Invitation to the Prince's Palace (2 page)

And the car was a really posh one, all sleek dark lines and perfectly polished. That didn’t seem right for a cab driver, did it? How would he afford it? Mel frowned.

‘Did you come straight from a formal dinner or something?’ It must have been a really late night.

The words slipped out before she could censor them. The thought that followed worried her a little, but he’d have had sleep wouldn’t he? He looked rested.

You’ll be perfectly safe with him, Mel. It won’t be like—

She cut the thought off. That was a whole other cause of pain for Mel, and she didn’t want to let it in. The night had been tough enough.

‘Most dinners I attend are formal unless I have a night with my brothers.’ Rikardo spoke decisively and yet…his guest didn’t look as he’d expected. She didn’t…
seem
as he’d expected. Her openness and almost a sense of naivety…must be because she wasn’t feeling well.

He tucked the odd thoughts away, and tucked his passenger into the front seat beside his. ‘You may rest, if you wish. Perhaps by the time we arrive at the airport your allergy medication will have done its job and you’ll be back to normal.’

‘I doubt that. I feel as though I’ve been felled by elephant medicine.’ She yawned again. ‘Excuse me. I can’t seem to stop.’

* * *

He’d collected a drowsy and puffy version of Sleeping Beauty. That was what Prince Rikardo Eduard Ettonbierre thought as the airport formalities ended and he carried Nicolette Watson onto the royal private jet and lowered her into a seat.

She’d slept most of the way to the airport and right through the boarding process. The medication had indeed got the better of her, but she was still very definitely…a sleeping beauty.

Despite the puffy face she seemed to have held her age well since the days when she’d been part of his university crowd during his time in Australia. She’d been two years behind him, but he’d known even then that Nicolette wanted to climb to the heights of social success.

Though their paths had not crossed since those days, Nicolette had made it a point to send Christmas cards, mark his birthday, invite him as her personal guest to various events, and in other ways to keep her name in front of him. Rik had felt awkward about that pursuit. He didn’t really know what to say now, to explain his lack of response to all those overtures.

Perhaps it was better to leave that alone and focus on what they were about to achieve. He’d carefully considered several women for this task. In the end he’d chosen to ask Nicolette. He’d known there would be no chance he would fall for her romantically, and because of her ambitious nature he’d been confident she would agree to the plan. She’d been the sensible choice.

Rik had been right about Nicolette. When he’d contacted her, she’d jumped at this opportunity to elevate her social status. And rather than someone closer by, who might continue to brush constantly through his social circles once this was all over, when their agreement ended, Rik could return Nicolette to Australia.

‘You should have allowed me to carry her, Your Highness.’ One of his bodyguards murmured the words not quite in chastisement, but in something close to it. ‘Even driving a car by yourself to get her— You haven’t given us sufficient information about this journey to allow us to properly provide for your safety.’

‘There is nothing further to be revealed just at the moment, Fitz.’ Rik would deal with the eruption of public and royal interest in due course but there was no need for that just yet. ‘And you know I like to get behind the wheel any time I can. Besides, I let you follow in a second car and park less than a block away. Try not to worry.’ Rik offered a slight smile. ‘As for carrying her, wasn’t it more important for you to have your hands free in case of an emergency?’

The man grimaced before he conceded. ‘You are correct, Prince Rikardo.’

‘I
am
correct occasionally.’ Rik grinned and settled into his seat beside Nicolette.

Was he mad to enter into this kind of arrangement to outwit his father, the king? Rik had enjoyed his combination of hard work and fancy-free social life for the past ten years. As third in line to the throne, he’d seen no reason to change that state of affairs any time soon, if at all. But now…

There were deeper reasons than that for your reluctance. Your parents’ marriage…

His bodyguard moved away, and Rik pushed that thought away, too. He wasn’t crazy. He was taking action. On these thoughts Rik turned his attention to the sleeping woman. Her hair fell in a soft honey-blonde curtain. Though her face still showed the ravages of her allergy problem, her features were appealing.

