The Prince’s Outback Bride

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY got busy after that, which was just as well, and then the plane landed. From the moment the wheels touched the runway, the sensation of being in a fairy tale intensified until Pippa was pinching herself to believe she was awake. Had Max just kissed her? Had she just been transformed, from frog to princess?

Weird.

Normal passengers got to descend the steps from the plane and immerse themselves in the muddle of luggage location and ongoing transport. Not so Pippa and her little family.

For a start as the plane came to a halt there was an announcement. ‘Could passengers remain in their seats to allow the Alp d’Estella royal family to leave the plane.’

It took a few disoriented seconds before Pippa realised the royal family was them. That the airline staff were standing in what seemed a guard of honour to welcome them.

The children had been fast asleep as they’d landed and they were still half asleep when they left the plane. Max carried Claire and Sophie, and Pippa led a dazed Marc.

‘I don’t want Pippa carrying anything,’ Max growled to the nearest steward as Pippa went to lift her holdall. ‘She’s hurt her back. And our very elderly dog is in the hold. Could you locate her as soon as possible, please?’

They were two tiny instances of Max caring, Pippa thought. Her back was better. She’d forgotten it, but Max hadn’t.

Pippa, who’d hardly been cared for in her life, felt a sting of tears as she reached the red carpet to find Dolores already being invited to leave her doggy crate. She stooped and hugged her dog, then turned and watched Max juggle a sleepy twin in each arm, and tease Marc a little as they gave her time to reacquaint herself with Dolores.

Tears were dumb. She should be soaking up every single thing. The ladies of Tanbarook would never believe her, she thought, and that made her tears change to a smile. Photographers were everywhere. What would be the reaction if Pippa’s face was plastered over the news-stand back in Tanbarook?

‘What’s funny?’ Max asked.

A limousine was waiting at the edge of red carpet, its uniformed chauffeur saluting. Even Dolores looked stunned. Her nose was sniffing the warm air. Sun!

‘It’s warm,’ Marc breathed and stooped to inform Dolores. ‘It’s warm, Dolores. We’re going to a castle and it’s warm.’

‘I want Tanbarook to see us now,’ Pippa whispered and Max chuckled.

‘You want a family shot for the tabloids? Marc, hold Pippa’s hand and lean against me. Leave Dolores there-we’ll arrange ourselves around her.’ Max edged close to Pippa, and before she knew it he’d organised them into a tight shot.

‘Smile,’ he told Pippa.

‘Why?’ She was astounded.

‘We’re the closest thing this country has to a royal family. Tanbarook is going to see you. Smile.’

She managed a weakish sort of smile but she was so confused her head was threatening to spin off. ‘I’m not family,’ she muttered, staring down at Dolores, who was licking Max’s boots. ‘Isn’t Dolores supposed to go into quarantine until she’s vet-checked?’

‘We had a vet check her before she left. She’s a royal dog now. And you’re as royal as I am. We’re royal by association. The royal family.’

He was smiling at her as photographers snapped around her and she felt her color rising by the minute. ‘I should be like the governess, standing ten steps back.’

‘Same with me. But you won’t let me leave, and if you leave the kids and Dolores will howl.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Marc said, affronted. ‘But Dolores might,’ he conceded.

‘There you go. Smile,’ he ordered again. ‘Pippa, there’s only one thing worse than publicity, and that’s publicity when you’re glowering. It makes you look like you’re constipated.’

She choked. ‘Gee, thanks.’

‘I just thought I’d mention it. So smile.’

‘I’m smiling,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘And neither the kids or Dolores are scared of you. They think you’re the next best thing to Father Christmas.’

‘Little they know.’

‘There’s the ogre side of you as well?’

‘I’m not exactly a family man.’

‘Why not?’ It was out before she thought about it-a direct response to something she needed to know. To something that had to be sorted before she took one step further.

And Max’s smile faded.

Why not? he wondered, as the cameras clicked around them and he tried to resurrect his smile. Why had he never taken that last step? From lover to husband…

Marriages were fraught. His mother’s marriage had led to irretrievable disaster. ‘Don’t ever marry,’ she’d said to him over and over. ‘You can’t ever know how someone will turn out. Oh, Max, take lovers, do what you need to be happy, but be so careful…’

He’d hardly decided not to marry because of his mother’s experiences, but then, it had made him so careful that such a decision had almost been made for him.

