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 sunso-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 whichhe was forced to recognisehe 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 himas 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 lifesince he had come to the thronein 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 mineralswhich 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' timewhen it may be possiblethan 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 yearseven one yearis 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 wishedan American company, perhapsinstead 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 anticipatedthen 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, Louiswhat 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 truthI agree with you therebut 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 thisthisrelationship. 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 yearsand because of her unique position as the Benton heiressshe 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 madeand 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 findingof finding uranium and gold.' 'So what's the problem? We'll agree to go ahead with them and digor 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 princessor American heiress for that matterwho 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.

CHAPTER TWO CALVIN CLEMENT took immediate control of the situation. 'Please excuse us for having kept you waiting, Your Highness,' he said smoothly, 'but we did not expect you to arrive so early. There was no word from your Embassy.' 'I have not been in touch with them,' the Prince said crisply. 'I came here straight from the airport.' 'But you are staying at the Embassy?' The broad shoulders lifted. 'It would create too many problems for security if I were to stay in a hotel.' For a moment longer he continued to make conversation with the lawyer, aware that the man wished to give his client time to compose herself. She certainly needed to learn self-control, he thought dispassionately, remembering the temper which had blazed from her eyes when he had been shown into the room. No doubt she was trying to pretend that the marriage he had come to propose to her was unwelcome; it was a fact which he found impossible to credit. Too many women had shown their eagerness to be his wife for him to believe that this particular one would turn him down. No doubt she was pretending reluctance from an illconceived desire to show her independence. His glance at her, though brief, showed him she was prettier than he had expected: a slender girl with a pale skin and a mass of brown hair. Beyond that he took no notice of her appearance, his mind's eye filled with the memory of Elise as he had last seen her in the early hours of this morning, warm and sensual beside him, listening to his avowal of love even though she knew he could not offer her the marriage she had set her heart on. How desperately

she had pleaded with him not to sacrifice both their lives when there was another way out for him. 'Accept Krassky's help,' she had begged. 'He will give you all the money you need.' 'I cannot put myself under an obligation to the Slovenians. If I do, my country will never be free of them.' 'They are our neighbours,' Elise had retorted, her eyes, blue as his own, glittering with tears. 'We're far closer to them culturally than we are to the rest of Europe. I don't understand why you talk as if they are our enemies.' 'They would like to be our masters, Elise. Believe me, I know them better than you do.' 'You are quoting your grandmother's opinion, not your own. She is the one who wants to keep you tied to Britain!' 'My negotiations have nothing to do with the British Government. I will be dealing with the Benton Group and they are an international organisation.' 'They are British based and British owned.' Elise insisted. 'I would rather deal with them than with Krassky.' 'Even though it means the end of our happiness?' 'I have no choice, Elise.' At this she had broken into a storm of weeping, and though he had finally managed to comfort her with kisses, he had been achingly aware of her hurt.

And she had every right to be hurt, he thought again, as he pretended to listen to what the Englishman was saying, for until last night she had believed she would become his wife. He bit back a sigh, remembering his first sight of hera year ago when she had been presented to him as the young bride of the wealthy and aged Count Breen. Almost at once she had reigned supreme at the Court, and though the sudden death of her husband from a heart attack had temporarily sent her into mourning, it had also meant that Louis no longer had to hide his feelings for her. Neither of them had guessed that when freedom came to her it would then be taken away from him; for within a few weeks of the Count's death, Louis had realised his country's dangerous economic position and had known he must make his decision to marry for the Benton money. And now here he was, reluctantly offering his hand to this unknown girl. He forced himself to look at her again and saw she was still staring at him with unconcealed dislike. 'I hope Mr. Clement has told you the reason for my visit?' he asked formally. 'He was in the middle of doing so when you arrived,' the girl replied, and half turned away. 'Melissa!' Calvin Clement's voice was so pained that Melissa felt a stirring of compunction. Her natural good manners came to her aid and, though still angry at being put in this embarrassing situation, she gave a slight but unmistakable curtsey to her visitor. Not that she felt like bending the knee to this haughty young man, but he was, after all, the head of his country and, as such, merited a certain

deference. Indeed from what she knew of royalty, the less their importance the more store they set by protocol. 'Please forgive me for being upset, Your Highness, but I am sure you appreciate why.' The cold look he bestowed on her showed he did not appreciate it at all. Then his lids half masked his astonishingly blue eyes and it was not longer possible to read their expression. He stepped back a pace and seated himself in a chair. 'From the remark which I could not help hearing as I came in,' he said, 'I gather you are displeased at what I have come to say?' He had given her the opening she wanted and she took it. 'Yes, Your Highness. It would be better if you did not proceed.' 'I must do so,' he said flatly, and turned his head in the direction of the lawyer. 'I wish to speak to Miss Benton alone.' At once Calvin Clement went to the door. 'I'll be in my office if you want me, Melissa.' She nodded at him without smiling, and as the door closed she looked once more at the man seated opposite her. Prince Louis of Motavia. It was a fairy-tale title evoking thoughts of a Ruritanian kingdom in the best Ivor Novello and Franz Lehar tradition. Yet there was nothing fanciful about the man himself. Had she not known who he was, she would have thought him to be a mountaineer or a yachtsman, for he exuded a vitality that increased his already preposterous good looks. Preposterous, she repeated silently, noting the thick golden-blond hair atop his classical Greek features and the effeminately long lashes that framed vivid blue eyes. Though he was well over six feet in height, his leanness stopped him from being overpowering; as did the casual ease with

which he moved. It indicated the perfect co-ordination of a superb athlete. Hadn't she read somewhere that he had represented his country in the last Olympic Games? Aware that he was looking at her, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her dress and waited for him to speak, forcing herself to remember that, much as she disliked what he had come here to say, he was after all a reigning Prince and as such had to be treated with respect. 'You know why I am here.' He spoke in a light, quick tone as if he found it embarrassing to begin. 'If I could have had the opportunity of getting to know you firstof leading up to my proposition but unfortunately time is short and a decision had to be made at once.' 'Even if there had been all the time in the world,' Melissa said, 'you would still have found this moment an unpleasant one. We are worlds apart, Your Highness.' 'Surely not in this day and age?' 'Even in this day and age,' she insisted. 'Your way of life is totally different from mine.' 'Not as much as you think. We both have heavy obligations and are duty bound to fulfil them. Yours are concerned with responsibility to your employees; mine are to my country and its people. We are neither of us free agents and must do what we have been brought up to do.' She longed to disagree with him, but there was too much truth in what he said. Several years ago she had tried to fight her heritage and had painfully learned that it was not possible to run away from the obligations that came with being the head of a vast empire; as

this man could not run away from the obligations of his kingdom. Yet how could he be willing to sell himself for it? Surely that was one sacrifice a human being should never be expected to make? 'I have no choice, Miss Benton,' he said, as though divining her thoughts. 'My Ministers believe there is vast, untapped wealth in our mountainsdeposits of minerals that can restore us to a glory we haven't known for centuries. Unfortunately their excavation is costly and we do not have the money. The agreement my grandfather made with your uncle requires our family either to put up half the amount required or to offer marriage instead. I amas you are awareforced to comply with the latter part of the contract.' 'And offer yourself as a sacrifice?' 'I would not put it that way, Miss Benton.' 'From your expression I think you feel it!' 'You cannot expect me to be pleased at having to marry a woman I do not know.' 'It cuts both ways,' she said tartly, and then added hastily: 'Your Highness.' He acknowledged her remark with a nod, though once again his expression implied that he could see no sacrifice in anyone having to marry him. How arrogant he was, she thought with irritation, sitting so easily in the high-backed chair, looking at her down the length of his finely chiselled nose as if she were one of his minions put there to do his bidding.

'The whole thing is out of the question,' she said, and jumped to her feet. 'What is the total cost of the mining operation?' 'It depends whether we strike a find immediately. We will also need money to lay down roads there is no transport in the mountains at the momentand to build houses for the workers on the sites.' 'How much money in all?' 'A hundred million poundspossibly more.' Arched brows rose. It was a far larger amount than she had expected, but even so it was well within the resources of her company. Yet she could not make a commitment without discussing it with the Board, who would certainly want to see all the latest surveys that the Motavian geologists had made. She frowned. It was odd that they should suddenly decide there was sufficient exploitable minerals in the mountains when, for years, they had made no move to suggest that this was the case. She looked at the Prince and saw he was watching her with the same curiosity she had shown towards him. 'What makes you think we won't be wasting our money?' she asked. 'Earlier surveys showed nothing.' 'There are different techniques these days. The geologists are convinced that -' 'Which geologists?' she intervened. 'American or English?' 'Various nationalities,' he murmured. 'Some from the East.' 'Slovenians!'

'Krassky's country borders mine,' the Prince said. 'He has shown great interest in our affairs and would willingly let us have all the finance we require.' 'I'm not sure we'd be willing to have his country as our partner!' 'You could not prevent it if you turned down my proposal. According to the agreement, I would then be free to find our share of the money from any source I liked.' 'Would, you accept their help?' He hesitated. 'There are many reasons why I would prefer not to do so. I do not know if you are aware of the political situation in Eastern Europe?' 'I know that small countries are always scared of being overrun by big ones.' 'And we are particularly vulnerable,' he said. 'Our economic position is poor and many of my countrymen see revolution as their only solution.' 'Do you?' Again he hesitated. 'No. And my grandmother is very much against it too.' 'You would lose your throne, of course.' 'We would not.' He did not elaborate, but she sensed the anger in him. How much he hated having to explain himself in this way, and how he hated having to offer himself in marriage. It was a sacrificial act that

could only have come from someone who had been brought up to believe that their heritage was more important than their personal pride. The determination of it appalled her. Not for one moment did she believe his assertion that if the Slovenians took over his country he would retain his throne. Like so many of his illustrious relations he would become yet another deposed and exiled monarch, living in rich obscurity. Possibly poor obscurity. 'I appreciate the honour you are doing me, Your Highness,' she said slowly, 'but I cannot marry you.' 'You are refusing me?' Astonishment made his jaw slacken. 'I never expected this.' 'I dare say most girls would jump at the chance of being a princess,' Melissa agreed. 'But titles have never rated high on my list of priorities.' She perched on the arm of the settee. 'And now you are free to raise the money anywhere you like?' 'Yes.' 'My company may still be able to help you. I would like the Board to see the latest surveys. If they show what you say they do, we will put up your share of the finance as well as our own.' Astonishment widened his eyes. 'Would you require a larger percentage? I fear my Government would not give away any more of our rights.' 'We would be prepared to leave the agreement as it stands,' she said immediately. 'If there really are enormous mineral deposits in the mountains, we'll get back our investment a hundred times over.'

'You need have no fear of that. The land is rich in gold and uranium. There may be other finds too.' 'In that case I'm sure there won't be any problems.' He stood up, bracing his shoulders as though they were suddenly relieved of a weight. 'For the first time in weeks, I am beginning to have renewed hope.' 'You should have come to me sooner.' 'I would have done, if I had known what your reaction would be.' He stopped, embarrassed. 'Even now I find it difficult to believe you have turned me down. My grandmotherwho is very practical and forthrightwas convinced you would accept my proposal.' 'What would have happened if you had already been married?' she asked curiously. 'How would you have complied with the agreement then?' 'My cousinwho is next in line to the throne would have proposed instead.' She burst out laughing. 'An assembly belt of Royal Princes!' His smile was constrained and she wondered if his sense of humour was limited or if he was so full of himself that he could not tolerate any remark that smackedhowever slightof teasing. 'Thank goodness you don't have to sacrifice yourself,' she said with as much gravity as she could muster. 'So you can stop looking scared to death! '

He stood up at once, military in bearing. 'A man would not consider it a sacrifice to be married to you, Miss Benton. I am sure many men must love you.' 'Many,' she agreed. 'I have a great deal to offer!' Her smile was sly. 'But not enough for you, Your Highness.' His eyes were shadowed. 'A happy marriage needs love.' 'And you are already in love?' His surprise was so patent that she knew no one ever asked him such personal questions. Probably he had been brought up to believe in the Divine Right of Kings and Princes! 'There is someone I wish to marry,' he murmured, 'but until this moment I had not thought it possible.' 'Is she Motavian?' 'Of course.' His replyterse and simpleput Melissa in her place. Who else but a compatriot would be considered suitable to take the Motavian throne beside him! Or didn't princesses have thrones of their own? 'How soon can you let me have the geological reports, Your Highness?' 'I will get them for you at once. My equerry has them.' He went into the hall and she noticed he did not close the door behind. Obviously he was used to having doors opened and shut for him. She heard his voice, low and lilting as he spoke in a

language she did not understand, then he returned with a short plump man, dapper in the uniform of a Major. 'Miss Benton, I would like to present my equerry, Major Alexi Vernov.' Melissa's hand was bowed over, while small black eyes twinkled into hers, making her realise how cold Prince Louis's blue eyes had beenand still wereshe thought as she gazed into their cool depths, knowing that if a girl's face was ever close enough to be reflected in them, it would be a Motavian one. Major Vernov took several documents from a briefcase and handed them to her, together with a typed report which a quick glance showed her was written in Motavian, though she saw an English translation appended to it. 'His Royal Highness will be staying at our Embassy,' the Major said. 'If you will tell us when it is convenient for us to call upon you again... 'I will telephone you. It depends how quickly I can put this before my directors.' 'His Highness appreciates that.' Melissa glanced at Prince Louis. He barely seemed to be listening to the conversation, and there was a withdrawn expression on his face, as though now his equerry was here he had abandoned the pretence of maintaining a rapport with someone he considered in a world outside of his own. With a little flash of irritability she said: 'I will try to get Board approval, but I hope you realise that nothing is a hundred per cent certain?'

Only then did Prince Louis give her his full attention again. 'From what you said earlier I thought it was a fait accompli.' 'Not quite. I can only suggest. I cannot give orders to my directors.' 'I see.' He gave a bow. 'We will await your call, Miss Benton.' He strode out, the equerry hurrying ahead to open the door for him. Melissa followed more slowly, and reached the front door in time to see the two men disappear into the back of a dark, discreet limousine. Its side and rear windows were of tinted glass, but the smoky hue only partially dimmed the startling blond of Prince Louis's hair, and a picture of him remained with her as she returned to the drawing room and telephoned Calvin Clement's office to say she was coming to see him.

CHAPTER THREE WHEN Melissa entered Calvin Clement's office it was to find him deep in conversation with another man who, as far as age and demeanour were concerned, could have been his twin. There was something familiar about his face, and she understood why, when he was introduced to her as the Foreign Secretary. 'I didn't realise I was interrupting you, Clemmie,' she apologised, retreating to the door. 'I'll wait outside until you've finished.' 'There's no need, my dear. The Minister is here to see you.' Melissa came back into the room, wondering why such an illustrious member of the Cabinet should wish to see her. She did not have to wait long for her answer. Motavia, it appeared, was of supreme importance to the safety of the Western world; its land position in Europe enabling it to act as the lynch pin in an elaborate defence system. 'Motavia has always been friendly towards us,' the Foreign Secretary went on, 'but it is equally anxious not to antagonise its Eastern neighbour. For some time we have been urging them to declare themselves our ally, but they have declined to do so. Mainly because they have a strong "opposition" party which is very anti the West.' 'They wouldn't be anti the West if they weren't poor,' Melissa commented. 'We are more than anxious to give them aid,' the Foreign Secretary said, 'but we must be careful not to give the Motavian Opposition Party a chance to say we're trying to take control of their country.' 'No one would believe that,' she expostulated.

