CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

For two days Melissa was delirious, and though Louis went in to see her several times she did not recognise him.

Doctor Veery returned to the Lodge with an extra nurse, but she, like the first one in attendance, wore a plain dark dress, and no word of Melissa's illness leaked to the photographers who—surveying the lodge through telephoto lenses—assumed her to be confined to her room for some other romantic reason.

Sourly Louis imagined what some of the gutter press might be saying in their headlines. If only democracy did not preclude one from making such tabloids illegal! Heaven knew what Elise would make of it.

Her telephone call, on the morning of the third day, left him in no doubt.

'What's wrong with Melissa?' she asked, not bothering to pretend she had called for any other reason.

'She has a feverish cold,' he explained, and went on to tell her what had happened.

Instantly Elise was pacified and contrite. 'What a nuisance for you, darling! The stupid girl shouldn't have gone out riding alone.'

'I was partly to blame for it.'

'In what way?'

Elise's voice was so sharp that Louis knew he had said the wrong thing. Hastily he changed the subject, soothing her ruffled feelings by assuring her that he loved her more than ever, and that every moment away from her was an intolerable waste of time.

'You shouldn't have gone on such a long honeymoon,' she sighed. 'How long can you keep up the farce that your marriage is a happy one?'

'Indefinitely,' he said. 'Provided people do not gossip.'

'I don't see why you even bother.' Her voice lowered. 'Krassky came to see me yesterday.'

'What did he want?'

'To say goodbye to me. He has been called back home for a few weeks. He also tried to find out if we are still together.'

Louis caught his lower lip between his teeth. This was something he should have thought of before. 'What did you tell him?'

'Don't worry, darling, I was the soul of discretion. I said you were a very expedient monarch and had decided that marrying for love was a waste of time when you had the chance of marrying the richest girl in the world.'

'What did he say to that?'

'He said he hoped you realised that his country are still anxious to help you.'

'I do not need their help now I have the Benton Group.'

'Krassky does not think Bentons will put up all the money you need. He showed me some costings, Louis, and he says you will need a hundred million more than you budgeted for.'

Louis's heart began to pound. He longed to dismiss what Elise had said, yet he dared not do so. If Krassky had given her those figures he must have done so for a purpose.

'I think Krassky's exaggerating,' he said casually.

'I don't. I'm worried about it, Louis.'

'There is nothing for you to be worried over,' he said as reassuringly as he could. 'Everything is going to work out fine.'

'I hope so. Oh, darling, I wish I could see you. Is there any chance of you flying down here for a night?'

'I daren't. It's too risky. If I were seen ‑'

'You've never worried about being seen with me before.'

'We have to be careful,' he pleaded. 'It wouldn't go down well if my people knew I was visiting my mistress on my honeymoon!'

'I thought you made the rules instead of followed them?'

'Try and understand,' he begged. 'I'm playing for time.'

Elise's sigh came down the line. 'Forgive me, Louis, I'm so terribly jealous.'

'You have no need to be.'

'I'll believe that when I see you.'

He put down the telephone and went to his desk. He always thought better with a pen in his hand. So Krassky thought he would need another hundred million. It was an incredible amount of money. Picking up the telephone again, he asked to be connected to Alexi, and when his equerry came on the line he switched on the scrambler device and told him what he had just learned from Elise.

'Either our financial experts are fools, or they have deliberately misinformed us,' he said angrily.

In either case it looks as though I married for nothing!'

'The Benton Group have agreed to put up all the money we need,' Alexi said hurriedly.

'The amount I said I would need,' Louis interrupted, 'now looks like being doubled. They will never increase their investment by that much. It's too big a gamble for them.'

'Krassky is willing to gamble,' Alexi said.

'Because he is trying to buy Motavia itself!'

Alexi was silent, and Louis realised this was the first time he had admitted to his equerry that he knew the aims of their Eastern neighbour. 'Talk to the Director of the mining operation,' he ordered, 'and let me know if he thinks Krassky's estimate is correct.'

