by Annie West
And what she did know she didn’t like.
He shrugged and unwillingly Luisa saw how the fluid movement drew attention to those powerful shoulders. The sort of shoulders that belonged on a surf lifesaver or an outback farmer, not a privileged aristocrat.
‘I’m the best person for the kingship. Some would say the only suitable one. I’ve trained a lifetime for it.’
‘Others could learn.’
He shook his head. ‘Not now. Not in time. There was unrest in the last years of my father’s reign. That’s growing. A strong king is what the country needs.’
The sizzle in his eyes stopped her breath.
‘That leaves only one option.’
She was his only option!
‘I don’t care!’ Cool glass pressed against her back as he took a pace towards her and she stepped back. ‘Let them crown someone else. I’m not a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter.’
His lips curled in a knowing smile that should have repelled her. Yet her heart hammered as she watched his eyes light with a gleam that warmed her from tip to toe.
‘You think marriage to me would be a hardship?’ His voice dropped to a low pitch that feathered like a sultry breeze across her suddenly flushed skin. ‘That I don’t know how to please a woman?’
Luisa swallowed hard, using her hands to anchor herself to the windowsill behind her rather than be drawn towards the glittering green gaze that seemed now to promise unspoken delights.
He was far more dangerous than she’d realised.
‘Be assured, Luisa, that you will find pleasure in our union. You have my word on it.’
A beat of power, of heat, pulsed between them and she knew how an animal felt, mesmerised by a predator.
‘The answer is still no,’ she whispered hoarsely, shocked at the need to force down a betraying weakness that made her respond to his sensual promise. Why did her dormant hormones suddenly jangle into life around him?
For a long moment they stood, adversaries in a silent battle of wills.
‘Then, sadly, you leave me no choice.’ The fire in his eyes was doused as if it had never been. A flicker of what might have been regret shadowed his gaze then disappeared. ‘Just remember that decision, and the outcome, are entirely yours.’
Already he turned away. Only her hand on his elbow stopped him.
‘What do you mean?’ Fear was a sour tang in her mouth.
He didn’t turn. ‘I have business to finalise before I leave. Some farms to dispose of.’
Panic surged. Luisa’s fingers tightened like a claw on the fine wool of his suit. She stepped round to look up into his stern face.
‘You can’t foreclose! They haven’t done anything to you.’
His stare pinioned her. He shook off her hand.
‘In a choice between your relatives and my country there is no contest.’ He inclined his head. ‘Goodbye, Luisa.’
‘I’m sure Mademoiselle will be happy with this new style. A little shorter, a little more chic. Yes?’
Luisa dragged herself from her troubled reverie and met the eyes of the young Frenchwoman in the mirror. Clearly the stylist was excited at being summoned to the Prince’s exclusive Parisian residence. Unlike the nail technician who’d barely resisted snorting her displeasure when Luisa had refused false nails, knowing she’d never manage them. Or the haughty couturier who’d taken her measurements with barely concealed contempt for Luisa’s clothes.
The hair stylist hadn’t been daunted at the prospect of working on someone as ordinary as Luisa.
Perhaps she liked a challenge.
‘I’m sure it will be lovely.’ Another time Luisa would have been thrilled, having her hair done by someone with such flair and enthusiasm. But not today, just hours after Raul’s private jet had touched down in Paris.
It had all happened too fast. Even her goodbyes to Sam and a tearful Mary, crying over the happy news that Luisa was taking up her long lost inheritance.
How she wished she were with them now. Back in the world she knew, where she belonged.
Luisa gritted her teeth, remembering how Raul had taken the initiative from her even in her farewells.
When she’d gone to break the news it was to find he’d been there first. Her family and friends were already agog with the story of Luisa finally taking her ‘rightful place’ as a princess. And with news their debts were to be cancelled.
Yet Luisa had at least asserted herself in demanding Raul install a capable farm manager in her place to get the co-op on its feet. She refused to leave her friends short-handed.
