CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Though Louis had said he wished to return to the Palace on Saturday morning, when that day dawned he surprised Melissa by saying he had arranged for them to have a picnic lunch on the mountains.

The loneliness of the region made it easy for them to dispense with their guards and, side by side, they rode deep into the heart of the forest, emerging on the far side to sunlit fields and a vista of undulating plains which stretched to the purple mountains that bordered the horizon.

'Those are the mountains we are mining.' He pointed as they dismounted and tethered their horses. 'Alexi said it—it is going well.'

'Do you speak to him every day?'

'Yes. If he didn't act as my buffer, I would have had Claud here at least twice.'

She thought of the brusque but friendly Prime Minister who was a frequent visitor to the Palace. 'I thought that in this day and age princes were only figureheads?'

'Some of my people wish that were so,' he said tersely, 'but mine is a country that needs a strong guiding hand.'

'Your hand?'

'Yes. And one day my son's.'

Abruptly he turned away, but not before she saw the shadow in his eyes. Bitterly she knew he was thinking of Elise.

She walked away as though to get a different view of the landscape. What would Louis say if she told him that she would like to bear his son? She had aroused his passion once before, and though he had refused to give way to it, she was not sure he would always find the strength to do so. She put her hand to her lips and her wedding ring glittered in the sunlight, reminding her that she was his wife. Yet how could she confess her love to a man who saw her as an encumbrance? Where was her pride—her spirit?

She swung round, surprised to find him directly behind her. 'What do you want?'

'To give you this.' He held out a glass of creamy liquid.

'What is it?'

'A special Motavian drink guaranteed to grant you all your wishes.'

'Is it alcoholic?' she asked suspiciously, and saw his eyes twinkle.

'I am not proposing to get you drunk and seduce you!'

'I'm sure of that,' she retorted, and taking the glass from his hand, sipped it. It was ice cold and sharp, yet with an underlying sweetness that she liked.

'Mind you, the idea does have something to recommend it,' he murmured, watching her.

Concentrating on the taste of the drink, she was slow to react. 'What idea?'

'Seducing you.'

Her heart began to pound. 'I think you would regret it afterwards, Louis. Unless you believe that men are naturally polygamous?'

His quick intake of breath told her he had remembered Elise. 'All men are polygamous until they fall in love,' he said, and taking the glass from her hand, put it back in the picnic basket.

Without looking at her he flung himself on the grass. He was filled with anger at the emotions engulfing him; furious that he had no control over the throbbing blood that coursed through his veins. Why on earth had he made such an outrageous remark to Melissa? Was he still so callow that the sight of a beautiful body could arouse him to a point where he no longer had command over his tongue? The surprise she had shown had stirred him even further, for her soft mouth had opened in surprise and the sight of her small, pearly teeth had made him long to feel their pressure on his lips. His hands clenched on a clump of grass. He had no right to feel this way about one woman when he loved another. And he did love another. He forced himself to think of Elise, but somehow she did not come to life. It was as if the bright sunlit days he had recently spent with Melissa had faded the memory of the beautiful blonde Countess and, like a television picture seen with the lights on, she was no longer clearly etched and colourful but a pallid and insubstantial shadow.

He shook his head in disbelief. He had been in love with Elise since the day she had been presented at Court by her husband. What a furore her beauty had caused, and how quickly she had established herself as leader of the smartest and gayest set. Her parties had soon become a byword and the young, rich aristocrats had vied with each other to be invited to her home. He had been as eager to be with her as everyone else, but unlike everyone else, he had known from the beginning that she looked on him with favour. It was because she had fallen in love with him, she told him later, yet he had often wondered if she would have done so had he been one of the young noblemen who had chased her and not the Prince himself? But within a few weeks his critical faculty had been lost beneath the barrage of her charm, and from then on he had been like putty in her hands: a willing and abject slave.

