Invitation to the Prince's Palace (12 page)

Perhaps he should ask Dominico for a proper look at that report after all. It might tell Rik more about Melanie’s background.

Only to help understand her, he justified, and then frowned because, of all reasons he might read the report, wasn’t that the most personal and therefore to him, at least, the most unacceptable? ‘Dominico seems to believe this planner will be up to the task. Let us go see how she fares with our requests.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘
Y
OU
have made very rapid plans, Rik.’

‘Are you sure you want to marry so quickly? Our father might still have given us what we wanted if we all became engaged and then spoke to him again about the arrangement. That way you could have held off from actually marrying until closer to the six-months mark. Things might have changed by then.’

The words came to Melanie in two different male voices as she went in search of Rik. It was four days later and she’d woken to find her breakfast waiting for her, and Rik already gone to the palace grounds to oversee the harvesting of the first of the special truffles.

‘It won’t make any difference whether I marry soon, or marry after many months. You know this. Our father will not change his mind or soften his expectations.’

Rik didn’t explain the reason for his statement—the brief nature of the intended marriage—and Mel didn’t know if he’d told his brothers the truth about it as yet or not. But did his voice sound oddly flat
because
he knew this fact?

She must be imagining it.

You and your over-inflated ego are imagining it together, Mel.

‘Good—good morning, Rikardo.’ Mel spoke to make her presence known. Not because she minded her impending marriage to Rik being discussed, but because it wasn’t right to eavesdrop, even if she hadn’t meant to.

‘Melanie. I am glad you’re awake and have found us.’ Rik stepped forward. He touched her hand and gestured to the two men standing to their left. ‘These are my brothers, Marcelo and Anrai.’

‘Hello. I’m pleased to meet you both.’ The words emerged in a calm tone before Mel stopped to remember that she was being introduced to two more princes.

Rabbit hole. Sparkly shoes. Do I look good enough for this occasion, and why didn’t I address him as Prince Rikardo or Your Highness?

She drew a breath.

‘It is a delight to meet you, Melanie. Our brother has told us about you.’ The older man bowed over her hand and managed to make the gesture seem relaxed and European rather than princely and…royal. ‘I am Marcelo.’

The first in line to the throne. The brother who would most of all be expected to marry and stay married, whether he wanted to or not. He was dark like Rik, a little taller, and his eyes were such a deep inky blue, they were almost black.

‘I am Anrai.’ The second brother smiled a killer smile, shook her hand, and stepped back as though content to observe proceedings from this point. His hair was a lighter brown, thick and with a slight wave. It flopped over his forehead and drew attention to
sparkling pale blue eyes.

Mel had dismissed him as not as handsome as Rik. She could now see that he would actually be a quite stunning lady-killer, but he still didn’t appeal to
her
. She only had eyes for—

‘Hello.’ Mel tried to smile naturally and not feel overwhelmed by being surrounded by these three very royal men. It wasn’t until she glanced at Rik’s face that she realised she’d placed herself so close to his side that they were almost touching. Not because she felt intimidated but because…

Well, she couldn’t explain it, actually. What she did realise was that she’d been allowing herself to think of Rik more as a man, and less as a prince. At least this meeting had given her that reality check. And it was nice to meet his brothers. ‘Have any of the truffles been dug out yet?’

A snort from behind them drew Mel’s attention. She turned her head and there was Rufusina. The pig had a quilted coat on and a keen look in her eyes, as though she was sitting in apparent obedience waiting for something.

‘Rufusina’s obviously champing at the snout,’ Mel observed. ‘What’s the hold-up?’

‘There’s no hold-up—’ Rik started.

‘We were just deciding how best to go about the extraction,’ Anrai added.

Marcelo’s brows formed a vee. ‘It is the most stupid thing to wait for a sign from—’

Rufusina lifted her snout, sniffed the air once, and then again.

Rik said under his breath, ‘Wait for it.’

Anrai’s shoulders stiffened.

The truffle hog sniffed the air a third time and trotted to a group of trees.

