And for the sake of the people of Braston.
Did that mean she hadn’t thought of Rik in that light as they kissed? That he had simply been a man kissing a woman, and she a woman kissing a man? Had his impact on her come completely from Rikardo the man, not from him being the third prince in line to the throne of Braston?
It wasn’t a question that should even have mattered. Rik had accepted that women were attracted to his title first, sometimes to the man within, second, but always that first was there.
Perhaps some of his questioning came from the relief of knowing he hadn’t blown his chance of avoiding being locked into a miserable marriage as part of his bargain with his father.
Melanie’s gaze meshed with his. ‘Are you quite sure you want to do this? I want to help you and help the people of Braston, but in the end what you do has to be really what you want.’
‘I’m sure.’ He got to his feet and lifted the picnic basket. ‘We may not get much done today other than the meeting with my father if he is available, but Dominico will want to get the ball rolling on a few things.’
Melanie agreed. Now that she had committed to marrying Rikardo, she wanted to get things moving.
She didn’t want to stop and give herself too much time to think about the next month and the three that would follow it.
That might have been rather easier for her before they shared that kiss. Mel stumbled slightly on the uneven ground. She didn’t want to think about the kiss, either! Her heart still beat hard from its impact.
‘I have you.’ Rik’s hand shot out and grasped her arm.
And I have received the most moving kiss I’ve ever experienced.
Not that Mel had a great deal of experience. Her life with the family had kept her busy. Oh, she’d dated here and there with men that she met out in her ‘normal’ world. At the fresh produce store, or once it was the delivery guy from the local butcher’s shop. There hadn’t been a lot of time or opportunity.
There is always the time and the opportunity if you want it enough.
Well, now there was a prince.
No, there wasn’t. Not like that. She wasn’t dating Prince Rik. She was going to marry him, but that was for an agreed purpose that had nothing to do with romance. Right. So she was safe from getting any of the wrong kind of ideas about him or anything like that.
Why then, with Rik’s hand on her arm, and the memory of a kiss still fresh in her mind and stamped on her lips, did Mel feel anything but safe?
From what? Falling for him? That would be insane. Much more than falling down a rabbit hole or wearing sparkling magic shoes that would take her anywhere.
So focus on getting back to the palace to start this process that will help lift the country’s economy. Rather than thinking about kisses, you should think of how you can find out as much as possible about truffle crops so you really can be of help to Rik for the short time you’re here.
‘Do you have books about truffle cropping in the palace?’ She glanced towards the prince.
Yes, the prince! That was what Rik was, and Mel mustn’t forget it. And since when had she started to think of him as Rik?
He said you could.
And if you have a shred of self preservation left, then you should address him as ‘Your Highness’ or something equally distancing, in person and in your thoughts.
‘I have books at the palace and also at my personal home up in the mountains.’ He glanced at her, and then up and beyond her to where those two tourists had found their way to what to Mel looked like a sheer wall of ice.
Rikardo had a second home in the mountains?
Well, duh, Mel. He’s got to be about thirty and he’s a prince. Did you think he’d still live permanently in a couple of rooms in the palace? Even if those rooms were quite glorious and added up to more like a small house. ‘I’d like to look at the books, if that would be okay. I’d like to learn more about the industry.’
She might not be able to do anything to help with the problems they’d had, but if Rik planned to harvest truffles from the royal grounds that, too, would be rather special. Maybe there were records about that, as well.
‘The kitchen staff would have special truffle recipes, wouldn’t they? Maybe handed down through the centuries? I’d love to see those!’ Mel tried hard to walk normally and not lean into him. He still had hold of her arm and her silly response receptors wanted to melt into his side as though they had every right just because he’d kissed her.
He might be marrying Mel, but he was doing that to help him avoid a committed relationship.
And Mel was marrying him to help him out, and she didn’t need to add the complication of being attracted to him to that mix. So it was just as well they’d shared that kiss and put it behind them. They could get on with the business end of things now.
As if it will be that easy, Mel. What about the wedding preparations? The fact that his father will think the two of you want to marry for real?
‘I need to have the right things to say to your father!’ The words blurted out of her with a panicky edge she didn’t anticipate until it was too late to cover it up. ‘That is, I don’t want to be unable to answer any questions he might ask about how we met, how long we’ve known each other, that kind of thing.’
‘We met through your cousin Nicolette when I was at university in Australia. Six months ago we came across each other on a computer forum and we’ve been chatting online and on the phone ever since.’ He turned his head and deep blue eyes looked into hers. ‘I wanted you for my princess. You are calm and pleasant and I felt I could spend the rest of my life with you. It’s not the entire truth, but it’s as close as we’ll get.’
‘Okay. That will work. I know the years that Nicolette was at university, though I didn’t attend myself.’ There was one other issue, though. ‘What’s my story? Why did I say yes?’
Before he could answer, she shook her head. ‘If your father asks me that question, I’d rather tell him that I will do everything in my power to be as supportive of you as I possibly can in all the time we’re together.’
He dipped his head. ‘Then stick to that. Commitment to me is implied in such statements. My father should find that more than acceptable.’
‘Wh-what will be expected … otherwise?’ Mel asked the question tentatively, and she didn’t want to be tentative. She needed to know, therefore she was asking. She straightened her spine. ‘When we’re married, will we be in your suite as we are now, or … ?’ Despite the straighter spine she couldn’t quite bring herself to put it into words.
His gaze met hers. In it was steadiness. ‘For the sake of appearances we would be sharing my room and … bed at first. This is something that can be managed with a little creative imagination without needing to cause you undue concern. Just for the look of things, you understand?’
‘Just—just part of our overall practical arrangement. Yes. I understand totally. That’s very sensible.’ Mel tried not to stutter the words, tried to sound mature and au fait with the situation and what it might entail. They might be sleeping together at the start—her mind tried to boggle and she forced it not to—but they wouldn’t be sleeping together. Not, well, you know. Not like that. She drew a breath. ‘Right. That’s okay, then. We can make that work.’
‘We will, Melanie, so do not worry.’ His words again held reassurance.
And Mel … relaxed into that reassurance.
They were at a turn in their downward descent