PRINCE FOR SALE. Rachel Lindsay. CHAPTER ONE

PRINCE FOR SALE

Rachel Lindsay

A horrified "No", was Melissa Benton's first reaction to Prince Louis' proposal. Rich, beautiful, head of the powerful Benton Company--she had no interest in a man she'd never even met. And that was all right with Prince Louis -- he didn't really want to marry her either!

It came as a rude shock to both of them to learn that the Benton money and their marriage was the only real solution to Motavia's troubles and behind-the-scene pressures. But with the lovely Countess Elise waiting in the wings for Louis, would patriotic fervor sustain their marriage?

CHAPTER ONE

Even in a room of handsome men Louis Vallon would have commanded attention. It was not only because of his magnificent physique, his perfect features or unusual colouring—bronze skin, vivid blue eyes and dark gold hair whose top strands were bleached blond by the sun—so-much as the personality of the man: his vibrant masculinity and warm charm. Not that there was much warmth or charm about him at the moment. His vivid blue eyes were dark with anger and his wide shoulders were tense from the effort he was making to control his fury at a situation over which—he was forced to recognise—he had no control whatsoever.

'Grandfather must have been crazy to have made such an agreement!'

His grandmother, to whom he was speaking, nodded. Since it was the actions of her late husband that were being discussed, it was painful for her to acknowledge that the criticism was justified.

'I do not think Piers thought it would ever be invoked,' she said. 'It was a joke to him—as it was to Henry Benton.'

'Some joke!' Her grandson's voice was bitter, and his lips set in a narrow line that pulled in the sensual lower one. 'Either I have to obey that joke or I must enter into a legal battle that would give us exactly the kind of publicity we can't afford— either financially or politically!' He smacked his hand down hard against his thigh. 'I'm in two minds whether or not to accept Krassky's offer.'

'You can't! The Benton Group could refuse to let you take any help from the Slovenians.'

'I could take it and fight Bentons.'

'And have Krassky as our partner instead? For heaven's sake, Louis, can't you see that's exactly what he wants? Why else is he willing to gamble with fifty million pounds?'

'That's chickenfeed to Slovenia!'

'But not to us. Once we borrowed it they would be our masters. They would call the tune and make us dance to it 1'

'I could refuse to dance!'

'And have a bullet in your back? Be murdered by some so-called insane attacker? Louis, be sensible. Look at the situation logically.'

'How can I be logical when my life is being destroyed?'

'Won't it be equally destroyed if you let the Slovenians get a foothold here? Are you willing to sacrifice the freedom of your people for the sake of one woman?'

'It's the woman I love!' he cried passionately.

'Do you put her before your country?'

He gave an exclamation and turned away; but the lowering of his shoulders told its own answer, as did his voice when he spoke. 'You're right, Grand'mere. I can't accept Krassky's offer. But it's such a damnable situation to be faced with! The Western Powers have no right to ask us to walk such a dangerous tightrope. If they want us to retain our sovereignty they should at least help us to become economically viable.'

'They have already given us as much aid as they dare. If they give any more, Krassky could say we are being taken over by the West. It would give him the excuse he wants to march in and liberate us! And you know what his kind of liberation means!'

Louis nodded. He had seen too many small countries 'liberated' not to know it spelt disaster for a democracy. But the effort of keeping the balance between his Eastern neighbours on the one side and the Western Powers on the other was beginning to tell on him. After all, he was not yet thirty. Too young to have spent the last eight years of his life—since he had come to the throne—in walking such an arduous diplomatic tightrope. And now the rope was sagging: threatening not only to spoil the rest of his life but to destroy it as well.

'If NATO are afraid to give us more aid, what do they expect me to do?' he demanded. 'We have no assets except a range of mountains that may be full of minerals—which we don't have the money to dig for! How are we supposed to keep our economy going?'

'By getting the Benton Group to help us.'

'And sell myself in exchange!'

'It's better than selling Motavia!' The Dowager Princess leaned forward, resting her jewelled fingers on a black malacca cane. 'Marry this Benton woman. It need not be for ever. You can always get a divorce at a later stage.'

'You say a thing like that!'

'I would rather see you divorced in five years' time—when it may be possible—than have you live unhappily for the rest of your life.'

'I appreciate the sacrifice you are making of your religious scruples,' Prince Louis said sarcastically, 'but five years—even one year—is a lifetime to me.'