'Clever politicians can make a hot-blooded electorate believe anything. And in Motavia at the moment there are a lot of young rebels who need cooling down. A steady job and money in their pocket would do the trick, but we have to make sure that the job and the money are not seen to be coming from the British Government. That is where the Benton Group can help.' He paused as though expecting Melissa to say something, and when she remained silent he spoke again. 'We know why Prince Louis came to see you today.' Melissa turned angrily to her lawyer, but before she could speak, the Foreign Secretary intervened. 'The agreement your uncle made with the late Prince Piers has been known to Her Majesty's Government for many years. However we didn't anticipate Prince Louis's willingness to carry it out.' 'I wouldn't have called him particularly willing,' Melissa said shortly. 'Still, I wasn't willing to be a sacrifice either. So we've decided to abandon that part of the agreement. If the mineral rights are as valuable as they are assumed to be, we will be more than willing to pay for the entire exploitation. Marriage needn't come into it.' 'I am afraid it must.' 'I beg your pardon?' A look of discomfort passed over Sir Donald's face. 'If your company financed the entire project, the Motavian Opposition Party would say the British Government was behind the deal.' 'That's preposterous! My company has no links with the Government.'

'Try telling that to an unscrupulous political party.' 'Then what do you suggest we dosell out?' She looked at her lawyer. 'I suppose we could do that? I mean we haven't done anything with our rights in Motavia since we acquired them.' She turned to the Foreign Secretary again. 'I don't suppose you would like us to sell to the Slovenians?' Sir Donald almost exploded at the idea. 'That's exactly what we do not want! They'd buy your rights tomorrow if they had the chanceand be delighted to show you a substantial profit.' 'Then what do you want us to do?' Melissa did not hide her exasperation. 'You don't want us to sell out, but you don't want us to go ahead with the investment. I can assure you Prince Louis has no intention of letting those minerals remain in the ground!' 'We don't want that either,' the Foreign Secretary replied. 'We are as anxious to see the Motavian economy improve as they are. But your company must put up the finance in such a way that their Opposition cannot use it as a political weapon.' 'How do we do that?' 'You are known to be the richest woman in the world,' Sir Donald said. 'If you married His Highness, the Motavians wouldn't think it strange if your company did all they could to help him.' Melissa drew a deep breath but managed to control her temper. 'You aren't serious, are you, Sir Donald?' 'Yes,' he said quietly. 'I regret that I am.' 'And I regret that I cannot do as you ask.' Her voice rose. 'I have no intention of marrying the Prince. And he has no wish to marry me.'

'He flew to England prepared to do so. It was only your alternative suggestion that made him change his mind. We hope you can make him revert to his original thinking.' 'No!' Melissa almost stamped her foot in temper. 'How dare you tell me what to do with my life! You aren't asking for my financial help; you want me to marry a man I don't love to put my whole future at your command.' 'Only a few years of it.' 'Definitely not!' 'Hear me out, Miss Benton, I beg you.' The Foreign Secretary leaned forward, his thin face grave. 'A great deal is at stake. It is not only the freedom of Motavia but of Europe. If you were Prince Louis's wife, anything your company did there would be accepted by its people as a sign of your love for him. But if the money is put up without marriage, the Opposition will say the British Government were the real financiers. They will whip up such antiBritish feeling that they would force Prince Louis to accept financial help from the East.' 'He would never do that.' 'How can you be sure?' 'I asked him.' 'You asked him?' She half smiled, remembering the Prince's surprise at the bluntness of her question. 'Yes. I wanted to know why he hadn't accepted help from the East before. He said it was because of his

grandmother. He gave me the impression she was more against it than he was.' Sir Donald sighed. 'That only confirms our fears. Were it not for his grandmother's dislike of Krassky and his country, Prince Louis would have turned to them long ago. If Princess Helene dies, he will become a puppet prince, with the strings pulled from Slovenia or Peking! If that happens, it will be a disaster.' Melissa raised her brows but remained silent, and Sir Donald leaned back in his chair, looking so old and tired that she was moved to apologise. 'Much as I would like to help you, I can't do as you ask.' 'You wouldn't be helping me, Miss Benton, you would be helping your country.' 'Aren't you being melodramatic?' 'If only I were.' Sir Donald put his fingers together and stared at them as if what he wanted to say was written on the tips. 'If you do as I have asked, the Government will refund to your company the entire amount it invests in Motavia.' 'That's a great deal of money,' she said faintly. 'The peace of Europe is at stake.' 'Can't you get Motavia to turn to the West without my help? Where's all that marvellous British diplomacy we're always hearing about?'

'Diplomacy takes timeand that is running out for us.' He sighed. 'I am an old man, Miss Benton. Never in my life have I asked anyone to make a personal sacrifice of such magnitude. If there was any other course open to us....' Looking at him, Melissa knew he was speaking the truth. Unwilling to be swayed by his pleading, she walked over to the window and peered through the double glazing to the street below. If she did not agree to do as Sir Donald asked she would be no better than a traitor to her country. Ludicrous though the thought was, she realised it was no exaggeration. Yet how could he expect her to marry a man she did not love? What sort of life would she have? 'It need not be for long,' Sir Donald said behind her. 'In three or four years' timeif things go according to planMotavia will be too important for anyone to touch it.' 'I hadn't realised uranium and gold were so important.' 'It's a matter of oil,' said Sir Donald. 'We believe there is enough oil in Motavia to give Europe all the energy it needs for the next hundred years!' Melissa swung round. At last she could see why the freedom of Motavia was so important., The Slovenians would not dare to take it over if there were a British Princess on the throne; particularly one who came with a coffer of gold. 'Prince Louis said nothing to me about oil.' 'He is not certain it's there,' Sir Donald said. 'But you are?'

'Yes. We have our sources.' 'Better than the Prince's?' 'More reliable. He believes in the loyalty of his advisors. We believe in no one's loyalty.' 'What an unpleasant way to live,' she retorted. 'We live in an unpleasant world. That is why we need your help.' Melissa caught her breath: as she herself was caught. 'You're making it difficult for me to refuse.' He shrugged and went on looking at her. Melissa watched him, marvelling that he could appear so urbane and gentle. Fifteen minutes ago she would have laughed if anyone had said he could persuade her to marry a man she did not know. After all, she was not an ordinary girl to be coerced or intimidated. She was a powerful woman with powerful people working for her. Yet the very power she wielded had been the weapon Sir Donald had used for his own ends. Because Benton's dealt with Governments on their own level, they were treated like a Government and, when told of the importance of certain facts, could be relied on not to put their personal motivation first. This was why she had been told the true position in Motavia. 'If I do as you ask, it isn't because the Government will reimburse us for what we expend,' she said slowly, 'but because you have appealed to me as aas a citizen of the world. I will tell Prince Louis at once.' Sir Donald looked as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. 'It is better for His Highness to think you have changed your mind for personal reasons.'

'Why can't I tell him the truth?' 'Because we aren't sure of his political beliefs. It is safer if he thinks you are marrying him because you yourself wish it. And of course he must never know that our Government is behind the scheme.' 'You can't keep it a secret for ever.' 'Once oil revenue has stabilised the Motavian economy, there will be no need to keep it secret.' 'And after that I will be free to leave the Prince?' 'If you wish. I believe Motavia is a lovely country. Many Europeans who go there find that -' 'It could never be my home,' she interrupted, and looked at Calvin Clement. 'Please let me tell the Prince the truth?' 'Not for the moment, Melissa. If he were to tell it to Krassky -' Sir Donald spoke again. 'Prince Louis will no doubt wish the marriage to take place as soon as possible. It will be as well to comply with his wishes.' Her head lifted sharply. 'Do you have any more orders for me?' 'You have already agreed to do the most difficult one,' he said, moving to the door. 'We will not forget it, Miss Benton.' Only when she was alone with her lawyer did Melissa speak, anger precipitating her round the room.

'You knew!' she accused. 'You knew all along that I would have to marry him. Why didn't you warn me? At least it would have stopped me making a fool of myself.' 'I was not at liberty to tell you. Anyway, I was hoping it wouldn't be necessary.' 'Don't tell me you thought I'd agree to marry him?' 'Being a princess has its compensations.' 'I have all the power I need.' 'There are different kinds of power, Melissa. Try and look on the positive side. You have always wanted to put your welfare ideas into practice. Now you will have the opportunity. Motavia is a backward country; it needs bringing into the twentieth century and you can do it. Its Royal Family still means a great deal to the Motavians, and as their Princess you will be in a unique position.' Melissa would not have been human had she not been fired by the lawyer's words. For years she had wanted to do something of value with her personal resources, finding the benevolence of the Benton Charitable Foundation too anonymous to suit her temperament. 'From a business point of view, it is excellent for the Company,' Calvin Clement continued. 'If Sir Donald is right about the oil, it will bring us in billions.' 'So much money is obscene.' 'Poverty and oppression are equally obscene.' 'So is power.' Melissa went to the door. 'I should know that. I'm caught up in the middle of it!'

'Melissa!' With a speed she had not seen from him before, he came to stand beside her, his face full of concern. 'I have known you the best part of your life, my dear, and I am extremely fond of you. I would never want you to do anything that would make you unhappy.' 'Do you think marrying a man I don't know will make for happiness?' 'It shouldn't make you unhappy,' he prevaricated, 'and it needn't be for more than a few years. If you could look on it as a temporary measure.' 'I'm not modern enough for that! I might not have had much of a home life from the time my parents died, but I was brought up to believe in the sanctity of marriage.' She wrenched the door open and ran out. Calvin Clement did not follow her, as she had known he wouldn't. She had given her word to Sir Donald and he knew she would not break it. Sitting in her car, she decided to go and see Prince Louis at once. There was no point letting him think she had solved his problem. Instructing her chauffeur to take her to the Motavian Embassy, she nervously rehearsed what she was going to say, and tried to guess the reaction of the tall blond man whose wife she would soon become. A wife. A princess. It was too incredible to be credible. Yet it was true; an unpleasant reality that had to be faced. And the first and probably most unpleasant partlay immediately ahead of her. The car glided to a stop in a square off Belgravia. Several policemen were on duty and the royal standard fluttered over the

front door of a corner mansion. Quickly she ran up the steps and rang the bell. Almost at once the door opened and two armed guards faced her. It gave her a jolt to see they were holding guns, and for a moment she was too overcome to speak. Then as they continued to look at her, she blurted out: 'I wish to see His Highness. Please tell him it's Miss Benton.' The guards looked at each other and then beckoned her inside. She stepped forward and the door closed behind her. The hall was large and marble-floored, and from several closed doors came the faint clatter of typewriters and the insistent ringing of telephones. 'Please follow,' one of the guards said, and ushered her into a waiting room. It was beautifully furnished with carved wooden tables inlaid with mother-of-pearl, settees in brightly coloured wool and shaggy rugs on an ebony floor. 'Please to wait here,' the guard added, and went out. Too tense to relax, Melissa walked round the room, pausing only to stare at the full-length portrait of Prince Louis that hung above the mantelpiece. It was a reproduction of an original and had an unpleasant glossy appearance. Yet not even this could detract from the exceptional looks of the man whose brilliant blue eyes seemed to follow her as she walked from the table to the window and then back again. There was no sound to be heard other than a passing motorcar outside in the square, and she was beginning to wonder how much longer she would have to wait when the door opened and Major Alexi Vernov came in. 'Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Miss Benton, but we were not expecting you so soon.'

'I'm sorry. I should have telephoned, but II was in a hurry. I wish to see Prince Louis.' 'Of course.' The Major led the way up the stairs to the first floor and a large drawing room that looked out upon a small patio. Here too the furniture was ornate, but vases of flowers and several magazines and books gave it a more lived-in appearance, and she guessed it to be the Ambassador's personal room. 'His Highness will be with you in a moment,' the Major said, and once again Melissa found herself alone and waiting. This time her wait was short, for as the door into the hall closed, another door behind her opened and Louis, Prince of Motavia, came in. Gone was the informally dressed young man she had seen a couple of hours earlier. This one wore military uniform: an impeccably cut navy jacket with gold braid and medals that gleamed no less brightly than his hair. The high collar accentuated his powerful shoulders and this, in turn, emphasised his narrow hips and lean thighs. Clemmie was right, she decided. This man would have no difficulty finding a girl to marry him. Even when angry he had exuded an astonishing charm. Now, smiling and at ease, his mobile mouth curved to show perfect white teeth, his eyes luminous with pleasure and blue as cornflowers, he was devastating enough to sweep the most prosaic female off her feet. 'Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Miss Benton.' 'I'm the one who should apologise. It looks as if I have come at an awkward time.' She saw his perplexity and inclined her head to his jacket. 'You were going out?' 'No, no.' He smiled again. 'I was holding an investiture. In our last Honours List several of our London staff were decorated, and the Ambassador decided to make use of my stay here.' A strong but

narrow hand pointed to a chair and, as Melissa sat down, he did the same. 'I did not realise you would have news for me so soon. That is why you are here, is it not?' 'Yes.' She clasped her handbag tightly. Its gold clasp dug into her palm and she was glad of the pain, for it stopped her from feeling nervous. 'I haveI have changed my mind,' she said without preamble. 'I am willing to accept your offer.' 'My offer?' Prince Louis looked perplexed. 'Of marriage.' Melissa forced herself to look at him and saw by the sudden flaring of his nostrils that he understood what she meant. His look of perplexity was replaced by one of such fury that for a moment she feared he would rise from his chair and strike her. But within an instant he was in control of himself, his eyes masked by their lids, his features rigid with disdain. 'You mean you have not spoken to your Board?' 'They won't agree,' she lied. 'They aren't willing to put up your share of the finance as well as ours.' 'Then I will raise it somewhere else.' 'You can't,' she said quickly. 'Under the terms of your grandfather's agreement, you have to offer me marriage first. If I accept, my company is obligated to finance the entire project.' Violently he stood up, his chair rocking with the movement. 'So you have succumbed to the idea of a title,' he said icily. 'After all your fine talk, you are no better than the rest.' 'It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind.'

'A true woman would never marry without love!' 'What about a man?' she retorted, stung by the remark. 'I have a duty to my country.' 'And I have a duty to my company!' His laugh was harsh. 'Don't try and make me believe they need more millions.' The anger left his face and it was suddenly pleading. 'The agreement my grandfather madeit is ridiculous. Neither of us will be happy with a marriage that means nothing. If your company do not want to take the entire financial risk in the Motavian mines, give me a chance of finding the money I need from another source.' 'We must stick to the agreement,' she said stonily, and turned away from the contempt in his eyes. If only she could tell him the truth. He would still be bitter at having to make a loveless marriage, but at least he would not despise her. But Sir Donald had demanded her silence and she could not break her word to him. 'Once I am your wife,' she said with difficulty, there will be no problem about money. I willI will personally guarantee that.' 'You are willing to pay dearly for a title.' Even though she could not see his face, there was no missing the contempt in his voice. She forced herself not to be hurt by it. Duty had forced him to come to England to offer marriage to a girl he did not know, and dutyin her turnwas making her accept his offer.

