The Prince’s Outback Bride

CHAPTER SEVEN

PIPPA might be in a fairy tale, but three days later she was starting to be just a bit…bored? When they were on holidays on the farm the kids played happily independently. Here she stuck with them like glue, but after three days she was wondering if it was more to protect herself than to protect the kids.

Carver still gave her the creeps, but it was Max she was avoiding. Max and his wonderful uniform. How dared a man look so sexy?

All the staff were treating him as if it were Max who was the Crown Prince.

They weren’t treating him as if he was an illegitimate outsider.

She was uneasy, puzzled, and increasingly she was restless.

‘The last two princes spent very little time at the castle,’ Beatrice told her. ‘The casinos at Monte Carlo were more their style, and our rulers encouraged them.’

‘Your rulers?’

‘We have a President and a Council. Mr Levout is on the Council. They run this country.’

‘Why haven’t we met this President?’

‘I suspect he’s desperately trying to work out how these children can be blocked from the throne. If he can, there’s no one else in direct succession and the Principality will disappear. That would leave the Levout family in control.’

‘Max doesn’t want that.’

‘And thank God for Max,’ Beatrice told her. ‘He is a wonderful prince, and he seems to be a good man.’

There it was again, the blank acceptance of an outsider as a prince.

‘Yeah, but not necessarily a nice one,’ she managed, and Beatrice regarded her with the beginning of a tiny smile.

‘I don’t know about that,’ she said. ‘Maybe we’ll wait and see.’

So she waited. But by the fourth day she was openly admitting she was climbing walls.

How could she be bored in a place like this? she wondered. There was as much wonderful food as she and the children needed. There was no need to milk a hundred and twenty cows twice a day. In fact, the dairyman had refused her offer to help. ‘It wouldn’t be proper,’ he told her and he refused to budge. There were swimming pools and wonderful gardens. There were gentle people waiting on her every whim, even eager for her to have whims.

For Pippa, who’d worked hard every day of her adult life, it felt wrong. Max wasn’t used to this either, she thought, and she wondered how he was taking it. She wasn’t asking him, though. Whenever she saw him she’d head for the nearest child.

She was being a coward, she knew, but he seriously unsettled her, and life was strange enough without being…unsettled.

‘Let’s leave this relationship businesslike,’ she told him when he confronted her. ‘If there’s something you need then of course we’ll talk, but the castle staff got the wrong idea when I slapped you and there’s no way we want to encourage that.’

‘The wrong idea?That I’ve brought back with me a termagant?’

‘I don’t know what a termagant is,’ she said huffily. ‘And I’ve got far too many good manners to ask.’

She waited for him to respond. He didn’t, though. He stood and gazed at her for a long moment and then turned away.

Good.

But increasingly their disassociation seemed ever so slightly silly. And she had to admit that she missed him. She looked up termagant in the dictionary and huffed in indignation-but it was a bit lonely to huff by yourself.

‘You’ve been by yourself for years,’ she scolded herself, but it didn’t work.

She’d sort of got used to Max.

But the avoidance seemed to be working both ways, and a girl had some pride.

On the fourth day she finished breakfast, looked at the day stretching out in front of her and decided on a walk. ‘Right round the castle grounds,’ she told the kids and they groaned.

‘But Beattie’s grandkids are coming,’ Marc said. ‘Beattie says Sally’s the same age as me and Rodrick’s the same age as Sophie and Claire. Aimee’s bigger than everyone but Beatrice said she knows skipping games.’

‘They’ll be fine with me,’ Beatrice told her. She’d been making their bed-Pippa wasn’t even permitted to do that. ‘I promise I’ll keep them with me all the time. Why don’t you go for a walk by yourself?’

Because I’m scared of meeting Max, she thought, but that was a dumb reason. She couldn’t voice it. She looked helplessly across at Beatrice and Beatrice smiled.

‘He’s not an ogre, dear,’ she said gently. ‘Blake says he’s a sweetheart. He says he takes after his lovely mother. Bless him.’

Oh, great. Yeah, he’s a sweetheart and that’s the whole problem, she thought, but she couldn’t say that either.

Right. A walk. She gave herself a firm talking-to, which consisted of standing in front of her six-dimensional mirror and talking severely to all six of her. Then she waved goodbye to her various images and went to find Dolores.

