The Prince’s Outback Bride

CHAPTER FOUR

PIPPA couldn’t tell Max anything for a while, for the children had decreed tonight a party.

Pippa could hardly believe the transformation. They’d all just recovered from world’s worst cold virus, with Marc sickest of all. The last few weeks had been dank and miserable. Cold seemed to have seeped into their bones, but now she couldn’t hear so much as a residual cough. With the warmth and with the wonderful food-and maybe with the excitement of Max’s visit?-they’d found a new lease of life. The twins had put on their best dresses. They’d tied a huge red bow around Dolores’ neck-she looked very festive fast asleep by the stove. And, from a sad, coughing little boy, Marc was transformed into master of ceremonies, bossing everyone.

‘Give Mr de Gautier red lemonade,’ he ordered Pippa when they sat down to eat, and when Pippa didn’t move fast enough he sighed and started pouring himself.

‘He’s bought wine,’ Pippa said mildly, but the children stared at her as if she had to be joking-wine when there was red lemonade?-and Max accepted his red lemonade with every semblance of pleasure and raised a glass in crimson toast.

‘You see what it’s like?’ Pippa demanded, smiling and raising her glass in turn. ‘I try to be in charge…’

‘Pippa’s no good at being bossy,’ Marc told Max, and Max grinned.

‘She was pretty non-bossy in the dairy. I’m thinking she’s more an opera singer than a dairy maid.’

The operatic singer blushed crimson. ‘There’s no need…’

‘Now, don’t defend yourself,’ he said, ladling pie onto the twins’ plates. ‘There’s no need. It was truly marvellous singing. It’s a wonder the milk didn’t turn to curds and whey all by itself.’

‘You…’

‘What?’

She stared at him. He kept right on smiling and she kept right on staring. The table stilled around them.

‘Would you like some pie?’ he asked gently and she gasped and reached for the pie dish with her bare hands. Which was dumb. There was a dish cloth lying ready but she hadn’t used it. The pie dish was very hot. She yelped.

He was up in a flash, tugging her chair back. Propelling her to the sink.

‘I’m fine,’ she managed, but he had her hands under the tap and it was already running cold.

‘I hardly touched it.’

‘You yelped.’ His hands were holding hers under the water, brooking no opposition.

‘I did not yelp.’

‘You did so,’ Marc volunteered from behind them. ‘Are you burned?’

‘Do you need a bandage?’ Claire demanded, then slipped off her chair and headed for the bathroom without waiting for a response. ‘You always need a bandage,’ she said wisely.

‘I hardly touched it,’ she said again, and Max lifted her fingers from the water and inspected them one by one. There was a faint red line on one hand, following the curve of her fingers.

‘Ouch?’ he said gently and he smiled.

There was that smile. Only it changed every time he used it, she thought. He was like a chameleon, fitting to her moods. Using his smile to make her insides do strange things. She looked up at him, helpless, and Sophie sighed dramatically in the face of adult stupidity and handed her the dishcloth.

‘Dry your hands,’ she said and edged Max away. ‘We don’t need bandages,’ she called to her twin. ‘There’s no blood. You’ll be all right, won’t you?’ she told Pippa. ‘There’s chocolate ice cream for dessert.’

‘You guys are amazing,’ Max said. ‘You take it in turns to play boss.’

‘It works for us.’ Pippa tugged her hands away-which took some doing-and returned to her place at the table with what she hoped was a semblance of dignity. ‘Everything’s fine.’

But everything wasn’t fine. Everything was…odd. Max was still smiling as he ladled her pie without being asked.

Her insides felt funny.

It was hunger, she told herself.

She knew it was no such thing.

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, which was just as well for Pippa’s state of mind. She ate in silence. The children chattered to Max, excited by the food, the festive occasion and the fact that this big stranger seemed interested in everything they said. He seemed really nice, she thought, but she tried to keep her attention solidly on food.

‘I need to put the kids to bed,’ she said when the last of the chocolate ice cream had been demolished. ‘Don’t wash up until I get back.’

‘I’m helping Max wash up,’ Marc said and Pippa practically gaped.

‘You’re offering?’

‘If Max can do dishes then I can.’

She gazed at him, doubtfully-this little boy who was growing to be a man.

She knew nothing of raising boys, she thought. She knew nothing of…men. She had nothing to do with them. There was not a single inch of room in her life for anything approaching romance.

Romance? Where had that thought come from?

From right here, she told herself as she ordered the twins to bed. For some dumb reason she was really attracted to Max.

Well, any woman would be, she told herself. It’s not such a stupid idea. He’s connected to royalty, he has a yummy accent and he’s drop-dead gorgeous.

So you’re not dumb thinking he’s attractive. You’re just dumb thinking anything could come of it.

