Sarah Morgan - Defying the Prince

Cheered by that thought, Izzy allowed herself a tiny dream where she was backstage chatting with her favourite stars.

Every year since she was a teenager she’d watched the concert live on TV. The event was giant, backed by his friend the famous music producer Hunter Capshaw, who was a genius at staging live events. She’d read that the two of them already had the biggest names in the industry signed up and willing to donate their time for such a good cause. Rock royalty. Not national jokes, like her.

Without thinking, Izzy slid her hand to her hem and tried to tug her dress a little further down her thighs.

The prince caught the movement and his head turned, his dark gaze flitting over her.

Their eyes met briefly.

Heart pounding, she found herself looking at the sensual curve of his mouth and for a fleeting, unsettling second she had a wild impulse to lean forward and kiss him just to see how it felt.

Shaken by the intensity of that sexual connection, she looked away quickly.

The man had no sense of fun and he was so maddeningly sure of himself she wanted to punch him. Having never before wanted to punch someone and kiss them at the same time, Izzy decided that she must be more drunk than she’d first thought.

She tried telling herself that arrogance wasn’t attractive but even so she was sneaking looks at the dusky shadow roughening his jaw and the width of those powerful shoulders.

Seriously disturbed by her own thoughts, Izzy wriggled to the furthest edge of her seat and hoped that her reaction was somehow linked with the volume of champagne she’d consumed because being stupid about a man definitely wasn’t one of her goals. She’d already made that mistake and she never, ever made the same mistake twice.

‘So is it always like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Royal events.’ She thought about the frozen features, the restrained behaviour. ‘About as much fun as holding a party in a cemetery, although come to think of it lots of the women did look like skeletons. Why wasn’t there any proper food?’

‘There were canapés.’

‘Which no one was eating. No one was doing anything except standing around looking like wax models of themselves. What’s the point of a party if no one enjoys themselves? No one let themselves go.’

‘You more than compensated for the rest of the guests.’

She shot him a defiant look but shame oozed through the defiance because underneath the alcohol-induced high she knew she’d behaved badly. The crazy thing was, she hadn’t meant to.

‘I didn’t realise it was a crime to enjoy yourself at a party. So doesn’t anyone ever have a good time at a royal event? With your never-ending budget you ought to be throwing the best parties in town.’

‘Royal events are for other people.’

They were out of the city now, and speeding down a narrow road that started to climb.

Izzy realised she didn’t have a clue where they were going. This was her first visit to the small Mediterranean principality of Santina and she knew nothing about the geography.

‘What do you mean “for other people”?’

‘We don’t hold, or attend, events for our own entertainment. There’s always a reason. A state visit, to support a charity, to thank a section of the community, to show we’re interested—’ he shifted gear and accelerated out of a sharp bend ‘—there’s a never-ending list of reasons.’

‘And tonight was the engagement of your brother and my sister.’

‘Yes.’

Hearing something in his voice she leapt to the defence of her sister. ‘He’s lucky to have Allegra. She’s worth a hundred of those judgemental, stuck-up skinny women back at that party.’ She’d expected her hotheaded defence of her family to draw a sarcastic response but this time when he turned his head there was no sign of condescension or arrogance.

‘I hope you’re right because Alex can’t afford for this to go wrong. None of us can.’ He focused on the road again but the frown stayed on his face. ‘Did anything seem strange to you about the engagement?’

‘Apart from the fact my sister must be mad to marry a prince? No. Why?’

The pause was fractional. ‘No reason.’

‘Clearly there is a reason or you wouldn’t have asked the question.’ Although her head was spinning, Izzy felt a flash of unease. ‘Allegra would never marry him if she didn’t love him. And he must love her back or he wouldn’t marry her.’

‘You think love conquers all?’ This time his smile was sardonic. ‘How old are you?’

Stung by the mockery, Izzy gritted her teeth. It didn’t matter what she said or did, he still managed to make her feel small. ‘Old enough to know that you and I trapped together is a recipe for disaster. And just for the record I think love is the only reason to get married. There is no other reason.’ She thought about her parents and then immediately pushed the thought away because the reality of their marriage clashed so badly with her own ideals. If she ever reached the point when she was ready for another relationship then she was going to do everything differently.

The prince kept his eyes on the road. ‘So you believe in fairy tales?’

‘I didn’t say that. I said I believed in love, although just for the record I think it’s hard to find. Also for the record I’d like to say that you are the most cynical guy I’ve ever met and you have an unfortunate tendency to stereotype everyone at first glance. Now just drop me off in the next village and I’ll find myself somewhere to stay. That way we just might not kill each other.’

‘We just drove through the last village. There is nowhere to drop you.’

‘What village?’ Izzy turned her head to look over her shoulder and then wished she hadn’t as her brain suddenly felt fuzzy. ‘I saw two houses. Or was it one house and I have double vision?’

‘For the rest of your stay you are drinking water.’

‘Just as long as you have a nice slice of stale bread to go with it.’ But Izzy was starting to realise that her stay with the prince wasn’t likely to be diluted by the presence of other people. ‘When you said you lived miles from anywhere you weren’t joking.’

‘I rarely joke.’

She looked at his black dinner jacket. ‘I thought you were in the air force. Why aren’t you wearing a fancy uniform?’

‘I left active service five years ago. Now I advise the DD.’

‘DD?’ She tried to get her spinning brain round it. ‘Dear Daughter?’

His jaw tightened. ‘Defence Department.’

‘Oh. Cool.’ Izzy peered into the darkness and saw nothing but tall cypress trees and olive groves. ‘So do you spend a lot of time here?’

‘As much as I can. I value my privacy.’ His eyes glittered with a dark emotion that was alien to her. There were dark layers to the man that were hidden away, buried deep beneath a royal exterior that no observer was allowed to penetrate.

Izzy recognised instinctively how complex he was and the gulf between them widened because she knew that she wasn’t at all complex.

Her school report came to mind.

Isabelle is as shallow as a bird bath but is unlikely to provide even that useful service unless she gives up dreams of stardom and attempts to make something of her life.

She’d been determined to prove them wrong but so far she wasn’t making much progress.

‘Look, I’ll just phone a taxi or something when we get to your place,’ she muttered. ‘It would be better for both of us. I can take care of myself.’

‘You’ll stay at my palazzo until I’ve decided what to do with you.’

Like a piece of rubbish, Izzy thought, that needed recycling. Which bin do I throw her in? Plastics or green waste? ‘Right, because we both know I’m really going to fit in there. I can’t think of anything I’d love more than being trapped somewhere isolated with just you for company.’ Her singsong response was supposed to conceal how hurt she was but she saw his eyes narrow speculatively.