But Dolores wasn’t interested either. Sixteen was really old for such a big dog, and she’d suffered badly this winter. Here she moved from fire to sunbeam and back again, soaking up the warmth with the same intensity she’d once reserved for rabbits. She was stretched out now on the patio, soaking in sun, and as Pippa bent to pat her she barely raised the energy to wag her tail. As Pippa stroked her she gave a long, slow shudder of pure, unadulterated bliss.

‘At least I’ve done the right thing by you, girl,’ Pippa whispered, blinking hard. She knew Dolores didn’t have long. To give her another summer…

She’d done something right.

But she missed her dog by her side. She now had no kids, no work, no dog. The sensation as she took herself off for a walk was strangely empty.

‘Other people have holidays,’ she told herself. ‘Get over it.’

But she couldn’t. What she saw stretching out before her was strange-a life here as the children’s guardian. A life that wasn’t her life.

A life even without Dolores?

‘Oh, forget it with the maudlin,’ she told herself. ‘Walk.’

She walked. It was a long way around the castle grounds-too far to walk in a morning. She walked for an hour, around a vast lake, through woods where she startled deer, into the hills behind the castle, but she still wasn’t halfway round. Finally she gave up on the perimeter and veered cross country.

The woods here were so dense they were almost scary, but there was hammering and shouting and sounds of construction in the distance. Where there was construction there was civilisation, so she pushed her way through overgrown paths to find it.

It was a construction site. It was a small cottage, with what looked like an extension being built at the back.

Max was up on the roof. He was wearing faded jeans and a heavy cotton workman’s shirt, open at the throat and with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was fitting roofing slates. The sun was glinting on his dark hair. He was laughing at something someone below had just said.

He looked…

Whoa.

She would have backed away-fast-but he saw her. His hands stilled. The slate in his hand was set down with care.

‘Pippa,’ he said and the pleasure in his voice gave her a completely inappropriate wash of warmth. Maybe he’d found the last four days as long as she had.

He didn’t look bored, she thought with a pang of jealousy. He looked…

Whoa again.

‘Hi,’ she managed, trying to keep her voice in order. ‘I’ve been walking.’

‘Hiking, more like. You’re miles from home. Did you bring a packed lunch?’

‘No, I-’

‘You’re bored?’

‘No,’ she lied, looking about her. There were three other men on the site, elderly men-of course-working on a pile of bricks.

‘They don’t need help at the dairy?’ Max asked.

‘They say it’s not seemly.’ She glowered. ‘How come it’s seemly for you to fix roofs but not for me to milk cows?’

He grinned. ‘Desperate times lead to desperate measures. Sleeping by the pool is great for an hour but I get itchy fingers. You want to clean some bricks? Is your back up to it?’

‘My back’s fine. Why are you cleaning bricks?’

‘This house is for Blake and Beatrice.’ He motioned to one of the elderly men who raised his cap in a deferential greeting. ‘You’ve met Blake? He and Beatrice lived here for over forty years. But five years ago there was a storm and the back section collapsed. See that pile of bricks over there?’ She looked to where he was pointing. ‘That’s the remains of the fireplace. Anyway Blake and Beatrice moved into the servant’s quarters in the palace but the servant’s quarters needs a bomb. It’ll take time and patience to get it brought up to scratch. Meanwhile I thought we could rebuild.’

We. She looked cautiously around her, recognising the butler, the valet, and one of the footmen. Average again about ninety.

‘Right,’ she said.

‘The boys are chipping old mortar off the bricks. Want to help?’ And he smiled.

Damn him, why did he do that? He just had to let those dark eyes twinkle and she was lost.

She should go.

But this was a real job. She ached for a job. Of the three geriatrics, one was holding the ladder in case Max ever came down. The other two were chipping gamely at old mortar.

She watched them work for a minute. At this rate they’d be lucky if they had the bricks cleaned by the end of the millennium.

But why was Max here? ‘I thought you said there were lots of administration things that needed doing.’

‘Not until the succession’s in place. The lawyers are working on it.’ He picked up his slate with purpose. ‘Meanwhile are you going to help or are you going to stand there distracting me?’

‘I’m not distracting you.’

‘Little you know,’ Max growled. ‘Give the lady a pair of gloves, Blake, and let’s get this moving.’