Dumb or not, she read the twins a really long book and tucked them in with extra cuddles. She called Marc and did the same for him. When she finally finished, Max was in the living room, ensconced in an armchair by the fire, with Dolores draped over his feet.

Pippa had hardly been in this room since summer. It was cold and unwelcoming and slightly damp. Now however the fire had been roaring in the firestove for hours. Max was cooking crumpets on a toasting fork. He’d loaded a side-table with plates and butter and three types of jam. The whole scene was so domestic it made Pippa blink.

‘Haven’t we just had dinner?’

‘Yes, but I saw the toasting fork and I need to try it. And now I’m feeling like crumpets, too.’

The fire was blazing. ‘How much wood are you using?’ she said before she thought about it and Max cast her a look of soulful reproach.

‘There’s more where it came from and the least you can do is make a guest feel warm.’

‘You’re no guest.’ She was feeling desperate and desperate times called for desperate measures. Or bluntness at least. ‘You’re here to take Marc.’

‘Don’t dramatise. You know I can’t do that. You’re Marc’s guardian. Well done?’

She blinked. ‘Sorry?’

‘How do you like your crumpet?’ he asked patiently. ‘I’m getting good at this. The first crumpets ended up in the fire-this toasting fork has no holding power. But the last one I made was excellent. You can have this one. Do you like it slightly singed or charcoal-black?’

‘We’ll be out of wood again by the end of the week, and I’m not letting you buy more.’

‘I’m hoping you’ll be in Alp d’Estella by the end of the week.’

Pippa took a deep breath. Things were happening way too fast.

‘We’re not going to Alp d’Estella. You can’t have Marc.’

‘He has a birthright,’ Max said, flipping his crumpet.

‘Maybe he has, but it’s here.’ She closed her eyes. The effort she’d been making since Max had arrived slipped a little. Her vocals in the dairy had been a last-ditch attempt to find control and it hadn’t worked.

She felt so tired she wanted to sleep for a month.

‘Pippa, this is impossible,’ Max said, laying his crumpet down, rising and pushing her into the chair he’d just vacated. ‘Tell me why you’re doing this?’

‘Doing…what?’

‘Trying to keep this farm going against impossible odds.’

‘It’s all the children have,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all I have.’

‘I don’t understand.’ He shifted the sleeping Dolores sideways. Dolores didn’t so much as open an eye. He hauled another chair up beside her and sat down. ‘I need background.’

‘It’s none-’

‘It is my business,’ he said gently. ‘It seems to me that I’m the only relation these kids have. Now that doesn’t give me any rights,’ he said hurriedly as he saw alarm flit across her face. ‘But it does make me concerned, succession to the throne or not. Tell me about you. About this whole family.’

She hesitated. She shouldn’t tell him. What good would it do? But he was looking at her with eyes that said he was trying to understand, that he might even want to help. The sensation was so novel that she was suddenly close to tears.

She fought them back. No way was she crying in front of him.

‘Why is the farm so poor?’ he asked.

‘I told you,’ she said, rattled. ‘The vats are contaminated.’

‘You were poor before that.’

‘It’s not a wealthy farm.’

‘And?’

‘And Gina and Donald didn’t have insurance. They couldn’t afford it. Then the medical costs for Gina and the twins were exorbitant, as was paying someone to keep this place going until I could cope. I’m paying that off still.’

‘Is the farm freehold?’

‘There are still debts.’

‘But a sizeable chunk is paid for?’

‘Yes.’

‘According to the ladies in the Tanbarook supermarket you could sell it tomorrow.’

‘I could,’ she said and bit her lip. ‘Actually I have two buyers. The developers who want to use it as a road, or the Land for Wildlife Foundation. There’s a project going to make a wilderness corridor from the coast to the mountains north of here, and this place would be an important link.’ She managed a smile. ‘They’d pay less but if it was up to me I’d sell the land to them.’ Her smile faded. ‘But of course it’s not up to me.’

‘Why not?’ He frowned. ‘You could sell, to whoever you choose to sell to, and you could take another nursing job.’ Then as she started to protest he placed his finger on her lips. It was a weird gesture of intimacy that felt strangely right for here. For now. ‘Hush,’ he told her. ‘I’m not stupid. I accept you won’t leave the children. But I’d assume you could get a reasonable income from nursing, and the farm would bring in something. That must mean you could have a life where you’d at least be warm and well fed.’

‘The kids’ inheritance is the farm. That’s all they have.’

‘I disagree. They have you. An inheritance isn’t worth starving for.’

‘You don’t think it’s important?’

‘Not that much.’

‘Then why are you going to this trouble to make sure Marc inherits this principality?’

He hesitated. Then he spread his hands, as if deciding to tell all. ‘There are lives at stake.’

She stared. ‘That sounds ridiculous.’

‘It’s true.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Why?’