Princess Helene said nothing, though her heart ached for her grandson. Not for the first time she wondered if her husband had guessed that one day such an eventuality would happen. If only he had never sold half those mineral rights to Henry Benton ! At least then they would have been free to try and raise the money from where they wished—an American company, perhaps—instead of being forced to give the Benton Group first refusal.

Yet that was not true either. As she had just said to Louis, even without any private commitment to the Bentons, their hands were tied politically. They had to do as the Western Bloc wanted. It was either that or allow themselves to become slaves to the East.

Her face creased into lines of sympathy as she looked at her grandson. He felt he was a slave already. But at least he was a slave to his heritage, to the ideals of freedom and liberty in which he had been raised; even though to retain those liberties he would have to forgo his own. Remembering his earlier expressed belief that he was strong enough to borrow money from the Slovenians without becoming their political puppet, she experienced a twinge of fear. He had always been so determined to keep Motavia free that she could not understand him even considering the possibility of taking any risk with that freedom. Using Benton money would put him under a personal obligation to obey that crazy agreement of Piers, but at least it would not endanger the freedom of his country. On the contrary. If minerals were found in the mountains —as Louis anticipated—then Motavia would hold the key to the continuing prosperity of the world.

And this would give them a bargaining power that would make them no one's puppet!

Of course Elise had a lot to do with Louis's present state of unrest. Without that scheming hussy he would never have considered accepting help from Krassky. What an unfortunate day it had been when she had been presented at Court and he had first seen her. If only they were still living in the Middle Ages when Royalty had been able to make recalcitrant subjects do as they wished!

Sighing for a more bloodthirsty era, the old lady looked at her grandson. 'Well, Louis—what are you going to do?'

'My duty,' he said dully. 'I have no choice.'

'Then you will go to England?'

'Yes. I'll leave at once. It's a private visit, so there won't be any protocol involved.'

'You should still inform the British Ambassador.'

He'll know without my telling him.' For the first time a slight smile touched Louis Vallon's face, lightening the incredibly blue eyes. 'Their secret agents are so well informed about our affairs that I sometimes think they know more about us than we do about ourselves!' He came over and raised his grandmother's hand to his lips. 'I am sorry if I have caused you any sorrow, ma chere. But I hope you understand my feelings?'

The Dowager Princess nodded. 'Will you tell Elise what you are planning to do?'

'Of course. She has a right to know. How could you think otherwise?'

'Because I want you to be discreet. You are not acting for yourself in these matters; you are acting for your country. It isn't safe for anyone to know the reason for your marriage. It is better if it is believed to be a love match.'

'Elise will never believe that,' he said coldly. 'I won't tell her the whole truth—I agree with you there—but I refuse to let her think I have stopped loving her.' He walked to the door, but was called back by his grandmother's imperious voice.

'And after you have married the Benton woman —what then?'

'Elise will continue to be my mistress!'

The blue eyes, so like his own, blazed with anger. 'You can't be serious?'

'Why not? The Bentons may be able to control my life, but they cannot control my love.'

'But to continue this—this—relationship. It would be monstrous!'

'As I do not envisage my marriage being a real one, you must forgive me for disagreeing with you. I am a man, Grandmother, not a monk!'

'But the agreement says that both parties must carry out the marriage with proper intent.'

'I don't think you will find the Benton family quibbling over a little thing like intent! After all, their main aim is to get a Prince of the Blood Royal for their little heiress. I'm sure they won't object if the marriage isn't consummated.' His smile was taunting. 'The young woman might even have a lover of her own! In which case, the kind of marriage I am offering her may suit her perfectly!'

'And if it doesn't? If she refuses you?'

'Can you see any girl refusing to become a princess?' he asked bitterly. 'I'm not offering her an Italian or Spanish title that comes two a penny! She will be a princess with a ready-made throne centuries old! No,' he muttered, 'she won't turn me down. If only she would! Then I could raise the money where I liked. That's also in the agreement !' His head tilted to one side and a stray lock of hair fell over his forehead. It glinted more gold than the rest and made him look suddenly younger. 'Will you pray that she does refuse me, Grand'mere?'

'No. I will leave it to fate. I do not welcome your marriage to a commoner, despite her being one of the richest women in the world, but I would welcome Elise even less!'

He drew a sharp breath. 'I can always rely on your honesty!'