He sat on the roof replacing tile after tile, his hands moving methodically but his mind all on the lady beneath him.

She was amazing. She was cleaning at a rate more than double that of the old men, but she chattered to the men as she worked, distracting them just as much as she was distracting him, but for a purpose. As she cleaned she slipped her finished bricks into one of three piles, so the piles in front of her companions were growing at the same rate as hers. Giving them back their pride.

The men were enjoying her. They worked together, they paused and laughed and wiped their brows and they stopped for a drink, but she methodically worked on. Jean, the footman who’d been holding the ladder, decided it didn’t really need holding and went over to help.

Well, why wouldn’t he? She was…magnetic.

And she was surely used to hard work. The bricks were hard to clean but they were flying through her hands. At the thought of what she’d been facing for the last four years his gut clenched.

So he’d solved that problem. He’d brought her here.

But she’d never be seen on the same pegging as the children, he thought. Levout was making that perfectly clear. She was a provincial, no blood relative of the heir to the throne, and with no delineated role as his was.

Maybe she’d leave.

No. She’d never leave the children.

But what would her position be?

They stopped for half an hour at lunch time and Max used his cell-phone to check the children.

‘Our visitors are staying for lunch,’ Beatrice said happily. ‘And then they’ll all need a nap. Tell Pippa to come home if she wants to, but there’s no need.’

Max relayed the message and saw confusion wash across her face.

‘They still need you,’ he said gently.

‘Of course.’

‘Have a sandwich.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, and took a huge cheese sandwich from the pile, biting into it like a man.

He grinned.

‘What?’ she demanded.

‘Nothing.’

‘Yeah, and I wipe my mouth on my sleeve too,’ she said darkly. ‘Butt out, Your Highness.’

‘Of course.’

The men had brought beer. ‘We’ll send to the house to get something more suitable,’ Blake told him. He seemed distressed that Max and Pippa were sharing their plain luncheon. Pippa shook her head and lifted a bottle.

‘Hey, we’re not proper royalty,’ she said. ‘We’re just hangers on. This is wet and it’s cold and if anyone tries taking this from me I’ll spray them with it.’

‘You are royalty,’ Blake said, eyeing Max with reproof, but Max ignored him. Finally the men chuckled and relaxed. Gentle banter continued as they sat under a huge oak and surveyed their hard work.

Max hardly participated in the banter. He leaned back and listened to Pippa laughing with the men, joking with them, teasing with them.

Her jeans and her T-shirt were coated in brick-dust. There was dust in her curls and a streak down her cheek where dust had mixed with sweat. She’d scraped her arm and there was a trickle of dried blood to her wrist. She was laughing at something one of the men was saying, and she was drinking beer straight from the bottle.

She was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen.

Yeah, right, and where was that going to get him? Into disaster?

He couldn’t go there even if he wanted to, he thought. How the hell would his mother react? I’ve fallen in love with the guardian of the new Crown Prince. I have to stay in Alp d’Estella.

She’d break her heart. After all that had been done to her…After all she’d done to herself…How could he ask it of her?

He looked up and saw Pippa watching him.

‘It looks grim,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘What you’re thinking.’

‘I was thinking about slates.’

‘Really?’ she said and hiked her eyebrows.

Their telepathy wasn’t a one-way thing, he thought, and he turned away, ostensibly to pack up the lunch gear but in reality so she couldn’t see his face any more. He had to get this under control.

It was bad enough that he was here now, and his mother knew he was here. After the official photo shoot she’d see him in every glossy magazine in Europe.

He grabbed a handful of slates and carted them up onto the roof. No one saw him go-even Jean, his ladder holder, was chuckling over something Pippa had just said, hanging onto every word. Good, he thought. It was good that they were falling in love with her. It was great for the people. It was great for the country.

But what would her position be?

It had to be made formal, he thought, or she’d be shunted into the background for ever. Which meant that he had to drag her into this photo shoot, whether she liked it or not.

‘Pippa, we’re giving a press conference this evening,’ he called from the safety of his roof, and she stared up at him.

‘How did you get up there?’

‘I climbed.’

‘No one held your ladder. Those slates are heavy.’

‘I’m fine. Jean has better things to do than hold my ladder. But about this shoot.’

‘Shoot?’