‘You’re not gay, are you?’ Pippa asked thoughtfully and his thoughts hit a brick wall. He turned and stared at her. Stunned.

‘What did you say?’

‘Smile,’ she reminded him. The photographers were clicking from every angle. ‘I was asking whether you’re gay.’

‘Didn’t I just kiss you?’

‘That’s proof you’re not gay?’

‘Yes,’ he said, revolted. ‘It wasn’t a platonic kiss.’

‘No,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘but then I didn’t really inspect it for platonic. Maybe I wouldn’t recognise it if I saw it. I lead a very sheltered life.’

She was teasing him, he thought. She was trying to get him to react, here and now, in front of the country’s press.

‘Shut up,’ he said, carefully pasting on his smile and carefully no longer looking at her. ‘One more word, Phillippa Donohue, and I’ll set the twins down and teach you what a platonic kiss isn’t.’

‘In front of everyone? You wouldn’t dare.’

‘No,’ he said, sounding regretful. ‘You’re right. I wouldn’t. But only because it’d make our lives even more complicated than they already are. Which is very complicated indeed.’

Okay, so that little interlude made her flustered. The stilted welcome speech made by an official made her more flustered still. And the ride from airport to castle, in the back of the limousine with Max in the seat opposite, the children snoozing beside them and Dolores draped over their feet, made her even more flustered.

‘That was a dumb thing to do,’ she managed about ten minutes after they’d left the airport, which was the time it had taken to figure anything at all to say.

‘What was?’

‘You kissing me.’

‘I didn’t kiss you in front of the photographers,’ he said virtuously. ‘I wanted to but I had my arms full of twins.’

‘You kissed me on the plane.’

‘That was necessary. Because I suspected that you suspected I was gay. And I was right. Not that my kiss seemed to reassure you.’

‘It reassured me,’ she said hastily and went back to staring out the car window.

The scenery was amazing.

She’d read about these four tiny countries. There’d been a fuss in the Australian press when Pippa’s countrywoman had married the Crown Prince of Alp d’ Azuri. There’d also been a write-up and potted history of how these countries had come to be, and she’d found time to reread it on the internet before she’d come.

A king in a large neighbouring country, way back in the sixteenth century, had had five sons. The boys had grown up warring and the old king had foreseen ruin as the sons had vied for the Crown.

So he’d pre-empted trouble. He’d carved four separate countries from his southern border, and told his younger sons that the cost of their own principality was lifelong allegiance to their oldest brother.

His plan hadn’t worked, the article had told her. Granting whole counties to men with a lust for war was hardly a guarantee of wise rule. The four princes and their descendants had brought four wonderful countries to the brink of ruin.

Ruin? Pippa stared out of the car window and saw lush river valleys, towering mountains, quaint cottages, herds of cream and white cows, the odd goat, tiny settlements that might almost have come from a photograph from a hundred years before. It didn’t look…ruined.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed.

‘If you like postcards,’ Max said shortly. ‘But the reality’s less than beautiful. You were cold and hungry this winter. These people are cold and hungry every winter.’

She glowered again, suspecting pressure. ‘Don’t you dare show me starving peasants. I won’t be responsible.’

‘I couldn’t anyway,’ he conceded. ‘It’s summer and the harvest this year will be a good one. Things are okay at the moment.’

‘But not for long?’

‘Yes, for long. If we can pull this off.’ He looked down at the sleeping Marc and his mouth quirked.

‘I won’t-’

‘No. You agree to nothing. Let’s just see how it goes. Meanwhile if you look to your right you’ll see the castle…now.’

‘Oh.’

As an exclamation it was totally inadequate, but it was all she could think of. Built into the side of one of the towering alps, the castle was a mass of gleaming white stone, set against the purple of the mountains behind. She stared out, stunned, as the castle grew larger against its magnificent backdrop. It was all turrets, battlements and towers, like something straight out of a fairy story.