'Please try to understand that Ithat I...' Once again her promise to Sir Donald kept her tongue in check and her voice trailed away. 'What do we do now?' she whispered. 'Make arrangements for our marriage. It must be done as quickly as possible.' 'Why?' 'Royalty rarely have long engagements and my people have already waited long enough for me to take a bride.' 'It's a pity you didn't take one before,' she said tartly, 'then this whole situation would never have arisen.' Bitterness lay tangibly on his aquiline features, turning down the corners of the finely cut mouth and giving a pinched look to the flaring nostrils. 'Unfortunately the woman I loved wasn't free. Now that she is, you are making it impossible.' 'I'm sorry.' Melissa was dismayed by the bleakness of his countenance and for the first time knew how much their marriage would hurt him. Though she herself was losing her freedom for several years, at least she was not breaking her heart. 'I really am sorry,' she repeated. 'But not sorry enough to change your mind?' The blue eyes darkened as they saw the answer on her face. 'You use words with the same skill as your company uses its money,' he said bleakly. She forced herself to answer him. 'Our marriage might not last for ever. In a few years I might get bored with being a princess and decide to end the whole thing!'

'I will be praying for that day, Miss Benton.' He turned his back on her and pressed a bell beside the fireplace. 'Major Vernov will escort you to your car.' Without another word he walked across to the inner door, opened it and then closed it behind him, leaving her alone in the room, as she knew he would frequently leave her in the future.

CHAPTER FOUR 'IT was to be expected that she would accept the proposal,' Princess Helene said with characteristic bluntness. 'It would take a girl of unusual personality to say no.' 'At the beginning I thought she was unusual,' her grandson replied. 'You are a bad judge of women.' Impatiently he shrugged, unwilling to continue the conversation lest it lead to further argument; and there was nothing anyone could say that would stop him loving Elise. 'When will the wedding take place?' his grandmother asked. 'Have you spoken to Claud about it?' 'Naturally. He sees it as a chance of whipping up royal enthusiasm.' 'Be careful how you treat him,' Princess Helene said. 'Claud is the best Prime Minister we have ever had.' 'He is a great admirer of yours too,' Prince Louis replied. 'It's a pity you aren't on the throne.' 'You don't do too badly yourself,' his grandmother said grudgingly. 'If only you could get Elise out of your mind!' 'Your dislike of her is unreasonable.' He made no effort to hide his annoyance. 'I do not understand it. She has always gone out of her way to show you the greatest respect.' 'She went out of her way to show that she wanted you,' came the retort. 'If only that fool of a husband of hers hadn't died!'

Despite his anger Louis could not help smiling. 'You can't blame the poor man for that. He was nearly eighty.' 'Eighty-two,' Princess Helene said dryly. 'It was a great love match!' 'Elise never pretended she loved her husband,' he protested. 'She has always been honest about it. He wanted a beautiful wife to act as his hostess and she wanted security and the chance to enjoy herself. It was a fair bargain on both sides-. Elise didn't break it.' 'Only because of your good sense,' his grandmother said tartly. 'She threw herself at you from the day she came to Court. If you want my opinion, the only reason she married Breen was to meet you. She would never have got to Court otherwise.' 'You are being unreasonable,' her grandson said impatiently. 'Elise had no means of knowing I would fall in love with her.' 'She has great beauty,' Princess Helene said grudgingly, 'and she knows how to use it.' 'Then you shouldn't blame me for falling in love with her!' 'I do not blame you for wanting heronly for wanting to marry her!' With an exclamation Prince Louis banged his hand on his thigh. 'Well, now I can't marry her, so that at least should make you happy. Didn't you say as much before I went to England? That you would rather I married a commoner than Elise?' 'I didn't mean it,' the old lady said, taking out a wisp of lace to wipe her eyes. 'You know I want your happiness more than anything else in the world.'

The anger left his face and he moved over to pat the bony blackclad shoulder that barely reached to his chest. 'I know, Grand'mere, and perhaps it is best if we don't talk about it any more.' Princess Helene put her handkerchief away. 'What is she like, this Miss Benton?' 'Alexi thinks she's pretty.' 'Do you?' 'I don't think I would recognise her if I saw her again.' The blue eyes narrowed. 'She is smallnot much bigger than youand she has brown hair.' His grandmother sighed, knowing his eyes were filled with a vision of Elise's tall grace and blonde hair. Did this English girl know of Louis's attachment to another woman? The thought of the scandal that might ensue forced her to revert to a subject which, only a moment ago, she had agreed never to mention again. 'Did you tell her about Elise?' 'Not by name; but she knows I love someone else.' 'And she has still agreed to become your wife?' 'To become a princess,' he grated. 'She will never be my wife!' 'Does she know that?' 'Some things it is not necessary to put into words,' he retorted, and looked round with relief as his equerry came in to say that the Prime Minister had arrived.

For the first time Louis was forced to give his attention to his forthcoming marriage. Though to him it was only a means to an end, he knew that for his people it would be a time of rejoicing: the welcoming of a princess to grace the throne and, with it, the hopes of an heir. Never, he thought darkly. Never with any woman except Elise. Even if this farce of a marriage had to continue for five or six years, he would still be young enough to have a family afterwards. With an effort he forced himself to pay attention to what his Prime Minister was saying. The man assumed he was marrying for love and was delighted that Motavia would at last have a Princess who would serve as a glamorous focal point for the young people, as well as one who was bringing such immense wealth with her. Louis wondered what Claud would say if he knew the real reason for the marriage. All he did know was that half the mineral rights in Motavia were the property of the Benton Group, while the other half was privately owned by the Royal Family and this, Louis decided, was as good a time as any to announce his plans to give these rights to the country. Succinctly he said so, and the Prime Minister did not disguise his pleasure. 'It is an extremely wise decision, sir. As you know, the Opposition regularly table a motion concerning royal ownership of the mineral rights.' 'I don't blame them,' Louis retorted. 'I would do the same in their position. The natural resources of the country should belong to the people. It's a pity we cannot get the other half back from the Benton Group!'

'It would be impossible to do that without causing an international incident,' Claud Leclair said hastily. 'They are a company with worldwide ramifications. They can pull strings that can topple governments.' 'Surely not in this day and age?' 'Even today. That is why it is incredible you are marrying Melissa Benton. It is something I would have planned for you if I had thought of it!' Louis's smile was tinged with bitterness. 'So you think my marriage will make my throne more secure?' 'There's no doubt of it. With all the money she can bring you, we can -' 'Miss Benton is not giving me a dowry,' Louis interrupted. 'Her company will finance the mineral exploration. Nothing more than that.' 'If you say so, sir.' The Prime Minister spoke in a tone that indicated that he was merely changing the subject without changing his mind, and Louis was certain that once Melissa Benton was his wife, Claud would lose no time in trying to get her to open her purse strings. The thought was ironically amusing and he wondered if the girl would be capable of withstanding Claud's persuasiveness. He could almost hear his Prime Minister encouraging her to believe she was Motavia's saviour and he could guess what the first call on her money would be. Child welfare clinics. Claud had been looking for a way to finance these for years. And after that it would be nursery schools. He sighed. He did not disagree with Claud's aims. Indeed there were many projects he himself would like to do, were

it not for the fact that each one required a great deal of money and, until the coffers were replenished, the schemes must remain unrealised. 'I will arrange for the Palace Press Officer to fly to London immediately.' The Prime Minister was speaking again. 'The sooner we inform our people of your marriage the better.' 'Go easy on the publicity,' Louis commanded, 'I don't intend my marriage to be a peepshow.' 'It will be difficult to avoid it, sir. The eyes of the world will be focused on us. People like nothing better than a good romance, and your marriage to a commoner will capture their imagination. Miss Benton must come here at once.' 'I doubt if Missmy fiance will come as quickly as you would like,' Louis warned. 'She isn't used to taking orders.' 'She is your bride-to-be,' the Prime Minister smiled. 'She wouldn't be human if she were not anxious to be with you.' Louis held his tongue, fully aware that Claud was looking at him anxiously. He did not fool himself that eventually the real state of his marriage would become known to his Cabinet, but for the moment it was advisable to pretend. It would do his country no good for it to be publicly known that his marriage was one of expediency, forced upon him by a bankrupt economy. 'By all means try and get my fiance here as quickly as you can,' he said graciously. 'I will leave all the wedding arrangements in your hands.' But later, as he paced his private apartments, he could not disguise his depression. How eagerly he had looked forward to his

wedding, anxiously awaiting the lapse of time which discretion had warned him to let pass before announcing his betrothal to Elise. Never had he imagined that before that day came he would be forced to offer himself in marriage to a stranger who, by an ironic quirk of fate, held the future prosperity of his country in her hands. For the past year Motavia's position had been a continuing nightmare to him, and from the moment Krassky had come to see him, armed with geologists' reports, he had known that one day he would be faced with a decision. Even now he was not sure he had done the right thing in refusing Slovenian help. If only his grandmother had not been so opposed to it! Louis ran his hands through his hair. Perhaps deep down he had agreed with her; otherwise he would never have held out against Elise's pleading. Thinking of her now, and envisaging her reaction to his marriage, he closed his eyes as if in pain. 'How can I live without you?' he muttered. 'My love. Later that evening, as the warm spring day gave way to the cool chill of evening, his silver grey sports car sped in the direction of the hills which lay to the north of the capital. Here lived many of his country's wealthiest citizens, and outside one of the smaller yet most beautiful mansions, he came to a stop. There was no need for him to ring on the door, for as he crossed the portico it opened, and he strode across the hall to the music room. The moment he entered he was enveloped by rose-pink arms, his nostrils filled with the scented fragrance of Elise. 'Darling,' she whispered. 'I missed you so much.'

But despite her words she did not remain in his arms and gently but firmly pulled away from him. She seated herself on a brocaded seat, her figure outlined by a pink-shaded lamp. Everything in the room enhanced her beauty, and she could easily have served as the model for any of the delicate Fragonard paintings that lined the damask walls. Even her clothes emphasised her association with that poetic century when the satins and lace of the aristocracy had hidden the squalor and poverty of the masses. Looking at her, Louis marvelled that she could ever have known the stringent upbringing of her childhood. She seemed the epitome of luxury and indolence, yet beneath the softness there was a firm streak of common sense; a practicality that he admired the more because it lacked the stringent quality of his grandmother. Unlike that indomitable old lady, Elise knew when and where to draw the line; when to give in to an argument, when to stop putting on the pressure. She was a past-mistress in the art of subtle persuasion, preferring to use tenderness and guile to get her own way. All this Louis knew, yet it did not affect his love, for Elise's ambition was for his successnot her own. It was ridiculous of his grandmother to dislike her because she had married an old man in order to escape poverty. Such beauty had a right to be shown to its best advantage, and if that advantage had come in the guise of an octogenarian, he still could not blame her for accepting it. Count Breen had died a happy man, content in the knowledge that he was leaving his wealth to a woman who would cherish it as he had done. 'Are you admiring my little trinket?' Elise asked, and he saw she was pointing to a coloured enamelled sphere the size of a turkey egg.

As he looked at it, she picked it up and brought it over to him. It was an exquisite piece of workmanship, the top half hinging back to show a crystal interior encrusted with seed pearls, while from the heart of the egg itself came the warm glow of a magnificent ruby. 'It's beautiful,' he murmured, and though he longed to ask who had given it to her, he did not do so. 'I knew you would like it.' She fingered the ruby and Louis caught her hand and squeezed it hard. 'It looks very expensive.' She shrugged. 'It was a present from Krassky.' 'I don't like you accepting gifts from any man,' Louis said angrily. 'Least of all him!' 'He's the one person you need not be jealous of. He only buys me presents to curry favour with you. He's foolish enough to think I have some influence over you.' 'You have,' Louis said, and pressed her fingers to his lips. 'Have I?' she whispered. 'I don't feel it.' 'Because I try not to let you know,' he said lightly, and dropped her hand. His dismay at what he had to tell her was robbing this moment of any pleasure it might have held for him. Yet the longer he delayed, the worse it would be, and in swift, staccato sentences he told her that Melissa Benton had accepted his proposal of marriage.

'I had no choice,' he concluded. 'You do see that, don't you ?' 'No, I don't. You are ruining your life for nothing. What right does any company haveno matter how big it isto control half the wealth of Motavia? You should throw them out.' 'I can't. They have a legal agreement that is enforceable by law.' 'Motavia can make its own laws! Tear up the contract and throw it back at them. Tell them that foreigners can't own any of our natural resources.' 'Krassky is a foreigner too,' Louis replied, 'and I would rather be partners with a British company than a foreign government. You only see Krassky as a charming man who gives you presents, but to me he's a ruthless politician who wants to get control of us.' 'You would still remain Prince!' she cried. 'And you'd have all Krassky's power behind you.' 'For as long as it suited him.' Louis was chilled by Elise's words, even though he knew she did not mean them. She was speaking like this because she was hurt. She could not truly be advocating surrender to a country that stood for everything they both abhorred. 'There is no point going on with this argument,' he said. 'I have already made my decision. And Claud agrees with me.' 'Naturally!' Elise spat out the word. 'He is in league with your grandmother and they're both fools!' She clutched his arm. 'Oh, Louis, can't you see what you're doing? You are ruining our lives for nothing!'

'I am doing it for my country.' His tone was anguished. 'I love you with all my heart, but I cannot marry you. I have to do my duty.' 'Your grandmother's duty, you mean!' Tears filled her eyes. 'Talk to Krassky again; hear what he has to say. He wants to stop other countries taking control of you. Can't you see that?' 'No, I can't. I have made up my mind, Elise. Nothing can change it.' 'Then we must say goodbye.' 'Never!' He caught her close, his body trembling with the intensity of his feelings. 'Never goodbye,' he said passionately. 'I love you. You are the only woman I want.' 'I can't go on being your mistress,' she cried. 'You have no right to expect it.' 'But we love each other. You know why I'm marrying this girl. It won't make any difference to us.' 'It makes all 'the difference in the world.' Elise pulled away from him, her pale blue eyes flashing with anger. 'I have been your mistress because I love you. Because I believed that when I was no longer in mourning, we would get married. But now you're marrying someone else and -' She caught her lower lip between small white teeth, fighting for composure. 'It is one thing to be your mistress believing I will become your wife, but you cannot expect me to live with you when you are married to someone else!' 'But it's a marriage of duty, not something I want! You can't send me away, Elise. I won't let you.'

'Is that an order?' she cried. 'Are you commanding me to obey you?' He caught his breath, furious that she could deliberately misunderstand him. 'You are the woman I love. The only woman I want.' Disregarding her protests he pulled her close again, burying his head in the soft silk of her hair. He felt her tremble and was overcome with desire for her, as he always was when she was near him. Had it not been for his grandmother, he knew he would have given in to Elise's pleading long ago. But the woman who had brought him up since he was eleven, who had acted as Regent until he had been old enough to take the throne himself, still had sufficient influence on him to make it impossible for him to go against her wishes. Yet how hard it was to obey them when they were separating him from the tender, melting creature in his arms. 'You mustn't leave me,' he begged. 'I love you. I need you.' 'What life will I have?' she sobbed. 'Everyone's expecting us to get married and when they hear you're marrying a foreigner -' She beat her hands against his chest. 'I hate you, Louis! I hate you!' 'You don't!' he cried. 'You're only saying it because you're hurt.' He tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. 'As far as my people are concerned, I will have to pretend. But among my loyal friends I can be myself. Bear with me, Elise. In a few years' time things will be different. Even my grandmother has agreed that such a marriage cannot last for ever.' 'Your grandmother said that?' There was a lightening of Elise's expression and Louis felt his tension lessening as he nodded.

'Once we are solvent and strong, I can set myself free. It's only for a few years,' he added. 'After that, we will have all our lives together.' Elise sighed and nestled against him. 'I almost feel sorry for the Benton girl. She'll find a title a very empty thing when she discovers she doesn't possess the man who goes with it.' 'You are the only one who possesses me,' he said huskily and, placing his mouth on hers, showed her what he meant.