Once more Louis picked up his pen and began to make notes. But it was still impossible for him to concentrate, and he pushed back his chair and paced the floor. He would have no peace of mind until he heard from Alexi again, and this might not be for several days. What would he do if Krassky was right? The knowledge that he might have to look eastwards after all was a bitter blow. Had he known it was going to come to this, he need never have married Melissa.

That evening—unable to remain alone with his unhappy thoughts—he had coffee with Melissa. She was still confined to her room, though no longer in bed.

'I gather you found me wandering downstairs when I was delirious,' she said. 'I hope I didn't do anything foolish.'

'You danced in front of me in your nightgown.'

'Did I really?'

'Indeed you did—and very fetching you looked in transparent cotton!'

'Cotton isn't transparent!'

'But it was a very short nightdress,' he teased, 'and it did bob up and down!'

She choked on her coffee and set the cup down hastily. 'You're making it up.'

'Would you like me to describe what I saw?'

Her eyes glinted. 'You know what a female looks like, Louis. It wouldn't be hard for you to give me a description!'

'You are never at a loss, are you?' he laughed, and went to stand by the window.

To his discomfiture, the intimacy of their conversation was disturbing him. Seeing her in bed, a slip of a thing with big golden-brown eyes, it was difficult not to think of her as his wife. The wife he had never touched.

'What's the matter, Louis?' she asked. 'Is anything worrying you?'

At once he thought of Krassky. It was somehow less disturbing to think of him than of Melissa. Yet he did not want to talk about this subject until he was absolutely certain of the facts.

'Nothing is the matter,' he replied, and turned to face her. 'Doctor Veery said you can get up tomorrow. By the end of the week we should be able to go exploring together.'

He saw her catch her lower lip between her teeth. It was impossible for him to read her thoughts, and he realised ruefully that though she could appear artless, he still had no idea what went on in her mind. He did not even know what she thought of him. Was she content to have an unconsummated marriage or was she hoping that propinquity would succeed where all else failed? The idea annoyed him, particularly as he was not unmoved by her nearness. He went to the door. He would be more in control of himself when she was up and about again. In a dress and shoes she was less vulnerable.

'Must you go?' she asked.

'I thought you were tired.'

'I'm only tired of lying in bed.' She patted the edge of it and, in surprisingly good Moravian, asked him to come and sit beside her.

'You have an excellent accent,' he said, obeying her. 'In a few months you will be speaking like a native.'

'I have an ear for languages. I can speak five. I also have a degree in history and sociology.'

'Do you enjoy studying?'

'It stops me dying of boredom.'

He stared at her, astonished at this unexpected facet. 'You make me feel a fool,' he confessed. 'I was at Oxford, but just about scraped through.'

'I would hardly call a double first scraping,' she said drily. 'And you were brilliant at sport. Olympic standard, weren't you?'

'What else do you know about me?'

'Nothing more.'

Elise's presence lay heavy but unspoken between them, and he wondered whether to talk about it. Yet though his marriage to Melissa was one of expediency, he did not feel he could honourably talk to her about his mistress. But he judged without Melissa's determination to be truthful, for she leaned back on her pillow and looked at him with clear, farseeing eyes.

'I saw you come back to the Palace the morning of our marriage,' she said quietly.

'The morning?' he echoed.

'It was dawn. I knew you had been with the Countess.'

'I didn't realise you had seen me.'

'I couldn't help it. I was looking through the window when I saw your car return.' She hesitated. 'I suppose you intend to go on seeing her?'

'I have already told you I will,' he said stiffly. 'Nothing has changed.' It was his turn to hesitate. 'The only thing that has changed is my attitude to our marriage. It will be easier for both of us if we try to be friends.'

He held out his hand and after a moment's pause she placed her own in it. It was a small, firm hand, and he turned it over and looked at the slender fingers and colourless nails. Elise's were long and red, but these were cut short and left uncoloured. She wore no jewellery either, except for a plain gold watch on one slender wrist.

'Considering your wealth, you are the least dressed-up young woman I know.'

