Royals: Wed To The Prince

Winged black brows lifted. ‘No,’ he said briefly. ‘It belongs to the local tribe.’ Without touching her, he steered her across to a table beneath a large thatched umbrella. ‘This is probably the coolest spot around, and it’s got a good view of the lagoon.’

Grateful for the shade, she lowered herself into a chair and persevered, ‘But you live here? In this particular area of Sant’Rosa?’ she amended, when his brows lifted in saturnine enquiry.

‘Off and on.’ He nodded to a waiter. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Papaya and pineapple juice, thank you.’

He ordered it for her, and a beer for himself. A tiny gecko scuttled across the table; smiling, Lauren watched it disappear over the edge. When she looked up, Guy was watching her.

‘You’re not afraid of them?’ he asked.

A subtle intonation convinced her that he wasn’t English. ‘Not the little ones, although some of the big ones have a nasty predatory gleam in their eyes.’

He laughed outright at that—another slow, sexy laugh that brushed her taut nerves with velvety insinuation.

‘They won’t bite, not even in self-defence,’ he said, stressing the first word just enough for Lauren to immediately wonder if he bit—and when…

He finished, ‘But you’d be surprised at the number of women who are terrified of even the tiny ones.’

‘Men too, I’ll bet. It makes you wonder why some people come to the tropics.’ Was the stubble soft to touch—or bristly? She’d never kissed a man with that much—

Whoa!

He leaned back in the chair, his pose utterly relaxed, but his level, cool gaze held her prisoner. ‘So why are you here? More specifically, why are you determined to find your way to one of the more untamed spots on Sant’Rosa?’

She parried, ‘Is that untamed as in dangerous?’

‘As in without conveniences,’ he told her, his keen gaze steady and intimidating. ‘But it’s in the border area, and the border between Sant’Rosa and the Republic has always been tense.’

‘I thought the treaty after the civil war stopped the threat of an invasion by the Republic.’

Wide shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. ‘A new player—a charismatic preacher—seems to have got together a ragtag following on both sides of the border. He’s preaching part religious revival, part cargo cult. Which is—’

‘I know what a cargo cult is,’ she said crisply. ‘Its followers expect a saviour to bring them the benefits of western civilisation. I’d not realised they could be violent.’

‘So far they’re not, but over the past couple of days there have been rumours that someone is supplying them with weapons.’

Not that anyone had actually seen the rifles and explosives that were being talked about. Guy suspected they didn’t exist. However, every islander was taught to use a machete from a very early age, and he’d seen the damage the long blades could inflict. If—and it was a big if—any hyped-up converts decided to go on the rampage, they could kill.

He watched her slender black brows draw together. What the hell was she doing here? And why was she so evasive? Women like her—sleekly elegant from the shiny top of her black head to the polished nails on her toes—demanded more from their holidays than a tiny resort with little social life and a heavy emphasis on family groups.

She looked up sharply, the eyes that had been ice-clear now silvery and impossible to read. ‘Only rumours?’

‘Almost certainly. Rumours—most of them false—run hot through Sant’Rosa. The people are barely coping with the aftermath of a bloody ten years of civil war, and in spite of the peace treaty they still don’t trust the Republic over the border.’ He paused. ‘The receptionist comes from the village you want to visit, and she’s just told me that the preacher has disappeared.’

‘And that’s bad?’

‘Almost certainly not,’ he said, hoping he was right.

Because it was too easy to watch her face, he switched his gaze to a family, parents shepherding two small children. Armed with beach toys and a couple of inflatable rings, the children dashed into the improbably turquoise lagoon, yelling and laughing as they splashed each other and their parents.

That itch at the back of his neck sharpened his senses to primitive alertness, a fierce, feral reaction to stimuli his rational brain couldn’t process.

Which was why he was resisting the compulsion to bundle up these helpless family groups—and the woman opposite with her cool touch-me-not air—and get them out of here on the next plane.

He didn’t dare follow his impulse because the local tribe had sunk every bit of cash they had into the resort; a false alarm, with the resultant bad publicity, could see them lose it all.

The woman opposite was watching the group too, her mouth curving as one of the children shrieked with delight. Grimly, he cursed his unruly loins for responding to that smile with piercing hunger.

