Invitation to the Prince's Palace / The Prince's Second Chance: Invitation to the Prince's Palace / The Prince's Second Chance

‘But with a purpose, Your Highness. It is unfortunate that the two women do not look enough alike to ensure we could safely swap them.’ Dominico Rhueldt drew a breath. ‘I have carried out your wishes and transferred the funds from your personal holdings to the bank account of Nicolette Watson, and ordered the set from the hand-crafted collection of the diamond jeweller, Luchino Montichelli. It will be delivered to Nicolette within two days.’

The man hesitated. ‘Your Highness, I am concerned about the amount of money going out of your holdings towards relief to the people. I know they are in need—’

‘And while I have the ability I will go on meeting needs, but that doesn’t fix the underlying problems.’ Rik sighed. It was an old conversation. ‘Nicolette. She is happy with this … buy-off?’

A gift of baubles and a cash injection in exchange for her acceptance of the changed circumstances, and her silence.

Though Rik’s question referred to the woman he’d organised to briefly marry, he struggled to shift his thoughts from the one he’d carried onto a plane recently.

He glanced at the closed door of his guest suite. Last night when he’d got back, he’d tucked the covers over Melanie. She’d been curled up on the bed in a ball as though not quite sure she had a right to be there. Sleeping Beauty waiting to be woken by a kiss.

The nonsense thoughts had come to him last night. A result of tiredness and the suppression of stress, Rik had concluded. Yet the vision of her curled up there was still with him. The desire to taste softly parted lips, still there. He’d been absorbed in Braston’s problems lately. Perhaps it had been too long since he took care of those other needs.

His aide rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. When he spoke again, his words were in French, not English. ‘Nicolette acknowledged the payment and the order of the diamond jewellery as her due as a result of the changed circumstances. She accepts the situation but it is good, I think, that she will be unaware of any other plans you may intend to implement until such time—’

‘Yes.’ If ‘such time’ was something Rik could bring about.

‘The other matter of urgency,’ his aide went on, ‘is unfortunately, the truffle crop.’

Rik swung about from where he’d been half gazing out of the windows. One search of Dominico’s face and Rik stepped forward. ‘Tell me.’

‘Winnow is concerned about the soil in one of the grove areas. He feels it looks as it did last year before the blight struck again.’

‘He’s tested it? What is the result? We were certain we’d prevented any possibility of this happening this year. The crop is almost ready for harvest!’ Rik rapped the words out as he strode to his suite. He stepped into the walk-in closet and selected work wear. Khaki trousers, thick shirt and sweater, and well-worn work boots. A very un-princely outfit that his mother would have criticised had she been here to do so. Rik started to shuck clothes so he could don the new ones.

His aide spoke from a few feet away. ‘Winnow is doing the testing now.’

‘I will examine the soil myself and speak with Winnow.’ Rik laced his boots and strode into the sitting room.

‘Your guest?’ Dominico also glanced towards the closed door of the guest suite. ‘Shall I wake her? Inform her of your immediate plans?’

‘Allow her to sleep on while she has the chance. She had a long and difficult day before we arrived here. Please ask, though, that Rufusina be prepared to go with me to the groves.’

Melanie heard these words faintly through a closed door. She shifted in the luxurious bed, opened her eyes to a canopied pelmet draped above her head, and remembered curling up for just a moment while she waited for Prince Rikardo to return from speaking with his father. Now she was under the covers. Still in her clothes, but as though someone had covered her up to make sure she’d be comfortable. And that was Rik’s voice out there, and it sounded as though he was about to go out.

Who was Rufusina?

‘I’m getting up.’ The words emerged in a hoarse croak. She cleared her throat, sat up, and quickly climbed out of bed. And called more loudly. ‘Prince—Your Highness—I’m awake. I’m sorry I fell asleep before you got back last night. I’ll be out in five minutes. I won’t keep you waiting.’

Only after she called the words did Mel realise how they might have sounded to members of staff if any were out there with him, and, given he’d just spoken to someone, they probably were.

Heat rushed into her face, and then she felt doubly silly because she hadn’t meant the words in that way, and the staff wouldn’t care anyway, surely. And Rikardo would send her back to Australia today so none of this would be her problem for much longer.

Mel stopped in her headlong dash to the bathroom and wondered where the burst of disappointment had come from.

From being in a real live palace for a night and having to go home now, she told herself. And perhaps just the tiniest bit because she wouldn’t have the chance to get to know Rikardo better.