'Call it an inverted form of snobbery!'

Her remark—quick as always—reminded him he was dealing with a highly intelligent girl. 'It's a pity you inherited such wealth, Melissa. I'm sure you would have enjoyed making it for yourself.'

'I might have failed.'

'Never.'

'Is that a compliment or an insult?'

'I'm not sure!'

'At least you're honest!'

He bowed. 'I try to be, Your Highness.'

She laughed. 'Come and see me again tomorrow. If the sun's shining, you can take me for a walk.'

By the end of the week Melissa felt completely well and, true to his word, Louis remained friendly towards her. There were times when he was morose, and she knew he was thinking of Elise and of a happier future that could not yet be his. But for the most part he was an entertaining companion, with a deep knowledge of the countryside which surprised her. She was also surprised by his love of music, and in the evenings they listened to Beethoven, Mozart and the more modern composers such as Berg and Hans Wernher Henze. Louis played the piano too, and of all his abilities, she envied this the most.

'I can't even read music,' she confessed one evening when he had played the Moonlight Sonata for her and then followed it by one of his own compositions, a gay but strangely haunting piece to which he had given no name.

'I won't insult you by asking whether you had a good teacher?' he grinned.

'The best,' she grinned back. 'A Professor from the Conservatoire who flew over once a week from Paris. Eventually he begged my uncle to stop the torture. His torture!' she added.

Louis flung back his head and laughed, and the sound filled her with such pleasure that she moved hastily away from the piano and sat down on the settee.

'Play some more,' she said, and closed her eyes as he began to do so.

It was another of his compositions and it enchanted her. Like the previous piece it had an elusive melancholy, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes and turned her head away in case he looked over and saw them. The room was lit by shaded lamps, which made for an intimacy that probably had something to do with her sadness.

What an ideal place the lodge was for a honeymoon; not the pretended one they were having, but a real holiday of love.

Trembling, she clasped her hands. What a waste her life was going to be for the next few years. If only she had refused Sir Donald's request for help. But what else would she have done if she had not married Louis? Where would she be today, for instance? Giving one of her elaborate dinner parties or jetting round the world to stay with one or other of her numerous friends? How close were those friends and how much of their affection was genuine and not based on her position? Questions like these had haunted her for years, making her wary of letting herself become too closely attached to anyone. Obviously Louis experienced the same difficulty too, though she knew instinctively that no such doubts about Elise had entered his mind. But then men in love were fools.

The music came to an end, but she kept her eyes closed, only opening them as she felt the settee move slightly as he came over and sat beside her.

'You've been asleep,' he accused.

She shook her head. 'I was thinking about your life. It must have been similar to mine.'

He knew at once what she meant. 'We have to accept what we are and what we've been given. You could have had the burden of illness or poverty, instead of great wealth. My burden has been my rank, and we've both had to learn how to surmount it.

'Have to,' she corrected. 'You can't use the past tense yet.'

'That's true,' he admitted. 'We both still have a difficult road ahead.'

'When do we leave here?' she asked, as if his words had brought the future close.

'Saturday morning. I have a Cabinet meeting on Monday.'

That would give him a day free at the Palace; a day to spend with Elise. The knowledge was so painful that she jumped to her feet.

'Goodnight, Louis,' she muttered, and was out of the door before he had a chance to reply.

'Melissa!' His voice reached her as she was half way up the stairs, and she leaned over the banisters to look at him. He was standing by the bottom step.

'What's wrong?' he asked softly.

'Nothing.'

'Then why did you rush off?'

She shook her head but did not answer, and he ran up the stairs towards her, taking them two at a time like a young man eager to reach the side of the girl he loved. It was a silly notion and she rejected it at once, but it left her oddly apprehensive, and her voice was sharp when she spoke to him.

'I told you it was nothing, Louis. Don't make a fuss.'

'Aren't you well?'

'I'm tired. Goodnight,' she said again, and ran up the last few stairs and down the corridor to her bedroom. But Louis was so clear in her mind's eye that he could just as easily have been here with her. Tonight, for the first time, he had looked at her with desire, and aware that it had been triggered by memory of Elise, she felt cheapened.