CHAPTER FIVE MELISSA flew to Motavia in a private jet of the Royal Flight, and peering through the porthole as her plane landed, she saw a row of armed guards waiting to greet herPrince Louis at their head and wondered what on earth she had let herself in for. In London it had been easy to think of Motavia as a fairy-tale country, but once in the country itself, it was another story. The guards, in their black and scarlet costumes and three-cornered hats, might be something to laugh at when seen in a newsreel, but they had an aura of fierceness when seen at first hand; as did the glittering rifles balanced on their shoulders. Seven million Motavians might not seem to have much strength when viewed from a land of sixty million, but the roar of the excited crowd which reverberated in her ears as she descended from the plane was enough to send shivers down her spine. In marrying Prince Louis she was not only accepting a stranger as her husband but an alien country as her home. He stepped forward to greet her, and she stared at him with unconcealed admiration. She had forgotten how handsome he was. His uniform might be theatrical, but there was nothing theatrical about the way he wore it: calf-length black boots gave precision to his steps, and as he came forward to greet her, the muscles of his thighs rippled beneath tightly fitting cavalry trousers. A row of medals glinted on his chest, their faint movement the only indication of his quick breathing. He was not as calm as he outwardly appeared, she noted with satisfaction. He too must be finding this meeting a strain. Aware of the hundreds of press photographers held at bay by the police, but using their zoom lenses with embarrassing dexterity, he leaned forward and touched his lips to her cheek. This meeting

between Prince and commoner was being flashed to the eyes of millions of curious people. Lurid newspaper banners had already been screaming news of it as she had left England, and there would be even more colourful headlines to come; each one trying to tear away the last shred of their privacy. The knowledge was unnerving and she steadied herself by remembering she was here under orders. She must regard herself as a spy or as a member of the armed forces. Chin tilted, she walked beside him down the row of guards, only tensing as he led her to an open-topped car. Aware of her dismay, he murmured: 'My people expect it. They are anxious to see you.' 'I know,' she said quickly. 'Major Vernov gave me a whole list of things to expect. I hadn't realised there were so many rules.' 'Are there? I am not aware of them myself.' Implicit in the words was the difference in their stations, and her irritation rose. He might be a Prince on a throne, but it was a very shaky one and needed to be bolstered by Benton money. As long as she reminded herself of this it would combat any inferiority complex he tried to give her. Her lips tightened. Never in her life had the word inferiority come into her mind. Prince Louis might have been isolated from reality by the shield of royalty, but she had been equally isolated from it by her vast wealth. Nervousness assailed her again. This associationwhich she had always known would be difficultwas likely to be even more stormy because of the basic difference in their characters. The light touch of Prince Louis's hand under her elbow guided her into the car. 'I'm glad you're wearing an off-the-face hat,' he

commented, taking his place beside her. 'A wide brim would have prevented the people from seeing you properly.' 'Princess Grace of Monaco committed that faux pas,' Melissa murmured. 'I remember being told about it when I was a child.' He shrugged. 'As you mentioned before, royalty has to fulfil certain obligations. And being clearly visible on all public occasions is one of them.' His remark reminded her of the many other obligations with which he had to comply, and she felt a momentary sadness for this goodlooking young man. Quickly she pushed it away. 'Has Motavia always had a monarchy?' 'Yes. It is the only country in Europe where there has been a continuing Royal Family for five hundred years.' 'What about England?' she said indignantly, and reddened as she remembered Cromwell and the head of poor King Charles. 'Anyway, I think Royalty is an anachronism.' 'Then why are you so anxious to become a princess? If you hadn't been, I am sure you could have persuaded your Board to give us the money we needed without forcing me to marry you.' Angry colour stained her cheeks, but knowing her own foolish tongue had precipitated his remark, she looked away. Seeing her heightened colour the crowd cheered more loudly and shouted affectionate greetings to their Prince, who responded with a continual wave of his arm and a warm smile that in no way evaporated the ice from his eyes.

'Wave with me,' he commanded, his lips barely moving. 'And smile. Keep smiling all the time.' Melissa's arm and face was aching by the time they reached the Palace, its slender turrets gleaming like minarets against the clear blue Motavian sky. The guards here were dressed in a less military fashion, and though they carried rifles they did not have the same lethal look as the guards who had lined up for them at the airport or held back the crowds en route. They drove through the iron gates, swept across a wide courtyard and under a stone arch that led to a smaller cobbled yard. Here was the private entrance to the palace, and she followed Prince Louis into a hexagonal shaped hall, lined with tapestries, and through a bewildering number of corridors before emerging into his private apartment. This, she was to learn later, consisted of four suites each with its own bedroom, bathroom and sitting room and a large comfortably furnished drawing room and dining room. Both of these looked out on a courtyard that was hidden from prying eyes by a wall some twenty feet high. It was cleverly masked by trailing vines whose trumpet-shaped flowers exuded a heavy perfume that filled the rooms with fragrance. 'Motavia's trumpet rose,' Prince Louis explained as Melissa drew a deep breath. It's our national flower.' 'It's heavenly.' She wandered outside and breathed deep again. 'How long is it in bloom?' 'Nine or ten months of the year. It dies only when the frost comes, but there are many years when it blooms continually.' She moved over to the wall and touched one of the flowers. It was unusual in appearance, with long, trumpet-shaped petals which unfolded themselves like a tea rose. She bent lower to study them,

unaware of the lovely picture she made with her chestnut brown hair gleaming in the sunlight, and her slender body made more graceful by a cream silk dress with a full pleated skirt and tightly fitting bodice. Louis stared at her. She was smaller than he had recollected: not more than five feet without her shoes. He glanced at the ridiculously high heels and the surprisingly long, well-shaped legs. She was a perfectly formed young woman, glowing with a health and vitality that came from a well-nurtured upbringing. She swung round from the flowers and came towards him, her steps so swift that she gave the impression of running, even though she was not. It was so different from Elise's languid movements that he knew a sudden longing to be with her right now, and was unable to stop the look of pain that came into his eyes. But the girl was aware of it, for he saw a frown mark the high forehead. 'You had better come and meet my grandmother,' he said abruptly, and turned away without seeing whether she followed him. Silently he led her back to the entrance hall and thence to an apartment in the east wing. 'My grandmother will be moving to another residence once we are married,' he explained, stopping outside a mahogany door. 'Why? She isn't in the way here.' 'It is not done,' he said coldly and, opening the door, waited for her to precede him. The Dowager Princess Helene left Melissa in no doubt that she was marrying into a truly Royal Family. Regality was in every gesture of the ramrod body and proud head covered with carefully waved grey hair. Black eyes glittered in a face as crumpled as

tissue paper, though there was nothing aged about the mouth, which was as beautifully shaped as her grandson's. She wore a grey silk dress whose delicate ruffle of lace hid her crepey neck, and on the lace rested three rows of the most lustrous pearls Melissa had ever seen. Several diamond brooches were pinned to the bodice and large rings weighed down the bird-like hands. Such a display of jewellery in the afternoon would have looked ludicrous on anyone else, but they seemed part of Princess Helene, and Melissa was to learn that this was but a small sample of the beautiful collection which she wore every waking hour. The meeting was a strained one. Prince Louis did his best to keep the conversation going, but finally he lapsed into silence and sipped his straw-coloured tea with an impatience he made little attempt to hide. Melissa's head was aching, partly from tiredness since she had slept little the night beforeand partly from tension. She wished she had not refused Calvin Clement's offer to accompany her here, and counted the days until she would see him again. He would be flying out with various legal documents for her and the Prince to sign, documents which would pledge the Benton Group to explore the mountainous regions of Motavia. Sir Donald was flying out too, in his official capacity as Foreign Minister to represent Great Britain at the wedding, and would no doubt be accompanied by some younger members of the British Royal Family. The thought set her trembling and she put down her cup and resisted the urge to jump to her feet and run away. Instead she clasped her hands together on her lap, not knowing how much she resembled a little girl as she satdiminutive and uprightin the large, carved wooden chair. 'You are younger than I expected,' the Princess said in guttural yet excellent English.

'I am twenty-three.' 'I know exactly how old you are, Miss Benton. I also know that you were brought up by a middle-aged nurse of excellent family, that your uncle had you educated at home and that your mother was his only relativeapart from yourself.' Melissa swallowed hard and looked at Prince Louis, turning away as she saw the ironic gleam in his eyes. 'I know a lot about the Vallon family too,' she murmured. 'Not so many intimate details perhaps, but all the important ones.' 'Monetary, no doubt,' Prince Louis said. 'Those are the ones you have obviously been brought up to consider important.' 'It's my money that brought me here,' she said sweetly, and was delighted to see angry colour sweep into his face. 'I'll show you to your quarters,' he said, and stood up with the lithe movement of a panther. 'You will dine with us?' he asked his grandmother, half turning his head. 'Of course. It will be the last night for many weeks that we will be alone.' The dark eyes rested upon Melissa. 'From tomorrow, we will have to entertain ministers and court officials and -' 'Is that necessary?' Melissa said quickly. 'Can't I just meet them in the normal course of events?' 'It is normal for them to be formally presented to you,' the Princess said sternly. 'Otherwise they would regard it as an insult. I have also arranged for you to learn Motavian. Professor Miro will start your lessons the day after tomorrow.'

'I thought everyone here spoke English.' 'It is the second language in our schools, but as Prince Louis's wife you will be expected to speak Motavian.' Melissa was annoyed with herself for being tactless. She must learn to guard her tongue. She was not here for a few weeks only, but for several years, and it would be unbearable if she could not live in unity with those around her. This was not an amusing escapade which she could end when the mood took her. She had committed herself to a serious undertaking and must carry it through to the end. The enormity of her commitmentin terms of her lifewas suddenly horrifying, and she was swamped by a panic she had never experienced before. It was as though heavy hands were gripping her chest and making it impossible for her to breathe. There was a rasping in her throat and she felt she was choking. Red colour zoomed in on her and her vision blurred. It was impossible for her to stay here any longer. She must leave the Palace; leave the country. End the whole ridiculous farce. 'Home!' she gasped, and pushing out her hands as though to ward off an unseen danger, crumpled forward. With an instinctive gesture Louis put out his arms and caught Melissa before she reached the ground. She was unconscious, her face as pale as the trumpet roses she had admired but a few moments ago. She was as fragile as a bloom too, he thought inconsequentially as he carried her across to the settee and placed her carefully on it, resting her bright head against one of the pillows. 'She has obviously found the day a strain,' he said softly, and was annoyed with himself for feeling pity. 'She probably fainted from

the triumph at finding herself here,' he added. 'Even heiresses don't usually find themselves a princess with a genuine throne to sit on!' 'Undo the belt of her dress, Louis,' Princess Helene commented, ignoring his remark. He did so, and as he straightened, his grandmother handed him a glass of amber liquid. -'I cannot give it to her while she is unconscious,' he protested. 'Wait until she has recovered a little. Open her dress too. She may have fainted from the heat.' Carefully he undid the first few buttons of her bodice, trying to ignore the softness of her skin and the pulse fluttering in her throat. 'Perhaps we should call the doctor.' 'What for? She has only fainted. Call the doctor and the press will have the story in an hour. They'll say she fainted because she is pregnant!' 'Really, Grand'mere!' 'Really, Louis!' his grandmother retorted. 'How naive you are! Do you think people aren't going to comment on the suddenness of your marriage?' 'Of course they will. And they will assume I am marrying her because of moneywhich is correct!' 'I am not sure they will think that.' There was an odd expression on Princess Helene's face as she looked down at Melissa. 'Doesn't she remind you of someone, Louis?'

He pursed his lips. Lying unconscious on the settee, the girl looked small and defenceless, her delicate features tinged with pallor. She moved her head, and as he continued to watch her, her eyes opened and he found himself staring into sherry-gold depths. 'Analise,' he muttered, and heard his grandmother give a sharp, inward sigh. 'So you see it too. The minute she came into the room I felt as though Analise had returned.' 'Is that why you were so abrupt with her?' Louis asked. 'It was either that, or cry,' his grandmother said abruptly, and turned away as Melissa sat up. Louis went on looking at her. His grandmother was right; she did look the image of his aunt, Princess Helene's firstborn child who had been killed in a riding accident on her twenty-seventh birthday. He had been barely six at the time, but he remembered his aunt well: a tiny, vital creature, so full of life and laughter that it had been difficult to envisage her dead. How he had adored her; loving her more than his own mother who had preferred her duties as a queen to those of a mother. Strange that he had not seen Melissa Benton's likeness to his aunt until now. Yet not strange when one considered how much he disliked this young woman. He stared at her. She was already on her feet and re-buttoning her dress. She had sipped some of the wine his grandmother had poured for her, and it had brought back a little colour to her cheeks. 'I'm not given to fainting,' she murmured.

'I am glad to hear it.' His voice was cold. 'Royalty cannot afford to have poor health.' 'I'll be able to open as many factories and church bazaars as you!' His teeth clamped together. How dared she talk to him like this! Didn't she know who he was? As if she guessed his thoughts, he saw amusement quirk her mouth. Angrier still at the knowledge that she was laughing at him, he went to the door. 'I will show you to your quarters, Miss Benton. Please come with me.'

CHAPTER SIX ONLY by reminding herself that she was playing a part did Melissa manage to act normally during the week that followed. She was introduced to a never-ending stream of people, and the fear that she would again lose her nerve and want to run away was held in check by the presence of either Princess Helene or Prince Louis. In front of a perpetual audience, she was gradually coming to see herself the way that others saw her: as the future Princess of Motavia. By the middle of the second week she was more relaxed. Though catered for by Motavian servants, she had brought her own personal maid with her from England: a practical Scotswoman who had known her since she was a child, and who seemed to think Melissa was doing the Prince a favour by marrying him, rather than the other way around! It was an attitude the Prince himself did not share, Melissa knew, for she was increasingly aware of the anger that smouldered within him; an anger so strong that she sometimes feared it would cause him to renege on their agreement. What would happen if he tore up their contract and turned to Slovenia? Her company could go to the international court at The Hague and sue him, but the case could drag on for years and ifin the meantimeKrassky took control of Motavia, no court in the world would be able to give the Benton Group back their mineral rights. Yet these were unimportant to her. It was the freedom of Motavia she wanted. Nothing else. The more she sensed the Prince's restlessness and anger, the more she appreciated why Sir Donald had insisted she did not delay the

wedding. Obviously he also feared that Prince Louis would balk when it came to taking the final step. But they should not underestimate the influence of Princess Helene. In the short time since she had known her, Melissa's awe had been replaced by reluctant admiration. It was an attitude echoed by the Princess herself, whose original frozen civility had melted into a slightly warmer one. Yesterday, in fact, she had even held up her cheek for Melissa to kiss her goodnight, a gesture which had surprised Louis, whose look had given him away. 'Louis.' She spoke his name aloud. She had not yet called him by it; hardly dared even mention it to herself. Until now he had always been Prince Louis, the two words merging into one so that she found it difficult to see him without the trappings of his royal heritage. Yet he was a man like any other; and like a man he was capable of suffering. Of that she was in no doubt. His bitterness was so tangible that she felt it to be almost a physical barrier between them. Reticence prevented her from asking Princess Helene about the woman he loved. One day she would meet her and find out for herself. Sighing at the thought of how much unhappiness politics could cause, she picked up her book on Motavian grammar and carried it into the courtyard. She settled herself on a hammock. Its well-oiled springs swung gently beneath her weight. Everything was well oiled herein the fullest sense of the wordand living in the palace made it difficult to realise how poor the country was. 'The Vallon family has great personal wealth,' Louis had explained when she had commented on it. 'Paupers by your standards, of course, but wealthy by comparison with the rest of Motavia.'