He had learned a great deal from Elise. Sophisticated and assured, she had been completely different from the well-brought up girls he always had known, girls so carefully chaperoned that even his own position had not prevented a third party from being close at hand. But when it came to married women, Motavian etiquette was not so strict. Once she was a wife, a woman was considered able to take care of herself. Elise could undoubtedly do that. Confident of her beauty and the power it gave her, she was unaware of criticism. If she wanted something she went after it, whether it was a doddering old count who had loved her enough to marry her, or a handsome young prince who had fallen swiftly beneath her spell. What a magic spell she had weaved, particularly over a young man whose upbringing had been strictly monitored by his grandmother. Not that he had come to Elise a total innocent, but his previous affairs were colourless by comparison with his passionate relationship with Elise. Yet perhaps relationship was the wrong word.

He glanced at Melissa. She was still turned away from him, and her profile was outlined against the sky; a childlike profile with a small tiptilted nose and a full upper lip. But there was nothing childlike about her mind. It was sharp and astringent, flicking his own into life, forcing him to use it in a way he had not done for a long time. In the short weeks she had known him, she had never shown herself to be in awe of his position. At first he had believed her assurance came from her vast wealth, but these past weeks at the lodge had given the lie to this, and he knew it was ingrained in her, increased perhaps by the power she could wield, but sufficiently strong to have existed without it. Princess or pauper, Melissa would take orders from no one!

Talking to her had stimulated his mind without re-awakening his restlessness, for in the last couple of years he had finally accepted his position as leader of his country. Even if he had abdicated—as he had once wished to do—he would always have lived with the guilty knowledge that he had failed to fulfil his heritage. Now he knew that come what may he would rule Motavia for as long as his people needed him.

He ran his fingers through his hair: a distracted gesture that he only became aware of as his hand dropped to his side. It was odd where his thoughts had taken him, for they had not answered the problem of Elise which was still plaguing his peace of mind. It was as though his love for her was a disloyalty to Melissa. Yet Melissa had no right to command his loyalty. Their marriage had been entered into for reasons that had nothing to do with love.

Unwillingly he remembered the way she had responded to him when he had held her in his arms. She might have married him for his title—as she said—but she was attracted to him too. His fingers twisted on the clump of weeds. Was it because he knew that Melissa desired him that he, in turn, desired her? If this was the case, why had he not desired all the other beautiful girls who had swooned at the sight of him? The thought momentarily made him smile, and he realised that since knowing Melissa he had discovered an unexpected vein of humour in himself. He rarely joked with Elise. They laughed at other people and he was often amused by her sharply cruel perception, but it had none of the humorous warmth of Melissa's comments.

Once more he glanced at her. He had married her for Benton money and now it looked as if he would still have to turn to Krassky. A hundred million pounds more. The Benton Group could afford to increase their investment, but why should they put all their financial eggs into a small foreign country? If his eastern neighbour did so it would be because they knew they could always take over Motavia as payment! If only he had gone to Britain for help; but the last time he had done so, they had rebuffed him.

'We can only give you aid,' the British Foreign Secretary had said, 'if you are willing to ally yourself with us openly. Otherwise it will look as if we are trying to buy you.'

'If I become your ally it will look as if you have already bought me!'

The Foreign Secretary had smiled. 'At least we would all know where we stood. At the moment you are in the position of a juggler.'

'I dare not commit myself to the West. My Opposition Party are pro-Slovenian and they would revolt.'

'Until you are prepared to take that risk we cannot help you.'

Louis had accepted the validity of the criticism. He could not expect British help until he committed his country to their cause. Perhaps he should have done so and taken his chance with the revolutionary faction in Motavia. But Elise had been so adamantly against it that it had tipped the scale of his judgement and instead he had decided to invoke the ridiculous agreement his grandfather had made with Henry Benton. And because of it he was married to Melissa.

He jumped up and went over to her. She was as still as a statue, looking out at the landscape, but there was nothing statuelike in the warmth of her flesh as he placed his hand on her shoulders and pulled her close, not wanting to kiss her or arouse her but just oddly content to hold her. What was there about her that made him feel at ease? It was a question he could not answer and he gave a sigh and put her away from him.

'How docile you are, Melissa. Where are all the questions?'