‘
Now
I will go in there.’ Anrai followed Rufusina’s rapidly receding form. ‘But only because I think she knows where the best truffles are. It has nothing to do with anything else.’

‘Marcelo?’ Rik turned to his older brother.

‘I was not concerned in the first instance.’ The oldest brother followed Anrai. ‘All the truffles on the palace grounds are exceptional, as has been proved in years past. That is all that matters.’

Rik turned to Mel. ‘Would you care to be present while Rufusina does her work and finds us the
choicest truffles?’

‘I would love to be there.’ Mel’s curiosity was tweaked. Just what had that “rite of passage” been about? And to be present while such wonderful foods were lifted from their resting places? Imagine
tasting
such a wonderful, rare indulgence!

Rik took her arm and started towards a grove of trees that looked very old. ‘It is an exciting moment.’

‘Apologies, Melanie, for walking away.’ Anrai rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. ‘Once the pig sniffs the air three times—’

‘It will guide the prince to truffles that are the choicest, and that are possessed of the power to make his deepest hopes come true.’ Marcelo said the words with a dismissive twist of his lips. ‘You must forgive us, Melanie. We are being foolish this morning, but Rikardo—’

‘Asked nicely if you would both like to be present for this event.’ Rik jumped in with the words that were almost defensive.

Mel thought about her rabbit hole and the sparkly shoes and how out of place she’d felt when she arrived here, and how different this world was from anything she had ever known. And she looked at three big, brave men who had hovered at the edge of a grove of trees and refused to shift until…

‘A magic truffle hog unlocks the key to safe passage, and perhaps to the granting of your wishes?’ The words came with the start of a smile that spread until it almost cracked her face in half.

She could have laughed aloud. Mel could have done a lot of things. But then she looked properly at the grove of trees and thought about age and history. Three princes
had
all come to participate in this ritual. Rufusina
had
lifted her nose and sniffed three times and then trotted over here with purpose. Mel sobered. ‘How old is the legend? Are there bad aspects attached if you don’t do things the right way?’

‘Centuries. None of us have ever come near the harvesting of these truffles until now. It’s usually left to our staff, but I wanted to oversee it this time.’ Rik didn’t seem offended by her initial amusement. He did seem a little uncomfortable having to explain the situation. ‘The legend is more to do with prosperous lives, and making the right choice of marriages and so on. But I am only concerned with getting good truffles for my overseas buyers.’

‘Yes. That is no doubt the priority.’ Mel bit back any further smiles. She turned to the others and said to all three of them, ‘I’m grateful to have the chance to see this, and I hope to get a good look at the truffles themselves when they’re harvested.’

Winnow approached as Mel made this statement.

The three princes were all about business after that. It was strange to stand back and watch these three privileged men go about digging bits of fungus out from beneath beds of rotting leaves. Rufusina did her thing, and Rik praised her for being a good hog, at which the pig sort of…preened, Mel thought fancifully, and checked her own feet to make sure they hadn’t sprouted those sparkly shoes while she was daydreaming.

‘This one looks good, brother. And smell the pungent odour.’ Anrai handed a truffle to Rik.

Rik examined the truffle. ‘It is good. Take a look at it, Melanie.’

Before Mel could blink, the truffle had been dumped into her hands. She didn’t know much about truffles. Not in this state, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to cook with them, to discover if they were indeed as fine as it was claimed, to revere the opportunity to hold this piece of life and privilege and history. ‘Will they be enough for your marketing plans, Rik?’

She didn’t notice the softness in her tone, didn’t see the look exchanged between Rik’s brothers as Rik bent his shoulders to protect her from the wind that had sprung up as he answered her question.

‘I hope so, Mel. I very much hope so.’

They gathered the truffles. Some were sent with Winnow to be prepared for travel. Rik placed the others in a basket, thanked his brothers for their presence and saw them on their way, and then turned to Mel. ‘Shall we have that peek at the kitchen that you mentioned?’

‘Y-yes. I’d like that.’ Mel liked it even more that Rik had remembered that small comment of hers from days ago.

