Brenda Harlen - Invitation to the Prince's Palace / The Prince's Second Chance - Invitation to the Prince's Palace / The Prince's Second Chance

‘Yes,’ Rik said in a deep voice. ‘At times we … will.’

Rikardo. Prince Rikardo. You’ll end up holding hands and kissing Prince Rikardo .

Oh, as though putting it in the correct words made it any better!

Even the reminder didn’t hold the weight it should have, and Mel just didn’t know what to do about that. Something had happened when he took her hand and got her out of the car and brought her inside and made her a hot drink and set to work to help her get past the ridiculous fear she’d experienced.

He acted just like your dream idea of a very ordinary man, showing a sensitive side while still being very, very strong and being wonderful and appealing and all the things you might want—

But Mel didn’t want a man. Well, not for a long time. Not like that in the way of settling down together and falling in love so she ended up vulnerable. She wasn’t ready for that! The thought burst through, and was somehow linked to her earlier panic while trapped in the speeding car with Rik.

Maybe she just felt panicky at the moment, full stop.

Maybe she needed to focus on right now because this was enough of a challenge, thanks very much!

Rikardo wasn’t an ordinary man anyway. Mel couldn’t afford to forget that.

Not while reading truffle books and smiling over Rufusina photos. Not while kissing him on a mountainside because that had been a kiss to seal a bargain. It might have blown her away, but he’d just kissed her and that had been that. Probably checking to make sure he could make it look believable any time they had to repeat the exercise over the next month and the months after that.

How many times might they … ?

Mel’s heart tripped.

She contemplated turning into a contortionist so she could kick herself for being so silly. The next months would be businesslike as often as possible. That was what they would be. Now what had they been saying? ‘Evening in. Yes. That’ll be fine. The only thing that matters is that it doesn’t interfere with other plans of yours. The treatment in the truffle groves—has that been done today or do you need to be there to supervise it? That’s the one thing I didn’t ask about while we studied those books.’

‘Winnow has supervised the treatment today. He knows what to do, and Dominico organised payment to cover it.’ He brushed this aside as though it were irrelevant.

Not the treatment part, the money part. Was it? Mel hadn’t got the impression that the money would come out of some endless royal coffer. If that could happen then Rik wouldn’t be stressing over getting the people out of financial trouble to the degree that he was. He’d said that there needed to be reform.

Her eyes narrowed. Had he paid for that treatment himself somehow? Out of money that perhaps shouldn’t be invested in that direction because it was for his personal use or he’d earned it himself? She knew so little about him and she wanted to know … everything?

Purely because Mel preferred to understand the people she dealt with!

‘We’ll treat tonight as an evening off,’ he declared. ‘If the remainder of this month is very busy, we can remember that we at least had a few hours to—how do you say it? “Veg out and do nothing.”‘

‘Why, yes.’ A delighted laugh escaped Mel. She couldn’t help it. The sound just flew out. Mel also couldn’t drag her gaze from that crease in his cheek, or from the sparkle in his deep blue eyes.

So she gave in and let herself enjoy the moment. It wasn’t as though Rik would want to spend the entire night kissing her senseless just because they were alone.

Just because he’d kissed her once already. Just because he was the best kisser she’d ever been kissed by and there would be times in the public eye, at least, when he would kiss her again. Just because he made her want to don sparkly shoes and leap into a rabbit hole.

‘If we’re having a night in,’ a night of not kissing each other, ‘then I guess we just need to work out how we want to spend our time.’

‘Not reading about truffles.’ This too was said with a smile.

Oh, she could fall heavily for that smile. She wouldn’t, though. Not when she’d reminded herself that she was doing this to help him, and help the people of Braston, and because she’d ended up here by mistake and there weren’t a lot of other options for him now, like none at all really, and she could afford the time and effort to help. Did it really make any difference whether she started her new life in Sydney this week or four months from now?

‘I think I’ve taken in as much information about truffles as I can manage for one day, but I’m pleased to know more about the industry. It’s obviously really important—to—to people here.’ She’d almost said that it was important to Rik, and that was why she’d wanted to understand.

That wouldn’t be the key reason, of course. She wanted to be supportive of Rik’s efforts. She’d made the commitment to marry him for that reason. But she wasn’t obsessing over learning all about his life and work or anything like that.

Are you sure about that, Melanie? Because you seem mightily interested in him, really .

Yes, she was sure! And no she was not ridiculously interested! She was helping to fix a problem that she was partially responsible for creating in the first place. She was no more interested than she should be.

‘It’s a fascinating industry,’ she said in the most dampening tone she could muster. ‘The truffle industry. But perhaps we could pass the time this evening some other way?’

Like snuggling on the sofa?

No. Like … well, she didn’t know. Cooking? Playing on the Internet?

‘How do you feel about television?’ Rik indicated the large screen in the corner of the room. ‘I have a selection of DVDs I’ve not yet got around to watching.’

‘Watching DVDs would be …‘ Smart. Sensible. Safe? Better than thinking about kissing the whole night? ‘A good idea. I don’t mind a good comedy, but I’ll watch most things.’

They sat on the floor in front of the DVD cabinet going through choices until she found episodes of an Australian comedy show she hadn’t yet watched. ‘Oh, you have this series! I’ve only ever seen a few episodes but it’s supposed to be brilliant!’

So they sat side by side on the sofa with popcorn that Rik made in the microwave, and sodas from his fridge, and watched comedy episodes until Mel had giggled so many times that she’d forgotten to feel self-conscious at all in Rik’s presence. Instead she had become totally enamoured of the rich, deep rumble that accounted for his laughter.

And she forgot to guard against letting herself be aware of him as an attractive appealing man and not a prince who should be held at arm’s length because she was only here for a few months and he was marrying her so he could avoid any kind of commitment to a woman, even if Mel didn’t know why he seemed to need to do that as much as he needed to. They were almost through the evening, anyway.

So why are you almost holding your breath, Mel, as though waiting for something to happen?

‘Goodnight, Mel.’ Rik walked Melanie to the opened doorway of her bedroom.

They’d watched their comedy episodes. Mel had paid more attention than he had. Did she feel it the way that he did? This compulsion that ate at him to draw closer, know her, use every avenue and every moment to learn more of her and to let her learn more of him? And a coinciding physical consciousness that seemed to fill the air around them with a charge of electricity just waiting for one small spark to set it ablaze?

Why did this woman make him feel this way more than any other had? Rik didn’t want to admit that to himself, but he forced the acknowledgement.