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Luisa blinked and drew a shaky breath, trying to ignore the butterflies swirling in her stomach and think sensibly.
‘I am Raul of Maritz.’ He said it simply but with such assurance she could almost imagine a blare of trumpet fanfare in the background. ‘Prince Raul.’
Raul watched her stiffen and felt the ripple of shock jolt through her. She yanked her hand free and took a step back, arms crossing protectively over her chest.
His mind clicked up a gear as interest sparked. Not the welcome he usually received. Fawning excitement was more common.
‘Why are you here?’ This time the throaty edge to her words wasn’t gruff. It made her sound vulnerable and feminine.
Feminine! He hadn’t realised she was a woman!
From her husky voice to her muddy boots, square overalls and battered hat that shadowed her grimy face, she had as much feminine appeal as a cabbage. She still hadn’t removed the hat. And that walk! Stiff as an automaton.
He froze, imagining her in Maritzian society where protocol and exquisite manners were prized. This was worse than he’d feared. And there was no way out.
Not if he was to claim his throne and safeguard his country.
He clenched his teeth, silently berating the archaic legalities that bound him in this catch-22.
When he was king there’d be some changes.
‘I asked what you’re doing on my land.’ No mistaking the animosity in her tone. More and more intriguing.
‘My apologies.’ Automatically he smiled, smoothing over his lapse. It was no excuse that the shock of seeing her distracted him. ‘We have important matters to discuss.’
He waited for her answering smile. For a relaxation of her rigid stance. There was none.
‘We have nothing to discuss.’ Beneath the mud her neat chin angled up.
She was giving him the brush-off? It was absurd!
‘Nevertheless, it’s true.’
He waited for her to invite him in. She stood unmoving, staring up balefully. Impatience stirred.
And more, a wave of distaste at the fate that decreed he had to take this woman under his wing. Turn this unpromising material into—
‘I’d like you to leave.’
Raul stiffened in indignation. At the same time curiosity intensified. He wished he could see her without that mask of mud.
‘I’ve travelled from my homeland in Europe to speak with you.’
‘That’s impossible, I tell you. I have no—’
‘Far from being impossible, I made the trip for that sole purpose.’ Raul drew himself up and took a pace closer, letting his superior height send a silent message. When he spoke again it was in a tone that brooked no opposition. ‘I’m not leaving until we’ve concluded our business.’
Luisa’s stomach twisted in knots and her nerves stretched to breaking point as she hurried through the house back to the veranda where she’d left her visitor.
The crown prince of Maritz, her mother’s homeland, here at her house! This couldn’t be good.
She’d tried to send him away, turn her back rather than face anyone from that place. The memories were too poisonous.
But he’d been frighteningly immovable. A single look at that steely jaw told her she wouldn’t succeed.
Besides, she needed to know why he was here.
Now, armoured as best she could manage by scouring hot water and clean clothes, she tried to stifle rising panic.
What did he want?
He filled up her veranda with his larger than life presence, making her feel small and insignificant. His spare features reminded her of pictures of the old king in his youth—impossibly handsome with his high cut cheekbones and proud bearing. From his top notch tailoring to his air of command, this man was someone.
Yet royalty didn’t just pop in to visit.
Disquiet shivered through her. A shadow of the stormy past.
He turned to her. Instantly she felt at a disadvantage. With those chiselled aristocratic features and that uncompromising air of maleness he was … stunning. Despite her wariness, heat ricocheted through her abdomen.
His eyes narrowed. Luisa’s heartbeat pattered out of kilter and her mouth dried. With a jolt of shock she realised it was the man himself, as much as his identity that disturbed her.
Luisa laced her fingers rather than straighten her loose shirt, her only clean one after weeks of rain. She wished she could meet him on equal terms, dressed to the nines. But her budget didn’t run to new clothes. Or a new hairdryer.
She smoothed damp locks from her face and pushed back her shoulders, ignoring the way her stomach somersaulted. She refused to be intimidated in her own home.
‘I was admiring your view,’ he said. ‘It’s lovely countryside.’
Luisa cast her eyes over the familiar rolling hills. She appreciated the natural beauty, but it had been a long time since she’d found time to enjoy it.
‘If you’d seen it two months ago after years of drought you wouldn’t have been so impressed.’ She drew a deep breath, fighting down the sick certainty that this man was trouble. Her skin crawled with nervous tension but she refused to let him see. ‘Won’t you come in?’
She moved to open the door but with a long stride he beat her to it, gesturing for her to precede him.
Luisa wasn’t used to having doors opened for her. That was why she flushed.
She inhaled a subtle, exotic scent that went straight to her head. Luisa bit her lip as tingles shot to her toes. None of the men she knew looked, sounded or smelled as good as Raul of Maritz.
‘Please, take a seat.’ She gestured jerkily to the scrubbed kitchen table. Luisa hadn’t had a chance to move the buckets and tarpaulins from the lounge room, where they’d staved off the leaks from the last downpour.
Besides, she’d long ago learnt that aristocratic birth was no measure of worth. He could sit where her friends and business partners met.
‘Of course.’ He pulled out a chair and sank into it with as much aplomb as if it were a plushly padded throne. His presence filled the room.
She lifted the kettle, her movements jerky as she stifled hostility. She needed to hear him out. ‘Would you like coffee or tea?’
‘No, thank you.’ His face was unreadable.
