Prince of Scandal

Already he turned away. Only her hand on his elbow stopped him.

‘What do you mean?’ Fear was a sour tang in her mouth.

He didn’t turn. ‘I have business to finalise before I leave. Some farms to dispose of.’

Panic surged. Luisa’s fingers tightened like a claw on the fine wool of his suit. She stepped round to look up into his stern face.

‘You can’t foreclose! They haven’t done anything to you.’

His stare pinioned her. He shook off her hand.

‘In a choice between your relatives and my country there is no contest.’ He inclined his head. ‘Goodbye, Luisa.’

‘I’m sure Mademoiselle will be happy with this new style. A little shorter, a little more chic. Yes?’

Luisa dragged herself from her troubled reverie and met the eyes of the young Frenchwoman in the mirror. Clearly the stylist was excited at being summoned to the Prince’s exclusive Parisian residence. Unlike the nail technician who’d barely resisted snorting her displeasure when Luisa had refused false nails, knowing she’d never manage them. Or the haughty couturier who’d taken her measurements with barely concealed contempt for Luisa’s clothes.

The hair stylist hadn’t been daunted at the prospect of working on someone as ordinary as Luisa.

Perhaps she liked a challenge.

‘I’m sure it will be lovely.’ Another time Luisa would have been thrilled, having her hair done by someone with such flair and enthusiasm. But not today, just hours after Raul’s private jet had touched down in Paris.

It had all happened too fast. Even her goodbyes to Sam and a tearful Mary, crying over the happy news that Luisa was taking up her long lost inheritance.

How she wished she were with them now. Back in the world she knew, where she belonged.

Luisa gritted her teeth, remembering how Raul had taken the initiative from her even in her farewells.

When she’d gone to break the news it was to find he’d been there first. Her family and friends were already agog with the story of Luisa finally taking her ‘rightful place’ as a princess. And with news their debts were to be cancelled.

Yet Luisa had at least asserted herself in demanding Raul install a capable farm manager in her place to get the co-op on its feet. She refused to leave her friends short-handed.

In the face of their pleasure, Luisa had felt almost selfish, longing to stay, when so much good came out of her departure. Yet she’d left part of herself behind.

Her family and friends would have been distraught, knowing why she left. They wouldn’t have touched the Prince’s money if they knew the truth. But she couldn’t do that to them. She couldn’t ruin them for her pride.

Or her deep-seated fear of what awaited her in Maritz.

She shivered when she thought of entering Raul’s world. Being with a man who should repel her, yet who—

‘These layers will complement the jaw line, see? And make this lovely hair easier to manage.’

Luisa nodded vaguely.

‘And, you will forgive me saying, cut even on both sides suits you better, yes?’

Luisa looked up, catching a sparkle in the other woman’s eye. Heat seeped under her skin as she remembered her previous lopsided cut. She tilted her chin.

‘My friend wants to become a hairdresser. She practised on me.’

‘Her instincts were good, but the execution …’ The other woman made one last judicious snip, then stepped away. ‘Voila! What do you think?’

For the first time Luisa really focused. She kept staring as the stylist used a mirror to reveal her new look from all sides.

It wasn’t a new look. It was a new woman!

Her overgrown hair was now a gleaming silky fall that danced and slid around her neck as she turned, yet always fell sleekly back into place. It was shorter, barely reaching her shoulders, but shaped now to the contours of her face. Dull dark blonde had been transformed into a burnished yet natural light gold.

‘What did you do?’

Luisa didn’t recognise the woman in the mirror. A woman whose eyes looked larger, her face almost sculpted and quite … arresting. She turned her head, watching the slanting sunlight catch the seemingly artless fall of hair.

The Frenchwoman shrugged. ‘A couple of highlights to accentuate your natural golden tones and a good cut. You approve?’

Luisa nodded, unable to find words to describe what she felt. She remembered those last months nursing her mother, poring with her over fashion and beauty magazines borrowed from the local library. Her mother, with her unerring eye for style, would point out the cut that would be perfect for Luisa. And Luisa would play along, pretending that when she’d finally made her choice she’d visit a salon and have her hair styled just so. As if she had time or money to spare for anything other than her mother’s care and the constant demands of the farm.

‘It’s just long enough to put up for formal occasions.’

Luisa’s stomach bottomed at the thought of the formal occasions she’d face when they reached Maritz.

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. How could she have agreed?

Suddenly she needed to escape. Needed to draw fresh air into her lungs, far from the confines of this gilt-edged mansion with its period furniture and discreet servants.

It hit her that, from the moment Raul had delivered his ultimatum, she’d not been alone. His security men had been on duty that final night she’d slept at home. Probably making sure she didn’t do a midnight flit! After that there’d been stewards, butlers, chauffeurs.

And Raul himself, invading her personal space even when he stood as far from her as possible.

The stylist had barely slid the protective cape off Luisa’s shoulders when she was on her feet, full of thanks for the marvellous cut and turning towards the door.

Her thoughts froze as the Frenchwoman looked at something over Luisa’s shoulder then sank into a curtsey.

‘Ah, Luisa, Mademoiselle. You’ve finished?’ The deep voice curled across her senses like smoke on the air. She reminded herself it was distaste that made her shiver.

‘Yes. We’ve finished.’ Stiffening her spine, she turned.

Clear afternoon light spilled across the parquet floor and highlighted Raul where he stood just inside the doorway. Once again his splendour hit her full force. Not just the elegance of hand-stitched shoes and a beautifully crafted suit that clung to his broad shoulders. The impact of his strong personality was stamped on his austere features.

Even knowing his ruthlessness, it was hard not to gawk in appreciation. Luisa saw the stylist surreptitiously primping.

Annoyance sizzled. It wasn’t just her. He had this effect on other women.

‘I like your new look.’ Raul’s sudden smile was like warm honey. The flare of appreciation in his eyes even looked genuine. She told herself she didn’t care.

‘Thank you.’ Her tone was stiff.

Yet Luisa’s pulse raced. She put it down to dislike. How dared he come here with his gracious smile and his fluent French, charming her companion as if he were a kind benefactor!