Lauren Porter frowned. ‘So are this preacher’s followers likely to turn violent when no saviour turns up with all the blessings of western civilisation free for the taking?’

‘I doubt it. They’ve seen what fighting does, so they’ll almost certainly drift off through the bush to their native villages.’

But they were edgy and frustrated. Peace hadn’t brought the people the benefits they’d longed for, and many were ripe for unscrupulous manipulation. When the promised saviour didn’t eventuate the preacher might try to salvage his slipping authority by suggesting they collect the material benefits from the nearest place that had them.

They wouldn’t go to the mine, which had its own private security force; they’d choose easy pickings. In other words, the resort.

All ifs and buts, with absolutely nothing to base it on. Guy shrugged, trying to banish that needling premonition.

‘But they might not,’ she said shrewdly, and echoed his thoughts with uncanny accuracy. ‘Perhaps they might decide to come and get the goodies for themselves.’

‘It’s unlikely, and even if they did, the police are watching the situation very closely. The resort would be notified in time to get you out.’

‘And everyone else too, I hope.’

‘Trust me,’ he said with a smile he hoped was reassuring.

The arrival of the bartender with their drinks silenced her; Guy eyed her from beneath his lashes, controlling the sharp appetite her presence roused. The combination of thoroughbred lines and the gentle curves of her breasts and hips packed an explosive impact. Mix all that with silky black hair and eyes of cool, translucent grey, and you had trouble.

He wasn’t even going to think about her mouth; it did serious damage to his objectivity.

Lifting his beer in silent salute, he said, ‘At the moment it wouldn’t be sensible to go into the mountains.’

‘What about you?’ she asked abruptly.

‘What about me?’

‘Would you go there?’

‘If I had to,’ he said warily, watching her.

‘So you could take me with you to the village?’

Even softened by femininity, her jaw was combative. God save him from stubborn women, and this one in particular. ‘I’m not taking you there,’ he said curtly.

‘Of course I’d pay you.’

‘Lady,’ he said, angry in a way he’d never experienced before, ‘I am not going, and neither are you. If you want to see how the third world lives, the resort will organise a tour to the local village.’ His voice was scathing.

Colour swept along those high cheekbones and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip.

Guy resisted the urge to lean forward and put a hand over her mouth to stop the ravaging of that ripe bow. He’d take much better care of it than she did…

It was no better when she drank some of her juice; how the hell did she make a simple act like that signal a prelude to sex?

Get over it! he ordered savagely.

Putting the glass down, she fixed him with a determined gaze. ‘I want to visit that particular village and tribe because a—a friend of mine has helped them set up an oil industry from sali nuts. I’m on my way to New Zealand on holiday, and I promised my friend I’d see how things were going.’

Marc Corbett, of course. Guy nodded, watching her from beneath drooping lashes. ‘Then you’ll have to tell your friend that I wouldn’t let you go.’

He wasn’t disappointed by her reaction to this deliberate provocation. Her smile froze, but she let it linger as she reached for her glass and lifted it once more to her mouth, keeping her gaze on his face while she drank the juice slowly and delicately.

Although he knew exactly what she was doing—using her female appeal as a weapon—his pulses jumped, and a carnal urgency heated his blood. When lust hit inconveniently he could usually kill it without too much effort, but this time he had to wrestle it back into its lair.

‘Well, that’s a moot point,’ she said sweetly, putting the glass back down. ‘I don’t know that you have any authority to stop me.’

She didn’t lick the juice from her lips; she wasn’t so obvious. Guy counted to ten before saying bluntly, ‘I’ll stop you if I have to handcuff you to my side until I can put you on a plane out. Going into the mountains might well be dangerous; if you pay enough you’ll probably get someone to take you, but you’ll be putting them in danger too.’

Her eyes were translucent, the grey soft as a dove’s breast, but intelligent and searching. She scrutinised him for several long seconds before nodding. ‘Yes, you really do mean it. All right, I won’t go.’

Surprised by relief, Guy picked up his beer and took another long swallow, welcoming the cool bitterness before realising that she hadn’t actually said she wouldn’t try to go. ‘Give me your promise that you won’t leave the resort.’