She nudged Marc, but he’d settled back into sleep. They were now in the middle of the children’s night and the future Crown Prince of Alp d’Estella had drifted back where he belonged.

Frustrated, she bent over to wake the twins, but Max caught her hand.

‘Leave them. They’ll see enough of it in the future.’

There was something in his voice that caught her. She stared across at him, and then turned and looked again at the castle. The battlements seemed to be looming above them, towering over the tiny town nestled underneath.

‘You don’t like it,’ she said.

‘I don’t like what it represents.’

‘What does it represent?’

‘Too much power. Too much money by too few people.’

‘You’re rich yourself.’

‘I earned my money through hard work,’ he said shortly. ‘The princes in this place got their money by taxing their people until they bled. You’d think I’d have anything to do with that?’

She thought about it, wondering. Thinking back to the family tree.

‘Your grandfather left the palace and went to France?’

‘Yes. But he’s not really my grandfather.’

‘So you’ve had no contact with the palace?’

‘I…no.’

‘Does that mean maybe?’

‘My…my father did,’ Max said shortly. ‘More fool him.’

‘You blame the palace for what happened to your father? And to Thiérry?’

‘My mother does and she should know.’

‘Right,’ Pippa said and cast an uneasy glance down at Marc. This was getting tricky. ‘So if Marc takes on the Crown you’ll hold Thiérry’s death against him?’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘As ridiculous as staring out at that great hunk of stone and saying that’s what killed your brother?’

‘I didn’t say-’

‘No, but you meant,’ she said. ‘I look at that castle and think fairy tale. But you look and see a dead brother. A psychologist could have a field-day with that.’

‘A field-day!’

‘Yes, you know-a day when everything’s on show. Like your emotions now.’

‘They’re not on show.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

She grinned. She had the great Maxsim de Gautier flummoxed. Excellent.

‘This is serious,’ he told her.

‘Nonsense,’ she said soundly, beginning to relax. ‘This is fun.’

It might have fun potential but it was so grand it took her breath away.

The limousine swept inside the castle grounds and pulled to a halt in a vast forecourt ringed by fountains. The chauffeur moved swiftly, opening the door for them, even saluting.

Ignoring Max’s protest-her back really was better-she gathered the nearest twin-Claire-into her arms and climbed out. At the sight of what lay ahead she gasped. She stared around her for a couple of awed moments while her stomach sank at the enormity of where she’d found herself.

There were thirty or more servants forming a guard of honour to the grand front entrance-vast marble steps set between marble columns flanking doors wide enough to accommodate a Sherman tank. The servants were dressed as the type of domestic servants Pippa had seen on television. The women were in severe black with frilled white aprons and white caps. The men were in total black, or, even more amazingly, red and black livery.

‘You’re kidding?’ Pippa breathed to Max. ‘This is something out of a movie.’

‘These people take royalty seriously,’ Max said severely, and Pippa gulped and nodded, stifling an inappropriate desire to giggle.

‘I can see that they do.’

A middle-aged man was standing apart from the servants, dressed in what looked like a military uniform, heavily decorated. He was big and heavy set, with a handle-bar moustache that made Pippa want to giggle again.

‘Welcome home, Your Highness,’ he told Max in careful English and Max winced.

‘I’m not Your Highness until I’m sworn in as Regent, and this is not my home.’ He gestured to Marc who was stirring into wakefulness in his arms. He set Marc onto his feet and reached back into the car to collect Sophie. ‘This is the new Crown Prince of Alp d’Estella and his sisters. I’d like to take them straight to the nursery. It’s been prepared?’

‘Of course.’ The man looked at Marc for a long moment, an enigmatic expression on his face. Then he shrugged and turned his attention to Pippa. ‘This would be the children’s nanny?’

‘I’m their guardian,’ Pippa said, more firmly than she felt, and she clutched Claire so hard that the little girl muttered a protest.

‘I see,’ the man said, assessing her from her toes up. She was wearing faded jeans and a comfortable windcheater. Max should have warned her, she thought, starting to feel vaguely hysterical. She needed a tiara or six. ‘We’ll prepare a bedroom for you in the Queen’s wing,’ the man said and she forgot about tiaras.