‘Photo shoot. Introduction to your new royal family.’

‘I’ll dress the kids up.’

‘Beatrice is sorting something for them,’ he called. ‘There’s actually traditional costume for royal children.’

‘It’s very splendid,’ Jean, the footman, told her gravely. ‘And colourful. The girls’ dresses have fourteen petticoats.’

‘And the boy’s costume is just as colourful,’ Blake added. ‘It had petticoats too, but the last prince put his foot down aged all of four so we converted it to trousers. It has what looks like a small apron over the front but it’s unexceptional and most children are envious when they see it. Beatrice measured the children the first night you were here and the costumes are ready.’

‘Well, that’s sorted,’ Pippa said, and went back to brick-cleaning. She looked perturbed, though, Max thought. Worrying that things were being taken from her control. As indeed they could be if she wasn’t included.

‘We’d like you to dress up too,’ he called, and Pippa paused mid-brick.

‘Me.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m not royal.’ She made a recovery and waved a brick in his direction. ‘Do I look royal?’

‘Yes, miss,’ Blake said severely, answering before Max could get a word in. ‘We believe you look extremely royal. Don’t we, Jean? Don’t we, Pascal-Marie? Almost as royal as His Highness, Prince Maxsim.’

‘Yes,’ his companions agreed gravely.

‘Then I’ll come to the shoot wearing what I’ve got on,’ she said and grinned and started chipping again.

‘You can’t,’ Max called. ‘This is important, Pippa. These photographs will be in every major glossy worldwide.’

She paused, mid-chop. ‘Even in Tanbarook?’

‘I’m guessing even in Tanbarook. Aussie girl becomes a European princess…’

‘I’m guardian of a prince. That doesn’t make me a princess.’

No. It didn’t. That was the problem, he thought. There was only one way she could become a princess-and there was no way he was going down that route.

But she had to have a formal role. She was the children’s guardian. She had to be in the shoot if she was to retain any sort of authority when he left.

‘Miss, the castle can’t be left with just three royal children,’ Blake told her, echoing Max’s thoughts.

‘Levout will take charge again,’ Pascal-Marie-the butler-added. ‘Levout’s like a bear with a sore head now that Prince Maxsim is here. But Prince Maxsim intends to leave at the end of one month.’

‘We might too,’ Pippa said and the old men’s faces fell.

‘No.’

‘Possibly not,’ she whispered.

‘Then you need to have a role here,’ Max called. ‘My deputy or something similar. The people have to know you. You need to be part of the press conference.’

‘In my twin-set? I still haven’t found the button.’

‘Beatrice could organise you something,’ Blake said, but he sounded doubtful. ‘Maybe her ideas are a little old-fashioned…’

‘No,’ Max said, shoving a slate into place and concentrating on the next one. ‘There’s a reasonable shopping centre in the village. I’ll finish here in an hour and take you.’

‘I’ve no money for clothes.’

‘You’re the guardian of the heir to the throne of Alp d’Estella. You should have been getting a suitable allowance long since. You are now. Get used to it.’

She didn’t want to go to town with him.

Pippa chipped on, seemingly concentrating only on her bricks but in reality twisting the forthcoming journey into all sorts of threatening contortions.

It was only shopping, she thought, but she’d be alone with Max and she didn’t want to be alone with Max.

She could take the children.

Right, and they’d be so good while she chose a frock. Ha. Shopping with them was a nightmare at the best of times.

Who else could she take?

No one without saying straight out that she didn’t trust Max, and it wasn’t actually that she didn’t trust Max. She didn’t trust herself.

She worked steadily on, trying to get her head together, trying to stay calm.

An hour later Max came up behind her, took the brick from her fingers and she jumped about a foot.

‘Enough.’

‘I haven’t done enough,’ she said, suddenly breathless, and the men around her laughed.

‘You’ve put the rest of us to shame, miss,’ Blake said. ‘You deserve a rest. Have fun.’

‘Let’s go,’ Max said and lifted her chisel from her hand. ‘Work’s over for the day.’

‘I won’t be able to leave the kids. I’ve been away from them all day.’

‘Let’s check, shall we?’ he said. ‘Make no assumptions, scary or otherwise.’

‘Why would they be scary?’

‘We both know the answer to that,’ he said softly. ‘Though neither of us know what to do with it.’

