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“Where did you learn to fly a helicopter?”
She half-expected he wouldn’t answer. His hand lifted to hold back a branch for her, brushing her body against his. Thousands of darts of awareness pierced her veins.
“I served two years in our country’s armed services. It was part of my training.”
She darted a tongue out and licked her dry lower lip. “I didn’t know that.”
His smile was mysterious. “Why would you? Unlike you, there are not endless articles written about me in the weekend papers.”
It was a teasing, throwaway comment. He could have no idea how the words cut her to the quick. The party girl image she’d carefully cultivated in a childish attempt to wound and embarrass her father had worked a little too well. She couldn’t shake that reputation, despite the fact she was nothing like the girl the press had painted her to be.
With your help, she mentally corrected. After all, the media couldn’t have painted her as a reckless party girl if she hadn’t made a point of going to nightclubs every night, wearing barely-there dresses, intentionally leaving with different men whenever paparazzi lenses were about. Never mind that she’d always let them escort her to the door of her house and not beyond, never mind that she was the exact opposite of what the media believed her to be. Far from being a party girl, Ella’s idea of a great Saturday night was spent with a good book, a cup of tea and a face mask in place. She liked phone calls with friends rather than copious shared cocktails, and as for the rumoured string of lovers she had a habit of breaking the hearts of, Ella had never been in love in her whole life. In fact, she’d never even been kissed. She’d wanted to hurt her father’s feelings but when it came to protecting her own, she was a world-expert. She had no intention of letting anyone close to her, especially with her mother’s many, many warnings ringing in her ears.
“I was surprised your brother welcomed you with such open arms, to be honest.”
She liked honesty so much better than polite condemnation. “You and me both.”
His lips curled in a half-smile; her heart skidded. She focussed on her footing, looking down at the ground.
“You weren’t close before?”
“No. While my father was alive, I had no contact with the royal family whatsoever.”
“Your father didn’t visit you?”
“Visit me?” Her heart turned over at the casual question; it suggested an easy intimacy with his own family that he would find it so hard to believe her own flesh and blood had turned their backs on her. “Do you mean for lunches and holidays and things?”
He dipped his head in agreement.
“I met my father on three occasions; none of those experiences was particularly warm or pleasant.”
She risked a glance at Elon; he was frowning.
“I had to do multiple paternity tests before he would even accept the fact I was, actually, his daughter.”
“Was that necessary?”
She lifted a hand self-consciously to her hair. “Look at me.” It was a turn of phrase rather than an invitation, but he stopped walking and did exactly that, his eyes raking over her with an intensity that sent shockwaves rippling through her system.
Her voice was uneven when she continued. “I have this white blonde hair and green eyes, pale skin. Do you blame him for doubting we were related?”
He continued to stare at her for several long seconds. Her breathing grew ragged, her chest moving with the force of each breath, a pain in her side reminding her that she’d sustained unknown injuries.
“He had a relationship with your mother, so he must have accepted it was a possibility.”
She nodded jerkily.
“And one would have thought a single paternity test was sufficient confirmation.”
“He thought the results could have been bought.”
“Your father was a suspicious, untrusting man. In light of this, his reaction makes sense.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” A fizz of bitterness exploded in her belly. She hadn’t known her father; she couldn’t comment on his personality. He was a mystery to her and always would be. She started to walk again, a wave of grief threatening to bring tears to her eyes. Anger surged through her protectively; anger was so much better than sadness.
“He supported you?”
“Financially, yes. Once his own palace doctor had confirmed my parentage, he was very generous to my mother and me.” Even those words were coloured with bitterness. She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, but Ella couldn’t help reflecting on how much simpler life had been before she’d become an unwitting ‘heiress’, with a huge trust fund and all the attendant interest. Her mother had pulled her out of the little comprehensive she’d attended since nursery, enrolling her in a fancy private boarding school instead, so Ella had lost both parents, in a way. She sighed, lowering her head as they passed another branch. The sun was dipping now, so not much light permeated the forest, and all the while they trekked higher, Ella’s legs burning from the effort.