‘Where are the children sleeping?’

‘In the nursery.’

‘Is that in the Queen’s wing?’

‘No, but-’

‘I sleep where the children sleep,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that right, Max?’

‘Of course it is,’ Max said. ‘Pippa, this is Carver Levout. Carver is Chief of Staff here. Carver, this is Miss Phillippa Donohue, the children’s guardian. Whatever Pippa says regarding the children’s welfare goes.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the man said woodenly, but the glance he gave Pippa wasn’t wooden. It was appraising. It made Pippa stop feeling like giggling. She shivered.

‘You’ll be fine here,’ Max said bracingly. ‘Carver will introduce you to the staff and they’ll look after you. I guess you’ll all need to sleep. I’ll carry the kids up to their bed before I leave.’

She froze. ‘Before you go where?’

‘To a hotel down in the village. I’ll check with you tomorrow that you have everything you need.’

He was the picture of innocence, she thought. His nerve was breathtaking. ‘Excuse me, but you’re staying here,’ she managed.

‘As I agreed to,’ he said smoothly. ‘In the hotel in the village.’

‘You’re staying at the castle.’

‘I never said-’

‘You did,’ she said, more bluntly than was polite but she wasn’t feeling polite. She was damned if she was going to be left alone with…Carver? What sort of name was that? He even waxed his moustache, she thought. Urk.

They were all waiting for Max to reply. Pippa and thirty servants and Carver. ‘Pippa, I’m hardly going far,’ Max said reasonably. ‘I’m five minutes’ drive away. I said I’d stay in Alp d’Estella. I didn’t say I’d stay at the castle.’

He was talking to her as if she were dumb. Right, she thought. She was fine with dumb. But it was going to be dumb and stubborn. Without a word she climbed back into the car with Claire, settled the twin on the seat beside her before holding her hands out for Sophie. ‘Marc, pop back in the car, love. We’re all staying where Mr de Gautier is staying.’

Max looked taken aback. They all looked taken aback. Except Dolores who hadn’t shifted out of the car yet. ‘Pardon?’ Max demanded.

‘You heard. Where you stay, we stay.’

‘Why?’

‘Not because you kissed me,’ she muttered, lowering her voice so the assembled reception committee couldn’t hear. ‘But because this place gives me the heebie-jeebies. I’m not royal. I’m not staying here.’

‘That’s ridiculous. You don’t need to be royal to stay.’

‘Neither do you have to be a commoner to go. But if you’re going, then I’m going. You got me here under false pretences.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘You did.’ She glanced again at the rows of servants and she quailed. There wasn’t much that spooked Pippa Donohue, but she was spooked now. She hugged Sophie too hard, and the child muttered a sleepy protest. ‘Max, I mean what I say,’ she said, trying not to sound belligerent. Trying to sound matter-of-fact. ‘Hush, Sophie, we’re nearly home. Max says it’s just five minutes’ drive away.’

Max stared down at her, baffled. ‘You have to stay here.’

‘You’re going to make me, how?’

‘It’s ridiculous.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ she agreed. ‘You said you’d stay.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘If you didn’t then it’s semantics and you tricked me. I don’t like being tricked.’

‘Pippa, I can’t stay here.’

‘Then neither can we.’ She looked behind him. ‘You know, everyone’s listening to this. It’s pretty undignified, don’t you think? If I were you I’d come to a decision, and there’s only one decision to reach.’

‘I don’t want to stay in this place,’ he told her. He’d tried to make his voice matter-of-fact, but it didn’t work. She heard a tinge of desperation behind it, and it almost moved her. But then Pippa glanced down at the child in her arms, at Marc who was looking confused, at Claire on the seat beside her and at Dolores at her feet.

Then she looked at Moustache. She didn’t know why but Carver Levout made her nervous and she had nothing to go on here but her instincts. She was responsible for this little family. She couldn’t afford to be swayed by Max’s desperation.

‘If there are reasons you can’t stay here, then they hold true for us all,’ she whispered. ‘If I’d known you were afraid to stay then I’d never have agreed to come.’

‘I’m not afraid.’

‘Then what are you?’