‘If there’s no Crown Prince then the country reverts to political rule, which at the moment would practically be a dictatorship. That’s why you haven’t heard of Marc’s inheritance before this. The politicians want nothing more than for the royal succession to die and for them to be in sole charge. The local farmers are being bled dry with taxes as it is. If it gets worse…well, I’m not overstating it when I say there will be starvation.’

‘But that’s…that’s crazy. Marc can’t have anything to do with that.’

‘He doesn’t need to. He simply needs to be allowed to take on the title. The rest can be managed around him.’ He hesitated, and then forged on. ‘Because my mother was still married to Edouard when I was born and because I was half-brother to Thiérry, I can accept the role of Prince Regent. That means until Marc is twenty-one, I can make decisions for him. We can get the country back on track.’

‘But…’ she shook her head ‘…this is nonsense. How can I possibly expose Marc to something so weird?’

‘It’s not so weird,’ he said and smiled. ‘It’s lovely. You could come for a holiday and see. When did you last have a holiday?’

She stared at him blankly.

His smile faded. ‘When, Pippa?’

‘I…when I was nursing I’d come here sometimes and help.’

‘Have you ever taken the children on a holiday?’

‘No, but-’

‘Alp d’Estella’s in the middle of summer right now,’ he said persuasively. ‘The castle’s great.’

‘Claire says it’ll have dragons.’

‘Dragons?’

‘All castles have dragons,’ she said, distracted. ‘Or at least something scary.’ She shook her head as if trying to clear fog. ‘You want Marc to be Crown Prince? He’s far too young to be anything of the kind.’

‘It’s Crown Prince in name only. Until he’s of age the responsibility is mine.’ He hesitated. ‘Pippa, I know Alice didn’t trust the royal family, but the old line is dead. Marc represents the new line. A new hope for the future.’

She took a deep breath. ‘It sounds nonsensical,’ she whispered. ‘How can I possibly trust you?’

‘You don’t need to trust me,’ Max said, steadily, as if he wasn’t offended and had in fact anticipated her qualms. ‘I’ve set my credentials before your Minister of International Affairs and he’ll vouch for my integrity. My mother also knows your countrywoman, Jessica, who married my neighbour, Raoul, Crown Prince of Alp d’ Azuri. I believe your women’s magazines have written her up, so maybe you’ve heard of her? Jessie’s pregnant and blissfully happy, but she’s not so tied up in her own contentment that she doesn’t interest herself in the affairs of her neighbours. Both she and her husband have sent their personal assurance that Marc will be safe. They guarantee that if you don’t think it’s satisfactory then you’re free to take Marc and leave. At any time.’

She blinked. She had indeed heard of Jessica, the Australian fashion designer who by all reports was living happily ever after in her fairy-tale palace with her handsome prince. The Princess Jessica had written her an assurance? The whole thing was unbelievable.

There were so many questions. She could only manage a little one. An important one. ‘It’s warm?’

He smiled. ‘It’s warm,’ he said softly. ‘Not only that, we have three swimming pools-a lap pool, an outdoor recreational pool and one indoors and heated for inclement weather. Not that it’ll be inclement at this time of the year. It’ll be beautiful.’

He was seducing her with sunshine. She had to keep her head.

‘You would be able to leave,’ he added, gently but definitely, and his big hands came out and covered hers. ‘I promise, Pippa. I’m asking that you come for a month. One month. Then you’ll know the facts. You’ll know what’s on offer. You can make up your mind from a position of knowledge.’

‘But the cost,’ Pippa said weakly. She should pull her hands away but she couldn’t make herself do it.

‘It’s taken care of already.’ Then as she looked startled the pressure on her hands intensified. There was no way it should make her feel secure and safe, but stupidly it did. ‘Pippa, I know I’m pushing you,’ he said. ‘But I’m in a hurry. The succession has to be worked out fast. Yes, you have some thinking to do but you can’t think without having seen what’s on offer. A sensible woman would come.’

‘Sometimes I’m not sensible,’ she said and she glowered and his smile changed a little, genuine amusement behind his eyes.

‘I can see that. But maybe your sensible side will out?’

She stared at him, nonplussed. The lurking twinkle was dangerous, she thought. Really dangerous.

Concentrate on practicalities. ‘But there’s passports and things…’

‘I have friends in high places. I can have passports in twenty-four hours.’

‘Twenty-four hours? Are you some kind of magician?’

‘Just a man who’s determined to have you see what you need to see.’

She was dumbfounded. ‘But…the cows,’ she whispered at last, and Max grinned as if that was the last quibble out of the way.

‘I talked to Bert. He’ll be more than happy to take over the milking for now. I gather he did it before? He’ll use his dairy and his vats are clean, so he can be paid for the milk. No obligation, he said, and why would there be? He’ll even milk Peculiar.’

‘You know Bert wants to buy us out. This is making it easier for him.’