She looked at him with stony dignity. ‘You have no right to demand any promise from me, but I’m not stupid; I don’t want to put anyone in jeopardy and neither would my friend. I wish I could get in touch with the headman, though, just to ask how the scheme is going.’

That he could give her. ‘As far as I’m aware, it’s doing very well, but if you want to contact him, I have a mobile phone in my office,’ he offered.

She sent him a glance, cold as moonlight, from beneath her lashes. ‘Thank you, but I’ll ring from here,’ she said politely.

‘You can’t.’

When her brows shot up he explained, ‘After the civil war each village chief in this area was supplied with a mobile phone. Their link isn’t connected to the ordinary telephone system, which doesn’t extend much beyond the towns.’

After a moment’s pause she said, ‘I see.’ And added on a sigh, ‘It’s so beautiful here, like paradise. Why can’t it be peaceful too?’

‘There’s always a serpent,’ he told her laconically, getting to his feet. ‘And usually what it wants is power and money.’

‘Do you think this has anything to do with the fact that there’s a huge copper mine in this part of Sant’Rosa—and that the area has been under claim by the Republic for fifty years or so?’

‘You’ve done some research.’

‘I always research,’ she said calmly, thick lashes hiding her thoughts.

When they flicked up again she gazed at him with a limpid innocence that sent suspicion bristling through him.

He jibed, ‘And now you know its limitations.’

She ignored that. ‘It seems interesting that the preacher started destabilising the border area just after the international peacekeeping force left. If I were cynical, I might wonder whether the Republic hopes that perhaps they can use the cargo cult to foment trouble, then invade under the excuse of preventing yet another civil war.’

He nodded. ‘I’d call that realistic rather than cynical. Especially as the Sant’Rosan army is very small, and made up of units that still don’t trust each other after fighting on opposite sides in the war. How they’d fare in battle no one is prepared to say.’

‘Do you expect war?’

‘No.’ He drained his beer and set the bottle down on the table with a sharp clink. ‘Come on, we’ll go into town.’

‘Town?’ Lauren asked foolishly.

His brows lifted. ‘You wanted to use the telephone, didn’t you? It’s in my office in town.’

When she didn’t immediately answer he added with mocking amusement, ‘You’ll be perfectly safe with me. I have a reputation to uphold.’

And because she didn’t suspect him of anything more than an overdose of testosterone, she shrugged slightly and got up to go with him—although not before stopping at the reception desk to tell the woman where she was going.

That done, she hitched her bag over her shoulder. ‘I’d better go and get some money,’ she said brightly. And after she’d extracted her money from the safe that held her papers, she’d sling a shirt over her shoulders.

With an amused glance he opened the door for her. ‘Why? I don’t expect payment, and the shops aren’t open so late in the day. Even if they were, I doubt very much whether you would find anything to buy in them.’

Bother. She summoned her most dazzling smile, recklessly glad when she saw his eyes darken. ‘You’d be surprised,’ she said sweetly, going through the door ahead of him.

CHAPTER TWO

GUY’S vehicle could probably take the terrain on Mars in its stride. An elderly Land Rover, it possessed only the most basic conveniences and had never had air-conditioning, but that was all right; it didn’t have any windows either.

‘At least it doesn’t have bullet holes,’ Lauren observed with a kind smile that might have been overdone.

‘Only because I had them taken out,’ he said blandly, opening the passenger door for her. ‘It probably has cockroaches, though.’

She gave him a repeat of her smile, and forced herself not to search for insects while she waited for him to get in. Because her father, a motoring enthusiast, had taught her to recognise a well-tuned engine, she was surprised when he switched on the key; the battered, dusty vehicle ran like a dream.

Guy Whoever—or Whoever Guy, she reminded herself scrupulously—was familiar to the locals; most waved cheerfully at him, flashing smiles as he tooted in return.

She turned around to gaze at two small boys, hand in hand on the side of the road. ‘Are they born with machetes over their shoulders? They look far too young to be carrying such dangerous implements around with them.’

‘They call them bush knives here, and yes, they learn to use them almost as soon as they can walk.’

Rebuffed by his indifferent tone, she concentrated on admiring the jungle and the range of mountains ahead, purple-blue in the distant haze that indicated the approach of dusk. When they arrived at the little town, some miles along the road to the mine and the airport, the empty streets gave it a disturbing, almost sinister atmosphere.

