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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 admit 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.

Rik did, but he still felt protective of this young woman. She’d suddenly found herself on the other side of the world in a strange place. A little curiosity towards her was to be expected, too. He’d collected a stranger. Naturally he would want to understand just who this stranger was.

He would need her help and co-operation to resolve this problem, and she would need his reassurance. ‘This doesn’t have to be an insurmountable difficulty. If I can get you back out of the palace, keep you away from my father and create a suitable story to explain that bringing my fiancée home took two trips …‘

‘It seems such a strange thing to do in the first place, to marry someone for a brief period knowing you’re going to end the marriage. Why do it at all if that’s the case? How well do you know my cousin?’ The words burst out of Mel as she watched Prince Rikardo come to terms with the problem of a girl who shouldn’t be here, and one who should be and wasn’t.

She felt overwrought and stressed out. What would happen to her plans now? Mel needed to be in Sydney looking for work. Not here suffering from a case of mistaken identity.

And then she realised that she’d just questioned a prince, and perhaps not all that nicely because she did feel worried and uneasy and just a little bit threatened and scared about the future. ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean that to sound disrespectful. I guess I’m just looking for answers.’

‘Your cousin is a past acquaintance from my university days in Australia who has kept in touch now and then remotely over the years since.’

So he didn’t know Nicolette closely, had potentially never really known her. But he’d said he intended to marry her, albeit briefly. Mel’s mind boggled at the potential reasons for that. Nicolette had hugged the secret close. Maybe she’d been told she had to? What was in it for Mel’s cousin?

Well, even if it were to be a brief marriage, Nicolette would for ever be able to say she’d been a princess. Mel’s cousin would love that. It would open even more doors socially to her. That left what was in it for Prince Rikardo?

‘This must all seem quite strange to you, to suddenly find yourself here when you thought you were headed for Sydney, wasn’t it?’ His voice deepened. ‘To start a new life?’

‘I did say that, didn’t I? When I thought you were a taxi driver and blabbed half my life story at you.’ She drew a breath. ‘I also meant no insult by thinking that you were a taxi driver.’

‘None was taken.’ He paused.

Did he notice that she dodged his question about starting a new life? Mel didn’t want to go into that.

‘Let me get the wheels in motion to start rectifying this situation,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll discuss how this happened.’

For a blink of time as he spoke those words Mel saw pure royalty. Privileged, powerful. He would not only fix this problem, he would also have his answers. He’d said he didn’t blame her, that it wasn’t her fault. But Mel couldn’t be as self-forgiving. She should have realised something was amiss. There’d been signs. An unmarked car; a driver not in uniform; even the fact that he’d tucked her in the front of the cab beside him rather than expecting her to get in the back. Of course he would demand his answers. Had she really thought she would get off without having to face that side of it?

Would she in turn learn more of why he’d chosen her cousin for this interaction? ‘Yes, of course you’ll need to set wheels in motion, to contact Nicolette and sort out how to get her here as quickly as possible. I’m more than willing to simply be sent to Sydney. You can put me on any flight, I don’t mind. I don’t need to see my cousin again.’ She didn’t want to see Nicolette again and be brought to account for all of this, and for choosing to leave the family without a moment’s notice, because Mel wouldn’t go back.

What did Prince Rikardo see in Nicolette?

He didn’t have to see anything.

Or maybe he liked what little he knew of Mel’s cousin and they could conduct this transaction between them and perhaps even become firm friends afterwards. Nicolette could be charming when it suited her. There’d been times over the years when she’d charmed Mel. Not lately, though.

Mel searched Rikardo’s gaze once more. Though his mind must be racing, he didn’t appear at all unnerved. How could he portray such an aura of strength? Did it come as part of his training in the royal family? An odd little shiver went down her spine and her breath caught. What would it be like, to be a prince such as Rikardo Ettonbierre? Or to be … truly in Nicolette’s shoes, about to marry him, even if briefly?

Are you sure that his strength is simply a result of his position, his royal status, Melanie?

No. There was something in Rikardo Ettonbierre’s make-up that would have demanded those answers regardless, and got them whether he’d ever been trained to his heritage, or not. That would have shown strength, not uncertainty, no matter what.