'You mean you use your own money to keep up all this?' She had waved her hand round the magnificent room in which they had been sitting at the time of the conversation. 'We pay for more than half of it,' he admitted. 'If we didn't, there would not be enough servants here to look after the contents.' Moodily he had stared at the fine furniture and even finer paintings. 'Sometimes I think we're throwing good money after bad. It would be far more practical to leave here and live a more normal life. Who needs fifty rooms and a hundred retainers!' 'You do!' Princess Helene's voice had rung out unexpectedly and they had both been startled to see her march majestically into the room. 'You are the Prince of Motavia,' she continued, her eyes flashing, 'and our people expect you to live in splendour. They enjoy it.' 'You mean they get pleasure out of my eating caviar while they chew a crust of bread?' 'Don't talk like a fool! You do not eat caviar, and they have more than a crust of bread.' 'You know what I mean.' 'I know precisely what you mean. That is why I am warning you not to think this way. People need something to look up to whether it be God, a king or a Pope.' The black-clad shoulders lifted. 'And, my dear Louis, you are both Motavia's king and its Pope!' 'Then I should be able to lead them to a better life,' he said bitterly.

'That is exactly what you are doing. Once we can bring industry to Motavia, everything will be different.' Princess Helene glanced at Melissa. 'I hope there won't be any delay in commencing the mining operation?' 'These things take time to set up,' Melissa had replied. 'What Melissa means,' Louis had interrupted sharply, 'is that her company won't make their money available until after our marriage.' Melissa had coloured at the scorn in his words, glad when the conversation was ended by the announcement of dinner. At least in the dining room under the eyes of the servantstheir talk was general. She was all too conscious that Louis despised her. From his point of view he did not feel he had had any choice in asking her to marry him, but he considered that her reason for agreeing to do so was merely a desire for personal glory which was preventing him from finding happiness with the woman he loved. Swinging idly in the hammock, Melissa wondered what chance she and Louis had of finding happiness when his one desire was to be with someone else. Irritably she stared at her book. It was stupid of her to think in terms of happiness. Their marriage was one of expediency, and though Louis did not know it, they were both committed to their actions for reasons of patriotism: he for Motavia, she for the sake of future peace in Europe. The rustle of skirts made her look up. In front of her was one of the loveliest women she had ever seen. Her first thought was how much the woman resembled Louis, for she had the same golden hair and blue eyes. Yet as she came further into the sunshine the similarity decreased: the hair was more platinum than gold and did not have the same thick vitality. The eyes were less blue too, and

veiled by long lashes which made them more difficult to read. But there was no doubting her patrician background, evidenced by her high-bridged nose and small mouth, the lips tightly clenched. The woman came closer. She was tall and slim and wore a magnolia silk dress only a shade deeper than her skin. Melissa did not need to be told that here was the woman Louis loved. Afterwards she was not sure why she had been so certain; perhaps it had been the arrogance in the woman's demeanour as she wended her way past the tubs of flowers to come and stand by the hammock. 'You are Melissa Benton?' The voice had a girlish quality at variance with the hard expression in the eyes. 'I am Countess Breen.' Melissa stood up, feeling small beside this tall, silvery blonde. She straightened her shoulders, as though by doing so she could withstand the impact of such a supremely confident beauty. Here was a woman who had no doubt of her power. Confidence exuded from her like water from a sponge, and like a sponge she was able to absorb the atmosphere around her. 'I see that you know who I am,' the soft voice continued. 'Even though I am sure Louis has not spoken of me.' Still Melissa said nothing. She was conscious of looking dishevelled and wished she was wearing something more formal than a tobacco brown shirt-dress, not knowing that its casual lines enhanced the delicacy of her figure, and that its colour was an excellent foil for her softly tanned skin and warm brown hair. All she knew was that she felt like a sparrow beside a peacock. 'I thought I would find Louis here,' the Countess continued.

'He's with the Privy Council,' Melissa replied. 'But if you wish to see Princess Helene -' 'Spare me that!' The blue eyes sparkled, though it did not make the words sound less spiteful. 'Princess Helene doesn't approve of the young members of the Court. If she had her way, all the ladies-in-waiting would be married and pregnant!' The blonde head tilted. 'She'll probably change her attitude now. With Louis safely married, she won't need to protect him from designing women!' The blue eyes widened to their fullest. 'I suppose you think I'm indiscreet to talk to you like this? But I have never been one to pretend. Louis is the same, you know. He loathes subterfuge.' 'Sometimes it can be called tact!' Melissa could not help saying. 'We'll all three of us need tact,' the Countess said promptly, and though her lids lowered, masking her eyes, it in no way masked the determined expression on her face. 'It would be foolish for us to pretend about your marriage. We both know why Louis is doing it.' Melissa bit her lips. She had never expected Louis to pretend he loved her, yet equally she had not anticipated he would tell the Countess the truth. She saw now how irrational she had been. Of course he would be honest with the woman he loved. 'I don't blame you for wanting to marry him,' the Countess continued. 'I would probably have done the same in your place. But you can't expect me to be happy about it.' 'I expect nothing from you,' Melissa replied. 'I don't know you, and I would prefer not to change that position.'

'Luckily your wishes are of no importance,' the Countess smiled. 'I am a member of the Court and it is inevitable that we will meet. If I were to stay away, people would gossip.' 'They'll gossip anyway!' The Countess still went on smiling. 'I think you will find His Highness prefers me to continue coming here. If I were to remain in the country he would come and stay with me, and this would cause even more gossip.' Melissa was fascinated that such an elegant facade could hide such brutal frankness. Yet in the long run honesty was better than subterfuge. Had circumstances been different, this woman would have been Louis's bride. 'I am sorry if my frankness disturbs you,' the lilting voice went on, 'but as I said before, I think it is important that we all know where we stand.' The Countess strolled across to a tub of flowers, as though knowing what a lovely foil the magnificent blooms made for her. A figure of cream and gold, she looked like a Renoir woman come to life. But she did not have the same overblown voluptuousness, Melissa decided; merely the same colouring and sensuality. 'It will make it much easier for Louis if we can be friends,' the woman suggested. 'Our animosity would put an unnecessary strain on him. And he already has to contend with so much.' 'No more than any successful businessman!' Melissa retorted. 'How little you know of Motavian life if you can say that. Louis is walking a tightrope. The British are at one end, the Slovenians are

at the other, and down below him are the Opposition Partythe people who are lusting for his blood.' Steps sounded in the drawing room, and with relief Melissa saw Louis coming towards them. He was half way across the patio before he realised she was not alone, and at his first glimpse of the blonde woman a look of intense pleasure crossed his face. It was gone in an instant and his expression was aloof as he came forward and greeted Melissa in his usual punctilious way before turning to the Countess. 'I didn't expect to see you at Court, Elise.' 'I felt it my duty to come and pay respects to your bride.' He shot a glance at Melissa, but she pretended not to see it. 'I will be giving a ball to introduce my fiance to the entire Court,' he said quietly. 'I had intended to introduce you to each other then.' 'In front of everyone? That would have been even more embarrassing. Anyway, Miss Benton knows about me, and we have decided it will be simpler not to carry on a pretence when we are alone together.' He caught his breath, and the Countess ran towards him, her face flushed, her breasts rising and falling quickly as though she were distressed. 'I know you and Miss Benton will have to pretend when other people are around,' she cried, 'but you surely don't need to do so in front of me?' 'I had not envisaged that the three of us would be alone together,' he said quickly.

'How can we avoid it?' Tears filled the blue eyes. 'Or are you going to banish me from Court? If that is your desire, I will go back to the country at once.' 'Elise, for heaven's sake!' He moved a step nearer, flinging a desperate look at Melissa. Again she pretended not to see it. If Louis wished to continue his affair with the Countess she would not stop himindeed she had expected him to do so. But he would have to be discreet about it; not flaunt it in her face and make her the laughing stock of his court and, inevitably, his country. She glanced at the other woman. Tears poured from the jewel blue eyes, but they aroused no sympathy; there was a histrionic quality about the grief that put its validity in question. The Countess was unhappythat much was truebut Melissa felt it stemmed less from love of the man than from love of his position. Yet how could she voice her opinion to him when he believed her guilty of marrying him for the very same reason? 'You know I don't want to keep you hidden.' Louis was speaking again, his voice urgent. 'But I do not want you to be hurt either; and you are bound to find the next few weeks painful. My marriage will cause a lot of publicity. The capital will be full of visitors and I will have to pretend that... That is why I felt you should remain in the country.' 'I will be more upset if I have to read about you in the newspapers. At least if I see you, I'll know you are only acting.' 'Do you need to have it confirmed?' The words seemed torn from him, and the anguish in them made Melissa feel such an interloper that she went quickly into the drawing room.

But she remained intensely aware of the couple outside, and after a brief moment she went to her bedroom. Only here, where she knew she would not be interrupted, was she able to relax. It was odd how hurt she was by Louis's attitude towards the Countess. After all, he had never hidden his love for her, nor pretended about his reason for marrying. She should look upon his behaviour as honesty: as a desire not to give her false hope for their own future. Irritably she paced the carpet. What on earth had put that thought into her mind? Even if she had met Louis in the normal course of events, he would never have considered her suitable to be his wife. And she wouldn't have considered him I His, whole way of life was an anachronism; a relic of the past. She stopped her pacing and came to rest by the window. It overlooked the west side of the garden and gave a view of terraced lawns and tall, heavy-foliaged trees. But she saw nothing of the scene her mind's eye focussed inwards. What sort of man had she envisaged marrying? Certainly someone she could respect; someone who had achieved a position by his own ability. And without question someone who would love her for what she was and not for what she had. What irony that the man she should now be marrying had only consented to become her husband because of what she could offer! Once more she forced herself to think in terms of countries rather than personalities. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so. Britain, Europe, the peace of the western world, all seemed meaningless when compared with flesh and blood people. It was not Britain devising a way of helping Motavia but Melissa Benton marrying Prince Louis who was in love with a golden-haired Countess who was determined not to lose her hold over him. How tortuous it all was!

Did Sir Donald know about Elise Breen, or did he believe that propinquity would turn a loveless marriage into a meaningful relationship? If this were the case, it indicated an abysmal lack of perception. Impatiently she moved back into the room. She was still holding her grammar book and she threw it on the bed. There was no translation in Motavian for the word love; instead they used the word 'unity' or 'oneness', and even then, according to her professor, it was a term rarely employed. 'We are a logical people,' he had explained to her only yesterday. 'In other languages the word love is deployed so often it has lost its meaning. I love music, I love ice-cream, I love a woman! Motavians would never use the same verb to describe three such differing emotions.' 'But you don't have the word love,' she had remarked. 'Obviously Motavians don't believe in it!' 'We believe in it so deeply that we feel it cannot be put into words.' 'If it isn't put into words, how does one know?' The Professor had looked at her with such astonishment that she knew she had committed a faux pas. Like all Motavians, he believed her marriage to Prince Louis was a love match. 'Of course I know,' she had added hastily. 'I was only teasing.' She remembered this conversation as she wandered over to the bed and picked up the book again. Love was a word she would have no need to use while she lived in Motavia.

CHAPTER SEVEN THE weeks before the wedding merged into a colourful kaleidoscope of functions. Melissa went from one to another, meeting so many different people that she could not remember any of them. There were lunches, afternoon teas and formal dinners, many of them attended by Elise, who seemed to hold a special position in the Court. Melissa was rarely alone with Louis. She still found it embarrassing to call him by his first name, and though she did so when other people were present, she never did it when they were alone. Apart from this, the atmosphere between them was not unpleasant. Because he believed she was marrying him for his title and position, he assumed she was enjoying all the formalities of life in the Palacea life which, despite their impending marriage went on at its own pace. The mornings were filled with visits from various officials from outlying towns; these frequently culminated in luncheon, though they ended promptly by two o'clock. There was then an hour's interval, when Melissa and the Dowager Princess Helene were free to retire while Prince Louis saw one or other of his Ministers. At three o'clock a further round of visitors arrived, though Princess Helene was usually whisked away in a car to carry out some external duty. From four until fivewhen the Prince was closeted with the Prime Minister Melissa studied with her professor and afterwards joined the other members of the Court in the Palace drawing room. Most evenings there was an official dinner, the majority of the guests being foreign nationals of varying degrees of importance, though their importance became significantly greater as the time of the wedding drew nearer.

Melissa felt she was living in a goldfish bowl and hoped desperately that life would not always be like this. One evening she was unsure enough to voice her thoughts to Louis, and his sarcastic rejoinder that this was the life she was buying for herself reminded her to be careful how she spoke to him. 'I'm buying your title,' she replied, 'not the tedium that goes with it.' 'The two are indispensable.' 'For you maybe. Not for me.' 'For you as well,' he said. 'Once you are my wife you will have a duty to my people. They will be your people then.' 'Only for as long as our marriage lasts.' 'I wish it need never begin!' He banged one hand against the other. 'I can't understand you, Melissa. Marrying me is just a game to you, yet you insist on playing it and ruining my life.' 'You're being overdramatic.' 'I love Elise!' he cried. 'I hate the thought of tying myself to you.' 'You were the one who proposed marriage,' she said tartly. 'I had no option. If you had turned me down....' 'Then my company would never have financed the whole of the mining project. It was only when they knew I was going to marry you that they agreed to do it.'

'And what will happen when you become tired of playing princesswhat then?' 'By then they will have realised what a lucrative investment they have here!' His lower lip jutted out mutinously, the fingers of one long hand drumming the table beside him. 'Do you consider it so worthwhile to have a title?' he demanded. She avoided his eyes. 'It isn't every girl who can buy a kingdom!' 'What is the point of having a kingdom if you don't love the people in it?' 'I love what it means to the people,' she lied. 'The glamourthe pomp.' 'And the bowing and scraping too, no doubt.' 'Why should that surprise you?' 'Because I never thought you were a snob. You seem to like people for what they are, regardless of their background or importance. In that respect you are like me.' 'But you enjoy your position! I haven't noticed you offering to abdicate!' 'Unfortunately I can't. If I gave up the Crown, half a dozen other political parties would start fighting for power, and inevitably Slovenia would march in and take control over all of them.' He pulled at his lower lip. 'Still, if they did, at least my countrymen would have food in their bellies!'

'But they'd starve for freedom,' she cried in protest and, remembering Sir Donald's injunction to find out all she could about Louis's political bias, said: 'You once told me it was only your grandmother who stopped you from turning to the East. Is that true?' 'It is pointless to discuss it. My grandmother is alive and my decision has been made. Let us not talk of it again.' Without another word he swung on his heel and walked out. Later, as she pondered on their conversation, Melissa felt a vague sense of disquiet that he had not been as vehement against Krassky as she had hoped. In this respect he did not take after Princess Helene, whose dislike of her neighbours and the revolutionary element in her own country was well known. The following day Melissa had a chance to test this out, at the same time learning some disturbing facts about Elise. After a final fitting for her wedding dress she had taken the French couturier to the Salon for him to see the Motavian Crown Jewels which Princess Helene had promised to have brought from the vaults. They were set out on a large table, and looking at the glittering stones Melissa could see why there were armed guards posted outside the room. Motavia might be a poor country, but a great deal of its wealth lay in the black leather cases in front of her: entire suites of pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires. 'I would suggest you wear this with your wedding dress,' the couturier said, lifting out a row of perfectly matched pink pearls. 'No,' Melissa replied at once, remembering the triple row which Elise always wore. 'Pearls don't do anything for me.'