‘I just…hate it.’

‘That’s just as bad.’

‘Pippa-’

‘It’s only stone and wood and thirty or so servants. Oh, and I hear tell it has three swimming pools. So if it’s not scary, it might be fun.’

‘But Thiérry…’ He stopped short. His brother’s name was an involuntary exclamation, Pippa thought, and she wondered why.

‘Where does Thiérry come into this?’

‘He doesn’t.’ He pressed his lips closed as though that was the end of the matter. She stared up at him for a moment and then thought maybe that was a plan. She pressed her own lips together and looked straight ahead.

Standoff.

She hadn’t counted on Sophie. She’d stirred into wakefulness in Pippa’s arms, wriggled until she could see and she’d looked beyond Max to the castle. ‘We’re here,’ she said sleepily. ‘It’s just like my picture books. But bigger. Why aren’t we getting out of the car? Claire, Claire, wake up.’

Right on cue Claire woke. ‘We’re here?’ she demanded. ‘We’re at the castle?’

‘Yes, but Pippa won’t let us stay,’ Marc said, trying to figure it out. ‘’Cos Max won’t stay and she’s scared of all these people.’

‘She’s not scared,’ Max said shortly. ‘She’s just pigheaded.’

‘There’s two of us being pigheaded,’ she told him. ‘And I’m not backing down.’

‘Hell, Pippa-’

‘You stay or we go.’

‘You could all go.’ It was Carver, standing behind them, listening intently.

‘We’re all staying,’ Max snapped.

She stared at him. She’d won, she thought, but it didn’t feel like winning. What was it that he was afraid of?

But Carver was waiting. He had to have an answer, and she wasn’t going to let him see she was rattled. ‘Then that’s settled,’ she said smoothly. ‘Okay, we all need to be introduced. Sophie, you take one of Max’s hands and, Claire, you take the other. Marc, you walk in front. You guys go along the row of people here and find out who everyone is.’

‘You need to be introduced too,’ said Marc.

‘I’m not royal,’ Pippa said. ‘I’ll come up behind and bow and scrape to anyone above second footman.’

‘This isn’t a joke,’ Max snapped.

‘It’s not,’ she agreed, but she smiled. Only she knew the effort it cost her. ‘But neither is it Greek tragedy. Let’s make this fun, Max. Let’s go.’

Max had no intention of making it fun. He was stiffly formal, right up until they were shown the nursery and left alone.

‘You rest,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

‘If you leave the palace, then we’re out of here, even if we have to walk,’ Pippa warned him, still trying to sound pigheaded but suspecting she just sounded intimidated. Liveried footmen had deposited their sad-looking luggage in a dressing room big enough to hold clothes for a small army. A couple of maids were unpacking. At the thought of the scant possessions they were unpacking Pippa felt like sinking.

She shouldn’t be clutching at Max, she thought, but she had no choice. He was her lifeline to her other life.

‘You’ve made that clear,’ Max said stiffly. ‘But the children need rest and so do I. I’ll see you at dinner.’

‘Um, don’t leave me,’ she muttered but he was already turning away.

She was alone. With three kids and two maids and a dog.

There was too much to think of here. All she wanted to think of was Max. She wanted to run after him. She’d hurt him by insisting he stayed here, she thought, but what was she to do?

The casual friendliness was gone, replaced by a stiff formality she couldn’t understand.

Where was the man who had kissed her?

She couldn’t run after him, and she had to forget the kiss. That was just a dopey thing to do in the dark on the plane, she told herself, but there was a part of her that was saying it was no such thing. It wasn’t just a kiss.

Yes, it was.

Whatever, she told herself harshly. There was no time for wondering about Max now.

They were in a vast school-room-cum-sitting room, with desks at one end and huge settees around a fire at the other end. It was hardly cold enough to warrant a fire, but Dolores headed straight to it and Pippa looked at the logs piled high at the side with longing. If she could transport those to Tanbarook…

What else? There were doors leading off the main room, and the kids were opening them. They led to individual bedrooms, each with a massive four-poster bed.

‘Wow,’ said Marc. He approached the first bed with caution. It was six feet or more across and almost three feet high, hung with crimson velvet and gold brocade. Marc clambered up and tugged the twins up to join him.