‘We will make all the necessary arrangements. If we do it quickly—’ Rikardo strode towards a phone handset on an ornate side table. He lifted the phone and spoke into it. ‘Please ask my aide to attend me in my suite as soon as possible. I have some work for him to do. Thank you.’ He had just replaced the receiver when a knock sounded on the door.

‘That’s too soon to be my aide,’ he murmured. ‘It will be our dinner. You must be hungry.’

The door opened. Members of staff entered bearing covered dishes. Aromas filled the room and made Mel realise just how long it had been since she’d eaten.

‘The food smells delicious.’ She’d always cooked the meals, not had them brought to her on silver salvers. ‘I have to confess I am quite hungry.’

‘That is good to hear.’

Rather than from Rikardo, the words came in a more mature yet equally commanding voice. The owner of that voice stepped into the room, a man in his early sixties with black hair greying at the temples, deep blue eyes and the power, by his presence alone, to strike dumb every staff member in the room.

Mel hadn’t even needed that impact to identify him, nor the similarities to the prince. All she’d needed was one look at Rikardo’s face, at the way it closed up into a careful mask that covered and protected every thought.

The king had just walked in.

This was the worst thing that could have happened right now. They’d needed to keep her, Melanie, out of sight of this man. Mel’s breath froze in her throat and her gaze flew to Rik’s. What did they do now? She caught a flash of a trapped look on Rikardo’s face before he smoothed it away.

Somehow that glimpse of humanness opened up a wealth of fellow feeling in Mel. She had to help Rik out of this dilemma. She didn’t even realise that she’d thought of him as Rik, not Rikardo.

The king’s gaze fixed on her, examining, studying. He’d spoken to her. Sort of. Mel didn’t know whether or not to respond.

‘Indeed, Father, and it is fortuitous that you are here.’ Rik stepped forward. He didn’t block his father’s view of Mel, but he drew the king’s attention away from her. ‘I would like a word with you regarding the truffle harvest, if you please.’

The older man’s eyes narrowed. He frowned in his son’s direction and said: ‘It pleases me to know my future daughter-in-law will eat a meal rather than pretend a lack of appetite to try to maintain a waif-thin figure.’

Waif-thin figure?

Mel worked in a kitchen. She might have been underpaid, but she’d never been hungry. Was it usual for kings to speak their minds like this?

There was another problem, though. Even Mel, with her lack of understanding of royal protocols, could guess that it wasn’t appropriate for Rikardo not to introduce her to his father, even if the king had surprised them in Rik’s suite.

Should she introduce herself? Why hadn’t Rikardo done that?

Because you’re not who you should be, Melanie. How is he supposed to introduce you without either telling the truth or lying? Neither option will work just at the moment.

And anyway, why don’t you interview all the kings you’re on a first-name basis with, and collate the responses to discover a mean average and then you’ll know whether they all speak bluntly?

She wasn’t thinking hysterically exactly, Mel told herself.

Just don’t say anything. Well, not anything bad. Be really, really careful about what you say, or, better still, stay completely silent and hope that Rikardo takes care of this. Didn’t he say earlier if you came across his father to let Rik do all the talking?

Yes, but that was before he realised Mel wasn’t Nicolette. His father didn’t know that, though, and now the king had spotted Melanie. Not only spotted her but spoken to her and had a really good look at her. And if she didn’t respond soon, the king might think—

‘Your Highness.’ Mel sank into what she hoped was an acceptable style of curtsy. She tried not to catch the older man’s gaze, and hoped that her voice might pass for Nicolette’s next time.

Rikardo had mistaken Melanie for Nicolette. But she’d been puffed up with allergies then. Rikardo strode towards the door of his suite.

At the door, he turned to face Mel. ‘If you will excuse us? Please go ahead and eat dinner.’ He asked one of the kitchen staff to let his aide know they would speak after Rikardo finished with the king. From outside, Rikardo called in another member of staff. ‘Please also show my guest her rooms.’