‘Maybe it is but we’re making no promises,’ Max said evenly. ‘You’re just taking time to think. It won’t increase the pressure. Regardless of what you decide, these children are eligible for lifetime support from the royal coffers. You’ll never be hungry again. I promise.’ The grip on her hand strengthened, a warm, strong link that made her feel…wonderful. ‘I swear.’

She blinked and blinked again. She would not cry.

This was a fairy tale. She shouldn’t let herself be conned. But in truth…In truth she’d fallen from the roof last week and it had scared her witless. Not for herself so much as for the children. She was all they had. If anything happened to her…

She had to think about it.

And warmth…

‘Who else will be at the castle?’ she managed, trying desperately to focus on practicalities.

‘Servants.’

‘How many servants?’

‘Thirty or more. I’m not sure.’

Her eyes widened. She should pull her hands away, she thought desperately, but she sort of…couldn’t.

‘Your family?’ she whispered. ‘Your mother?’ She hesitated but she knew absolutely nothing of this man and there was one question that was pretty major waiting to be asked. ‘Your wife?’

‘My mother’s in Paris,’ he said evenly. ‘And I’m not married. But that’s of no importance as I won’t be at Alp d’Estella myself. I’ll escort you there and then leave.’

She blinked. He’d leave? ‘Why?’

‘I have no place in Alp d’Estella. It’s Marc who inherits. Not me.’

Her hand was withdrawn at that, hauled away before he could react and tucked firmly in the folds of her skirt, as if she was afraid he might try to reclaim it. He couldn’t. The fairy tale was dissipating. ‘Now, hang on a minute,’ she said. ‘You’re expecting to dump us and run?’

‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’ The twinkle faded.

‘How would you put it? You’ve given us all these assurances but if you’re not there how can I know they’ll be held good?’ She frowned. ‘Anyway, what does Prince Regent mean?’

‘It’s a caretaker role. I get to do the paperwork, and make decisions on behalf of the heir to the Crown until he’s of age. I can do that from Paris, mostly.’

‘But if you’re illegitimate-how can you be Regent?’

‘There’s no one else.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’ve only just had it explained to me myself,’ he said ruefully. ‘But it seems the Alp d’Estella constitution-or whatever they call it when it’s to do with royal succession-has a stipulation that the regency can be held by someone with blood ties to an heir to the throne. Parent, sibling or half-sibling. I guess it was drawn up in the days when death in childbirth was common, and so was death in battle. An older half-sister may well be all there was to care for the rights of a young prince.’

‘But…if your real father isn’t royal…’

‘That’s why I’m here four weeks after Bernard died and not before. I thought I had nothing to do with it. However there are people in Alp d’Estella desperate to see the current regime displaced. They realised the vague constitutional wording-blood ties to an heir rather than the heir-meant that I could take the regency on. If I don’t take it on, the politicians will, and there’s no way you could let Marc walk into that.’

‘So what do you get out of it?’

‘Nothing. But the country is desperate for decent rule.’ He hesitated. ‘Do you know anything about the Alp countries?’

‘Not much.’

‘They’re four principalities,’ he said, sighing, as if this was a tale he’d wearied of telling. ‘And they’ve been degenerate for generations. The princes running them come from a long line of families where indulgence is everything. We now have corrupt politicians who know the only way to advance is to please royalty. The Crown Prince of our nearest neighbour, Alp d’ Azuri, has set about changing that. Raoul-your Jessica’s husband-has used his sovereign powers to instil a democracy. The change is wonderful. That’s where the idea came from that change is possible, but it can’t be done unless Marc accepts the Crown.’

‘But Marc’s too young to decide.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Once he’s installed as Crown Prince, no matter how old he is, measures can be put in place to get the country on an even keel. He can forfeit the Crown later if he wants, but I do need time to get a proper parliament in place.’

‘You can do that?’

‘From the background, it seems that, yes, I can.’

Pippa sat back in her chair and stared at him. Awed. ‘You mean what I agree on, right now, right here, while I’m still thawing from milking, will affect the lives of…’

‘Millions. Yes, it will. But don’t let me pressure you.’

‘You’re mad.’

‘Yes, but I bought you steak and firewood and I helped you milk. I can’t be all bad.’

She shook her head, trying to clear her jumbled thoughts. ‘Don’t think you can inveigle me into doing stuff. I didn’t ask for help.’

‘I don’t want to inveigle you to do anything.’

‘Bully for you.’ Pippa was feeling so lost she didn’t know where she was. She picked up the toasting fork and absently held the half-cooked crumpet to the flames again. Then she put it down. She couldn’t concentrate.

‘All I know of this country is from you,’ she whispered.

‘That’s right. But I can give you assurances, and not just from me.’

‘But, you see, I’m all the children have,’ she said apologetically. ‘How can I put them at risk?’

‘You won’t be putting them at risk.’