‘Dinner time,’ Guy said laconically, stopping outside the only block of shops in the scruffy main street. He cast her an enigmatic glance. ‘The women prepare the food while the men wind down.’

Refusing to rise to the bait, she shrugged and opened the door to get out.

‘My office is on the first floor.’ Guy indicated a flight of stark concrete steps rising from the street.

Noting the casually efficient way he examined the street and the stairs, Lauren decided that he’d know how to deal with any threat. His seamless air of confidence placated fears she hadn’t allowed herself to recognise.

A large, anonymous room, his office was at least clean and tidy, with everything locked away in steel cabinets.

‘To keep the insects and vermin out,’ Guy said when he saw her looking around.

When eventually they got in touch with the headman of the village, Lauren spoke to him for some minutes, straining to follow his heavily accented English. The sali nut scheme was coming along well; the chief told her proudly of the oil-extraction process, and the amount sent to be turned into soap and other toiletries in New Zealand, and the teacher who had come to live in the village once they’d built the school.

‘I’ll tell the person who sent me,’ she said. ‘I’ve been told it might not be a good idea to travel to the village just now.’

‘Not good, ma’am,’ he said somberly. ‘There are too many rascals around now. Come back next year, when it is quiet again.’

‘If I can,’ she promised.

From beside her Guy said, ‘I’d like to speak to him, please.’

Lauren handed over the receiver and walked to the window to peer down at the dirt road, still eerily vacant except for two small dogs glowering and posturing in a show of dominance. The buildings and trees were rapidly losing substance in the swift tropical dusk. Deep and thick and velvety, it softened the raw intrusion of the buildings on the timeless tropical landscape.

Covertly eyeing Guy as he rattled off what sounded like a set of questions, she learned nothing from his face. He was, she thought warily, big in every way—tall and lithe and powerfully muscled, his wide shoulders and long legs backed up by an overpowering air of strength, both mental and physical.

Conversation concluded, he put the phone in his pocket and said in his almost perfectly accented English, ‘Everything seems quiet there. The headman says the preacher is with his family high in the mountains—there has been a death.’

‘So we can breathe again,’ she said frivolously, shocked to realise how tense she’d been.

‘I hadn’t stopped,’ he returned on a dry note, and opened the door.

Unclenching her teeth, Lauren preceded Guy out into the darkness, tossing words over her shoulder like hand grenades.

‘I’m glad I can tell my friend that the nut-oil scheme seems to be working. It’s great that the villagers get a reliable income from their land without having to fell the forests for lumber.’ A little more steadily she added, ‘I wish I could have seen what they’re doing, though.’

Locking the door behind them, Guy responded with brutal frankness, ‘They’ve got enough to worry about without trying to keep you safe. What are your plans now?’

Lauren looked at the single naked bulb that lit the stairwell. Fighting back a highly suspect—and dangerous—temptation to linger a few days at the resort, she said too promptly, ‘I’ll leave for New Zealand as soon as I can. Tomorrow, if I can get a seat on an outgoing plane.’

Guy startled her by unlocking the door again. ‘You might, but don’t bank on it. There are only two a day, not counting the twice-a-week flight to Valanu.’

‘Where’s Valanu? I’ve never heard of it. Is it another town on Sant’Rosa?’

‘No.’ Back in the office he picked up a telephone and punched in a few numbers. ‘It’s a scatter of islands to the south, part of another small Pacific nation.’

‘The back of beyond, in other words.’

‘Or paradise, depending on your outlook. It’s a fair way off the beaten track,’ he conceded, a disconcerting thread of mockery running through each word as he surveyed her with unreadable eyes and a tilted smile. ‘But incredibly beautiful.’ His voice lingered half a beat too long on the final word.

Colour tinged the skin along her cheekbones and an odd sensation twisted fiercely in the pit of her stomach. Swallowing, she switched her mind to her half-brother’s holiday home in New Zealand, remote and lovely and utterly peaceful. Until she’d seen—until a short time ago, she amended swiftly, she’d been aching to get there.