In the face of their pleasure, Luisa had felt almost selfish, longing to stay, when so much good came out of her departure. Yet she’d left part of herself behind.
Her family and friends would have been distraught, knowing why she left. They wouldn’t have touched the Prince’s money if they knew the truth. But she couldn’t do that to them. She couldn’t ruin them for her pride.
Or her deep-seated fear of what awaited her in Maritz.
She shivered when she thought of entering Raul’s world. Being with a man who should repel her, yet who—
‘These layers will complement the jaw line, see? And make this lovely hair easier to manage.’
Luisa nodded vaguely.
‘And, you will forgive me saying, cut even on both sides suits you better, yes?’
Luisa looked up, catching a sparkle in the other woman’s eye. Heat seeped under her skin as she remembered her previous lopsided cut. She tilted her chin.
‘My friend wants to become a hairdresser. She practised on me.’
‘Her instincts were good, but the execution …’ The other woman made one last judicious snip, then stepped away. ‘Voila! What do you think?’
For the first time Luisa really focused. She kept staring as the stylist used a mirror to reveal her new look from all sides.
It wasn’t a new look. It was a new woman!
Her overgrown hair was now a gleaming silky fall that danced and slid around her neck as she turned, yet always fell sleekly back into place. It was shorter, barely reaching her shoulders, but shaped now to the contours of her face. Dull dark blonde had been transformed into a burnished yet natural light gold.
‘What did you do?’
Luisa didn’t recognise the woman in the mirror. A woman whose eyes looked larger, her face almost sculpted and quite … arresting. She turned her head, watching the slanting sunlight catch the seemingly artless fall of hair.
The Frenchwoman shrugged. ‘A couple of highlights to accentuate your natural golden tones and a good cut. You approve?’
Luisa nodded, unable to find words to describe what she felt. She remembered those last months nursing her mother, poring with her over fashion and beauty magazines borrowed from the local library. Her mother, with her unerring eye for style, would point out the cut that would be perfect for Luisa. And Luisa would play along, pretending that when she’d finally made her choice she’d visit a salon and have her hair styled just so. As if she had time or money to spare for anything other than her mother’s care and the constant demands of the farm.
‘It’s just long enough to put up for formal occasions.’
Luisa’s stomach bottomed at the thought of the formal occasions she’d face when they reached Maritz.
This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. How could she have agreed?
Suddenly she needed to escape. Needed to draw fresh air into her lungs, far from the confines of this gilt-edged mansion with its period furniture and discreet servants.
It hit her that, from the moment Raul had delivered his ultimatum, she’d not been alone. His security men had been on duty that final night she’d slept at home. Probably making sure she didn’t do a midnight flit! After that there’d been stewards, butlers, chauffeurs.
And Raul himself, invading her personal space even when he stood as far from her as possible.
The stylist had barely slid the protective cape off Luisa’s shoulders
when she was on her feet, full of thanks for the marvellous cut and turning towards the door.
Her thoughts froze as the Frenchwoman looked at something over Luisa’s shoulder then sank into a curtsey.
‘Ah, Luisa, Mademoiselle. You’ve finished?’ The deep voice curled across her senses like smoke on the air. She reminded herself it was distaste that made her shiver.
‘Yes. We’ve finished.’ Stiffening her spine, she turned.
Clear afternoon light spilled across the parquet floor and highlighted Raul where he stood just inside the doorway. Once again his splendour hit her full force. Not just the elegance of hand-stitched shoes and a beautifully crafted suit that clung to his broad shoulders. The impact of his strong personality was stamped on his austere features.
Even knowing his ruthlessness, it was hard not to gawk in appreciation. Luisa saw the stylist surreptitiously primping.
Annoyance sizzled. It wasn’t just her. He had this effect on other women.
‘I like your new look.’ Raul’s sudden smile was like warm honey. The flare of appreciation in his eyes even looked genuine. She told herself she didn’t care.