‘But you won’t be there.’ She took a deep breath. ‘We could come,’ she admitted. ‘I might even be prepared to take a chance. But only if you were there.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I have a life. My building-’

‘I had a life too once,’ she snapped. ‘My nursing. I’ve put my life on hold for these kids. So how important is forming a parliament? You’d put your life on hold for how long for this kingdom of yours?’

‘It’s a principality.’

‘Kingdom-principality-it makes no difference,’ she snapped. ‘But I won’t do this alone. It scares me stupid. I won’t let you guilt me into it because the country might starve, and then watch you walk away and leave me to do it alone. You’re a de Gautier. Illegitimate or not, you know the reputation of your family. Alice ran for a reason and I’m not as stupid as I look.’

‘I never said-’

‘You don’t have to say,’ Pippa said. ‘Stupid is as stupid does. You hold this place out to me like a carrot on the end of a stick. Warmth. Castles. Swimming pools. And you…a Prince Regent who looks like you stepped out of a romance movie, telling me I have to agree or the peasants will starve…’

‘You don’t think you’re being just a touch melodramatic?’

‘Of course I’m being melodramatic,’ she yelled, so loudly that Dolores was forced to raise her head in faint reproach.

‘There’s no need to yell,’ Max said, starting to sound exasperated, but she’d gone too far to draw back now.

‘There is. I have no guarantee that you care one bit about this little boy you barely know. Or his sisters. I won’t be bludgeoned into taking them to a country I don’t know, unless I have some cast-iron guarantees.’ She held up each finger in turn. ‘One, you agree that we’re staying for a month and only a month. We can all leave freely any time after that, and if the children are unhappy then we can leave earlier. Two, you organise that this farm will be cared for while we’re away. You seem to have enough money. Three, you agree that Marc is not to be made aware that anyone’s welfare depends on him. Four, you stay for the entire month. You leave whatever you do in Paris as you’re asking me to leave whatever I do here.’

‘That’s not f-’

‘Fair?’ she queried, and turned and shook the loaded toasting fork at him. ‘Who’s talking fair?’

She was gorgeous, he thought suddenly. She was just…gorgeous. She looked like an avenging angel, in faded serviceable clothes and wielding a toasting fork like a sword. Her cheeks were two bright spots of colour. Her eyes were flashing demons.

He thought…he thought…

He thought he wanted to kiss her.

Dumb move, he told himself desperately. Really, really dumb.

He really, really wanted to kiss her.

‘Well?’ she demanded and he tried to think what he should be thinking.

‘The castle is pure luxury,’ he said weakly. ‘There’s no need for me to stay.’

‘I don’t want you to stay,’ she said, surprising him, ‘but as guarantee of the children’s safety you must.’

He gazed at her, and she gazed back, meeting his look head-on and not flinching.

He still just wanted to kiss…

‘I do what I have to do,’ she said. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes, but-’

‘Then it’s settled. You’ll stay?’

‘I need-’

‘You’ll stay?’

‘Yes,’ he said, driven against the ropes and acknowledging he had no choice. ‘I’ll stay in Alp d’Estella, yes.’

‘Excellent,’ Pippa said and glowered. ‘Not that I want you near us, mind. You unsettle me.’

‘Do I?’ He started to smile, but she raised her toasting fork again.

‘I have no idea why you unsettle me and I don’t like it,’ she told him. ‘So stop smiling. It just unsettles me more. And there’s only one more stipulation that has to be met.’

‘Another!’

‘It’s the most important.’

‘What is it?’

She stared down at her feet. Dolores had rolled over onto her back, exposing her vast stomach to the radiant heat.

‘As long as we can figure out the quarantine issues, Dolores comes too. All or none. Take us or leave us.’

He stared down at the ancient mutt-a great brown dog looking like nothing so much as a Hound of the Baskervilles. A sleeping hound of the Baskervilles. ‘She’d be happier here.’

‘In the middle of winter? Kennelled without us?’

‘Most dogs-’

‘She’s not most dogs. Alice gave me Dolores as a puppy when my mother died. She’s been with me ever since-my one true love. Who needs men when I have Dolores?’ She retrieved the half-baked crumpet, looked at it with regret and started another. ‘Wicked waste.’

‘Taking a dog to Alp d’Estella?’

‘Interrupting the toasting process. It really messes with the texture. Let’s get back to important stuff.’

‘Which is?’

‘Crumpets.’

‘Sure.’

But he still really, really wanted to kiss her.

He didn’t. She didn’t even guess that he wanted to. Forty-eight hours later Pippa found herself in a first class airline seat somewhere over Siberia, heading for…Alp d’Estella?

