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,