'Try the rubies,' Princess Helene said. Melissa picked up the necklace and clasped it round her throat. Staring at her reflection she knew the suggestion had been an inspired one, for the gleaming red of the jewels took on a deeper fire against her golden skin. They gave fire to her hair too, finding unexpected tinges of red in the glossy brown strands and emphasising the warmth of her sherry-gold eyes. 'Yes indeed,' the Frenchman murmured. 'But the necklace only. Nothing more.' 'I'm too small to wear anything more,' Melissa smiled. 'Otherwise I'd look like a Christmas tree!' 'Mademoiselle has too good a taste to be overdressed,' came the gallant reply. Acknowledging the compliment, she walked with the couturier to the door, where he kissed her hand and promised to return the following morning to help her dress. Only as the door closed behind him did a tremor of fear shoot through her body. This time tomorrow she would be Louis's wife and Princess of Motavia. The thought was so staggering that she paled, and seeing it Princess Helene gave an exclamation. 'What is the matter, my dear?' 'An attack of cold feet! I can't believe it's my wedding day tomorrow.' 'You cannot change your mind now. You are essential to our country's wellbeing.'

'You mean my money is,' Melissa said quietly. Colour suffused the lined face, turning it to pink parchment. 'I wasn't thinking of my country but of my grandson. He needs you.' Melissa wondered if the old lady's mind could be wandering, and as if guessing the thought, Princess Helene shook her head reprovingly. 'I am not deranged, my child. I know exactly what I am saying. If Louis marries you, he cannot marry thatthat -' Diplomatically Melissa kept silent. It was strange that this autocratic matriarch should consider her a foreign girl and a commoner to bootto be more worthy of her grandson than a Motavian countess. Carefully she said: 'Countess Breen is very beautiful and she is also free. What have you got against her?' 'Her political beliefs. She sees Krassky as a friend of our country.' 'Don't you?' 'I do not!' Melissa perched on the arm of a settee and tried to look nonchalant. 'Louis isn't as convinced as you are.' The bright eyes narrowed. 'Has he said so, or are you guessing?' 'A bit of both. I don't think he sees Krassky as a friend, but he doesn't see him as an enemy either.'

'That's because of Elise,' the old lady snapped. 'She has confused him so much that he can't think straight! Love can do that to a manif you can call it love?' 'Wouldn't you?' Melissa asked. The black eyes flashed. 'We do not have the word love in Motavian. We use the word "unity" and "oneness".' 'I know.' 'Then what unity of spirit can my grandson have with a woman like Elise? You are beginning to know the sort of man he is. Do you believe he can ever feel oneness with a woman who thinks only of herself?' Melissa hesitated, afraid to give her opinion in case the Princess repeated it to Louis. His dislike of her burned fiercely enough without her adding fuel to it by commenting on the woman he loved. 'I would rather not answer you, Your Highness,' she murmured. 'I do not want to become involved in family affairs.' 'By tomorrow you will be part of the family. What excuse will you give then for not replying?' Melissa smiled. 'Discretion has kept me quiet tonight and loyalty to my husband will keep me quiet tomorrow!' The Princess snorted and banged her cane on the floor. 'You are a clever girl. There is much to be said for a plebian upbringing; it gives one a realistic outlook!' The grey head tilted. 'You have the same forthright manner as your uncle.'

'I didn't realise you knew him,' Melissa said in surprise. 'Many years agobefore you were bornhe was a frequent visitor to the Palace. My husband enjoyed his companyas I did. It is a pity he became a recluse.' 'He didn't. Not in the real sense of the word. But he preferred the world to come to his doorrather than the other way around. Even though he never left his home, he knew everything that was going on.' 'Were you happy living with him?' Melissa frowned thoughtfully. 'Most of the time. We fought a lot, but I loved him.' 'He could be very lovable,' the Princess acknowledged, 'when he was not being obnoxious!' Melissa laughed, the sound echoing across the room like an arpeggio. Coming in to collect some papers he had inadvertently left on the desk, Louis heard it and stopped. It was odd that until this moment he had never heard Melissa laugh. It made him look at her closely, something he had not done since the day she had arrived. Though he knew her to be a small girl with a tanned skin and brown hair, he would nothad he seen her in the streets of his capital have recognised her from any other girl. Looking at her now, he saw how delicately formed she was. Though barely five feet tall, she was so perfectly proportioned that one only realised her slightness when standing close to her. Today she was wearing a misty green dress, the bodice loose yet showing the small, pointed breasts, the waist tight and the skirt swirling around her beautifully shaped legs. Inexplicably she reminded him of Cinderella. The thought

was so ludicrous that he smiled. The only dust Melissa would ever sweep was gold dust! His glance rested on her again. She did look waiflike, though. Was it because her skin was so translucent and her eyes unusually large and luminous? Or was it her vibrant chestnut hair that made her neck look too slender to support its weight? He saw she was watching him carefully, her hands clasped nervously together but her eyes fearless, glowing warm and brown like the heart of a pansy. 'What do you want, Louis?' his grandmother demanded. 'I left some documents here.' He picked them up. 'I didn't realise I was interrupting you.' 'You aren't. Come and keep us company.' 'I have too much to do. There's a pile of papers to be dealt with and then Claud wants to see me.' 'So late?' 'He assumes I won't want to be interrupted during my honeymoon,' he replied, and stared directly at Melissa. She gave no sign of emotion and he was annoyed. Elise would have blushed or smiled, despite being his mistress for more than a year; but this autocratic young girl was too much in possession of herself to consider being possessed by anyone else. Angrily he swung round and walked out. As the door closed on him, Melissa looked at Princess Helene. 'I suppose we have to go on a honeymoon?'

'It would look strange if you didn't. Besides, it will be good for you and Louis to be alone for a few weeks. It will give you a chance to know each other.' 'Our marriage isn't going to be real one,' Melissa said swiftly. These words had trembled on her lips for a long time, but until today she had not had the opportunity of saying them. 'We are marrying for reasons which you already know. Love doesn't come into it.' 'I am aware of thatas I am aware of other things too.' The black eyes were sharper than ever. 'Don't fight your feelings, childand don't be ashamed of them.' 'I have never been ashamed of my feelings.' 'Then when you know what they areshow them!' The words made no sense to Melissa, and even later that night when she thought of them again, they were still meaningless. Yet Princess Helene was not the type to speak for the sake of hearing her own voice and one day she would have to explain what she had meant. With a half sigh Melissa pushed aside the bedclothes and wandered over to the window. Already dawn was tinging the sky, heralding a new day: her wedding day. It was an incredible thought, not so much because she was getting married but because of her reasons for doing so. She had never considered herself a sentimentalist, but now she wished with all her heart that she could have meant the vows she would be making in the cathedral. Instead the whole thing was a farce, both for her and Louis. His face appeared like an image in front of her: his sun-bronzed skin, his blond hair with a quiff that constantly fell forward on to

his brow, and the heavy-lidded blue eyes that looked at her with so many different expressions: dislike, curiosity, speculation, but never with anything remotely akin to warmth. The future was suddenly so frightening that it seemed to be crushing her, squeezing her ribs and making it impossible to fill her lungs with air! She flung up her arms, as though to avert the horror that threatened her, and her hands struck against the window ledge. Pain tingled through her fingers, making her cry out, and the sound of her voiceloud and clearbrought the present into focus and dimmed the future. With a shudder she leaned against the window pane and felt it cool against her fevered brow. Was Louis wakeful too, fearing what the future held for him, or was he warmed by the knowledge that he was acting in the best interests of his people, and sleeping the sleep of the just? Even as the question came into her mind she heard the soft purr of an engine, and a silver grey sports car glided into the palace courtyard. A man got out from behind the wheel and stretched his arms to the sky. It was Louis, his face set in lines of bitterness. He lifted his hands higheralmost in a gesture of despairand then disappeared between the massive stone portals into the palace. Shaken, she turned back into the room. No need to wonder where he had been or with whom. The look of anguish on his face told her all too clearly.

CHAPTER EIGHT MELISSA'S wedding day was so unlike anything she had envisaged that she felt herself to be an actress taking part in a lavishly produced fairytale. But what a Prince Charming Louis made! Never had she seen him look more resplendent than he did in the white and gold uniform of Armed Services Commandant, medals glittering on his chest, hair shining gold and eyes gleaming blue as the Mediterranean. Calvin Clement, together with several directors from the Benton Group, occupied one of the pews in the Cathedral. Their wedding gifta gold tea set and trayhad received enormous acclaim in the Motavian press, as had all the other magnificent presents. Indeed the lavishness of them had made Melissa realise the importance of Motavia's geographical position in Europe. And not only the position it occupied but the mineral wealth that lay untapped beneath its surface. Why else should Prince Louis's marriage have commanded a Rembrandt from Holland, a gold dinner service from France and a world-renowned racehorse from Britain? After the ceremony in the great stone Cathedral they drove through the streets of Rothnik in an open carriage drawn by four pairs of greys. Melissa's white and gold dress complemented her new husband's uniform, her only additional touch of colour being the circlet of rubies round her throat. As she heard the tumultuous cheers of the crowds, she began to appreciate the meaning of her new position. These people were acclaiming her because she was Louis's wife; because they believed her to be his final love and the mother of future princes. She glanced at him, and seeing his mouth set tight, knew he too was moved by the cheers.

'The last time there were so many people in the capital was when my father died,' he murmured, the smile not leaving his face as he turned his head from side to side and waved his arm. 'I never thought they'd turn out like this for me!' 'You are obviously their favourite Prince.' 'Their only one!' His answer made her remember the question she had wanted to ask several times before. 'Were you the sole heir?' 'I am an only child,' he agreed, 'but I have several cousins. You will be meeting them at the reception.' 'Your marriage must have disappointed them?' 'No doubt of it. They will be watching your waistline pretty closely in the future!' His tone was dry, but he felt pleasurable malice as he saw that at last he had succeeded in embarrassing her. The flush that stained her cheeks made her look like a child, and reminded him how young she was. Seven years younger than Elise, in fact, though her cool self-possession frequently made him forget it. 'I could always surprise you,' she said suddenly. 'What would you do if I did?' For a split second he was not sure what she meant. Then her expression told him and he swallowed hard, determined not to let her know how dangerous the question was. What redress did he have if she took a lover and became pregnant? To admit that their marriage was unconsummated would make him the laughing stock of the world. Apart from which it would cast doubts on his

manhood. Equally bad, it would focus attention on the huge amounts of money which the Benton Group would by then have poured into the country. It could even precipitate the revolutionary interference he was trying so desperately hard to avoid. For this reason he had even been careful in his conversation with Elise. Although she knew his marriage had been born of expediency, he had not put into words his intention of never claiming Melissa physically. 'You wouldn't dare,' he muttered. 'If you play me for a fool I'llI'll -' 'I'll only do so if you make a fool of me I' she retorted. 'How could I do that?' 'By flaunting your relationship with Countess Breen. The least you can do is to be discreet!' Angrily he realised she was giving him an ultimatum, and angrily he realised he had no choice but to accept it. 'I have every intention of being discreet. Not for your sake, Melissa, but for the future of my country!' The carriage turned into the palace courtyard and footmen stepped forward to help Melissa alight. With her hand on Louis's arm she entered the palace, knowing it was now her official and legal home. Slowly they moved along the line of guests who waited to greet them; pausing to speak to each one of them, remembering who they were or which country they represented. Her hand was shaken so many times that it soon began to ache, but Louis appeared to be completely at ease, chatting to a Middle-East Sheik and gesticulating with his arm. With an inward sighbut still resolutely smiling- she lifted her hand and moved forward to greet yet one more guest.

It was several hours later before she had a chance to talk to Calvin Clement. The line of royals and diplomats had now dispersed and she was free to spend time with guests of her own choosing. 'I hope Sir Donald is pleased with me,' she muttered. 'He's delighted. He looked so proud of you when you walked into the Cathedral, I thought he was going to crow!' 'He'd better contain his enthusiasm for the next few months,' she retorted. 'They aren't going to be easy.' 'Surely the worst is over? Now you are married you can move out of the limelight. I'm sure Prince Louis will help you to -' 'He will help to make my life as difficult as possible! ' she interrupted. 'He hates me, Clemmie!' 'Not at all.' The lawyer put his hand on hers and patted it. 'You are talking like this because you are overtired and nervous. The Prince is intelligent enough to appreciate what you are doing for him.' 'But he doesn't. That's the trouble. If I could tell him the truth that I married him because Sir Donald asked me to do sothen he wouldn't be so bitter towards me. But as long as he thinks I married him to become a princess....' 'You mustn't tell him about Sir Donald.' Calvin Clement was emphatic. 'If the Prince were to discover that the British Government is behind your company it would be fatal.' 'He wouldn't tell Krassky.' 'You cannot be certain of that.'

Remembering her discussions with Louis, she could not argue. 'If only it were all over!' she sighed. 'You cannot be more anxious to end it than I. But meanwhile you are faced with the problem of making the best of your position.' The lawyer hesitated. 'You have always been able to charm any man you wanted, and I am sure the Prince is -' 'The Prince is in love with another woman!' Calvin Clement's eyes moved left, though his head did not turn. 'You speak of the silver-blonde?' 'How clever of you to guess!' 'Sir Donald mentioned it to me.' Melissa gasped. 'And you dared suggest I try to make Louis fall in love with me? How can you be so deceitful!' 'I meant what I said. I consider you to be beautiful and cleverand certainly a match for the Countess.' 'I would never compete with another woman. Never.' She glanced over her shoulder. 'Louis is crazy about her. He doesn't see her for what she is!' 'Pro-Slovenian, I believe,' the lawyer said. 'What else do you know about her?' 'Only that she has a strong influence over Louis. That is why Princess Helene is so delighted he married me.'

Calvin Clement looked grave. 'Do not quarrel with the Countess, Melissa. We are interested in knowing as much as we can about her.' 'Surely she can't do any harm now?' 'One can never be certain. The Opposition Party here could still try to enlist Krassky's aid and overthrow the Prince.' 'But the people love him!' 'They also hate their poverty.' 'They'll be rich once the minerals and the oil. ...' She lowered her voice. 'Has the work begun yet?' 'By the time you return from your honeymoon,' the lawyer said, 'more than five thousand men will be working in the mountains.' Melissa remembered this when she and Louis climbed into a waiting helicopter on the palace lawn, and set off for their honeymoon in the secluded hunting lodge where Princess Helene had begun her own married life fifty years before. Now that he was no longer watched by curious eyes, the smile which Louis had worn all day left his face, and for the entire length of the three-hour journey he stared morosely out of the window at the mountainous landscape below. The further they flew from the capital the more nervous Melissa became, and the sight of the diamond wedding ring on her finger in no way lessened her fear. She was alone with a man whom, a few hours earlier, she had agreed to love and cherish for life. But he was a stranger who had no idea of her feelings and who did not even want to know them. As she did not want to know his. She

glanced at him, seeing the golden sweep of his hair and the firm line of his tanned cheek and chin. His mouth was tightly set, as though he was afraid to let it relax, and she wondered what thoughts lay behind those heavy-lidded blue eyes. The years ahead of her seemed long and she was filled with foreboding. 'You are tired?' With a start she looked up and saw Louis watching her. 'You sighed,' he explained. 'I'm not tired. I was just thinking.' 'Of your triumph, no doubt.' 'Why should I be triumphant?' 'Because you have got what you want. Princess Melissa of Motavia. It has good alliteration. Did your uncle have a hand in choosing your name?' 'I doubt if he thought in terms of my marriage to you when I was born,' she said crisply. 'I am sure the agreement he made with your grandfather was done on the spur of the moment. Uncle Henry had an impish sense of humour.' 'You call it humour?' Louis said harshly. 'Then the joke is on me! ' The helicopter began to descend and the increased noise of the engines precluded further conversation. Peering out, Melissa saw a large plateau, like a vast sheet of green, set out below her. All around it were gently rising hills with pockets of dense forest, and half way up the steepest hillon a jutting ledge of landstood a great stone house.