'One day you will be glad of it.'

Inclining his head in a half bow, he walked out.

'Prince Louis of Motavia coming to see me?' Melissa Benton looked at her lawyer in astonishment. 'Whatever for? I mean, I don't know him, do I?'

As she heard herself ask this last question, she could not prevent a smile. During the course of her twenty-one years—and because of her unique position as the Benton heiress—she had met so many important people that meeting a prince could well have slipped her memory.

'No, my dear,' said Calvin Clement, 'you haven't met Prince Louis.'

'Then don't let's change the position. All the princes I have seen have been as boring as an oil well! Put him off, Clemmie. Say I'm ill or something.'

'I can't do that. You must see him.'

'Money does not recognise the word must.' Melissa's smile robbed her words of rudeness. 'That was one of Uncle Henry's dictums—so you'd better not deny the truth of it!'

'It is because of your uncle that you are obliged to see the Prince.'

The graveness of the lawyer's voice told Melissa there was more behind this meeting than she had realised. 'Why is he coming to see me? Is it personal or business?'

'Both.' Calvin Clement coughed slightly, and though he was too much of a professional to give his feelings away, it was obvious from the pursing of his mouth that he would have been far happier if the interview ahead of him was already well behind him.

Watching his expression, Melissa wondered why he was embarrassed. It must be something important, for he was not a man who was easily put out of countenance.

'Sit down, Melissa. What I have to tell you may come as something of a surprise.'

Silently she obeyed him and the lawyer stared at her. She was a small, slim girl with firm but delicate features in a heart-shaped face, and a crown of glorious chestnut brown hair that seemed almost too heavy for her fragile white neck to support. But there was nothing fragile about the firm jaw or the look in the large, golden brown eyes. Henry Benton's eyes, he thought wryly, with the same fearless regard and ability to see further and more clearly than anyone else. It was a farsightedness that had brought Henry to the pinnacle of the money tree and had turned his niece Melissa into one of the most sought-after girls in the world. But whether she was as farsighted as her uncle had been, it was difficult to know, for she was too young to have been tried or tested. But the look was there; it augured well for the future. He frowned, thinking what that future could be.

Melissa could well refuse to do it, and if that were the case he would have to tell her the whole story. But for the moment it was better to keep quiet. He would play his cards close to his chest. Time enough to show his hand if and when he was forced to do so.

'Do get on with what you were going to say, Clemmie,' Melissa said. 'I'm dying of curiosity.'

Abruptly he leaned forward. 'What do you know of Motavia?'

'Not much. It's a small country with a population of seven million. It relies on tourism for its revenue and has a southern Mediterranean climate with excellent fruit but poor quality meat owing to the ‑'

'No, no,' the lawyer interrupted. 'I did not mean that sort of thing.'

'You asked me what I knew of Motavia,' she said, widening her eyes at him.

'I should have known better! I keep forgetting you're a perennial student. It did not occur to me that Motavia was one of your subjects too!'

'Every subject's my subject,' she sighed. 'What else can I be if not a perpetual student? When I asked you if I could get a job or do some kind of charity work you had a fit!'

'You cannot be allowed to wander around where you like. The threat of kidnap is a real one, Melissa. I am not making it up.'

She nodded her acceptance of the statement and wished that the years had made her less rebellious against all that fate had given her. Why couldn't she enjoy her fabulous wealth without hankering for the chance of using her mind? She sighed. How pompous that made her sound.

'Tell me about Prince Louis,' she said.

'Let us talk about his country first.' Calvin Clement sat back in his chair: grey-suited, grey-faced, grey-haired. 'Motavia is more than a tourist's paradise. It holds an important position in Europe because of its mountain passes. Some of them are well nigh impregnable and this has been put to good use by NATO.'

'They have rocket bases there,' Melissa said. 'The East are always ranting on about it. But Motavia's pro the West, isn't she?'

'So far.'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing for you to concern yourself with at the moment.' Calvin Clement was annoyed with himself for having said too much. But really, there was something about those liquid gold eyes that made it all too easy to talk. He must watch his step if he didn't want to disclose the entire situation.

'Motavia's mountains are important for another reason,' he continued. 'I am sure I need not explain why.'

'Because my company own half the mineral rights there,' she replied promptly. 'It was one of the first major deals Uncle Henry made—and the only one he never bothered to exploit!'