'I have no more. I have made up my mind to take things as they come.'

'That's exactly what I decided a moment ago!'

She laughed. 'Great minds think alike. Come, Louis, let's sit down and you can tell me a story.'

'Another slice of my country's past? Won't you ever get bored learning about Motavia?'

'Never.'

With a chuckle he sat beside her on the grass, and for nearly an hour told her more about his country's history. He had received an excellent grounding in it himself, and though he had found his lessons with his Professor tedious in the extreme, he was now glad of them, for Melissa's enrapt absorption was a reward in itself.

At noon they rode further along the mountain and then took lunch at a small cabin nestling among the rocks. Its interior was well if crudely appointed, with spring water ready to be pumped from the sink and pewter plates and mugs locked away in a cupboard, the key of which Louis found under a horsehair mattress.

'Don't tell me this cabin is yours?' Melissa asked, looking at the little room with its wooden table and chairs.

'It belongs to Alexi. Sometimes when I'm at the lodge he comes and spends a couple of nights here shooting birds.'

'Oh no!' Melissa looked so distressed that Louis laughed.

'Alexi only shoots with a film! He's a great ornithologist. Don't get him talking about his subject or he'll never stop.'

'I love birds. I must get him to show me some of his films. Are they good?'

'They have been shown on your BBC television. I personally cannot show you a film, but we have an aviary at the Palace.'

'I don't like birds in cages.'

'Then we will set them free when we return home.'

'Home,' she said in such a funny little voice that he turned from the sink where he had been pumping water.

'What's wrong, Melissa?'

'The Palace is my cage too. I'm just like the birds.'

She blinked her eyes, making him aware of their bright glitter. 'Don't cry,' he said thickly, and covered the short distance between them in a couple of strides.

Pulling her close against his chest, he ran his hands over her thick mane of hair. How little and soft she was, trembling in his arms like the very birds for whom she was crying. 'We'll set the birds free as soon as we get back,' he repeated.

'They can never be free. They're like me.'

'What do you mean?'

'The aviary is the only home they know. Most of them were born there. Your grandmother told me.'

'But why do you feel like one of them?' She did not answer and he gave her a slight shake. 'You have a home to return to when you leave Motavia. Why should you feel like the birds?'

'I was talking nonsense,' she said huskily. 'Don't take any notice of me.'

She went to pull away from him, but he would not let her go. She was still trembling violently and he knew an urge to comfort her. His hands moved rhythmically upon her hair, but the trembling did not cease and he felt himself responding to it, his tenderness giving way to more urgent longing.

'Don't ever feel you're in a cage,' he whispered. 'If you wish to leave me, you are free to do so.'

'I can't!' she cried in a choked voice, and turned her face into his shoulder.

He felt the dampness of her tears on his neck, and unable to stop himself he swung her off her feet and carried her over to the mattress. He placed her on it and lay beside her.

'Melissa,' he whispered, 'don't cry.'

He had no chance to say more, for she pulled his head down until their lips met. Then words became unnecessary, for their hands and bodies spoke for them.

Melissa awoke first. For a moment she did not know where she was, then memory returned and with it the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again. Beside her Louis lay sleeping, his face younger-looking than she had ever seen it. With his mouth relaxed she was able to appreciate its contours, the finely curved upper lip and the full, sensual lower one—how sensuous she had only recently learned. His closed lids obliterated all expression from his face, and she saw it as the face of a stranger: the straight nose, the smooth planes of his cheeks faintly hollowed beneath the high cheekbones, and the wide forehead with one faint line across the middle, caused by his habit of frowning. His blond hair sprang back from a widow's peak to lie thickly upon his scalp and against the nape of his neck. There was a tangle of hair on his chest too, but it was paler and softer and she remembered the feel of it on her breasts as his body had covered hers and had awakened her to her first surrender.

What had prompted him to take her here, in this sparsely furnished cabin on a lonely Motavian mountainside? Remembering the magnificent lodge and the luxurious rooms they occupied there, she could not help being amused that it was a hard mattress on a narrow wooden bed that had precipitated their union. And how unglamorous she had looked in jeans and blouse. Certainly she had never envisaged her surrender except as being other than in satin and lace, on a cloud of down. Instead of which it had been denim and horsehair!