The three kids wriggled into the pile of pillows mounded against the bed head, like puppies exploring a new basket. ‘It’s really soft,’ Sophie called wonderingly, giving a tentative bounce. ‘Pippa, will you sleep here with us?’

‘Sure,’ she said.

‘Excuse me, miss,’ one of the maids-the oldest one?-said, in tentative English.

‘I speak your language,’ Pippa said, trying out her language skills. To her delight it seemed to work. The woman’s face relaxed a little and she reverted. ‘Well, then…Mr Levout said we were to show you to the bedroom at the end of this wing.’

‘I’m not sure why Mr Levout thinks it’s important, but I’m sleeping here.’

There was a touch of hand-wringing at that. It seemed an effort to say it, but the woman finally succeeded. ‘Mr Levout won’t like it.’ It sounded like a threat.

‘Then the kids can sleep in the bedroom Mr Levout chose for me. We’ll all sleep there.’

There were three gasps of dismay from under the mound of pillows, and two gasps of dismay from the maids. ‘Mr Levout will think it’s inappropriate.’

‘I’ll explain it to Mr Levout.’

‘You can’t.’ They looked afraid, Pippa thought incredulously. Why?

‘I’ll explain it’s nothing to do with you. I’ll tell him it’s just me being pigheaded.’

‘Miss, we’ll get into trouble if we don’t do what Mr Levout wishes.’

Trouble? These two were well past retirement age, Pippa thought. What could Levout do? Sack them? Surely they’d be looking forward to retirement anyway.

She took a deep breath. She was probably only here for a month, she thought, so there was no need to make trouble when it could be avoided. But if, she thought, if Marc did end up as Crown Prince, then the ground rules had to be set now. Even if these two were about to retire.

‘I gather Marc…’ She caught herself. ‘I gather His Highness, Prince Marc, is to be the new Crown Prince of Alp d’Estella. I’m his legal guardian. Any decision regarding the children will thus be made by me. Not by Mr Levout. Not by anyone else. Do I make myself clear?’

Two jaws sagged.

‘Well?’

‘Oh, my dear,’ the oldest woman said, and she beamed. ‘Oh, yes, miss.’

‘You ought to stand up to him,’ the other woman breathed. ‘No one else does.’ She looked to where the kids were enthusiastically bouncing on their four-poster. ‘He’d have a heart attack if he saw that.’

Pippa turned and looked at the kids. They’d tugged off their shoes before bouncing. As guardian, could she demand anything more? ‘They’re allowed to bounce,’ she said.

‘Oh, yes, miss,’ the oldest maid breathed and she chuckled. ‘I have a grandson who loves bouncing.’

‘You have a grandson?’

‘I have three.’

‘Excuse me, but why are you still working as a maid?’

There was blank incomprehension. ‘We need to,’ the woman said at last. ‘Jobs are scarce.’

‘You don’t have pensions?’

‘Pensions?’

‘Well,’ Pippa said and set her shoulders. ‘Maybe it’s just as well we came after all.’

What was she saying?

The maids left soon after and they were left alone.

The children bounced. They explored every inch of the nursery. Then the four of them-Dolores excused herself as she’d found a fire-took themselves further, checking school rooms, bedroom upon bedroom, living rooms, libraries, great halls, ballrooms…They knocked at each door and when there was no response they peered inside.

They grew more and more awed.

They found the inside swimming pool. It was huge, with a special lap lane designed with wave blockers so the water stayed calm all the time.

‘I want a swim,’ Marc breathed.

‘Tomorrow.’ Pippa gazed round with awe. ‘Let’s go outside and see if we can find the other two pools.’

‘Where is everyone?’ Marc asked. ‘All those people.’

‘Below stairs, I guess,’ Pippa said, giving a nervous giggle. ‘That’s what they say on telly about where the servants live. But take no notice of me. I’m guessing.’

‘Should we go downstairs and say hello?’

‘I guess we said hello when we arrived,’ Pippa said cautiously. ‘I’m not too sure anyone wants to say hello after that. Let’s go outside. It seems…safer.’