Was he saying he was as attracted to her as she was to him? Pippa sat in the passenger seat of a neat little sports car and tried to concentrate on the scenery, but it was impossible to concentrate on something other than the man beside her.

Was he saying the avoidance of the last four days had been part of his plan as well as hers?

Good, she thought. Great. If they both thought this relationship was impossible then they could do something about it. Or do nothing, which would be a much more suitable plan.

She was sitting as far apart as she could, which was a start-though you couldn’t get very far apart in a tiny sports car.

‘Does this car belong to the palace?’

‘It’s mine. Do you like it?’

‘I do,’ she said politely. The little car practically purred as they negotiated the scenic curves around the mountains. ‘Actually it’s smashing,’ she admitted. ‘The kids would love it.’

‘Just lucky they were too busy to come, then.’

They had been too busy. When Pippa had gone to find them they had been in the vegetable garden, sorting worms from loamy compost. Dolores had been nearby, sleeping in the sun and keeping a benign eye on her charges.

‘We’re making a carrot bed,’ the twins told Pippa. ‘We need worms. M. Renagae says there can never be enough worms in a carrot bed.’

They were fitting into this life to the manor born, Pippa thought. It was only Pippa who felt…foreign. She’d asked-uselessly-whether they’d like to go into town to shop and they’d regarded her as if she were a sandwich short of a picnic.

So now she was alone with Max, and he was staring ahead as if he was as determined as she was not to cross the line.

‘What sort of dress do I need?’ she asked.

‘Several. A long gown for the formal photo and a couple more for dinners.’

‘I eat with the children.’

‘I hope after I leave that you’ll stand in my stead on State occasions.’

‘You’re assuming I’m staying.’

‘I’m assuming you’re thinking about it. This place has to be better than where I found you.’

‘It might be,’ she said, still cautious. ‘Max, what are you afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid.’

‘Then what? What aren’t you telling me?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ she snapped. ‘I know there’s something. It’s just intuition but I know there’s…something.’ She hesitated, but it had to be said-what she’d been thinking these last four days. ‘It’s not just the castle. It’s royalty itself, so much so that you’re scared of even being with me.’

‘I’m shopping with you now, aren’t I?’

‘Only because you’re trying to persuade me to take the next step-whatever that is. For the last four days you’ve been avoiding me as much as I’ve been avoiding you. Why? Because you’re scared you might get attached to me and to the kids? Or is it that you’re scared you might be called into account for what you’ve done?’

‘Your imagination’s acting overtime,’ he said grimly.

‘I know it is. But all I have is my imagination as I don’t have facts.’

‘You don’t need-’

‘Don’t you dare tell me what I need or don’t need,’ she flashed, swivelling in the car to face him. ‘You’ve talked me into coming here with your promise of warmth and luxury and relief from responsibility, but the responsibility’s followed me and I’m damned if I’m letting your charm and good looks and…your princeliness deflect me from figuring out what I have to figure. Just because you wear a stupid dress sword-’

‘Princeliness?’

‘Don’t laugh at me.’

‘I wouldn’t.’

‘You would if you thought it would help. But I still get the feeling you’re afraid. If not of me-and that’s crazy-if not of emotion, then what?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Stop the car.’

‘I can’t. There’s only two hours before the shops close.’

‘Then talk fast,’ she snapped, suddenly sure of herself. There was something. If not fear, then what? She was responsible for Marc. She had to find out. ‘Please stop the car,’ she repeated. ‘I’m taking not one minute’s more part in this charade before I know what I need to know.’

He stopped in a pullover catering for tourists who wanted to gaze down the valley at the winding river and the spectacular mountains beyond. The scenery was awesome, but Max gazed straight ahead and saw nothing. ‘What do you want to know?’ he said blankly.

‘About your family, for a start,’ she said. She wasn’t sure where she was going with this. She wasn’t even sure that she wasn’t a bit crazy. She stared down at her hands, which were suddenly the most interesting things she could find to look at-apart from Max and there was no way she was looking at him any more. ‘I want to know about Thiérry. Tell me about the car crash.’

‘Thiérry died in a car crash when he was seventeen.’ He said it as if goaded.

She flashed a look at him then, just for a moment, and then looked back at her hands. ‘With your father. Who was drunk?’

