the two families used to enjoy on the island of Isolaverde.
‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t believe she did. Anyway, shouldn’t it have been you who told me?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m telling you now,’ he said, with a trace of his customary arrogance. ‘It’s something of a palace tradition. The weather is always fine and the gardens are at their loveliest. It will be the perfect opportunity for you to meet the great and the good. Oh, and you might want to wear some jewels from the royal collection. Speak to Eleonora and she’ll show you.’
Lisa forced a smile. She seemed to do nothing but speak to Eleonora, but she nodded her head in agreement. And after Luc had gone, she emailed her sister and asked for some new photos of Tamsin, before taking herself off into the palace grounds for a walk.
The gardens were exquisite. Not just the rose section or the intricate maze which led onto the biggest herb garden she’d ever seen, but there were also high-hedged walkways where you could suddenly turn a corner and find some gorgeous marble statue hidden away. Yet today Lisa had to work hard to focus on the beauty of her surroundings because all she could think about was Luc’s attitude towards her. He could do something immensely kind and thoughtful like surprising her with a new studio or bring her tea in bed, but he seemed content to keep her at arm’s length and push her in the direction of his ever-loyal Eleonora.
But that was what she had wanted.
Only now she was beginning to realise she didn’t want it any more. She didn’t want to lie chastely by his side while he slept and her body hungered for him. She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her. If not to love her—then at least to make love to her. Suddenly, withholding sex as a kind of bargaining tool seemed not only stupid, but self-sacrificing. Maybe she had misjudged the whole situation. She wanted the freedom to be able to return to England but she recognised that she needed Luc’s blessing in order to do so. Wouldn’t he be more amenable to reason if he was physically satisfied?
And wouldn’t she?
He had told her about the ball and he wanted her to wear some of the royal jewels. Couldn’t she embrace her new role as his princess and appear comfortable in it? Wouldn’t he be pleasantly pleased—maybe even proud of her—giving her the perfect opportunity to seduce him? And since Luc showed no sign of coming on to her, she was going to have to be proactive. If she wanted him, then she must show him how much...
She felt the baby stirring inside her, alm
ost as if it were giving her the proverbial thumbs-up, and Lisa felt a sudden warmth creep through her veins. Fired up by a new resolve, she made her way back towards the palace, sunlight streaming onto her bare head. Going straight to her studio, she rang for Eleonora and the aide arrived almost immediately, a questioning look on her smooth face.
Lisa drew a deep breath. ‘Luc told me about the ball. He suggested I might wear some of the crown jewels for the occasion.’
Eleonora gave a bland smile. ‘Indeed. He has already mentioned it to me.’
Lisa didn’t miss a beat, squashing down her indignation. Didn’t matter that he confided in Eleonora, because soon he would be in her arms and confiding in her. ‘Could we go and take a look at them, please? Now? Because I think I’d like to design my outfit around the jewels.’
‘Of course.’
The collection was housed in a section of the palace not far from the art gallery, and Lisa was momentarily startled when she walked into the spotlighted room, where priceless gems sparkled against inky backdrops of black velvet. Her eyes widened at the sheer opulence of the pieces on display. There were glittering waterfalls of diamonds—white ones and pink ones and even citrusy yellow ones, some with matching drop earrings and bracelets. There were sapphires as blue as Luc’s eyes and mysterious milky opals, shot through with rainbows. Lisa was just about to choose a choker of square-cut emeralds when Eleonora indicated a set of drawers at the far end of the room.
‘How about these?’ Eleonora suggested softly, pulling open one of the drawers and beckoning for Lisa to take a closer look.
Lisa blinked. Inside was a flamboyant ruby necklace with glittering stones as big as gulls’ eggs—their claret colour highlighted by the white fire of surrounding diamonds.
‘Oh, my word,’ she breathed. ‘That is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘Isn’t it just?’ agreed Eleonora softly as she carefully removed the necklace. ‘It hasn’t been worn for a long time and is probably the most valuable piece in our entire collection. Why not surprise your husband with it?’
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