‘That’s Prince Rikardo to you, Melanie Watson, and why would he want to get to know you? You’re a cook. Not even a formally qualified one. You’re not even in his realm.’ She whispered the words and quickly set about putting herself together so she wouldn’t keep the prince waiting.

Well, she was in his realm—literally right now. But in terms of having anything in common, she didn’t exactly fit here, did she? No doubt he would want to speak to her sooner, rather than later, to tell her how he would get rid of her and how soon Nicolette would arrive to make everything as it was supposed to be.

That would be fine. Mel would co-operate fully. She only wanted to be sent home so she could get on with her life! Preferably avoiding contact with Nicolette in the process.

Outside in the sitting area, Rik’s gaze caught with his aide’s. ‘I cannot be in two places at once right now. It would be rude to abandon Melanie now that she is awake, but breakfast must be offered, and I need to get to the groves.’

‘Permit me to suggest a picnic breakfast for you and your guest after you have attended the groves. It would be easily enough arranged.’ Dominico, too, glanced at the closed door of the guest suite. ‘You might have a nice, quiet place in mind?’

Rik named a favourite place. ‘That would be convenient to speak to Melanie there and see if she can find her way clear—’

‘I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.’ The guest in question pushed her suite door open and stepped into Rik’s sitting room.

Rik’s head turned.

His aide’s head turned.

There were appropriate words to be uttered to help her to feel comfortable, to extend grace. Rik wanted to do these things, to offer these things, but for a moment the words stuck to the back of his tongue as he gazed upon the morning face of Melanie Watson.

Soft natural colour tinged her cheeks. She’d tied her hair back in some kind of half-twisted ponytail. Straight falls escaped to frame the sides of her face. She wore a long, layered brown corduroy skirt trimmed in gold, brown ankle boots with a short heel and rubber-soled tread, and a cream cashmere sweater. In her hands she held a wool-lined coat. Her lips bore a soft pink gloss and she’d darkened her lashes with a touch of mascara.

Her clothing was department or chain store, not designer. The hairstyle had not come at the expense of an exclusive salon or stylist but thanks to a single brown hair tie and a twist of her hands. Yet in those five minutes she had produced a result that had knocked Rik out of his comfort zone, an achievement some had striven for and failed to achieve, in various ways, in decades of his life.

‘You look lovely.’ The inadequate words passed across his lips. A thought quickly followed that startled him into momentary silence. He wanted his brothers to meet her.

Maybe they would, if either of them were around today. And maybe Melanie would be on her way back to Australia before any chance of such a meeting could occur.

He stepped forward, lifted her right hand in his, and softly brushed her fingers with his lips. ‘I hope you slept well and feel rested.’ He introduced his aide. ‘Dominico assists me with all my personal and many of my business dealings.’

In other words, his aide could be trusted utterly and was completely aware of their situation. At the moment, Dominico was more aware than Melanie.

Rik truly did need to speak with her, to set all matters straight as quickly as possible. He hoped that Melanie might co-operate to help him but it was a great deal to ask.

So much for your arrogant belief that you could outwit your father, still get all that you want, and not have to pay any price for it aside from the presence of a fiancée here for a few months.

Rik had collected the wrong woman and created a lot of trouble for himself.

So why did he feel distracted by the feel of soft skin against his lips? Why did he wish that he could get to know Melanie?

He pushed the thoughts aside. There was work to do. A truffle crop to bring to fruition disease-free, and a woman to take to breakfast. ‘Will you join me for a walk outdoors? I need to attend to some business and then I thought we might share a picnic breakfast. I know a spot that will be sheltered from wind and will catch the morning sunshine. We can speak privately and I can let you know the outcome of my discussion last night with my father.’

‘A—a picnic breakfast would be lovely, but is it all right for people to see me?’ Her balance wobbled just enough to make him think she might have been about to curtsy to him. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t still awake when you finished speaking with your father last night. It would have been okay to wake me up. I must have crawled under the covers.’

She hadn’t. Rik had tucked her in. Had paused to gaze at a face that seemed far too beautiful. He suspected it had occurred to her that he might have tucked her in. The flush in her face had deepened.

Rik realised he still had hold of her hand. He released it and stepped back. ‘It will indeed be fine. You are dressed well for the conditions. Shall we?’

Rikardo led Melanie through corridors and along passageways and past vast rooms with domed ceilings. Everywhere, staff worked with silent efficiency, going about their day’s tasks.

Without making it seem a big deal, he explained that she never needed to curtsy to anyone but his father or mother, and to them only in certain formal circumstances.