Quickly she undressed and got into bed; but here too he came with her, lying close, his blue eyes tender, his mouth curved in a smile.

'No!' she cried. 'I'm not in love with him. I'm not!'

But no matter how vehemently she denied it, she knew it was true. The moment she had met him she had found him extraordinarily handsome and attractive; and the attraction had deepened the more she came to know him and to realise his basic integrity. She sighed. Integrity was a strange word to use about a man who married one woman when he loved another, and who openly admitted he would retain his mistress even though he had a wife. Yet it was this honesty that she admired, even though it caused her pain. It was preferable to having him lie, as so many other men would have done. She turned her face into the pillow. She was lovely enough to attract most men, providing they did not prefer tall, willowy blondes, and she could be just as amusing in her own way. It was unfair that Elise had met Louis first. Did she know how lucky she was that he loved her, or was she so conceited that she took his adoration for granted?

More tears fell and Melissa wiped them away. Poor Louis! How he must be longing for his freedom, and how delighted he would be if he knew that she was in love with him. She could almost hear him saying: 'It serves you right.'

The words twisted in her like a serrated knife. That was why he must never guess the truth. Never.

That night Melissa slept badly. The love she felt towards Louis—she could not think of him as her husband any more than she could think of her marriage as a real one—was something she had never before experienced. She had been attracted to many men but never deeply enough to contemplate marrying any of them. But what she felt for Louis was different. It was an urge to love him and to protect him; to share his sorrow as well as his pleasure.

Though she had been young when her parents had died she had a strong recollection of the bond that had existed between them; a bond caused by mental as well as physical union. Henry Benton would have given his sister anything in the world she desired, including an extremely lucrative job for her husband, but they had never availed themselves of his generosity. John Powell preferred to continue his work as an anthropologist, much to Henry Benton's chagrin, though he had used the couple's absence abroad as an excuse to have his niece Melissa live with him.

After their untimely death she had remained with him permanently, and another world had opened up for her: a world of finance and business intrigue, of company law that was stronger even than the law of a country.

She had accepted the need to take the family name as well as the family fortune, but had always retained a deep admiration for her father's vocational spirit. Secretly she had longed to meet a man who—unlike her uncle—did not equate success with money, and had dreamed of the day when she would be able to count the world well lost for the deep and abiding love of a husband.

Louis's desire for money had at first appalled her, but she had soon recognised that it was motivated by his duty towards his country. Had he been able to follow his own desires he would have become a doctor—so he had told her the night before—and had studied privately with one of the Professors from the leading Rothnik hospital, even managing to obtain his Second M.B. before the needs of Motavia had made the continuance of his work impossible.

Motavia. It was the necessity of maintaining its sovereignty that had brought Louis into her life. Had they met under normal circumstances he would never have asked her to marry him. Indeed, he would already be married to Elise.

The very name of the woman was like salt in a wound, and she pushed aside the coverlet and hunched up her knees. How arrogantly the Countess had flaunted her relationship with Louis. Was he too blind to see the iron beneath the velvet? Yet what she saw as hardness, he probably saw as strength; what she saw as ambition, he saw to be patriotism. How blind he was!

The admission made her pause. Had her own love for Louis made her blind too? Was her vision of him as distorted as his of Elise? Perhaps he too was motivated by a desire for power that urged him to make his country so rich that the Western Powers would have to look up to him. But if that was his aim, he would have turned to Krassky, for with Slovenia as his ally he could have caused severe problems for the rest of Europe. Instead he had chosen a far more difficult path—one which had meant sacrificing his personal happiness—in order to set Motavia on its own feet. If the mineral wealth was as great as he believed, his plan would be successful. But if it was less, then Motavia would remain poor, Slovenia would invade and Louis would lose his throne. No wonder Elise wanted him to ally himself with Krassky while he still had a chance of making some kind of treaty. It said much for his strength of mind—as well as his love for his grandmother—that he had so far refused. She could imagine Elise entreating him to give in; could almost see the soft white arms twining themselves around his neck.

