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‘Well,’ she said, her bright voice sounding cracked. ‘I guess this is it. And you’ll...you’ll be over to London next week?’
‘I’ll be over whenever I damned well please and I shall come and go as I please,’ he said, his blue eyes glittering out a warning. ‘So don’t think you can move some freeloader into my house while I’m away, because I will not tolerate it.’
Don’t rise to it, thought Lisa. Don’t leave with the memory of angry words between you. She nodded instead. ‘I have no intention of doing that, which I suspect you already know. So...goodbye, Luc. I’ll... I’ll be seeing you.’
And suddenly his cold mask seemed to dissolve to reveal the etching of anger and pain which lay behind. Did he realise she had witnessed it? Was that why he reached out and gripped her arms, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh, as if wanting to reassert the control he had momentarily lost?
‘Better have something other than a tame goodbye to remember me by, dear wife,’ he said. ‘Don’t you agree?’
And before she could raise any objection, his lips were pressing down on hers in a punishing kiss which was all about possession and nothing whatsoever to do with affection. But it worked. Oh, how quickly it worked. It had her opening her lips beneath the seeking pressure of his and gasping softly as she felt the tip of his tongue sliding over hers. She swayed slightly and as his big hands steadied her she could feel the clamour of her suddenly hungry body as it demanded more. Touch me, she thought silently, wishing that they were somewhere less public, though pretty sure none of the servants were around. Just touch me.
But just as suddenly he terminated the kiss—stepping away from her, the triumph darkening his eyes not quite managing to hide his contempt, so that she could hardly bear to look at him. As she stumbled out of the door towards the car she could feel his gaze burning into her back.
Rose was sleeping and Almeera was sitting in the front beside the driver as the car headed towards the airfield, and all Lisa could think about was Luc. Raw pain ripped through her. She found herself wishing that it could all have been different. Wishing he’d meant it when he told her that he loved her.
They were almost at the airfield when her thoughts jarred and then jammed—the way CDs used to get stuck if there was a fault on the disc and started repeating the same piece of music over and over again. She creased her brow as she tried to work out what it was which was bothering her.
She found herself remembering what he’d told her about his upbringing and the women paid to look after him after his mother’s death. His words had moved her, despite the flat and matter-of-fact way in which he’d delivered them—as if he were reading from the minutes of a boring meeting. But you would have needed a heart of stone not to be affected by the thought of the lonely little boy growing up alone in a palace, with nobody but a grieving father and a series of strict governesses for company.
Had those governesses ever told him they loved him? Held him tightly in their arms and hugged him and kissed his little head? She bit her lip. Of course not—because that hadn’t been in their job description. They had been there to serve. To drum in his duty to his country. A duty he must be reminded of whenever he saw the Wheeler portraits of Louisa De Lacy, whose love affair with his ancestor had almost destroyed the Mardovian dynasty. But it had not. The principality had survived and today it was strong—and powerful.
Yet despite all his wealth and power, Luc had not fought her for his daughter’s custody, had he? With his access to the world’s finest lawyers she sensed he had the ability to do that—and to win—so why hadn’t he?
What did that say about him as a man? That he could be understanding, yes. Magnanimous, compassionate and kind. Or even that he cared more about her happiness and Rose’s than about his own.
That he loved her?
She stared out of the car window and thought about how closed up he could seem. About the courage it must have taken for him to come out and say something like that. The way his voice had cracked with emotion as he’d spoken—and she knew then that he would never have said it if he didn’t mean it. He had even told her that, once. Yet she had just batted his words back to him as if they’d been of no consequence, hadn’t she? She had turned away from him,
too frightened and so entrenched in her own prejudices to believe him.
For how could either of them know about the giving and receiving of love if neither of them had ever witnessed it?
‘Stop the car!’ she yelled, before recovering herself slightly and leaning forward to speak to the driver. ‘Please. Can you take us back to the palace?’
Lisa’s heart was racing during a drive back which seemed to take much longer than the outward journey, and she couldn’t stop thinking that maybe it was already too late. What if he’d gone out, or refused to see her, or...?
But there were a million variations on ‘what if’ and she tried to push them from her mind as they drove up the mountain road with the beautiful blue bay glittering far below.
Leaving Almeera to bring Rose inside, Lisa went rushing into the palace, knowing that she should be walking calmly in a manner befitting a princess—even if she was an estranged one—but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She was about to ask one of the footmen where she could find the Prince when she saw Luc’s rather terrifying new aide, Serge, coming from the direction of one of the smaller anterooms.
‘I need to see the Prince,’ she blurted out.
Serge’s face remained impassive. ‘The Prince has left strict instructions that under no circumstances is he to be disturbed.’
Had her departure already robbed her of any small vestige of power her royal status might once have given her? Stubbornly, Lisa shook her head and sped noiselessly in the direction she’d seen Serge walking from.
With shaking fingers she opened doors. The first room was empty, as was the second, but in the third Luc stood alone by the window, his body tense and his shoulders hunched as he stared out.
Behind her Lisa could hear rapid footsteps and she turned round to see that the Russian had almost caught her up.
‘Your Highness...’ Serge began.
‘Leave us, Serge,’ said Luc, without turning round.
Lisa’s heart was pounding but she waited until the aide had retreated and closed the door behind him before she risked saying anything.
‘Luc,’ she said breathlessly, but all the things she’d been meaning to say just died in her throat as nerves overcame her.