‘Of course with my father,’ he exploded. ‘Of course he was drunk. He’s a de Gautier. The blood’s cursed.’

‘Ooh, who’s being melodramatic?’ she whispered and he stared at her in astonishment.

‘You’re accusing me of melodrama?’

‘If you’re talking about cursed blood, then, yes, I am,’ she said with asperity. ‘Tell it like it is, Max. Don’t try and make my blood curdle. I’m a nurse, remember? It takes a whole lot more than curses to curdle my blood.’

‘I guess it would.’

She looked at him for a long moment, gave a tiny smile and a decisive nod.

‘That’s better. Now start again. Your…father was responsible for Thiérry’s death? How did it happen?’

He sighed. ‘Okay. The whole story. Not that it helps anything.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘My father…’ He sighed again. ‘Apparently there’s been contention and hatred in the royal family for generations. My father was raised thinking he was owed a birthright, that he had a claim on the throne, or at least part of its wealth, but the way the succession’s written he got nothing. He spent much of his time here, freeloading on the old prince. He married my mother which was the only sane thing he did in his life, but the marriage didn’t last. She was seventeen and besotted with royalty, and he met and married her on a whim. By the time she had Thiérry she knew it was a disaster.’

‘And she couldn’t…leave?’

‘Are you kidding? My father was seeing Thiérry as a potential heir to the throne. The old Crown Prince Paul was an invalid. There was only Bernard, and Bernard was…effete. There’s clauses written into most royal marriages, and ours is no exception. If the marriage ends then any children stay under the sole care of the sovereign.’

He paused, his eyes bleak and cold and distant. Pippa didn’t say anything. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘So my mother had an affair,’ he said at last. ‘Desperation? Who can blame her? She became pregnant with me, and the old prince kicked her out of the castle. He was so angry that he kicked them all out-my father and Thiérry included.’

‘So then…’

‘My father was furious, of course, and humiliated, but he was back to living on his wits, and he didn’t want a baby. So he turned his back on all of us. Mama was permitted to return to her parents’ farm, taking Thiérry with her. We saw no more of the royal family. Only then the old prince died. Bernard became Crown Prince but still hadn’t married, so Thiérry was his heir and my father appeared on the scene again. Thiérry was seventeen-a rebellious teenager hating the poverty we were living in-and my father was demanding to show him his heritage.’

‘But not you,’ she whispered. ‘Where do you fit in?’

‘I don’t. I was the product of an affair. I was worthless.’

She swallowed. But then she thought of the things that weren’t making sense. Blake’s insistence on Max’s royalty. The servants’ insistence. They’d all been in the castle then…

They’d have known. There was something in the way they deferred to Max, as if he were the Crown Prince.

‘You were really his son,’ she whispered, knowing suddenly that it had to be true, and he didn’t deny it.

‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘But I’ve only known myself for a few weeks. I was approached to take on the regency. I refused and finally my mother told me who I really was. She’d never spoken of it. I know it now, and, for some reason I can’t figure, Blake knows it. But as far as I know, no one else. She lied because she couldn’t bear to live here, and by lying about my parentage at least she’d still have me.’

‘Oh, Max…’

‘So there you have it,’ he said bleakly. ‘The makings of tragedy, from which I, as a supposed bastard, was excluded. My father, in his expensive car, in his amazing royal regalia, must have seemed like something out of a fairy story to seventeen-year-old Thiérry. But my mother was appalled. I still remember the shouting. The tears. Finally Mama agreed that Thiérry could visit the castle, but she insisted on accompanying him.’

‘Of course.’

‘You know, my mother would love you,’ he said dryly. ‘You sound just like her-a mother hen ready to take on all comers.’ He smiled but she didn’t smile back

‘So what happened?’

‘Boring really. Predictably horrible. He loaded them into his too-fast car, he drove erratically-probably shouting at my mother all the time-and they all came off one of the cliffs somewhere close to here. My father and Thiérry were killed instantly. My mother’s now a paraplegic.’

Pippa had stopped looking at her hands. Instead she was staring down at the river, looping lazily round the base of the cliffs below.

‘Oh, Max,’ she said at last. ‘Oh, poor lady.’