She raised herself on her elbow and the movement awakened Louis. His lids lifted and his eyes stared into hers with the intense blankness of a baby. Slowly memory filled them; the mouth tightened and the full lower lip drew into a narrow line.

Expecting him to hold her, she was shocked by his sudden turning away; even more shocked to hear him mutter an apology as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Why was he apologising to her? Was he ashamed because they had made love? Was he remembering Elise and the fact that he had been unfaithful to her? The thought was nauseating. Could one be unfaithful to a mistress?

'There's no need to apologise,' she said stiffly. 'I was as much to blame as you.'

'Don't use the word blame.' He came back to sit on the edge of the bunk, and afraid that his nearness would impel her to throw herself into his arms, she stiffened and held herself away from him. Seeing the gesture, he misconstrued it as one of fear.

'You needn't be afraid of me, Melissa. I won't touch you again.'

'I wasn't worried about that. I'm not a Victorian maiden, you know.'

'But you were a maiden.'

She went scarlet and he muttered something beneath his breath. 'I don't know what came over me. Seeing you cry like that. ... You looked so—so—'

'Please,' she said in a cracked voice. 'It isn't important. Forget it. I already have.'

He looked as though he wanted to say more, but she flung out her hand in a disclaiming gesture and he turned round and went out.

Slowly she rebuttoned her blouse. Her body was still warm from his touch, her breasts still full from the desire he had aroused in her. She ached with the need to hold him close, to have him murmur words of love, and because she hated this weakness in herself she jumped up and followed him outside.

The cool air fanned her hot cheeks, feathering against her skin and reminding her of the touch of Louis's fingers as they had explored her body. 'Oh God!' she cried silently. Would everything that happened in the future remind her of her surrender to this man?

He came round the side of the cabin, his face devoid of expression.

'If we leave now, Melissa, we can get back to the lodge before dusk and return to the Palace tonight. The helicopter is standing by.'

'How royal!'

'Doesn't the Benton Group have one?' he retorted.

'We have a fleet of jets!' She swung herself up on her horse without waiting for his help. It was no mean feat and the effort left her breathless.

'Are you still angry with me?' he asked, catching hold of her bridle to prevent her moving away.

Staring into his face, she longed to tell him she had never been angry; that what he had mistaken for it had been her fear of disclosing her love for him. 'I'm not angry, Louis. I just think it's better if we don't talk about it again. I want to forget it happened.'

'I didn't take any precautions,' he said roughly. 'You know that, don't you?'

She lowered her eyes and nodded, knowing that if her life had depended on it she could not have said a word. Pulling the bridle free, she dug her heels into the horse and set off at a trot.

Within a moment Louis caught up with her and they cantered along side by side. Gradually the peace of the scenery eased their tension, and by the time the lodge was glimpsed through the trees they were able to talk to one another with less constraint, though not with their earlier camaraderie.

Entering the sitting room for the last time, Melissa wondered if she would ever see it again. Somehow she could not picture herself returning here. This was where her marriage had begun and ended, and to see the lodge again would bring back memories she never wished to remember.

'I will arrange for my things to be packed,' she said.

'There's no hurry. The servants will fly down later.'

With a shrug she left him, determined not to be alone with him until they were ready to leave.

It was already dark when they boarded the helicopter, and within moments they were airborne, swaying gently in the changing currents of air that Louis informed her were always found in the valley between the mountains. The journey to the capital seemed to take far less time than the one away from it, and it was still dusk when they landed in the grounds of the Palace.

This method of travel had much to commend it, for it cut out all the pomp which inevitably ensued if Louis used the airport. If she were to use the airport too, she admitted, for though not his beloved, she was still his wife and would receive the homage befitting her position. It was a daunting prospect and not one that she relished. How little Louis understood her if he believed she had married him for his title. All she wanted was the man; and all he wanted was Elise.

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