They made their way to the kitchens. Rik introduced Mel to the staff and somehow, even though she’d always been on the other side of things in this environment, he made it comfortable and easy. Enough that when he had to excuse himself to attend to other matters, Mel accepted the invitation to remain behind and observe as the staff prepared the midday meals.

* * *

‘I’m almost afraid to taste,’ Melanie murmured as Rik removed the cover from the last dish.

They were in his suite. He’d asked for their meal to be sent here, and wasn’t that what people would expect of a newly engaged couple—to want every moment alone? Yet Rik knew that he’d chosen to dine with Melanie here because
he
wanted to keep her to himself more than he perhaps should.

The legend talked of sharing the first meal prepared with the truffles, that the prince must share the tasting process…

He pushed the fanciful thoughts aside. This was a matter of practicality. And perhaps of giving Melanie a moment that she might not otherwise experience. ‘Each of the dishes have been enhanced with the addition of the truffles.’

‘The kitchen staff said there are different opinions about actually cooking the truffles.’ Mel had listened with interest to the discussion about that in the kitchens earlier. She’d learned so much! ‘The risotto and the duck dishes both smell divine.’

‘Before we start on those, I would like to give you the chance to sample the first truffle in very simple form.’ Rik lifted a single truffle from a salver. His fingers shook slightly. He steadied them and lifted his gaze to hers.

It was just a legend. Foolish stuff.

The prince prepares the truffle and offers it to his bride.

Mel drew a shaky breath as though she perhaps, too, felt the air change around them, almost as though it filled with anticipation as she yielded her palate to his ministration…

He shaved transparent slices of truffle onto the pristine white plate. The butter knife slid through creamy butter. Just the right smear on each sliver, a sprinkle of salt crystals.

Rik held the first slice out to her. Soft pink lips closed over it, just touched the tips of his fingers as her eyelids drifted closed and she experience her first taste of…a legend.

‘It’s almost intoxicating.’ Her words whispered through her lips. ‘The permeation of the scent, the beautiful texture. I can’t even describe how amazing…I feel as though I’ve tasted something sacred.’

She couldn’t have rehearsed those words if she’d tried. Rik took his own slice of truffle, unbelievably pleased in the face of
her
pleasure.

They moved on to eat the other dishes. Melanie experienced each new taste with curiosity and perhaps with a little awe. Rik shared her pleasure and knew that it renewed his own. He couldn’t take his gaze from her mouth. He wanted to lean forward and taste the flavour of the truffle, of salt and butter, from the inside of her lips.

It was just a legend.

But Melanie Watson was not a legend. She was a very real woman, and Rik…desired her in this moment, far too much.

* * *

They left for France that afternoon. Mel settled into her seat on the family’s private plane and observed, with some wonder, Rik’s calm face. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’

‘Do what?’ He glanced out of the window at the scudding clouds beneath the plane’s belly before he turned his gaze to her and gave her all of his attention.

‘Remain so calm in the face of being chased all the way to the plane by a wedding planner waving colour swatches and bits of lace and begging for fittings and a decision on the choices for the table settings.’

‘We gave her the answers she needed.’ A slight smile twitched at the corners of Rik’s mouth. ‘And perhaps next time she won’t wear those kinds of heels for running.’

‘I could learn a thing or two.’ Melanie had taken to the wedding planner. ‘She’s doing her best to make things easy for us while we fly all over Europe showing buyers what they’ll be missing out on if they don’t make an order this year for Braston truffles.’

‘In truth we’re only going to Paris.’ There was a pause while Rik looked into her eyes, and while he registered how committed she had sounded to his country’s industry as she spoke those words.

‘It’s still more exciting than almost anything I’ve done.’ Melanie returned his glance.

How did he do that? Make it seem as though the whole rest of the world suddenly faded away and it were just the two of them? Mel would be hopeless at truly being married to him. There’d be photos through the tabloids all the time of her making goo-goo eyes at him when she didn’t realise she was doing it.

Um, where was she?

She would not, anyway. An unguarded thought here or there, or coming to realise that he was a good man and one she could admire, hardly equated to a Rufusina-like devotion to the man.