'He had a close personal friendship with the late ruler of Motavia. That may have been the reason he never did anything with the rights.'

'More probably they weren't worth doing anything with,' Melissa grinned. 'Uncle Henry wouldn't let a little thing like friendship prevent him from earning a billion or two!'

'You know you don't believe that,' the lawyer reproved.

'I am not sure what I believe. Uncle Henry was a difficult man to understand. I doubt if he even knew the sort of man he was himself. But tell me, is the present ruler Prince Piers' son?'

'His grandson. Prince Louis's father died in a mountaineering accident. Now, as to the reason for his coming here to see you ... The other half of those mineral rights belong to the State of Motavia. According to the agreement your uncle made with the late Prince, if Motavia wants to exploit those rights, they must put up half the amount that is required. Then they can demand that we do the same. If we refuse, we must agree to sell out.'

'Are you telling me Motavia now wants to explore these mineral rights?'

'Yes.'

'Why didn't they do so before?'

'Because no one believed there were any minerals there. But new techniques have shown a different picture. It seems there is an excellent chance of finding—of finding uranium and gold.'

'So what's the problem? We'll agree to go ahead with them and dig—or whatever it is one has to do!'

'It is not as easy as that,' the lawyer said. 'Motavia does not have sufficient funds to provide their half of the finance. That is why Prince Louis is coming to see you.'

Melissa tossed her head. 'You know I never see anyone who wants to borrow money from me. The Board must deal with it. That's what they're there for.'

'The Prince's initial discussion has to be with you,' the lawyer insisted.

'Why? Is he going to offer me a mortgage on the Palace, or a pawn ticket on the Crown Jewels?' She grinned. 'I'm sure the Board will accept a couple of diamond-studded sceptres as a sign of good faith!'

'Please be serious.'

'I am serious, Clemmie. I won't see him! It's a matter for the directors. They're far better equipped to know if the collateral he's offering is good enough.'

'He's offering his hand in marriage,' Calvin Clement replied. 'To you.'

Melissa stared at the lawyer. He was not a man given to making jokes; and certainly never did so when they were talking business.

She swallowed hard. 'Marriage to me?'

'Yes.'

'He must be mad.' Her eyes narrowed. 'Or did someone put him up to it?'

'If anyone is responsible, it is your late uncle. The terms of the agreement he made states that if Motavia wishes to exploit the mineral rights but do not have the money to comply with their part of the contract, then the eldest unmarried male in the Vallon family has to offer marriage to the first eligible Benton female. In this instance, you!'

The silence that followed this speech was electric. When at last Melissa spoke, her voice was shaky.

'I've never heard anything so disgusting and— and archaic I Uncle Henry must have been out of his mind! As for Prince Piers ‑' She choked with fury. 'I suppose he thought that being royal would make any of his daft heirs worth a fortune on the marriage market.'

'They are,' Calvin Clement stated. 'There isn't a single European princess—or American heiress for that matter—who would turn Prince Louis down.'

'Then let him do the rounds and not bother me!'

'He has to offer you marriage. Only if you refuse him can he then try and borrow the money he needs from someone else.'

'Why can't we put up the whole amount?' Melissa's brain was working properly again. 'If the new surveys show that it's worthwhile to start mining, we will willingly finance the entire project— without marriage!'

'It's not as simple as that.' The lawyer fingered his tie. 'I suggest you meet Prince Louis first. You may find you like him. And if you do...'

'You haven't told me the whole truth,' she accused. 'There's something more behind this. You can't seriously believe I'd marry a man I don't know just to become a princess?'

'He's good looking and young.'

'He's a stranger!' Melissa almost shouted the words. 'I won't marry a stranger. If you ‑'

A knock at the door stopped her in mid-sentence and she looked up as the butler came in.

'Your visitor has arrived, Miss Benton.'

'I'm not expecting anyone.'

'That's all right, Rogers,' Calvin Clement interrupted. 'Please show the gentleman in.'

The butler went out and Melissa looked at the lawyer. 'If it's someone from the Motavian government you can tell ‑'

'It's Prince Louis.'

'What!'

'He flew in this morning.'

'Then he can fly right out again! I will not see him. I absolutely refuse!'

'His Royal Highness Prince Louis of Motavia,' came the unctuous tones of the butler, and Melissa gasped and swung round to face the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever seen in her life.

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