And she still was. Jet lag had clouded her mind. As soon as she had some sleep she’d be her usual self. ‘Who are you ringing?’

‘The last flight to Atu will have just left, but someone should still be at the airfield. I’ll book you a seat on the first plane out.’

Oddly piqued that he was so eager to get rid of her, she said lightly, ‘Thank you so much.’

Someone was at the airfield, someone called Josef, with whom Guy conducted a conversation in the local language. When he hung up Lauren lifted her brows enquiringly.

‘You’ve a seat reserved on tomorrow afternoon’s flight,’ he told her.

Formally, her smile set, she murmured, ‘You’ve been very kind.’

His white teeth flashed in a grin. ‘My pleasure,’ he returned easily. ‘Now, as the Chinese restaurant seems to be closed, we can go back to the resort and have dinner or I can take you home and feed you.’

‘The resort,’ Lauren said instantly, stopping when she realised that he’d tricked her. She met his amused eyes and thought with an entirely uncharacteristic rashness, Well, why not?

She was leaving tomorrow, so why shouldn’t she share dinner with the most intriguing man she’d met for a long time? Utterly infuriating, of course—far too macho and high-handed and dominating—but since she’d seen him that dragging tiredness had been replaced by a swift, intoxicating excitement.

They had absolutely nothing in common, and when she was back home she’d wonder what it was about him that arced through her like an electrical charge, but for one night—one evening, she corrected herself hastily—she’d veer slightly towards the wild side. Every woman probably deserved a buccaneer experience once in her life.

But to make sure he didn’t think he could lure her into his bed, she said, ‘It won’t be a late night, though—I’ve had two hours’ sleep in the last twenty-four, and I’m running on empty.’

He understood the implication. Irony tinged his smile as he held open the door. ‘I’ll deliver you to your door within two minutes of the first yawn. Watch where you put your feet.’

The single bulb over the stairs flickered ominously as a huge moth came to rest on it. To the sound of their footsteps echoing on the bare concrete, Lauren gripped the pipe handrail and negotiated the stairs.

‘Now that it’s dark the air is fresher, even though it hasn’t cooled down much,’ she remarked sedately as they walked towards the Land Rover. ‘I can smell the scent of the flowers without any underlying taint of decay.’

‘That’s the tropics—ravishing beauty and rotting vegetation,’ Guy said unromantically, opening the vehicle door.

Lauren slid in, watching him walk around the front of the vehicle, tall and powerful in the weak light of the only street lamp. She felt exposed and tingling, as though meeting him had stripped away several skins to reveal a world of unsuspected excitement and anticipation.

Calm down, she warned herself. Heady recklessness is so not your thing.

She’d built a successful and satisfying life on discretion and discipline; she wasn’t going to allow the tropics to cast any magic spell on her!

Halfway back to the resort, Guy said, ‘It seems a pity to leave the South Coast without seeing our main claim to fame.’

‘Which is?’ she asked cautiously.

‘A waterfall.’

Lauren paused. Maybe it was the soft radiance in the sky that proclaimed the imminent arrival of a full moon, but another rash impulse overrode common sense.

‘All right,’ she said, regretting the words the moment they left her mouth.

Guy swung the vehicle between two dark walls of trees; within seconds the unmarked road deteriorated into teeth-jolting ruts. Nevertheless, he skirted potholes with a nonchalant skill she envied. Clinging to the seat, she looked around uneasily; nightfall had transformed the lush vegetation into an alien, menacing entity that edged onto the track.

Watching large leaves whip by, she decided she’d been crazy to accept Guy’s challenge—because challenge it had definitely been.

He pulled up beneath a huge tree, its heavy foliage drooping to the ground to make a kind of tent around the Land Rover. As he switched off the engine, Lauren groped for the handle and jumped out.

‘This way,’ he said crisply.

After a few yards the oppressive growth pulled back to reveal a swathe of coarse grass. Lauren’s eyes grew accustomed to the darkness as they walked towards a steady soft murmur, infinitely refreshing, that whispered through the sticky air.

‘Look,’ Guy said, stopping.

Water fell from on high, a shimmering veil under the stars. Down the rock face clustered palms, their fronds edged with the promise of moonlight.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘Oh— I didn’t realise we were so close to the coast.’