There’d been so much to do before she’d left that she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep almost as soon as the plane took off. Now she woke to find the internal lights were off and the light from outside was the dim glow of a northern twilight. Across the aisle Sophie, Claire and Marc were solidly asleep. They’d enjoyed having a seat each at first, but then the twins had bundled in together and Marc had lifted his arm rest so he could join them.

They looked like a litter of well-fed puppies. Down in the hold, Dolores was hopefully sleeping as well, in a padded, warmed crate she’d inspected with caution but deemed fit for travel-snoozing. Kids and dog. Pippa’s responsibilities.

Was she putting them at risk? she wondered for about the hundredth time. Surely not. She’d rung the people Max had given as referees and they’d confirmed his story. Max was honourable, they’d said. She’d be safe.

But the kids would be safer at home.

Maybe, but they’d be cold and hungry. With the state of her bank balance she’d been close to needing welfare. And if anything happened to her…

She hadn’t succeeded with the farm, she thought miserably, and where was life sending her now? The enormity of what she’d promised eight years ago washed over her, as it had time and time again since Gina’s death.

What cost a promise?

‘Have you ever thought of walking away from them?’ Max asked from right beside her and she jumped about a foot.

She could barely see him. His seat was at a slight incline and hers was out flat. She struggled with some buttons and her seat rose to upright.

She passed him on the way up.

There was a moment’s silence while she sat bolt upright and felt stupid. Then he leaned over her and touched her seat control again. Her seat sank smoothly to the same incline as his.

She smelled the masculine smell of him as he leaned over.

Their faces were now six inches apart.

She backed up a little, fast, and she felt his smile rather than saw it. ‘Worry not,’ he told her. ‘I’m no ogre, Pippa, hauling you off to my dark and gloomy castle, to have my wicked way with you.’

‘You can hardly have your wicked way when I’m chaperoned by three kids and a dog,’ she managed and she tried to relax. But he was still smiling and she was feeling very…very…

Very she didn’t know what. If only he weren’t so damned good-looking. If only he weren’t so…disconcerting.

He was very disconcerting. And mentioning wicked ways hadn’t helped a bit. He was so…

Sexy.

There were things stirring inside her that had been repressed for years. She swallowed and told herself that these ideas had to go straight back to being repressed again.

They refused to cooperate.

‘Have you left the farm since Gina’s death?’ he asked and she shook her head.

‘You’ve never wanted to?’

‘No. When Alice died, Gina worried there was no extended family. I told her I’d always be there for her kids. It seemed dumb at the time, but I guess that’s what most parents do. They worry about protecting their kids for ever.’

‘And now you’ll look after these kids for ever? That’s some promise.’

‘Gina andAlice were my family. The kids are my family now.’

‘Tell me how that happened? Why were you so close to Gina and her mother?’

She hesitated. There was something about the half-light, the warmth of the pillows and blankets of her bed-cum-seat, and Max’s face being six inches from hers, that meant she either had to accept this closeness or withdraw completely.

She’d hardly spoken of her past. But now…

‘When she was a kid my mother…drank too much,’ she whispered. ‘So did Alice.’

‘Alice drank?’ He frowned. ‘Gina’s mother? My aunt?’

‘Alice used to say it ran in her family,’ she whispered. ‘The royal side. She had a huge fight with her parents and ended up in Australia. She was wild for a long time. With alcohol. Drugs maybe? I don’t know. Anyway she got pregnant and that’s when she met my mother. They were both on their own and pregnant and trying to stay clean. They were friends for a bit. After I was born my mother reverted, but Alice never touched a drop from the time she got pregnant. Whenever my mother was so ill she couldn’t take care of me, Alice was there. In the end it was like Alice had three children. Gina, me and my mother. Only Gina and I grew up. My mother died when I was twelve.’

‘I’m glad Alice was there for you,’ Max said, his voice carefully neutral. ‘It must have been really tough.’

‘It was. But Alice made it less so. She had no support yet she managed to help Gina and I both through nursing. And when Gina met Donald…that was the wedding to end all weddings. It was our happy ever after.’

‘But happy ever after is for fairy tales.’

‘It is,’ she murmured. ‘But Alice died after Marc was born-she had an aneurism-thinking we were all happily settled. So she did have her happy ever after.’

‘She was broke, though?’

‘There was never any money.’

Max frowned. ‘Our side of the family always thought she’d married well.’

‘I suspect she told her parents that. She just wanted to be shot of them. She hated what the royal family stood for.’

‘That makes two of us,’ he said bleakly. ‘Three counting my mother.’ But then he shook his head, as if chastising himself for going down a road he didn’t want to pursue.

‘But you?’ he said gently. ‘How can you be happy?’

‘I’m happy.’

‘Have you ever had a boyfriend?’

Hang on a minute…What had that come from? ‘Mind your own business.’

‘I’d like to know.’

‘You tell me yours, then,’ she said astringently. ‘And I’ll tell you mine.’