‘Thank you.’ Her tone was stiff.
Yet Luisa’s pulse raced. She put it down to dislike. How dared he come here with his gracious smile and his fluent French, charming her companion as if he were a kind benefactor!
Finally, after a long exchange of compliments, the stylist headed to the door. Luisa followed.
She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. A firm hand grasped her elbow as she walked past Raul.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out.’ She looked pointedly at his restraining hand.
‘That’s impossible. You have another appointment.’
The simmering fury she’d battled for days spiked.
‘Really? How strange. I don’t recall making any appointment.’ She raised her head, meeting his regard head-on. Letting her anger show.
Ever since she’d consented to go with him it had been the same. Exquisite politeness from him and deference from his staff. Yet every decision had been made for her.
At first she’d been in a state of shock, too stunned to do more than be swept along by the force of Raul’s will. But her indignation had grown with each hour. Especially when she’d been told, not asked about appointments with the beautician, the pedicurist, the manicurist, the hair stylist, the couturier …
As if she were an animated doll, not a woman with a brain of her own.
His hand dropped.
‘You’re upset.’
‘You noticed!’ She drew a slow breath, fighting for control. She was rigid with outrage and self-disgust.
Luisa had spent enough time battling bullies. From her despotic grandfather to big banks eager for immediate returns. To this man who’d taken over her life.
She should have been able to stand up to him!
She’d never felt so helpless.
That scared her more than anything. And provoked her fighting spirit. She’d had enough!
‘You’re tired after the long journey.’ Did his voice soften? Surely not.
She hadn’t slept a wink, even in the luxurious bed assigned to her on the long haul flight to Europe. Yet fatigue was the least of her worries.
‘I’m tired of you managing my life. Just because I gave in to blackmail doesn’t mean I’ve relinquished the ability to think. I’m not a doormat.’
‘No one would presume—’
‘You presume all the time!’ Luisa jabbed a finger into his broad chest then backed up a step, resolving to keep her distance. She didn’t like the tiny pinprick of heat tickling her skin where she’d touched him. It was there too whenever he took her arm, helping her from a plane or car.
‘You haven’t once asked!’ She spread her hands. ‘Your staff simply tell me what you’ve decided.’
His hooded eyes gave nothing away, but the sharp angle of his jaw told her she’d hit home. Good! The idea of getting under this man’s skin appealed. It was about time he found out what it felt like not to get his own way.
‘Royalty works on a strict timetable.’
‘And dairy farms don’t?’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘After you’ve spent your life getting up before dawn for early milking, then talk to me about managing my time!’
‘It’s hardly the same thing.’
‘No, it’s not.’ She kept her voice calm with an effort. ‘My life might not have been exciting but it was about honest hard work. A real job, doing something useful. Not—’ she gestured to the exquisitely decorated salon and the man who stood so haughtily before her ‘—not empty gloss and privilege.’
A dull flush of colour streaked across Raul’s razor-sharp cheekbones. Deep grooves bracketed the firm line of his mouth and his long fingers flexed and curled. Energy radiated from him, a latent power so tangible she had to force herself to stand her ground.
‘You’ll find royal life isn’t a sinecure.’ His words were glacial shards, grazing her overheated cheeks. ‘Running a country is a demanding full-time job.’
Luisa refused to be cowed. Nothing excused his treatment of her. That had to change. Now.
‘Under extreme duress I agreed to go to your country and accept my inheritance. That doesn’t give you carte blanche to run my life.’
‘Where were you going?’ His question surprised her.
She glanced at the full length windows with their view of a wide, elegant boulevard and a distant park.
‘I’ve never been to Paris.’ She’d never travelled. Except to her grandfather’s home and to Sydney when her mum visited specialists. Neither had been pleasant experiences. ‘I want to explore.’
‘You haven’t time. Your new clothes are here and you need to be fitted. It’s important you look like a princess when you step off the plane in Maritz.’