Shaken by jealousy, Melissa bathed and dressed and went silently downstairs. The lodge was quiet —the servants were still in their quarters—and she slipped on a jacket and went outside.

The grass was still speckled with dew, and she walked lightly across to the shallow stone steps that lay to one side of her. At the bottom she came to another plateau, a wilder one, with huge clumps of bushes obscuring her view, and pushing through them she came upon Louis.

He did not see her, and she was able to study him unnoticed. In dark slacks and a blue sweater almost the exact colour of his eyes, he was so handsome that her breath caught in her throat. But he looked sadder than she had ever seen him, for the hauteur had gone from his face and the corners of his mouth were turned down. She must have made a sound without realising it, for he turned sharply and, seeing her, was immediately in control of himself.

With an easy smile he came towards her. 'Good morning, Melissa. You are up early.'

'I was restless—like you.'

'This isn't early for me. I am generally up at six o'clock.'

His reply made her realise how little she knew of his personal habits, and he must have guessed her thoughts, for he leaned against the trunk of a tree and looked at her quizzically.

'Are you one of those people who are tetchy in the morning and only become civilised after six cups of coffee?'

'I am extremely good-tempered in the morning,' she retorted. 'I get cross about midday, though. That's when I start to feel hungry.'

'You shouldn't let yourself get hungry.'

'If I ate as much as I wanted, I'd be as fat as a balloon!'

'I don't believe that. You're far too fine-boned to get fat.'

The compliment pleased her. 'Do you like food?'

'I love it. Preferably French—though I'm fond of English puddings.'

'You won't get me to believe that!'

'It's true. Sometimes I feel I'd sell my soul for a plum-duff!' He caught her hand and pulled her towards some shrubbery. 'Come, I've something to show you.'

Mystified, she allowed herself to be led across the uneven ground, over a narrow, swiftly moving stream and down a sharp incline to a small, enclosed meadow. Here stood a mare and its foal, both chestnut-coloured and graceful, though the foal at this stage was tottering on matchstick legs.

With a cry she ran forward and wound her arms around the little animal's neck. Unaccountably her eyes filled with tears, and Louis's expression was unusually tender as he came over to her.

'I don't need to ask if you like animals?' he murmured.

'I adore them—particularly babies.'

'Human babies too, I suppose?'

She nodded and her tears fell faster as she realised she would never have the babies of the man she loved. If only she had recognised where her emotions were taking her before it had become too late to control them.

'You should have lots of children,' he said abruptly. 'You would be an excellent mother.'

'How can you tell?' she asked, her voice muffled by the foal's silky skin.

'You have a certain look in your eyes.'

Convinced he was teasing her she looked up—attempting to make some laughing comment—but there was no amusement on his face, only an intent, serious look that disarmed her further. The foal lifted its head too and nuzzled against her neck, causing her to fall back a step. She knocked against Louis and he reached out to steady her, letting his arm remain on her shoulder.

'You're so tiny that even a foal can tumble you over,' he chuckled, and bent to smile at her.

Their eyes met and held, and it seemed as if the emotion each of them was experiencing formed a bridge that drew them together. As though it was the most natural thing for him to do, he placed his mouth on hers.

She forced herself to remain quiescent, but her need of him played her traitor and, unable to stop herself, she wound her arms around his neck.

The movement brought their bodies close and he stiffened momentarily before his hands dropped from her shoulders to encircle her waist. The pressure of his mouth increased and with an incoherent murmur her lips parted. Passion surged up in her, arousing her to an undreamed-of response that made her long for total surrender. Still emotionally moved as she was by the nuzzling of the foal, the closeness of Louis was her final undoing. All she knew was that here was the man she loved; the man she had married nearly three weeks ago, who was legally her husband as she was legally his wife. She pressed against him, her heart thudding so heavily that he became aware of it.

'You're like a foal yourself,' he whispered. 'Soft and brown and trusting.'

