made her burningly self-conscious. Not just of the mud, but the fact that even clean and in her best outfit she’d feel totally outclassed.
Luisa straightened. ‘You’ve found her.’
This time he really looked. The intensity of that stare warmed her till she flushed all over. His eyes widened beneath thick dark lashes and she saw they were green. The deep, hard green of emeralds. Luisa read shock in his expression. And, she could have sworn, dismay.
Seconds later he’d masked his emotions and his expression was unreadable. Only a slight bunching of sleek black eyebrows hinted he wasn’t happy.
‘Ms Luisa Hardwicke?’
He pronounced her name the way her mother had, with a soft s and a lilt that turned the mundane into something pretty.
Premonition clamped a chill hand at the back of her neck. The accent had to be a coincidence. That other world was beyond her reach now.
Luisa wiped the worst of the dirt off her hand and stepped forward, arm outstretched. It was time to take charge of this situation. ‘And you are?’
He hesitated for a moment, then her fingers were engulfed in his. He bowed, almost as if to kiss her hand. The gesture was charming and outlandish. It sent a squiggle of reaction through her, making her breath falter. Especially as his warm, powerful hand still held hers.
Heat scalded her face and she was actually grateful for the smearing of dirt that concealed it.
He straightened and she had to arch her neck to meet his glittering scrutiny. From this angle he seemed all imposing, austere lines that spoke of unyielding strength.
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.