‘Mama knows as I do that someone has to accept the Crown if the people aren’t to face ruin. But she won’t go back on what she’s said. That I was the result of an affair. That I have no connection to the palace. The fact that I look like a damned de Gautier…’

‘There’s DNA testing.’

‘So there is. If I wanted to prove it.’

‘But you don’t?’

‘I won’t do it to her. For why? To take a throne I don’t want? If I can organise things without it…if I can set up the regency…’ He sighed. ‘You do what you have to do.’

‘Of course.’ She linked her fingers again, but her gaze was still on the river. The trap was closing in on her, she thought dully, as it had closed on Max. It might be a gilded cage, but it was a cage for all that. ‘You know what I’d really like?’ she whispered.

‘What?’

‘To go back to nursing.’

‘Nursing!’

‘Don’t say it like it’s a bad smell,’ she snapped, and suddenly she was furious. Here she was again, in the middle of a mess, expected to pick up the pieces with no complaint. Well, she might, but, dammit, he was going to understand that she was giving up something too. ‘If you knew how hard I worked to get my nursing qualifications…Every summer I’ve worked my fingers to the bone to get enough money to keep me at school. That started from the time I was ten, working illegally peeling potatoes for our local fish and chip shop. But somehow I did it. I finally qualified as a nurse and I loved it. Independence! You can’t imagine. I kept right on studying. I wanted to be the best nurse in the world, but you know what? Life just got in the way.’

‘Life as in Marc and Claire and Sophie.’

‘And you,’ she said bitterly. She glared at him. ‘Oh, there’s no use complaining. But don’t you dare look at me now and say there’s a really luxurious castle and you’ll be waited on hand and foot so what else can you possibly want from life? I bet that’s what your father told your mother. So here I am. I don’t even have a definite role. I’m not royal. I can’t help in the running of this country. I’m going to have to put up with people like Levout patronising me until Marc is twenty-one and I can get on with my own life. Whatever that is. I don’t think I have one,’ she said. ‘You sure as hell don’t think I do.’

‘Pippa…’

‘Start the car,’ she said wearily. ‘Yes, you’re in a bind, but I am too. I need to think. Meanwhile there’s no need to be nice to me any more. I know what you want now and I need to decide on my own terms. Let’s find this dress.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re on track to get out of here. Start the car.’

‘If I could-’

‘Yeah, and if I could,’ she retorted. ‘But we can’t. We’re stuck in this royal groove and you have three and a half weeks of it left and I’m looking at thirteen years. Let’s go.’

‘I don’t feel I can.’

She sighed. ‘Of course you can,’ she said. ‘Like me, you have no choice. I agree, your mother’s given you no choice. I bet if I met her I’d agree with your decision entirely. I’m sorry I flung that at you. It served no purpose.’

‘Except to make me see what I should have seen last week.’

‘There’s no point.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Max, it was dumb for me to say that. It was just…anger, and anger achieves nothing. I don’t usually let fly. It won’t happen again.’

‘I hate this.’

‘That makes two of us.’

He stared at her for a long minute, and then raised his hand to her face and cupped the curve of her cheek. She let his hand rest there for a moment, allowing herself the luxury of taking warmth and strength that she so desperately needed. But she couldn’t depend on it.

She was alone. She knew it. She’d been alone in Tanbarook and she was alone here. The future stretched out before her, bleak and endless.

Bleak? Hey, she was going to live in a castle. ‘Don’t you start being melodramatic,’ she said out loud and Max frowned.

‘Pardon?’

‘I was talking to me.’ She lifted his hand away, but she didn’t quite release it.

‘You’re a wonderful woman.’

‘I am, aren’t I?’ she said and she summoned a smile. ‘But I need a dress.’

‘Sure you do.’ But he was gazing at her with such a look…

‘Don’t you dare kiss me,’ she muttered and hauled her hand away.

‘Why not?’

‘You know very well why not. You and me? No and no and no. We’re in enough of a dilemma. A casual affair would mess things between us for ever.’

‘I’m not talking about a casual-’

‘You’re not talking about anything. Take me shopping, Max.’ She twisted so she was staring straight ahead and her fingers started knotting again. ‘What are we waiting for?’

‘I don’t have a clue,’ Max said slowly. He stared at her for a long moment, but she didn’t look at him. Conversation ended.

Finally he turned the key in the ignition and steered his car out of the pullover and around the cliffs into town.