'Louis,' she cried. 'Louis....'

Gently he disengaged her hands from around his neck and brought them down to her sides. Then he stepped back and looked at her. 'I'm sorry, Melissa, I shouldn't have kissed you like that. I have no right to do so.'

'You are my husband.'

Love was dissolving her pride, and though she knew she was disclosing her feelings she could not monitor her words. But he seemed not to understand their meaning, for he remained where he was, a frown drawing his brows together.

'I had no right to take advantage of you, Melissa. You are surprisingly sentimental and you were deeply moved by the foal.'

'You talk as if I'm a child.'

'I could never think you that!' His eyes strayed to her mouth and then to the soft rise and fall of her breasts. 'Not a child,' he continued, 'but a lovely young woman who should have known better than to throw away her freedom because of an ambition to become a princess.' His eyes were dark with pain. 'Why did you do it, Melissa? Why did you ruin your life and mine?'

His second question was the one that registered in her mind. He didn't care what she did with her life except for the fact that by marrying him she had ruined his chance of happiness. The knowledge that he still felt this way made her realise what little chance she had of making him love her. Only then did pride reassert itself and give her the strength to toss her head at him.

'Maybe it wasn't just a title I wanted. Maybe it was you. You're very good-looking, you know.'

'Don't talk like that. It cheapens you!'

His accusation stabbed her like a knife. 'Do you think it was cheap of me to let you kiss me?'

He stared at her in silence, his eyes bright in a face that was pale beneath its tan. She had the feeling that he did not know what to say, and unwilling to wait while he sought for the right words, she turned and ran back towards the lodge.

She was half way across the meadow when he caught up with her, and he put his hand on her arm and brought her to a halt.

'Don't be angry with me, Melissa.'

'I'm not angry.'

'Then don't be hurt.'

'You can't hurt me!'

His hand came up and tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. 'I think we are both capable of hurting each other. That is one thing I want to avoid.'

'I've only hurt you by marrying you,' she said stonily.

'By marrying me and by not being the sort of person I thought you were. You are different inside, Melissa. I can't express myself clearly, but I feel you are playing a game' His fingers tightened on her chin. 'Are you putting on an act with me?'

The urge to tell him the truth was so strong that only the training of years kept her silent. Henry Benton had instilled in her the belief that one's word was one's bond, and having given her word to Sir Donald she could not break it.

'Well,' Louis said, 'was there another reason why you married me?'

'How about love at first sight?'

'Be serious.'

'I am,' she said lightly, marvelling at his obtuseness. 'But you won't believe me!'

His hand dropped away from her chin and they continued to walk again. He did not break the silence until they had almost reached the lodge.

'It seems my intuition about you is wrong. You are as intrigued by a title as most young girls.'

Disappointment warred with relief, and relief won. 'At least let's be friends, Louis. It will be less wearing for both of us, and it will also help to confound your enemies.'

'What enemies?'

'Krassky.'

'Enemy is too strong a word. I do not agree with his politics, but——'

'Have you ever been to his country?'

'No. But I will be going there on a State visit next month.'

'You never told me.'

'The invitation came the day before we got married. I am afraid it slipped my mind.'

'Am I invited too?'

'Naturally. You are my wife.'

'Then you will have to make an excuse for me, I have no intention of going to Slovenia.'

He looked angry. 'Protocol makes it impossible for you to refuse.'

'Tell them I'm pregnant,' she snapped. 'That will put paid to protocol!'

Astonishment held him motionless: then his lips curved. 'Pregnancy is something that grows. How will we explain it when yours doesn't?'

'If Krassky is ever rude enough to enquire, tell him it was a false alarm!'

'Are you never at a loss for a lie?'

'No, Your Highness,' she said gravely. 'In that respect I take after most of my sex!'

At this he laughed outright. 'But unlike most of your sex, you admit it!'

'That's part of my weaponry. Disarm with honesty!'

'You certainly do that with me,' he murmured. 'Quite disarmingly so!'

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