‘Okay,’ he said surprisingly. ‘I’ve had girlfriends.’

She shouldn’t ask. But suddenly she was intrigued. ‘Not serious?’

‘They find out I have money and all of a sudden I’m desirable. It’s a great turn-off.’

‘That’s tough,’ she said, but her voice was loaded with irony. ‘You know, I was actually engaged to be married when Gina and Donald were killed. Tom thought Dolores was bad enough, but when he found I intended to take the kids he couldn’t run fast enough.’

‘As you say-tough.’

‘No,’ she said evenly. ‘These kids are my family, as much as if I’d borne them myself. If Tom didn’t want them, then it was his problem.’ She shrugged and smiled. ‘And maybe I don’t blame him. Three kids and dogs is a huge ask.’

‘It’s a huge ask of you.’

Her smile faded. ‘Not so much. I love them to bits. And you…If you threaten their happiness-their security-you’ll answer to me, Max de Gautier.’

‘I’d never do that.’

They fell silent then, but it was a better silence. She felt strangely more at peace than she’d been in a long time. Which was dumb, she told herself. She was heading somewhere she’d never heard of and she had to stay on her guard.

But she wasn’t totally responsible. She glanced across at the sleeping children and she thought in a few minutes the stewardess would bring them something to eat and she didn’t need to work out how to pay for it.

And she was sitting beside Maxsim de Gautier. Any woman would feel okay sitting beside this man, she thought. There wasn’t any chance he might be interested in her-what man would look twice at a woman loaded with three kids, a king-sized debt and a dog?-but she was woman enough to enjoy it while she had it.

‘Why does saving Alp d’Estella matter so much to you?’ she asked, suddenly curious.

‘It just does.’

‘No, but why?’ she prodded. ‘You’ve been brought up in France. Why do you still care about a little country your father or your grandfather walked away from?’

‘I just…do.’

He wasn’t telling the truth, she thought. Why? She stared at him, baffled.

‘Tell me how you learned to milk cows?’ she demanded, moving sideways, and the tension eased a little.

‘That’s easy. My mother was born on a dairy farm south of Paris. My maternal grandparents still live there. It’s run by my uncle now, but it’s great. I spent the greater part of my childhood there.’

‘Your father’s dead.’

The pleasure faded from his voice. ‘I didn’t have any contact with…either of the men my mother was involved with.’

‘And your mother? Where’s she?’

‘In Paris.’

‘When did-Thiérry’s father-die?’

‘When I was fifteen. I’ve always referred to him as my father too.’

‘When did your brother die?’

‘At the same time.’

‘They were killed together?’

‘In a car crash. Yes.’

‘Oh, Max.’

She paused. There were things here she wanted to find out, but she didn’t know the right questions. ‘Do you build in Paris?’ she said at last and he nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘What sort of buildings?’

‘Big ones.’

‘Skyscrapers?’

‘Yes.’

She blinked. She’d never met anyone who built skyscrapers.

‘Do you work for someone?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Do you have a boss?’

‘I…no. I had a fantastic boss. I became his off-sider but he died three years ago. I took over the firm.’

‘So you’re the head of a building firm that builds skyscrapers.’

‘You could say that.’

‘You’re very rich?’

‘You disapprove?’

‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, maybe I do, but I guess it’s handy.’

‘It certainly is,’ he said, and he smiled.

He needed to cut that out, she thought crossly. She’d just started to focus and, wham, he smiled, and her thoughts scattered to the four winds.

She bit her lip and bulldozed on. ‘So this boss…You said you went to a builder and asked him to teach you how to build.’

‘I did.’

‘But you had money from the royal family?’

‘No. My father gambled using the royal name as collateral,’ he said. ‘It’s taken years to get my mother free of debt. Yes, there was an offer to help from the old prince, but my mother would have died rather than accept it.’

‘Tell me about the car crash?’ she asked, tentatively now, unsure whether she was intruding, but needing to know.

He didn’t take offence. It seemed he’d decided to answer as honestly as he could. ‘My father was drunk,’ he said bluntly. ‘The royal curse. But unlike Alice, he didn’t fight his addiction. The Alp d’Estella royal family is not a pedigree to be proud of.’

She thought about that for a moment and didn’t like what she thought.

‘Yet you’re propelling Marc into the middle of it?’

‘I suspect you’ll be strong enough to keep him level-headed.’

‘You didn’t think that before you knew me,’ she reasoned. ‘Yet still you wanted Marc to come.’

‘I did.’ He was silent for a moment, deep in his own thoughts. ‘Maybe I hadn’t thought things through then, either,’ he admitted. ‘I knew Marc stood to inherit. I thought he was a child. It couldn’t change his life so much, and there’s so much at stake. But, yes, I’ve had qualms since and I’ve seen that you have the strength to ignore…what the palace can offer.’

She hesitated. ‘You can’t possibly know that’s true.’

