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CHAPTER FOUR
THEKING’SSILKENwords shimmered through the confines of her tiny sitting room and Rosie stared at him in disbelief.
‘You want to take the Monterossian burial jewels around the world and formeto accompany you? I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me, Corso. Why? I mean, why me?’
He frowned with the exasperation of a man not often required to repeat himself.
‘It’s simple,’ he said, not very patiently.
Rather alarmingly, he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her at the table, so close that Rosie imagined she could feel the warmth of his breath. Close enough to see the dark amber flecks in his golden eyes. And the faux intimacy made Rosie remember when he’d occasionally appear at the door of her parents’ grace-and-favour house in Monterosso, and they would invite him to join them for a family meal, soon after his mother had died. Her own mother had urged Rosie and her sister to treat the Prince ‘normally’ and they had been young and unselfconscious enough to comply. Rosie remembered sometimes thinking howalonehe had seemed, and her heart had gone out to him.
But that was an erroneous impression, she reminded herself fiercely. Corso was the least lonely person on the planet. He was idolised and adored and always had been. It was well known that from the moment he had lain in his cradle, he had been waited on hand and foot, for he was the only child of the royal marriage and a precious son and heir. From the moment he was born, he’d had only to lift a chubby little fist and one of his adoring nurses would rush to his side. It was true that his father had been away a lot and in the latter years his mother had been very sick, but day and night he was surrounded by people, eager to fall in with his every wish. Which made it even more inexplicable why he had turned uphere, at her little cottage deep in the forest. But perhaps it was her memory of those earlier times which made her lean back in her chair and humour him.
‘Carry on,’ she said.
Corso nodded, aware of needing to choose his words carefully because Rosie wasn’t the walkover he’d been expecting. He had anticipated her eagerness to agree with whatever it was he suggested, not for her to survey him with that faint air of scepticism. He was here because, essentially, he trusted her, which meant he could tell her some things. He felt his throat dry. Just not everything.
‘When I inherited the Kingdom seven years ago, I had to look at my country with different eyes,’ he said. ‘As a ruler, rather than an heir—and these positions are very different. I was to discover things which had never been apparent to me before...’
‘What kind of things?’ she interjected curiously as his words tailed off.
Corso shot her a reprimanding look. He wanted to tell her thathewould be the giver of information, rather than her attempting to take it from him. But something warned him that if he wanted her to fall in with his wishes, then he needed to be diplomatic. And so he nodded benignly, as if he weren’t in the least bit irritated by her interruption.
‘My father’s way of ruling was not my way, Rosie. And the legacy he left me was not...ideal. Now that I have properly settled into my reign, I intend to do things very differently.’
‘A new broom,’ she suggested quietly.
‘If you like.’ He got up from the chair and walked over to the window and stared out at the seemingly impenetrable green of the forest outside, before turning back to see her grey eyes fixed on him. ‘I did not realise, until the mantle of the throne came upon me, how much I really loved my country. Or, rather, the country I want it to be. I want to forge a new Monterosso. One which is no longer solely dependent on gambling, or providing a tax haven for questionable sources of income. I want an inward investment for my land, which will benefit my people. High-end eco-tourism, among other things. The tour is to showcase some of the historic culture of the nation, but will also serve as a backdrop for my meetings with business leaders and investors. It will act as a reminder of Monterosso’s great history, as well as all the possibilities of a great future.’
There was a pause while she absorbed this, touching her fingers to the ends of her thick plait. But her no-nonsense hairstyle was having precisely the wrong effect on him. He imagined himself loosening it, seeing it falling like pale silk between his fingers, and, as he experienced another jerk of unwanted desire, he scowled.
‘There’s no need to glare at me like that, Corso,’ she said. ‘Because, while all this sounds very commendable, I still fail to see how I can help you. I mayalmosthave a degree in art, but I have no real experience of mounting an exhibition. In fact, I don’t have any experience at all.’
‘You don’t need any.’ Corso felt his jaw tighten as the image of a face swam into his mind. A face similar to his own.An unknown half-brother who lived on the other side of the world.A man he had never met nor wanted to meet. But he knew that state of affairs could not continue. He couldn’t continue burying his head in the sand and pretending his sibling didn’t exist.
His pulse accelerated. And wasn’t that the real reason why he wanted to take the jewels on tour—to conceal a potentially threatening assignation behind a cloak of cultural respectability? He shuttered his eyes as he returned her gaze because Rosie didn’t need to know that. His mouth hardened. Perhaps nobody needed to know. ‘My historians have collated the entire collection.’
‘So takethemwith you.’
‘I don’t want them. I want you. You’re the one who can bring the jewels to life because you are Lionel’s daughter—and that will add a personal touch like no other. Your presence will ensure the kind of publicity which is impossible to buy, as well as being a fitting testimonial to your family name. Obviously, there will be challenges. But you are young and have potential.’ His gaze swept over her assessingly. ‘Naturally, you will need to do something about your appearance.’
‘What’s the matter with my appearance?’ she demanded.
‘Nothing. I am sure it’s completely appropriate for the life you lead but not...’ He paused, speculatively. ‘Not for a member of the royal party.’
‘Are youtryingto insult me, Corso?’
‘Not at all.’ He met the stormy flash of her eyes. ‘Would you prefer weaselly words of flattery instead of hearing the truth? Especially when beauty can be such a curse,’ he added, his words rough.
‘Yet one possessed by every woman you’ve ever been associated with! Funny that.’ She pulled a face. ‘Well, I must say that the last thing I imagined on my way back from work this afternoon was to find you here, waiting to make me such an extraordinary offer.’
He gave a reflective smile. ‘Which, now that you’ve heard, you are happy to accept?’
As she met his metallic gaze, Rosie gave herself just long enough to imagine what it might be like if she agreed to his bizarre request. She remembered some of the perks which accompanied involvement with the Monterossian royal family. You never had to wait—not for anything. According to her dad, you always got the best rooms and the best service. People tried to get near you and they were prepared to grovel if they thought you had the ear of the King. But that wasn’t her world. It never had been, not really—and it would be dangerous to allow herself to be lured back into it.
Yet it was more than that which made her realise she was going to send Corso away without the answer he desired. Mostly, it was because of the way he was making her feel, which was freaking her out. He was doing it right now, with that lazy smile which was drawing attention to the curve of his lips. She’d never found him in the least bit attractive in the past, but something had happened to make her completely reverse that assessment. Because he wasn’t just hot, he was dangerous. Way too dangerous for an innocent like her.
She smiled, trying to refuse as tactfully as possible because he wouldn’t like it. He wouldn’t like it at all. Well, that was tough. It might do him good if someone actually had the nerve to refuse him. ‘Flattered as I am to have been asked,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid my answer has to be no.’