'Is that the hunting lodge?' she asked and, turning her head, was discomfited to find Louis so close behind her that she could see the smooth texture of his skin and the faint, unmistakable shadow of stubble on his chin. Even first thing in the morning he would look handsome. Quickly she banished the thought and watched as the land came up to meet them, the deep green dissolving into earth shades of brown and red, and the variegated greens of thick foliage. The helicopter slowly touched down, and as the blades ceased revolving, several uniformed men ran forward. The door was opened and a flight of steps placed in front of them. Louis had a smile on his face again, and glancing in her direction he stepped out ahead of her. For an instant Melissa was annoyed, then she realised it was a question of protocol. Though she was Princess of Motavia, Louis was its ruler, and as such he came ahead of her. In private he might practise the normal deference that a man showed to a woman, but in public she would always have to take second place. Involuntarily Elise came into her mind. Did the woman see Louis's marriage as the end of all her hopes or was she content to be his mistress? It was not a position she herself could have accepted, for she would always have lived with the fear that one day she might be discarded in favour of someone else. Yet marriage did not bind a manor a woman, for that matter. If a couple remained together in this day and age, it was because they wanted to do so, not because they were obligated to do so. Somehow she could not see Louis falling out of love with the beautiful and clever Countess. There was a woman who knew how to make full use of her charm; who could use a man's passion to make him her prisoner and then exert her cunning to keep him

enslaved for ever. It was a cunning that she herself would never be able to compete against. The word compete shocked Melissa into an awareness of where her thoughts were leading her. There was no question of competing for Louis. She had married him for one reason only. Wanting to make him think her desirable did not come into it. 'Melissa?' His voice, soft but impatient, reminded her that he was waiting on the top step, and she hurried out to join him. 'Smile,' he said beneath his breath, and she did as he asked and followed him down the steps. Before them stretched a plateau of grassland and beyond it the mountains rose gently to the sky. As always it was a clear calm blue that gave no indication of the seething passions of the people who looked up to it. The hunting lodge was not visible from here, but a short drive in an open car brought them to its massive, nail-studded door. A row of guards was lined up to greet them, but, unlike the ones at the palace, they wore the Prince's own uniform and she knew them to be members of his staff and not of the Army. It was a comforting thought and it helped her to relax. Louis was already half-way up the steps and as she reached the front door he caught her elbow and led her into a cool, dark hall. Expecting stags' heads on the walls and animal skins on the floors, she was agreeably surprised to find that the lodge was furnished like an English country mansion, albeit the furniture was Motavian antique and the paintings on the walls would not have shamed the most illustrious museum.

'For a poor country you have a lot of wonderful things,' she commented. 'Unfortunately one cannot eat pictures,' Louis said dryly. 'You could sell them and eat the proceeds!' 'Eat our national heritage?' The blue eyes glinted. 'My people would rather starve!' Feeling she had been put in her placeand rightfully so since her remark had been in poor tasteshe followed him into a large room which occupied the entire south-west side of the ground floor. Here the furniture was considerably more rustic, with pinepanelled walls, chintz-covered settees and floor scattered with colourful Tibetan rugs. At the far end, half hidden by free-standing bookshelves, she saw a galley-type kitchen, small but perfectly equipped with refrigerator, cooker and rows of tinned delicacies. 'If I come here alone for a few days, I like to do my own cooking,' he said, intercepting her glance. 'It means I can be left alone.' She had no need to ask him with whom; the anguish on his face told her. 'If you had been free to do as you wished,' she said suddenly, 'would you have married Countess Breen?' 'You are my wife,' he said harshly. 'It is useless to talk of what might have been.' 'I was thinking of the future. I mean, we won't be together for ever.'

'I do not wish to discuss my future. My emotions can be of little concern to you.' 'I'm not concerned,' she shrugged. 'But as we have to live together, it will be better if we can maintain some kind of relationship.' 'I fail to see why.' He went to stand by the massive log fire and kicked one of the logs viciously. The movement made her notice the suppleness of his body and the strong line of his thigh. 'Are you always going to be rude to me when we are alone?' she burst out, and stopped as he swung round to glare at her. 'It's as much as I can do to be civil to you in public,' he grated, 'without trying to be any more than that in private! I have already told you I regard you as a scheming social climber.' 'My social climb is going to benefit Motavia!' 'It's for the sake of Motavia that I married you. It does not say anywhere in our agreement that I must like you!' 'I wasn't suggesting you should. Merely that you should be polite.' 'If you wish for politeness,' he retorted, 'keep out of my way!' Defeated, she went to the door. 'Where are you going?' he called. 'To my room. I will stay there for dinner.' 'As you wish.' He turned back to the fire and she went out and closed the door behind her. As she stood uncertainly in the hall, a woman servant

hurried forward and curtsied. Since her marriage a few hours ago, over a thousand people had done so, but it was only as this womanmiles from the glitter and gaiety of the capitalmade the same sign of obeisance that she was assailed by the significance of her position. To these innocent and unsuspecting people she was their new Princess: the chosen bride of their beloved Prince. 'I wish to go to my room,' she explained in halting Motavian. The woman curtsied again and glided towards the stairs. They reached the first floor and walked along a timbered gallery to the east wing where Melissa was shown into a large corner room. It was furnished in similar style to the sitting room, with colourful rugs and rustic fourposter bed. There was something lived-in about this room; a feeling of happiness that seemed to emanate from the walls, making her aware of how unhappy she had felt until this moment. Now she seemed overtaken by calm, and could suddenly live for the moment without thinking of the bleakness of the future. She had just married one of the most sought-after bachelors in Europe; a man whom any girl would have been delighted to accept as a husband even had he not possessed a title. It would be as well for her to acknowledge this and look no further. 'I am Sarda,' the woman said in halting English. 'I am Your Highness's maid at the lodge.' There was a pause. 'Does Your Highness wish to bath and change immediately?' 'I will bath and go to bed. I feel very tired.' Melissa felt her cheeks grow warm, despite the impassive expression that remained on the woman's face. 'Please bring me a light snack in an hour.' Melissa was not lying when she said she felt tired. The long, eventful day and the bitter scene with Louis had sapped her strength, so that it was an effort to peck at the delicious meal

which Sarda set before her. At ten o'clock she heard Louis's step in the corridor, but he did not hesitate outside her room, and went immediately to his own suite next to hers. That evening set the pattern for their first week together. Melissa both breakfasted and dined alone in her room, only seeing Louis for lunch in the dining room which overlooked a distant mountain, its top capped with snow so that it seemed like a half iced wedding cake. Immediately after lunch he would leave her, though they met again for a drink at six. She did not know whether he dined downstairs nor did she know what the servants made of their behaviour towards one another. She longed to ask him whether he was worried by any gossip that might ensue, but was afraid to do so in case it caused another outburst of temper. At the end of the first week boredom decided her to go further afield than the grounds surrounding the lodge, and she decided to set out on horseback and explore the countryside. On Saturday and Sunday she was accompanied by a groom, a taciturn man who spoke no English. It made conversation stilted and she found it so difficult to be at ease with him that she determined to ride alone. On Monday when she went round to the stables, he was already waiting for her, and seemed surprised when she told him she wished to ride alone. Ignoring his obvious anxiety, she mounted her horse and rode away, sure that the moment she was out of sight he would run and tell someone what had happened. She knew that within moments someone would set out in pursuit of her, and an imp of mischief made her turn her horse in the opposite direction from the one she had taken and canter down a narrow lane bordered by tall, straggling hedgerows.

Soon she was deep into a wood she had never seen before and she reined in her horse and dismounted. In the distance she could hear the sound of hooves and voices and knew that her surmise that she would be followed had been correct. Pulling her horse further into the bracken, she waited quietly until there was no further sound to disturb her. Even then she did not move, and allowed a quarter of an hour to go by before she remounted and set off again. It was the first time she had been truly alone for weeks. She did not count the times she had sat in the palace gardens, for though no one had been beside her, she had been aware of the guards. But here she was completely free. Only herself and this beautiful chestnut horse, its mane as shiny and brown as her own thick glossy hair. A sense of pleasure welled up in her and she felt herself to be once again Melissa Benton, free to go where she wanted. Digging in her heels, she urged the horse forward. At noon she stopped again and dismounted. She did not know how far she had come, for she had ridden in a different direction from normal and could not recognise any of the landmarks. Tethering her horse to a bush, she sat on a large boulder and munched some of the biscuits which she had thoughtfully remembered to bring with her. It was a pity she had not also remembered to bring a drink, for her throat was parched and she longed for something cool. The sun beat down on her uncovered head and her silk blouse clung to her damp skin, outlining the graceful slope of her shoulders and the curve of her breasts. Pushing back her hair from her flushed face, she decided to go in search of a stream. With so many mountains she was certain to find some spring water somewhere. Purposefully she set off, her feet making no sound on the springy turf. It was pleasant to walk and she enjoyed the peace of the scenery, especially when she emerged from behind some trees and

saw the valley set out below. It made her realise the high altitude of the hunting lodge, and she wondered whether it was possible to ski here during the winter. She must remember to ask Louis. No, she thought at once, she would ask Sarda instead. The less conversation she had with Louis the better. Dejected by the thought of him, she continued to walk, but after going fifty yards in one direction and the same in the other, she gave up all hope of finding a spring. She was not much of a country girl, she mused, certainly not enough to know where to look for water. Her thirstwhich had been slight until nowwas beginning to bother her and she thought longingly of pitchers of lemonade. The image it conjured up set her walking faster, and in her eagerness to find her horse and return to the lodge, she took a wrong turning and came back to a different clearing; green and tranquil as the original one, but without her horse. She retraced her steps, looking for another clearing, but there was none to be seen and after half an hour she found herself back at the first one. Carefully she looked around her. It was not a different clearingas she had assumed when she had not found her horse for looking closely, she recognised the boulder where she had sat, with its curious indent at the top where she had rested her elbow. This was definitely the same rock, and behind it was the bush where she had tethered the horse. Anxiously she hurried over to examine the spot. Some of the leaves were torn and a branch was trailing to the floor, a clear indication that the horse had pulled free and bolted. Raising her voice, she called it by name. There was no answering whinny nor any sound except a fluttering of leaves as a bird flew out from a thicket above her head. The noise startled her, making her aware of

how alone she was. It was a good thing it was only midday. Heaven knew how long it would take her to get back. Annoyed with herself for not having tied the horse more securely, she set off to walk back to the lodge. At least she hoped it was the way back, for she could not recognise any of the paths or trees. An hour later she was forced to admit she was lost. Fear was beginning to grip her, but she forcibly held it at bay, concentrating instead on her increasing thirst. She would have given a king's ransom for a glass of water. A princess's ransom, she amended, and laughed at the fanciful notion. But the idea helped to allay her fear. Because she was a princess her absence would be noticed and someonepossibly even the whole contingent of guards would be set to look for her. She stopped walking and listened. All was quiet: not a voice nor a step broke the silence. She could not help being amused to find herself in this predicament. As Melissa Benton she had never been able to escape the three-man bodyguard which her uncle had set up to watch over her from the day she was born. Yet here she was, Princess of Motavia, lost in the hills of the country her husband ruled. Quickly she ran through a deep belt of trees, breathing a sigh of relief as she emerged on to another path. But this soon gave way to denser forest, where overhanging branches blotted out the light and damp leaves muffled her footsteps. There was such a slumbrous, brooding quality in the air that she would not have been surprised to have turned a corner and found the Sleeping Beauty in her cobweb-filled palace. Pushing away the imagery, she strode on, refusing to acknowledge her tiredness, knowing only that she dared not sit down and rest in case she could not find the strength to get up and walk again.

Her wristwatch showed three-thirty when she finally paused for breath. She had left the denseness of the forest long since, and was walking along a rutted path bordered by strange-looking bushes with ugly, spiky leaves. Unexpectedly, the ever-blue Motavian sky was hidden by dark clouds which seemed to descend lower and lower until they were like a grey blanket hovering above her head. Just my luck to be caught in a summer storm, she thought crossly, and barely had time to reach the shelter of a tree when the heavens opened and a deluge of water spilled out. Nothing could stop her from being drenched, and though the storm only lasted a few moments, her clothes clung limply to her skin and her hair was plasted to her head like a gleaming seal-skin cover. Feet squelching in wet shoes, she plodded on. Surely she must be near the lodge by now? The path curved left and she ran the last few yards, stopping in dismay as she rounded it and came out on yet another endless lane. Tears of fright filled her eyes. This land had the strange, unlived-in look of earth untouched by human being or animal. She could wander here for ever and never be found by another living soul. Shivering, she walked on. An hour went by; then another hour. It was impossible to keep her spirits up and tears spilled down her cheeks. What a fool she had been to dismiss the groom, and how stupid to have made him believe she had gone in one direction when she had gone in the other. Even if anyone came to look for her they would first set off the way they believed she had gone. That meant it could be hours before they started to search in the right direction. Her tears flowed faster and she rubbed them away with her hand. But her vision was still blurred and she stumbled on a rut and fell. Picking herself up she began to run, frightened by the thought that she might be here when night fell. It would be cold on the mountains then, and possibly animals would come to their lairs in search of food.

Ignoring the stitch in her side, she tried to run faster, her feet stumbling on the stones and sending up little spurts of mud. 'Help me,' she sobbed to an unknown saviour. 'Someone please help me!'

