He glanced at the closed door of his guest suite. Last night when he’d got back, he’d tucked the covers over Melanie. She’d been curled up on the bed in a ball as though not quite sure she had a right to be there. Sleeping Beauty waiting to be woken by a kiss.
The nonsense thoughts had come to him last night. A result of tiredness and the suppression of stress, Rik had concluded. Yet the vision of her curled up there was still with him. The desire to taste softly parted lips, still there. He’d been absorbed in Braston’s problems lately. Perhaps it had been too long since he took care of those other needs.
His aide rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. When he spoke again, his words were in French, not English. ‘Nicolette acknowledged the payment and the order of the diamond jewellery as her due as a result of the changed circumstances. She accepts the situation but it is good, I think, that she will be unaware of any other plans you may intend to implement until such time—’
‘Yes.’ If ‘such time’ was something Rik could bring about.
‘The other matter of urgency,’ his aide went on, ‘is unfortunately, the truffle crop.’
Rik swung about from where he’d been half gazing out of the windows. One search of Dominico’s face and Rik stepped forward. ‘Tell me.’
‘Winnow is concerned about the soil in one of the grove areas. He feels it looks as it did last year before the blight struck again.’
‘He’s tested it? What is the result? We were certain we’d prevented any possibility of this happening this year. The crop is almost ready for harvest!’ Rik rapped the words out as he strode to his suite. He stepped into the walk-in closet and selected work wear. Khaki trousers, thick shirt and sweater, and well-worn work boots. A very un-princely outfit that his mother would have criticised had she been here to do so. Rik started to shuck clothes so he could don the new ones.
His aide spoke from a few feet away. ‘Winnow is doing the testing now.’
‘I will examine the soil myself and speak with Winnow.’ Rik laced his boots and strode into the sitting room.
‘Your guest?’ Dominico also glanced towards the closed door of the guest suite. ‘Shall I wake her? Inform her of your immediate plans?’
‘Allow her to sleep on while she has the chance. She had a long and difficult day before we arrived here. Please ask, though, that Rufusina be prepared to go with me to the groves.’
Melanie heard these words faintly through a closed door. She shifted in the luxurious bed, opened her eyes to a canopied pelmet draped above her head, and remembered curling up for just a moment while she waited for Prince Rikardo to return from speaking with his father. Now she was under the covers. Still in her clothes, but as though someone had covered her up to make sure she’d be comfortable. And that was Rik’s voice out there, and it sounded as though he was about to go out.
Who was Rufusina?
‘I’m getting up.’ The words emerged in a hoarse croak. She cleared her throat, sat up, and quickly climbed out of bed. And called more loudly. ‘Prince—Your Highness—I’m awake. I’m sorry I fell asleep before you got back last night. I’ll be out in five minutes. I won’t keep you waiting.’
Only after she called the words did Mel realise how they might have sounded to members of staff if any were out there with him, and, given he’d just spoken to someone, they probably were.
Heat rushed into her face, and then she felt doubly silly because she hadn’t meant the words in that way, and the staff wouldn’t care anyway, surely. And Rikardo would send her back to Australia today so none of this would be her problem for much longer.
Mel stopped in her headlong dash to the bathroom and wondered where the burst of disappointment had come from.
From being in a real live palace for a night and having to go home now, she told herself. And perhaps just the tiniest bit because she wouldn’t have the chance to get to know Rikardo better.
‘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 d
o. 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 flow
ing 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.
The Princess Bride Page 20
