she felt as though the Prince’s brutally emphatic energy had reached out and claimed her, branding her with a mark of possession that scarred her all the way to her soul.
Striving desperately to recall her sense of humour, she ordered herself not to be so idiotic. He’d looked at her; she’d looked at him. And, being a strongly visual person, she’d overreacted to the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen!
Shaken, still tautly aware of the Prince in the middle of the room, she avoided his area and kept her gaze well away until everyone obeyed some unspoken signal and trooped into the banqueting hall.
Much later, when her shift was over and she was heading for the staff cloakroom, Carole appeared, looking slightly less harried. ‘The banquet went off really well—so far, so good,’ she said on a quick, relieved note. ‘What did you think of the Prince?’
‘Grand Duke suited him better—he’s entirely too grand,’ Alexa said, aiming for her usual blithe tone and just missing. ‘Who’s his minder?’
‘The stunning blonde? Sandra Beauchamp, the under-secretary for something or other. Apparently she’s an old flame.’
Repressing a stark stab of primitive emotion she would not dignify with the name of envy, Alexa drawled, ‘Old? She wouldn’t like to hear that.’
Carole gave her a sharp woman-to-woman grin. ‘Warned you off, did she? I don’t blame her—she’d be mad not to try for another chance with him. So, what did you think of him?’
Alexa hoped an ironic smile hid her erratic emotions. ‘He’s a fabulous man, like something out of a fairy story—one of the dark and dangerous ones.’
‘He gave a fantastic after-dinner speech—funny, moving, intelligent and short!’
‘I hope he paid the writer lots.’
‘Methinks I detect a note of cynicism,’ Carole said as they turned towards the service lift. ‘Don’t you approve of the monarchy?’
How could she say that Prince Luka had made such an impact on her she couldn’t think straight? It sounded foolishly impetuous, like falling in love at first sight.
Alexa shrugged. ‘As an institution I think it’s probably on its way out, but our lot have done pretty well by us, so who am I to tell the Dacians how to run their country? If they like their Prince, that’s fine. And I gather he’s doing great things for them with his bank.’
Pressing the button to call the lift, Carole said in an awed voice, ‘The bank uses the Dacian crown jewels as security.’
Suddenly tired, Alexa covered a yawn. ‘Crown jewels?’ she said vaguely. ‘Oh, yes, I remember—don’t they have fabulous emeralds?’
‘And the rest! Literally worth a prince’s ransom.’ The lift slid to a halt in front of them, doors opening. ‘Have you got your car?’ Carole asked, jabbing the button to keep the doors apart.
Alexa shook her head. ‘It’s in dry dock. Something to do with the radiator, I think. Whatever, it made funny noises.’
‘Then take a taxi—and keep the receipt because you’ll be reimbursed.’
‘I’ll drop it off or post it to you. Goodnight.’
After the lift had whirred Carole upwards Alexa took the next one down to the ground floor, but one glance at the foyer changed her mind about trying to get a taxi there.
People were pouring out, taxis leaving as soon as they’d arrived, doormen moving fast to clear the crowd. Not to worry—the nearest taxi rank was only a couple of hundred yards away, just around the corner of a well-lit street. And as the hotel car park opened onto the same street there’d be enough passing traffic to make it perfectly safe.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Alexa set off, shivering slightly because it had rained while she’d been offering delicious food to the rich and powerful.
Down in the basement car park, in the restricted area, Luka of Dacia stood beside the anonymous car his agent had hired and listened courteously to his head of security.
‘At least let me follow you in another car,’ Dion said urgently. ‘I don’t like anything about this—why do they want you to go alone to meet them?’
Luka said calmly, ‘These men have been fighting a desperate war for the past twenty years—a war that’s turned brother against brother, father against son. I don’t imagine they trust anyone any more.’ He understood their behaviour. His life had been built on a lack of trust.
‘That’s no reason to put yourself in their power,’ Dion expostulated angrily. ‘Luka, I beg of you, think again! Your father would never have permitted you to take such a risk.’
‘My father judged risks differently from you.’
Dion said in exasperation, ‘Your father would have risked everything for Dacia. This is not for Dacia—these people are nothing to you—their Pacific island is as far from Dacia as any place can be. Let them fight their futile war until they’re all dead!’
Luka’s brows rose but his voice was crisp and abrupt as he said, ‘Somehow I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that. Apart from my obvious neutrality, they must have a reason to choose me as an intermediary between them and their opponents.’
‘What possible reason can they have?’
‘That’s what I plan to find out. These people aren’t rebels—they are the elected government of Sant’Rosa. So they’re not going to kill or kidnap me. And apart from the humanitarian aspects I have also to consider that although their country may be in ruins now it has the largest copper mine in the Asian Pacific region, not to mention other extremely valuable minerals, and the possibility of a flourishing tourist industry. Good pickings for the bank.’
Dion, who knew perfectly well that it was the humanitarian aspects that had persuaded his Prince, said angrily, ‘Why ask for this secret meeting late at night and alone?’
‘Possibly because they don’t want to lose face. If tonight leads to further discussions between the two factions on Sant’Rosa, and if I can persuade them to accept some sort of protocol for peace, the Bank of Dacia can help them rebuild their economy. By ensuring their prosperity, I can help promote ours.’ He paused, then added coolly, ‘My father would have thought any—every—sacrifice worth that.’
Dion’s frown deepened at the complete determination in his Prince’s voice. ‘Let me come with you,’ he said, knowing it was hopeless. ‘No one will know I’m there.’
‘I will know,’ Luka said inflexibly. ‘I gave them my word I’d go alone, and I intend to keep it.’ He looked down at the man he called friend and demanded, ‘Give me your word you won’t do anything to jeopardise this meeting.’
Dion met the Prince’s hard eyes with something like anguish. ‘You have it,’ he said stiffly, and stood back, holding the door open to let his ruler into the car.
Luka slid behind the wheel, his face sombre as he turned the key and heard the engine purr into life. Although he was early for the meeting, he was also a stranger to Auckland, so in spite of memorising the route he’d probably make enough wrong turnings
