Thank heaven the media’s voracious appetite for stories soon burned out!
Yet she couldn’t regret meeting Guy. As for making love with him—the thought of never knowing that extreme pleasure made her shudder.
A wistful fantasy drifted across her mind; for a few minutes she indulged herself in the tormenting memories, but self-preservation forced the dangerously seductive images from her mind. Instead, she wondered what had happened to her laptop computer in Sant’Rosa; if she had it here she’d be able to contact Marc in the Seychelles. She should warn him that their relationship might become public knowledge. Besides, she’d like the benefit of his ability to cut concisely through to the heart of any matter.
Eventually she drifted off to sleep again, to wake with a thick head and a sombre mood.
In contrast, her father had never looked better across the breakfast table. Any pain, she thought with renewed determination when she ran upstairs to change into the jeans and cotton jersey she’d bought in New Zealand, would be endurable if it kept him safe.
A knock on the door heralded her mother. ‘You look much better,’ Isabel said with a smile that faded too quickly.
‘So does Dad.’
Her mother’s voice softened. ‘He loves this weather. In fact, he seems to have taken a great liking to Dacia itself. Darling, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ll never be able to thank the prince enough for rescuing you both times, from Sant’Rosa and then from those journalists.’ Her gaze lingered on Lauren’s face. ‘He was wonderful yesterday—just took over and organised us so smoothly onto the plane and over here. Your father likes him very much, and so do I. What do you think of him?’ she finished casually.
Lauren’s heart contracted. Infusing her tone with wry briskness, she said, ‘I’m very grateful to him, but he’s too much like Marc—inclined to take over.’
Another knock on the door produced one of the maids, to tell her with a broad, significant smile that Prince Guy had arrived to take her riding.
‘Make sure you put on sunscreen,’ her mother said automatically, then laughed. ‘I know, I know—modern cosmetics have sunscreen in them. I suppose I’ll stop being an over protective mother when you marry. Really marry, I mean.’
The taut note in her voice made Lauren say steadily, ‘That’s not on the agenda at the moment.’
After a second’s hesitation Isabel returned, ‘I hope that when you meet a man you can love, you won’t let any considerations weigh on you but your chances of a happy life with him.’
Their eyes met. ‘When I meet him,’ Lauren said quietly, ‘I’ll let you know.’
Her mother nodded.
Guy was mounted on a chestnut gelding; he rode, Lauren thought for one dazzled moment, like a centaur, at home on the animal in a way she’d never achieve. As she came out into the sunlight a groom dismounted from another gelding with an amiable face and two white socks.
After greeting them both, Lauren swung into the saddle and spent the next few minutes concentrating on staying in the saddle. Guy monitored her carefully, riding close enough to help if things went wrong, and proffering only advice she needed.
She had never felt so safe, she thought despairingly.
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