Long thick brown eyelashes covered eyes that he knew were a warm brown colour. She had soft pink lips, a slim straight nose and pretty rounded cheeks. She looked younger in the flesh than in the photo she’d emailed, than Rik had thought she would look now…

She sighed and Rik had an unexpected urge to gently kiss her. It was a strange reaction to what was, in the end, a business arrangement with a woman he’d never have chosen to know more than peripherally if not for this. A response perhaps brought on because she seemed vulnerable right now. When she woke from this sleep she would be once again nothing but the ladder-climbing socialite he’d approached, and this momentary consciousness would be gone.

The pilot commenced take-off. Rik’s guest stirred, fought for a moment to wake. Her hand rose to her cheek.

‘You may sleep, Nicolette. Soon enough we will take the next step.’ He said it in his native Braston tongue, and frowned again as the low words emerged. He rarely spoke in anything but French or English, unless to one of the older villagers or palace staff.

Nicolette turned her head into the seat. Her lashes stopped fluttering and she sighed. She’d cut her hair too, since the emailed photo she’d sent him. The shoulder-length cut went well with the flattering feminine skirt and silk top she wore with a short cardigan tied in a knot at her waist. The clothing would be nowhere near warm enough for their arrival in Braston, but that would be taken care of.

Rik made his chair comfortable, did the same for his sleeping guest, and took his rest while he could find it. When Nicolette sighed again in her sleep and her head came to rest on his shoulder, Rik shifted to make sure she was comfortable, inhaled the soft scent of a light, citrus perfume, and put down the feeling of contentment to knowing he was soon to take a step to get his country’s economy back on its feet, and outwit his father, King Georgio, at the same time. Put like that, why wouldn’t Rik feel content?

* * *

‘You had an uneventful flight, I hope, Your Highness?’

‘Not too much longer and we’ll be able to disembark, Prince Rikardo.’

Mel woke to voices, snippets of conversation in English and another language and the low, lovely tones of her taxi driver responding regally while something soft and light and beautifully warm was draped around her shoulders.

‘What—?’ Heart pounding, she sat up abruptly.

This wasn’t a commercial flight.

There were no rows of passengers, just some very well-dressed attendants who all seemed to make her taxi driver the centre of attention in a revering kind of way.

Mel’s allergy was gone. The effects of the medication had worn off. That was good, but it also meant she couldn’t be hallucinating right now.

She had vague memories of sleeping…on an accommodating shoulder.

Yet she didn’t remember even boarding a flight!

This plane was luxurious. It had landed somewhere. Outside it was dark rather than the sunshiny day she’d looked forward to in Melbourne, and Mel could feel freezing air coming in through the aperture where another attendant waited for a set of steps to be wheeled to the edge of the plane.

She should be feeling Sydney summer air.

Memory of that expensive-looking car rose. Had she been kidnapped? Tension coiled in her tummy. If anything was wrong, she’d left a note saying she was moving to Sydney. Her relatives might be angry to lose their underpaid cook, but she doubted that they would go looking for her. Not at the expense of their time or resources.

Breathe, Melanie. Pull yourself together and think about this.

The driver had asked her if she was ‘sure about this’. As though they already had an arrangement? That would make it unlikely that she’d been kidnapped.

But they
didn’t
have an arrangement!

Mel turned her head sharply, and looked straight into the stunning gaze of the man who’d placed her in that car.

She’d thought, earlier, that he was attractive. Now Mel realised he was also a man of presence and
charisma. All those around him seemed to almost feel as though…they were his servants?

Words filtered through to Mel again. French words and, among those words, ‘Prince Rikardo’.

They were addressing her driver as a prince?

That was easy, then, Mel thought a little hysterically. She’d fallen down a rabbit hole into some kind of alternative world. Any moment now she would sprout sparkling red shoes.
That’s two different fairy tales, Mel. Actually it’s a fairy tale and a classic movie.
Oh, as though that mattered! Yet in this moment, this particular rabbit hole felt all too real. And maybe there’d been a book first, anyway.

Stop it!

‘You’re fully refreshed? How are the allergies? You slept almost twenty-four hours. I hope the rest helped you.’

Did kidnappers sound calm, rational and solicitous?

