His hooded eyes gave nothing away, but the sharp angle of his jaw told her she’d hit home. Good! The idea of getting under this man’s skin appealed. It was about time he found out what it felt like not to get his own way.
‘Royalty works on a strict timetable.’
‘And dairy farms don’t?’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘After you’ve spent your life getting up before dawn for early milking, then talk to me about managing my time!’
‘It’s hardly the same thing.’
‘No, it’s not.’ She kept her voice calm with an effort. ‘My life might not have been exciting but it was about honest hard work. A real job, doing something useful. Not—’ she gestured to the exquisitely decorated salon and the man who stood so haughtily before her ‘—not empty gloss and privilege.’
A dull flush of colour streaked across Raul’s razor-sharp cheekbones. Deep grooves bracketed the firm line of his mouth and his long fingers flexed and curled. Energy radiated from him, a latent power so tangible she had to force herself to stand her ground.
‘You’ll find royal life isn’t a sinecure.’ His words were glacial shards, grazing her overheated cheeks. ‘Running a country is a demanding full-time job.’
Luisa refused to be cowed. Nothing excused his treatment of her. That had to change. Now.
‘Under extreme duress I agreed to go to your country and accept my inheritance. That doesn’t give you carte blanche to run my life.’
‘Where were you going?’ His question surprised her.
She glanced at the full length windows with their view of a wide, elegant boulevard and a distant park.
‘I’ve never been to Paris.’ She’d never travelled. Except to her grandfather’s home and to Sydney when her mum visited specialists. Neither had been pleasant experiences. ‘I want to explore.’
‘You haven’t time. Your new clothes are here and you need to be fitted. It’s important you look like a princess when you step off the plane in Maritz.’
‘In case I don’t photograph well for the press?’ She almost laughed at the idea of being media-worthy, but the way his face shuttered instantly at her mention of the press distracted her.
‘It’s for your sake as well, Luisa. Imagine arriving in the full blare of public interest, dressed as you are.’
Was that a hint of sympathy in his expression, or did she imagine it?
‘There’s nothing wrong with my clothes! They’re …’
Cheap and comfortable and a little shabby. It wasn’t that she didn’t want beautiful clothes. It was the idea of pretending to be someone she wasn’t, as if the real Luisa wasn’t worth knowing. Yet a tiny voice inside admitted she didn’t want to face a nation’s press as she was.
She didn’t want to face the press at all!
‘Clothes are like armour.’ His voice held a note of understanding that surprised her. ‘You’ll feel more comfortable in clothes that make you look good.’
Did he speak from personal experience? Seeing the proud tilt of his head, Luisa guessed Raul could walk naked before a crowd and not lose one ounce of his regal attitude.
Her breath hitched on the idea of Raul naked. With those long, powerful thighs and that rangy powerful torso.
With an effort she dragged her mind back on track.
‘I don’t need permission to go out.’ She kept her voice low and even but her chin crept up. ‘I don’t answer to you and I do intend to see some of the city.’
She wouldn’t let him dictate to her any more.
‘Then what if I take you out myself, tonight?’ Luisa blinked in astonishment. ‘I have appointments for the rest of the day but after dinner, if you like, I’ll show you some of the sights of Paris.’ He paused for a long moment, his mouth easing into what could almost pass for a smile. ‘Would that suit?’
Blankly Luisa stared. A compromise? That must have cost him!
Instantly suspicion grew that he was up to something. Yet the idea of escaping this gorgeous, claustrophobic house was irresistible.
‘Agreed.’
Six hours later Luisa stood against the railing of a river cruiser, straining forward as each new sight came into view. From the Ile de la Cité with Notre Dame’s flying buttresses illuminated like spread wings against the darkness, to the Pont Neuf and the glittering Eiffel Tower. Paris slid around them, gorgeous and outrageously seductive. Yet still the tension twisted through her.
She and Raul were the only passengers.
Another reminder of what his wealth could buy.
Like her clothes. Stylish black wool trousers and a chic winter-weight cream tunic. Boots and a long coat of leather so soft she had to force herself not to keep smoothing her hands over it. A designer silk scarf in indigo and burnt orange that brought colour to her cheeks.
Except her cheeks burned anyway, remembering the designer’s whispered asides to his assistant about Luisa’s shape, size, posture and walk. Her posture was good, apparently, but her walk! A stride, like a man’s. And she had no notion how to carry off a dress. None!
Yet, despite being an apparently insurmountable challenge, she’d been transformed.
Not that Raul had noticed. He’d escorted her to the car with barely a word. Luisa’s bruised pride had been lacerated that he hadn’t commented on her appearance. Clearly it was a matter of the utmost indifference to him.
And this the man who’d spoken of marriage!
She drew a slow breath. Once in Maritz she’d consult local lawyers. There must be a way out of the wedding contract. Fear scudded through her at the idea of marrying—
‘You’re enjoying yourself?’ In the darkness she saw movement as Raul stood beside her. A trickle of heat warmed her belly and she swallowed hard. She hated the way her traitorous body responded yet she couldn’t douse her excitement. Even in her teens, bowled over by what she thought was love, she hadn’t felt this way.
‘The city is beautiful. Thank you for the cruise.’
‘So you admit there are benefits to our arrangement?’
His satisfied smile set her teeth on edge. He took credit for the beauty of the city, forgetting the blackmail that had forced her hand! It was a relief to let her frustration and indignation surge to the surface.
‘They don’t outweigh the negatives.’
He made an abrupt movement with one hand, a rare sign of impatience that surprised her. Usually he was so calm. ‘You refuse to be pleased, no matter what you are offered.’
‘I don’t recall any offer. That implies choice.’
‘You would rather be with your precious cows instead of here?’ His wide gesture encompassed the magical vista. ‘I give you the chance to be queen.’
‘By marrying you!’ She backed a step. ‘I’ll go with you to Maritz, but as for marriage …’ Luisa shook her head.
The sharp glimmer of his stare triggered her innermost anxieties, releasing a tumble of words. ‘You can’t give me anything I truly desire!’
Years before a man had tried to take her, not out of passion, but calculating ambition. It had left her feeling unclean. That was when she’d decided she’d never settle for anything less than love.
‘I want to marry a man who makes my heart race and my blood sing—’
Strong