‘In case I don’t photograph well for the press?’ She almost laughed at the idea of being media-worthy, but the way his face shuttered instantly at her mention of the press distracted her.
‘It’s for your sake as well, Luisa. Imagine arriving in the full blare of public interest, dressed as you are.’
Was that a hint of sympathy in his expression, or did she imagine it?
‘There’s nothing wrong with my clothes! They’re …’
Cheap and comfortable and a little shabby. It wasn’t that she didn’t want beautiful clothes. It was the idea of pretending to be someone she wasn’t, as if the real Luisa wasn’t worth knowing. Yet a tiny voice inside admitted she didn’t want to face a nation’s press as she was.
She didn’t want to face the press at all!
‘Clothes are like armour.’ His voice held a note of understanding that surprised her. ‘You’ll feel more comfortable in clothes that make you look good.’
Did he speak from personal experience? Seeing the proud tilt of his head, Luisa guessed Raul could walk naked before a crowd and not lose one ounce of his regal attitude.
Her breath hitched on the idea of Raul naked. With those long, powerful thighs and that rangy powerful torso.
With an effort she dragged her mind back on track.
‘I don’t need permission to go out.’ She kept her voice low and even but her chin crept up. ‘I don’t answer to you and I do intend to see some of the city.’
She wouldn’t let him dictate to her any more.
‘Then what if I take you out myself, tonight?’ Luisa blinked in astonishment. ‘I have appointments for the rest of the day but after dinner, if you like, I’ll show you some of the sights of Paris.’ He paused for a long moment, his mouth easing into what could almost pass for a smile. ‘Would that suit?’
Blankly Luisa stared. A compromise? That must have cost him!
Instantly suspicion grew that he was up to something. Yet the idea of escaping this gorgeous, claustrophobic house was irresistible.
‘Agreed.’
Six hours later Luisa stood against the railing of a river cruiser, straini
ng forward as each new sight came into view. From the Ile de la Cité with Notre Dame’s flying buttresses illuminated like spread wings against the darkness, to the Pont Neuf and the glittering Eiffel Tower. Paris slid around them, gorgeous and outrageously seductive. Yet still the tension twisted through her.
She and Raul were the only passengers.
Another reminder of what his wealth could buy.
Like her clothes. Stylish black wool trousers and a chic winter-weight cream tunic. Boots and a long coat of leather so soft she had to force herself not to keep smoothing her hands over it. A designer silk scarf in indigo and burnt orange that brought colour to her cheeks.
Except her cheeks burned anyway, remembering the designer’s whispered asides to his assistant about Luisa’s shape, size, posture and walk. Her posture was good, apparently, but her walk! A stride, like a man’s. And she had no notion how to carry off a dress. None!
Yet, despite being an apparently insurmountable challenge, she’d been transformed.
Not that Raul had noticed. He’d escorted her to the car with barely a word. Luisa’s bruised pride had been lacerated that he hadn’t commented on her appearance. Clearly it was a matter of the utmost indifference to him.
And this the man who’d spoken of marriage!
She drew a slow breath. Once in Maritz she’d consult local lawyers. There must be a way out of the wedding contract. Fear scudded through her at the idea of marrying—
‘You’re enjoying yourself?’ In the darkness she saw movement as Raul stood beside her. A trickle of heat warmed her belly and she swallowed hard. She hated the way her traitorous body responded yet she couldn’t douse her excitement. Even in her teens, bowled over by what she thought was love, she hadn’t felt this way.
‘The city is beautiful. Thank you for the cruise.’
‘So you admit there are benefits to our arrangement?’
His satisfied smile set her teeth on edge. He took credit for the beauty of the city, forgetting the blackmail that had forced her hand! It was a relief to let her frustration and indignation surge to the surface.
‘They don’t outweigh the negatives.’
He made an abrupt movement with one hand, a rare sign of impatience that surprised her. Usually he was so calm. ‘You refuse to be pleased, no matter what you are offered.’