Mel drew a breath, said shakily and with an edge of uncertainty she couldn’t entirely hide, ‘I feel a bit exhausted. The allergies are gone. I guess I slept them off while we travelled between Melbourne and…?’

‘Braston.’ He spoke the word with a slight dip of his head.

‘Right. Yes. Braston.’ A small country planted deep in the heart of Europe. Mel had heard of it. She didn’t really know anything about it. She certainly shouldn’t
be anywhere near it
. ‘I’m just not quite sure— You see, I thought I’d be flying from Melbourne to Sydney—’

‘We were able to fly very directly.’ He leaned towards her and surprised her by taking her hand. ‘You don’t need to be nervous or concerned. Just stick to what we’ve agreed and let me do the talking around my father, the king.’

‘K-king.’ As in, a king who was the father of a prince? As in, this man, Rikardo,
was
a prince? A royal prince of Braston?

Stick with the issue at hand, Mel. Why are you here? That’s the question you need answered.

‘You are different somehow to what I have remembered.’ His words were thoughtful.

‘Remembered from our drive to the airport? I don’t understand.’ Her words should have emerged in a strong tone. Instead they were a nervous croak drowned by the clatter of a baggage trolley being wheeled closer to the plane.

Well, this was
not
the time for Mel to impersonate a scaredy frog waiting to be kissed into reassurance by a handsome prince.

Will you stop with the fairy-tale metaphors already, Melanie!

‘You’re nervous. I understand. I’ll walk you through this process. Just rely on me, and it will be easy for both of us to honour our agreement.’

Mel drew a deep breath. ‘Seriously, about this “agreement”. There’s been—’

‘Your Highness, if you and your guest would please come this way.’ An attendant waved them forward.

The prince, Rikardo, took Mel’s elbow, tucked the wonderful warm wrap more snugly about her shoulders, and escorted her to the steps and down them onto the tarmac.

Icy wind whipped at Mel’s hair and stung her face but, inside the wrap, she remained warm. Floodlights lit the small, private airstrip. A retinue of people waited just off the tarmac.

Mel had an overwhelming urge to turn around and climb back onto the plane. She might not be down a rabbit hole, but she was definitely Alice in Crazyland. None of this would have happened if she’d been completely herself when she ordered that ride to the airport and believed it had arrived. Mel would never take someone else’s medication again, even if it were just an over-the-counter one that anyone could buy!

‘Please. Prince…Your Highness…’ As she spoke they moved further along the tarmac. ‘There truly has been some kind of mistake.’

What could have happened? As Mel asked the silent question puzzle pieces started to come together.

If he’d called at the right address, then he had expected to collect a woman from there.

Her cousin had been in a strange mood, filled with secrecy and frenetic energy. At the end of the dinner party, Nicolette had rushed to her room and started rummaging around in there. Had Nicolette been…packing for a trip?

Rik had said he’d arrived earlier than he’d expected to. That would explain Nicolette not being ready. Mel had thought that he’d called her by her first name of Nicole, but it could have easily been ‘Nicolette’ that he said. She and her cousin looked heaps alike. Horror started to dawn. ‘It must have been Nicolette—’

‘Allow me to welcome you on to Braston soil, Nicolette.’ Rikardo,
Prince Rikardo
, spoke at the same time. He stopped. ‘Excuse me?’

Oh. My. God.

He’d mistaken Mel for Nicolette. Mel’s
cousin
had made some kind of plan with this man. That meant Rikardo really was a prince. Of this country! As in, royalty who had made an arrangement with Nicolette.

Mel, the girl who’d worked in her aunt and uncle’s kitchen for years, was standing here in a foreign country with an heir to the throne, when it was her cousin who should be here for whatever reasons she should be here. How could the prince not realise the mistake? Surely he’d have seen that Mel wasn’t Nicolette, even in dawn light and with Mel affected by allergies? Just how well did this prince know Nicolette?

Yes, Mel? And how many times has Nicolette become furious when one of her acquaintances mistook you for her when they called at the house?

‘Unless we’re in the public eye, please just call me Rik.’ He hustled her into the rear of another waiting car and climbed in beside her. A man in a dark suit climbed into the front, spoke a few words to the prince in French, and set the vehicle in motion.