Defying the Prince

‘It’s nice to rest for a moment. I wish I hadn’t drunk that champagne.’

Her hair smelt of wild flowers and reminded him of the summers he’d spent at the palazzo when he was a child. The memory almost suffocated him. ‘I wish you hadn’t drunk it either.’ Her arms were bare and her skin was smooth and soft under his fingers. He needed to let her go. Right now.

But if he let her go, she’d fall over.

As if confirming that, she nestled closer. ‘I really am sorry. I totally and utterly messed up and you deserve to feel very, very cross. But it would be great if you could be cross quietly because I don’t feel too good, Your Highness—Sir.’

‘You don’t deserve to feel good after what you just did.’ But there was something about that apology and the way her slim fingers clutched the front of his shirt that touched him and the feeling unsettled him even more than the raw stab of lust because he always remained emotionally detached in his dealings with women. Especially women blatant enough to admit their ‘goal’ was to marry a prince. ‘You’re a disaster, Izzy Jackson.’

‘I know.’ Her voice was muffled against his chest. ‘The crazy thing is I don’t mean to be a disaster. I start every day with a goal.’

‘So you keep telling me.’ He tried to unpeel her fingers but her grip tightened.

‘I just wanted to impress you.’

‘Did you seriously expect your plan to work?’ Even the roughness of his voice didn’t tempt her to move.

‘I hoped you’d take one look at me and just think wow. But I think I might have chosen the wrong dress. I didn’t get my image right. I need to try again.’

Matteo inhaled deeply. ‘Please do not. Please give up that goal right now.’

‘I never give up. I just wish I could put the clock back and do it all again.’

He contemplated telling her that he wouldn’t have been interested no matter what she was wearing but the feel of her snuggling closer drove the blood from his brain to a different part of his anatomy.

‘Hasn’t that ever happened to you?’ Her words were slightly slurred. ‘Haven’t you ever wished you could put the clock back?’

Everyone was scrupulously careful in the way they dealt with him. People tiptoed around him. Men were universally respectful. Women fawned, flattered and flirted. They certainly didn’t ask him intimate questions about his thoughts and feelings.

Maybe he was finally getting his comeuppance, Matteo thought. He’d occasionally wished that there was one person in his life who would behave naturally around him, but now that he was faced with the reality he was fast rethinking the perceived benefits. ‘Miss Jackson—’ his attempt at formality seemed ridiculous given the circumstances ‘—Izzy.’

‘What?’ Reluctantly she lifted her head and huge eyes heavily outlined in kohl stared up at him. Sky-blue eyes were fringed by long, thick eyelashes that surely had to be false.

The scent of her perfume curled itself round his senses and for a moment his brain refused to work. She smelt of a summer’s day and suddenly he could see her naked and lush lying in a carpet of bluebells, all that strawberry hair tangled around her flushed cheeks.

‘I truly didn’t mean to ruin the party.’ Her words were slightly slurred. ‘Are you very, very angry? Are you going to lock me in the dungeon and throw away the key?’

Matteo had never found it so hard to concentrate. ‘Right now I can’t decide whether to shake you or throw a bucket of cold water over you.’

She pulled a face. ‘That doesn’t sound nice. For me or your carpet. Can’t you think of something else to do with me?’

Crush his mouth to hers and kiss her until they were both crazy with it?

Strip off that outrageous dress and find out if the rest of her was as soft as her arms?

His gaze dropped from hazy blue eyes to the perfect curve of her soft, pink lips.

His mouth had moved dangerously close to hers when the door opened.

Matteo released her instantly, but not before he’d seen the surprise in her eyes—surprise he was fairly sure was mirrored by his own expression.

Fury mingling with exasperation, he turned.

His brother’s fiancée, Allegra, stood there, her face pale.

Struggling to balance without Matteo holding her, Izzy took a wobbly step backwards, her expression concerned. ‘Ally, are you all right?’

‘Izzy, how could you?’ Allegra kept her voice low but if anything that show of restraint intensified the emotion behind her words. ‘What did you think you were doing?’

Matteo was asking himself the same question.

What had he been doing?

Half a minute later and he would have done something both parties would have lived to regret.

Relieved to have been rescued from a course of action that was not only uncharacteristic but would have ended badly, Matteo watched as a shocked flush spread over Izzy’s rounded cheeks.

‘I was going to sing you a song.’ Her tone was defensive and hurt. ‘It was something that I—’

‘I wasn’t talking about the song, although that was embarrassing enough because normal people don’t just walk up to someone and grab the microphone. I’m talking about the way you spoke to His Royal Highness.’ Allegra’s mortified gaze slid to Matteo and she sank into a respectful curtsey. ‘I beg your pardon, Sir. My sister isn’t used to being around royalty.’

‘So I gathered.’ He tried to ignore the thought that it was precisely her freshness and lack of stilted conversation that made Allegra’s sister so dangerously attractive.

Izzy’s heavily made-up features were stiff. ‘Don’t apologise for me,’ she said flatly. ‘If there’s any apologising to do, I’ll do it myself.’

‘If?’ Allegra breathed deeply. ‘Of course you should apologise. In fact, if the story in the press tomorrow is about you then you’d probably better make a public apology.’

Matteo watched as Izzy wrapped her arms around herself in a protective gesture that was too much for the dress and another scarlet sequin sprang loose and landed on the priceless Aubusson carpet.

‘They say whatever they like, regardless of whether it’s true. I don’t care. And normally you don’t care either.’

‘Well, I care now! It will be another bad story about the Jacksons. It’s always awful but this time it’s doubly embarrassing because you’ve dragged the royal family into it. This engagement party was supposed to introduce the Jackson family to the people of Santina. It was supposed to be about Alex and me. The headlines were supposed to be Prince in Love but now they’re more likely to be Hospitality Better at Burger Bar.’ Allegra threw a mortified look of apology to Matteo before turning back to her sister. The girl stood rigid as a flagpole.

‘I was just singing. Not the greatest crime known to mankind.’

‘They had a singer! And you pushed him out of the way because you just had to be the one in the limelight. You need to stop this stupid singing obsession and get a proper job!’

‘Singing can be a job.’

‘Singing is a dream and dreams don’t pay the bills.’

The only sound in the wood panelled room was the deep, resonant tick-tock that came from the eighteenth century clock dominating the ornate mantelpiece.

Pale as milk, Izzy picked at her nails. ‘Some people turn a dream into their job.’

‘How many? How many people manage that? Thousands, millions, of people try and only a handful make it. Stop kidding yourself. Look around you. See the competition.’

Her sister’s chin lifted. ‘It’s only over when you give up. And I won’t give up.’