Luisa’s pulse sped as she met his unblinking regard. Reluctantly she slid into a chair opposite him, forcing herself into stillness.
‘So, Your Highness. What can I do for you?’
For a moment longer he regarded her, then he leaned forward a fraction. ‘It’s not what you can do for me.’ His voice was deep, mellow and hypnotic, holding a promise to which she instinctively responded despite her wariness. ‘This is about what I can do for you.’
Beware of strangers promising gifts. The little voice inside sent a tremor of disquiet skidding through her.
Years before she’d received promises of wonderful gifts. The future had seemed a magical, glittering land. Yet it had all been a hollow sham. She’d learned distrust the hard way—not once but twice.
‘Really?’ Her face felt stiff and she found it hard to swallow.
He nodded. ‘First I need to confirm you’re the only child of Thomas Bevan Hardwicke and Margarite Luisa Carlotta Hardwicke.’
Luisa froze, alarm stirring. He sounded like a lawyer about to break bad news. The voice of warning in her head grew more strident. Surely her ties with Maritz had been completely severed years ago.
‘That’s right, though I can’t see—’
‘It pays to be sure. Tell me—’ he leaned back in his seat but his eyes never wavered from hers ‘—how much do you know about my country? About its government and states?’
Luisa fought to remain calm as painful memories surged. This meeting had a nightmare quality. She wanted to scream at him to get to the point before her stretched nerves gave way. But that glittering gaze was implacable. He’d do this his way. She’d known men like him before. She gritted her teeth.
‘Enough.’ More than she wanted. ‘It’s an alpine kingdom. A democracy with a parliament and a king.’
He nodded. ‘My father the king died recently. I will be crowned in a few months.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Luisa murmured, struggling to make sense of this. Why was he here, interrogating her? The question beat at her brain.
‘Thank you.’ He paused. ‘And Ardissia?’
Luisa’s fingers clenched as she fought impatience. She shot him a challenging look. He was like a charming bulldozer, with that polite smile barely cloaking his determination to get his own way.
‘It’s a province of Maritz, with its own hereditary prince who owes loyalty to the King of Maritz.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘My mother came from there, as I’m sure you know.’
She shivered, cold sweeping up from her toes and wrapping around her heart as bitter memories claimed her.
‘Now, my turn for a question.’ She planted her palms on the table and leaned forward, fixing him with a stare. ‘Why are you here?’
Luisa waited, her heart thudding hectically, watching him survey her beneath lowered brows. He shifted in his seat. Suddenly she wondered if he were uncomfortable too.
‘I came to find you.’ His expression made her heartbeat speed to a pounding gallop.
‘Why?’
‘The Prince of Ardissia is dead. I’m here to tell you you’re his heiress, Princess Luisa of Ardissia.’
CHAPTER TWO
RAUL watched her pale beneath her tan. Her eyes rounded and she swayed in her seat. Was she going to faint?
Great. A highly strung female!
He thrust aside the fact that anyone would be overcome. That his anger at this diabolical situation made him unreasonable.
She wasn’t the only one whose life had been turned on its head! For years Raul had steered his own course, making every decision. Being fettered like this was outrageous.
But the alternative—to turn his back on his people and the life to which he’d devoted himself—was unthinkable.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course.’ Her tone was sharp but her eyes were dazed.
They were surprisingly fine eyes, seen without that shadowing hat. Blue-grey a moment ago, now they sparkled brilliant azure. Like a clear summer sky in the Maritzian Alps. The sort of eyes a man could lose himself in.
She blinked and shifted her gaze and Raul was astonished to feel a pang of disappointment.
He watched her gnaw her lip. When she looked up and flushed to find him watching, he noticed the ripe contours of her mouth. With the grime washed away, her features were pleasant, regular and fairly attractive.
If you liked the artless, scrubbed bare style.
Raul preferred his women sophisticated and well groomed.
What sort of woman didn’t take the time to style her hair?
Pale and damply combed off her face, it even looked lopsided. Anyone less fitted for this—
‘I can’t be his heir!’ She sounded almost accusing.
His brows rose. As if he’d waste precious time here on a whim!
‘Believe me, it’s true.’
She blinked and he had the sense there was more going on behind her azure eyes than simple surprise.
‘How is it possible?’ She sounded as if she spoke to herself.
‘Here.’ Raul opened the briefcase Lukas had brought. ‘Here’s your grandfather’s will and your family tree.’
He’d planned for his secretary, Lukas, to take her through this. But he’d changed his mind the moment he saw Luisa Hardwicke and how unprepared she was for this role. Better do this himself. The fewer who dealt with her at this early stage the better.
Raul suppressed a grimace. What had begun as a delicate mission now had unlimited potential for disaster. Imagine the headlines if the press saw her as she was! He wouldn’t allow the Maritzian crown to be the focus of rabid media gossip again. Especially at this difficult time.
He strode round the table and spread the papers before her.
She shifted in her seat as if his presence contaminated her. Raul stiffened. Women were usually eager to get close.
‘Here’s your mother.’ He modulated his tone reassuringly. ‘Above her, your grandfather, the last prince.’
She lifted her head from examining the family tree. Again the impact of that bright gaze hit him. He’d swear he felt it like a rumbling echo inside his chest.
‘Why isn’t my uncle inheriting? Or my cousin, Marissa?’