In about another minute, the king would be out of here. Mel could stop holding her breath and worrying about what she might reveal to the king that could cause problems for when Nicolette arrived.

Mel glanced into Rikardo’s eyes and nodded, acknowledging that he intended to leave.

Rikardo swept out of the room and swept his father along with him, even if he was the king.

Melanie thanked the staff for the delivery of the meal. She felt their curious gazes on her, too, and she would have liked to strike up a conversation, to ask what it was like to work in the kitchens of a palace. Instead, she kept her gaze downcast and kept the interaction as brief as she could.

The rooms she would use were lavish. Mel could barely take it all in.

And then finally she was alone.

So she could sit at the royal dining table in Prince Rikardo’s suite that had its own guest suite within it, and eat royal food while she waited for the prince to have his discussion with his father about truffle harvesting. She hadn’t known the country grew truffles.

But that wouldn’t be all of the conversation and it would no doubt be difficult for the prince, but then Rikardo would come back here and tell Melanie his plans, and somehow or other it would all be all right.

Mel turned to the dining table, looked at the array of dishes. She would eat so at least she had some energy inside her to deal with whatever came next.

It would be all right. Rikardo was a prince. He would be able to make anything right.

CHAPTER THREE

RIK stood by the window in the sitting area of his suite. Early sunlight filtered across the snowy landscape of mountains and valleys, and over Ettonbierre village below. Soon people would begin to move around, to go about their work—those who had enough work.

He had once liked this time best of all, the solitude before the day’s commitments took over. Today, his thoughts were already embroiled and his aide already on his way to Rik’s suite to discuss yet another matter of urgency. The past two years had been problem after problem. Rik’s marriage plans had been part of the solution, or so he had believed. Now …

He had spoken to his father last night. It hadn’t been the greatest conversation he’d ever had; it had taken too long, and at the end of it he had known the impossibility of trying to bring Nicolette out here now to pass her off as his fiancée.

Really he’d known that from the moment Melanie had told him he’d collected the wrong girl. Too many people had seen her. Then Rik’s father had seen her. She had tried not to be too noticeable, too recognisable. But the king had noticed. Right down to the three freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose.

Rik had whisked his father out of his suite. He’d bought a little time to come up with a solution before his father formally met his fiancée. But in the end there was only one solution.

A soft knock sounded on the outer door of his suite. Rik strode towards it. He didn’t believe in the edict that a prince should not do such menial things as open doors to his staff. He and his brothers all worked on behalf of the people of Braston one way or another, so why wouldn’t they open a door?

And now you all have a challenge to fulfil. The prize is that your father will come out of his two-year disconnection from the world around him, caused by the queen moving out and refusing to return, and co-operate to enable the economy here to be healed.

‘Good morning, Prince Rikardo.’ His aide stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. ‘My apologies for disturbing you at this hour.’

‘And mine for disturbing you late last night.’ Rik gave a wry twist of his lips. ‘To examine an emailed photograph, no less.’

And the passport of Nicole Melanie, which had been handled by one of his retinue of attendants when they arrived at the airport with his guest deeply asleep.

Nicole, not Nicolette. Only Rik could have spotted that mistake and he’d been otherwise occupied at the time.

‘But with a purpose, Your Highness. It is unfortunate that the two women do not look enough alike to ensure we could safely swap them.’ Dominico Rhueldt drew a breath. ‘I have carried out your wishes and transferred the funds from your personal holdings to the bank account of Nicolette Watson, and ordered the set from the hand-crafted collection of the diamond jeweller, Luchino Montichelli. It will be delivered to Nicolette within two days.’

The man hesitated. ‘Your Highness, I am concerned about the amount of money going out of your holdings towards relief to the people. I know they are in need—’

‘And while I have the ability I will go on meeting needs, but that doesn’t fix the underlying problems.’ Rik sighed. It was an old conversation. ‘Nicolette. She is happy with this … buy-off?’

A gift of baubles and a cash injection in exchange for her acceptance of the changed circumstances, and her silence.

Though Rik’s question referred to the woman he’d organised to briefly marry, he struggled to shift his thoughts from the one he’d carried onto a plane recently.

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 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.’