‘And yet I do.’

‘But you?’ she said, pushing it further. ‘How do I know you don’t just want to be Prince Regent for money and power?’

‘For the same reason I know you won’t be seduced by money and power,’ he said evenly, and lifted her fingers in the dark and held them against the side of his face. ‘You know me and I know you.’

She felt…breathless. ‘That’s just plain dumb.’

‘But it’s true.’

‘It’s smooth talking,’ she said crossly. She was out of her league and she knew it. ‘I’m a nobody and you’re Prince Regent.’

‘Nobody’s a nobody. Don’t insult yourself.’ And he didn’t let go of her hand.

He was a restful man, she thought. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. He let the silence do the talking for him.

But his hold on her hand was growing more…personal, and she wasn’t quite sure the silent bit was all that wise. He was too close.

He was too male.

‘So how did you get to own a construction company?’ She finally managed to pull her hand away. He let his eyes fall to her fingers, then raised his eyes and smiled with a gentle mockery. He understood what she was doing.

‘I told you. I went to-’

‘A builder and got a job. How old were you?’

‘Fifteen. The farm couldn’t support us.’

‘Your mother wasn’t working?’

‘My mother was in the same car crash that killed my father and Thiérry. She’s paralysed from the waist down. The farm’s not big enough to pay off my father’s debts or my mother’s medical bills.’ He shrugged. ‘The builder who employed me was an old friend of my grandparents, so, yes, I did have family connections, but I believe I’ve more than earned the position I’m in now.’

‘So who’s paying for these plane tickets?’ she asked, frowning. ‘You or the Alp d’Estella government?’

‘I’ll be reimbursed.’

‘If this works out.’

‘As you say.’ His gaze met hers, steady and forthright. But there were things he wasn’t telling her, she decided. There were things she had to figure out for herself.

‘You need to wash,’ he told her, cutting in on her thoughts. ‘They’ll be bringing breakfast.’

‘At four in the afternoon?’

‘You’re in a whole new world. Welcome to breakfast.’

‘I feel dizzy.’

‘Just take one step at a time,’ he said and touched her face in a gesture of reassurance that shouldn’t be enough to send warmth right through her entire body. It shouldn’t be enough but it definitely was. Her hand came up instinctively and met his. Once more he grasped her fingers in his and held.

This was a gesture of reassurance, she told herself frantically. No more.

‘It’ll be okay,’ he said.

‘Will it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t see how I can fit in. But I won’t leave the children.’

‘Of course you won’t.’

‘But to stay in this place…’

The hold on her hand was suddenly compelling. ‘Pippa, I won’t increase your burden. I promise you that. Let’s just take every day as it comes and we’ll see what happens.’

‘But-’

‘It’s okay, Pippa.’ He stared down at her in the half light, and his grip firmed, strong and sure.

The silence stretched out.

She gazed up at him, waiting…

‘Would you mind if I kiss you?’ he asked.

Her heart missed a beat. Would she mind?

‘No,’ she whispered, for some dumb, crazy reason that for ever after she couldn’t fathom. But say it she did. For some things were inevitable.

Like the touch of Max’s mouth on her lips.

She shouldn’t have been expecting it-but she was. She’d been expecting it since that night by the fireside. She’d been…wanting it. And here it was.

The feel of him…The taste of him…The glorious sensation of melting into him in the dim light.

It was a culmination of circumstance, she told herself hazily. It was the warmth of these wonderful seats, after being cold for every waking moment. It was the hazy feeling of having just woken from sleep to find him beside her. It was the softness and luxury of alpaca blankets and goose-down pillows.

More. It was the strength of the man beside her, and the way his smile lit his eyes. It was the strength of his voice as it reassured her. It was the sense of being protected as she’d never been protected.

It was just…Max.

The moment was so seductive that she’d have had to be inhuman not to respond, and of course she responded. Her need was overwhelming. Her face lifted as if compelled, and her lips met his. Her hands rose to hold his face, getting the angle right, deepening the kiss, taking as well as giving…

Losing herself in the wonderment of him.

The kiss went on and on. Endless. It was a drifting, sensuous pleasure that lifted her out of her cloud of indecision and uncertainty and worry, and left nothing but pleasure.

He’d said it was okay. For now she’d believe him. Unwise or not, it was all she could do.

She surrendered herself to the kiss absolutely and in those few magic moments, before reality reasserted itself…well, those few moments were a gift to treasure.

They might be part of an unwise fantasy, but they were magic, all the same.

She was heading for a fairy tale, she thought mistily.

Anything could happen.

Breakfast happened.

‘We didn’t mean it,’ she said breathlessly as the lights went up.

‘I meant it,’ he said and he smiled.

‘Well, I didn’t,’ she muttered as she took herself off to the bathroom. ‘This is just…ridiculous.’