shores.’
He regarded her with a slight smile. ‘An explorer at heart, Serina?’
‘Not until now,’ she said, wondering if he might read the underlying meaning in the words.
If he did, he didn’t respond. ‘The Maori colonised New Zealand from tropical islands. They brought kiore—Maori rats—and dogs that started the destruction of the native wildlife, and of course fire and stone axes travelled with them as well. Yet, even after eight hundred or more years of occupation, the birdlife was enough to make the first Europeans marvel at the dawn chorus. Apparently it was so loud they could hardly hear each other speak.’
He pointed out a swathe of silvery trees marching across hills by the sea. ‘Olives—a very successful crop here. And those darker trees are avocados.’ He settled back in his seat. ‘More predators arrived with the European colonists. Apart from a few visionaries well ahead of their time, people have only recently realised how much has been lost, and started working to bring back some of the glories of the past.’
Fascinated, Serina asked, ‘How are they doing that?’
He lifted a brow. ‘If you’re really interested, I’ll take you to see something I’m connected with.’
His sceptical tone irritated her. Did he think she was foolish enough to pretend an interest just to match his?
Probably, she thought realistically.
And why not? He was rich, well-connected and handsome—and, even more than that potent package deal, he possessed a charismatic presence, his combination of effortless male sexuality and compelling authority making him stand out in any company. He probably had gorgeous women flinging themselves at him all the time, wide-eyed with anticipation.
Like several at the launch that afternoon…
The smile she gave him was cool with an edge. ‘Oh, I couldn’t think of taking up your valuable time,’ she said sweetly. ‘If you give me a map, I’ll check it out.’
‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s on my land. I’ll take you. We’ve predator-fenced an area of bush, and when we’ve trapped the rats and weasels and possums and feral cats inside, we’ll return some of the birds that no longer live there.’
Her mother had always said the way to interest a man was to let him talk about himself. Deliberately ignoring the maternal instructions, Serina said, ‘I’d love to see it. What’s the name of that town beneath us?’
‘Whangarei,’ he said. ‘Northland’s only city.’
She looked down. ‘It has a glorious setting—those amazing mountains reaching out into the coast, and the harbour curling up into the heart of the town. But then, everything I’ve seen so far is breathtaking.’
‘There are ugly parts too, of course,’ he said judicially. ‘Some of our towns are old and tired, and some have been built with no regard for the countryside that surrounds them.’
Clearly he loved this part of New Zealand. She said, ‘I’ve read and heard quite a bit about the South Island, but not very much at all about the north.’
‘The South Island is magnificent; we’ll see whether we can get you there before you go back. But I was born and bred in the north—it’s always been home, so to me it’s the most beautiful place in the world.’
Without thinking, she said, ‘It must be wonderful to feel that way about a place.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No,’she said, wishing she’d stayed silent. ‘My parents were Montevellan, and they continually longed to go back. Nice—the Riviera—was only ever a temporary base for them. I think I was born homesick for a place I’ve never known. I’ve always felt alien.’ She shook her head, meeting hooded blue eyes with a tingle of sensation. ‘No, alien is too strong a word; dislocated would be better.’
‘You speak English like a native,’ he commented idly.
She shrugged. ‘Doran and I shared an English nanny and then a governess from Scotland until I went away to school.’
He didn’t seem overly interested—and why should he be? But he asked, ‘You’ve not been to Montevel?’
‘We can’t go. The government banned any member of the royal family from returning.’
‘Ever felt like taking another identity and slipping in to find out what it’s like? Seeing it might wipe out that inborn nostalgia; few places live up to the praise of the people who love them.’
‘I’ve got the same face as my grandmother,’ she said dryly. ‘I don’t think I’d get in. Anyway, I don’t have the courage—or feel the need so badly that I’d break the law to do it.’
‘Does your brother feel the same way?’
Alex watched the expression flee from her face; not a muscle moved, but he felt her resistance as palpably as though she’d shouted it at him.
‘I think so,’ she said remotely, turning her head so that he couldn’t see her face.
He settled back into his seat. Whether or not she knew about Doran’s plotting, she was worried about him. Which probably—no, possibly, Alex corrected himself—meant she did know. Perhaps, in spite of her apparent resignation to her fate, she did crave being a princess of Montevel, in fact as well as in title. He toyed with the idea of asking her directly, but decided against it.
She turned back, and his gut tightened in spontaneous homage. However hard he tried to rationalise his reaction to Serina—and he’d tried damned hard for a fair amount of the previous night—the moment her fingertips had caressed his cheek, such hunger had clamoured through him that he’d forgotten all those excellent reasons for not getting too emotionally involved with her.
Kissing her had been a revelation.
And watching young Gilberte kiss her cheeks had been like a call to arms, a primitive response that negated his understanding that it was nothing more than a greeting between friends. For a moment he’d had to rein in an urge to knock the man away from Serina.
His body clenched. Ruthlessly, he pushed the memory to the back of his mind. Gerd needed information—information he wouldn’t get if Alex let his rampant hormones fog his usually logical mind.
Had Serina decided to deflect his interest by pretending to be interested in him?
Two, he thought succinctly, could play at that game.
And if he hurt her?
She might be hurt, he conceded, hardening his resolve, but if her brother went ahead with his plans she’d grieve infinitely more, because it was highly unlikely Doran would survive a foray into Montevel.
Alex made up his mind.
THE plane began to descend. Serina swallowed, looking down at a large valley with two small rivers winding through it. They joined to make