CHAPTER NINE MELISSA was running blindly and sobbing when Louis found her. Returning to the lodge for lunch after a solitary morning rock climbing, he was in a far better mood than at any time since his wedding day. The arduous exercise had dissipated his rage, and he had decided it was childish to go on venting his anger against Melissa. After all, he had been the one to go to England and propose, and though she had turned him down at first, he could not blame her for changing her mind. Most girls would have jumped at the chance of marrying him. The fact that he had believed her to be different did not make her more culpable; it only showed him to have been a fool. No, for better or worse she was his wife for the next few years and he must come to terms with this as she had bluntly suggested. At least he still had Elise. Thank heaven she had not turned against himhe would not have blamed her if she hadbut had agreed to remain discreetly in the background until they could openly declare their love in marriage. What would his people think of it all? he wondered as he sat on the top of a rugged escarpment and gazed down at the hazy blue plain far below. They had accepted Melissa with delight; seeing her elevation from commoner to princess as a sign of democracy and the hope that their own children might have the same good fortune. The fact that she was English had only added to her popularity, for the majority of his countrymen still remembered past ties with Britain, and preferred to think of an alliance with the West rather than the East. How would his marriage to Elise be regarded? Divorce, though not forbidden, was still looked on askance by many Motavians, and this in itself would make it an unpopular move. Apart from which, it would be all too easy to put the blame for the break-up of his

marriagewhen it came upon the shoulders of another beautiful woman. Not that Melissa was lacking in beauty herself. In her own way she was as lovely as Elise. It was strange that he had never noticed it until their wedding day, when she had walked towards him in the Cathedral. The fear in her eyes had made him appreciate their golden-brown depths, while the visible tremble of her limbs had made him all too aware of her body. She did not have the obvious voluptuousness of Elise, but a quieter attraction that was nonetheless potent. He frowned. Obvious was the wrong word to apply to Elise. It smacked of criticism and should not have come into his mind. Pushing aside thoughts of both women, he made a careful descent of the rugged path and reached the lodge in time to shower and change before lunch. Entering the dining room he was surprised not to find Melissa waiting for him, and after fifteen minutes sent one of the servants to see why she was late. Learning that she had not returned, he irritably ate his own, and when he reached the coffee stage and she had still not come in, he sent word to the stables to find out where she had gone. Only then did he learn she had eluded the groom and gone riding by herself. Anger at her foolishness had been tempered by fears for her safety. Didn't she know how dangerous these rocky paths were? He pictured her thrown from her horse and lying unconscious, and the image of it made him shout for his guards as he ran out of the lodge to search for her. Accompanied by half a dozen men he began a systematic scouring of the countryside, and his mounting fears crystallized when he encountered a riderless horse cantering towards him as they reached the forestthe direction which the groom said Melissa

had taken. More than ever he was convinced she had been thrown and was lying unconscious, unseen and unable to help herself. After three hours' searching they decided to fan out in different directions, using their walkie-talkies to maintain contact. 'If we do not find Her Highness within the next hour,' he announced over his transmitter, 'I will call in the helicopters.' It was not something he wished to do, for he knew that such an action could not be prevented from reaching the newspapers. His personal bodyguards could be trusted to hold their tongues, but he could not vouch for the helicopter pilots and other personnel who would have to be engaged if a more detailed search were carried out. But unless Melissa was found soon he had no option. Better to face publicity than to run the risk of not finding her before nightfall. Anxiously he set his horse in the direction of the steepest mountain path. In the normal course of events no one who knew the terrain would venture this way, but in view of Melissa's ignorance of the land she might well have done so. He had just decided she had not come this way after all when he rounded a boulder and saw a figure in front of him. For an instant he was not sure if the bedraggled creature tottering towards him was anyone he knew. Then she came closer and he saw it was Melissa. But not the composed Melissa he so disliked but a whimpering, bedraggled girl who moaned like a wounded animal as he jumped from his horse and ran over to her. Wordlessly he picked her up and put her in the saddle; then climbed behind, her and pulled her back to rest against him. How small and slight she was; she could not weigh more than seven stone. Urging his horse forward, he placed his arms around her to

make sure she did not fall off. She appeared too exhausted to help herself, and lay quiescent in his hold, shivering intermittently as though with fever. 'You're safe now,' he murmured in her ear, and pushed away a wet strand of her hair that flapped against his cheek. She was soaked to the skin. She would be lucky if she came out of this with only a cold. More than likely she would end up with a temperature too. As if echoing his thoughts she started to shake more violently and to cough, and he slowed the horse down until the bout had ceased. Eventually the lights of the lodge gleamed out at them in the swiftly descending dusk, and as they reached the front steps, guards ran forward to help him. Melissa was taken from him and he gave orders for her to be carried directly to her room where he knew she would be attended by her maid. Then he strode into the living room and put through a call to Alexi. 'Get Doctor Veery up here at once,' he said as his equerry came on the line. 'No, Her Highness is not injured,' he explained at the man's anxious questions, 'but she's suffering from exposure and she has a temperature.' Abruptly he put down the telephone and paced the room, too restless to eat or to change into other clothes. Never had time passed more slowly. Several times he bent his ear to his watch to make sure it was still going, and once he went up to Melissa's room to ask the maid how she was.

'She has had a bath and is in bed,' the woman said, rushing to the door at his knock and curtsying in agitation. 'If Your Highness wishes to come in -' 'No,' he said abruptly. 'I do not wish to disturb my wife. I will wait until the doctor arrives.' Downstairs again he resumed his pacing, and an hour later he heard the chop-chop of a helicopter's approach. But it was not until the physician came into the living room to see him, after having examined Melissa, that his anxiety abated. 'You have no need to worry, sir. Her Highness should be perfectly well within a few days. She might develop a temperature, but I do not anticipate anything worse.' 'Thank heaven for that! If I hadn't found her when I did -' 'Don't dwell on the might-have-beens. I have brought a nurse with mea precaution only you understandand she will call me if she thinks I am needed.' Louis gave a sigh of relief. 'I can always rely on you to calm me down.' 'I have had much practice,' Doctor Veery said smoothly. 'You have been my patient since you were a child. And if I may prescribe for you, I would suggest a good stiff drink and a meal.' Obeying the physician's instructions, Louis went to his room to change, and latersitting moodily by the firehe accepted the fact that his fear for Melissa's health came from a sense of guilt at having left her alone since they had come to the lodge. The worried hours during which he had searched for her had made him see the folly of his behaviour all too clearly, and though he could

not pretend to love her, he knew that the least he could do was to try to maintain some semblance of a relationship for as long as they were forced to be together. How fantastic it would be if Motavia did indeed rest on an enormous bed of oil. Such a discovery would establish their position and, with a stable economy, they could assume their rightful place in Europe. He thought of Krassky's offer of help. Acceptance would have made his marriage to Elise possible, but it would have meant the end of his country. Sooner or later the country that paid the piper always tried to call the tune, and the tune in this case would have been the death march to freedom. Sighing, he got to his feet and went upstairs. Outside the door of his wife's room he stopped. His wife. It was the first time he had applied these words to Melissa. Always they had evoked thoughts of Elise, and the memory of her tear-washed eyes as she had clung to him the night before his marriage came back to him with such force that, even with his hand on the door, he had to stop and fight down his despair before he could bring himself to knock and enter the room. Melissa was in bed, looking particularly small beneath the huge expanse of down-filled coverlet. Anticipating the same transparent nightclothes that Elise favoured, he was surprised by the prim cotton and demure style. She sat up as he came towards her and he found it to be not as demure as he had thought, for the contours of her body were clearly outlined through the thin material. Yet she still looked a child, with her long hair pulled back from her forehead by a narrow white ribbon and her face devoid of makeup: as flushed and shiny as an excited schoolgirl.

'I want to thank you for rescuing me,' her voice was as young as her appearance and more breathless than usual. 'You gave us quite a fright.' He stopped at the foot of the bed, and his eyes travelled up its length. They had to travel a long way before they reached the outline of her feet. She really was tiny; funny he had never realised it until now; but then she had such spirit and such a sharp tongue that had he been pressed into describing her, he would have given her the attributes of an Amazonand a militant one at that! 'Why are you smiling?' she asked. 'Was I?' He decided it was wiser not to give her the reason. 'Let us say it's from relief. If I had not found you when I did, you would have had a very cold night on a bare mountain!' She hummed a few bars of the melody to show she followed his train of thought. 'But now I'm safe and none the worse for my stupidity. I should have tethered the horse more securely.' 'You shouldn't have gone riding alone.' 'I know, and I'm truly sorry.' She sighed. 'But I'm paying for it now. I hate staying in bed. It's such a waste of time.' 'Only if you are in bed alone.' Louis spoke without thinking, and he was surprised by the bright red colour that came into her cheeks. Used to the innuendoes of his courtiers which had become more noticeable in the year of his association with Elise he had not expected a modern young woman to be embarrassed by such a remark. 'You are very innocent,' he said abruptly. 'I assumed that someone in your position would know a great many men.'

'I do. But as friendsnot lovers.' 'Have you never been in love?' She took her time answering. 'Not really. It's difficult for someone in my position. I'm a bit like you, I suppose. I wanted to feel I was being loved for myself.' 'Yet you chose to marry a man who made no secret of wanting you for your bank account!' He leaned against one of the bed posts and studied her. Her creamy lids lowered and two circles of long lashes masked her eyes. He had never seen such straight thick lashes before, and he was reminded of a doll. The lids lifted and the ridiculously long lashes swept up. 'You offered me more than any of my other suitors,' she said coolly. 'The title of Princess and a throne to go with it.' 'Does it mean so much to you then?' 'Of course.' He found the remark chilling, and his dislike of herwhich had abatedrose again. She moved against the pillows and the bedside lamp shone full on her face. Despite her flushed skin, there were shadows under her eyes, and he knew she had been more frightened by her experience on the mountain than she would have him believe. It was not fair to judge her too harshly. Although she was twenty-three she had led such a sheltered life that she was probably years younger in experience. How little he actually knew of her upbringing. He put his hands into the pockets of his trousers, enjoying the slight pull of the material across his flat stomach. 'Did you have any family apart from Henry Benton?'

'A few cousins, but I never saw much of them. Uncle Henry was not a great one for his relatives.' 'But he was devoted to you.' 'Because he brought me up and moulded me.' 'Did he succeed?' The pink mouth curved, showing small, pearly teeth. 'He taught me that the best way for me to get what I wanted was to pretend I always did as he wanted!' 'Did it involve much pretence?' 'Quite a bit in the last few years of his life.' Her smile faded. 'He wouldn't see anyone except Clemmie and myself.' 'It must have made life difficult for you.' 'It wasn't easy,' she admitted. 'He became paranoic about everyone. In the last year of his life, I was the only person allowed to be with him. We lived on an island off Scotland. It was guarded like a fortress.' 'His death must have come as a relief to you,' Louis said, trying but failing to imagine the life she had led. 'It was a relief to my uncle,' she replied, 'and it made me vow never to let money become so important to me that it blinded me to reality.' 'What is reality?' Louis demanded.

'Health and friendship. The ability to know yourself as well as others. It isn't easy to do that when you've got a fortune. Money acts as a barrier !' 'So does a throne,' Louis replied. 'And now you've got that tooas well as your money!' She looked stricken, and angry for being the cause of it, he lashed out at her again. 'I don't blame you for forgetting your ideals, Melissa. Buying yourself a prince must have been an irresistible temptation!' 'Yes, it was,' she whispered, and closed her eyes. 'I'm tired, Louis. I would like to go to sleep.' Knowing she was still hurt by his remark, he murmured 'goodnight' and went to his room. Their conversationthough briefmade him even more puzzled by her behaviour. He could have sworn she had been genuine when she had said she didn't want her money to spoil her relationship with people, yet she had cold-bloodedly married him, knowing he loved another woman. As always, the thought of Elise made him ache to hold her. What would she say if he telephoned her now? The temptation to do so was great, but he fought against it. Though she was discreet, she was also proud, and he was not sure she wouldn't deliberately tell her friends that he had called her during his honeymoon. To see her immediately after he returned to the Palace would excite enough comment without his running the risk of adding to it. Too restless to sleep, he put on his dressing-gown and went down to the living room for nightcap. Perhaps he would find peaceful oblivion in the arms of alcohol.

He was reaching for the whisky when he noticed a light coming from the far end of the room. Someone was in his private kitchen. Quietly he tiptoed over. The light was coming from the large refrigerator in the corner. Its door was open wide, and behind it he glimpsed a pair of small bare feet. Unable to stop himself, he burst out laughing. There was a gasp and the door shut swiftly, disclosing Melissa clutching a piece of chocolate cake in her hand. 'Catching up on your calories?' he asked solemnly. She looked at the cake. 'I'm starving.' 'You should eat something more nourishing than that.' 'Why?' She took a bite. 'It's delicious.' He eyed her bare feet. 'Then go and eat it on the settee and take your feet off the floor. You had no business coming down without slippers.' 'I couldn't find them and I didn't want to search around in case I woke up the nurse.' 'She shouldn't be asleep,' he said sharply. 'When I see her in the morning I'll ' 'It wasn't her fault,' Melissa interrupted. 'I couldn't bear her sitting up with me, so I told her to go to her room.' Louis was still unappeased. 'She takes her orders from the doctor, not you.' 'I'm afraid I pulled rank on her.'

Louis's mouth twitched as he saw the mischief in the large brown eyes. 'You did, did you?' 'Naturally. There's no point being a princess if you can't give orders!' She curtsied low. 'Your wish is my command, Your Highness.' Melissa giggled. 'So I commanded!' It was the giggle more than anything else that made him realise something was wrong. He came a step closer and stared at her. What he had mistaken for a glint in the brown eyes was the sparkle of fever, and the pink of her cheeks was a distinct burning flush. He put his hand to her brow. The skin was dry and hot, and with a muttered exclamation he snatched the cake away from her and set it on the counter. Midnight snacks might be fun, but if she did not get to bed at once she would end up with pneumonia if she didn't already have it. 'You must go back to bed, Melissa. You are ill.' 'I feel fine.' She started to sing tunelessly and began to dance in front of him, her short nightdress bobbing around her. With an exclamation he caught her up in his arms and, ignoring her protests, carried her to her room. Unceremoniously he dumped her on the bed and pressed the bell to summon the nurse, keeping his finger on it until she rushed into the room. 'Her Highness has a fever,' he grated. 'You are not to leave her alone again.' 'But Her Highness ordered -' 'When my wife is ill,' he stormed, 'she is your patientnot your Princess! If you leave her alone again, I will dismiss you!'

Furiously he marched out, and went at once to his room, his need for a drink forgotten in his anxiety for Melissa. With her defences broken down by her high temperature, she had shown an artlessness that had disarmed him, and he found himself at a loss to equate the two different aspects of her personality: the one he was seeing for himself and the one he believed her to be. Yet perhaps she was a mixture of both. Muttering to himself, he got into bed. He did not bother to turn off the light and instead stared through the window, watching as the stars paled and the black velvet sky turned first to grey and then to blue.

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 lensesassumed 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 eveningunable to remain alone with his unhappy thoughtshe 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 didand 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 goldenbrown 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 remarkquick as alwaysreminded 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 onewas 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 whounlike her uncledid 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 doctorso he had told her the night beforeand 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 pathone which had meant sacrificing his personal happinessin 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 mindas well as his love for his grandmotherthat 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 quartersand 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 restlesslike 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 Frenchthough 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 themparticularly 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 upattempting to make some laughing commentbut 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!'

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 prideher 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 dohe 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 titleas she saidbut 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 onehow 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 soso' '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.

CHAPTER TWELVE ON her return to the Palace, Melissa discovered she had been moved into, the Royal Suite. This consisted of two master bedrooms, each with its own bathroom and sitting room, as well as a large drawing room where they could meet and entertain their friends privately if they wished to avoid the more ornate splendour of the Palace. There was also a small dining room and kitchen which reminded her of the one at the lodge, for it had the same upto-date equipment, including an enormous freezer stocked with provisions as varied as foie gras, snails in garlic butter, foilwrapped tournedos ready to be undone and popped into the microwave oven, and plastic containers filled with out-of-season fruits. She could not help wondering whether Louis had entertained Elise here, and the idea filled her with such repugnance that it was all she could do to control her temper when he came in and started to show her how things worked. 'We are hardly likely to be using the kitchen,' she snapped. 'We don't have any mutual friends, do we? In fact I've no friends here at all.' 'I am sure you will make some.' 'From among the courtiers? I don't count sycophants as friends.' 'There are other young women of your own age apart from those at Court. What about Phoebe Alexi's wife? She and her two sisters are charming.' 'I suppose I could be friends with them,' she conceded, thinking of Alexi's vivacious wife and her even gayer sisters. She had found them little different from her own friends in England and had taken

an instant liking to them. She would be here for several years and she could not remain friendless, nor could she count on Louis spending much time with her. Not that she wanted him to do so. To be with him was dangerous to her peace of mind and required too much self-control. 'What will my duties be?' she asked. 'Your lady-in-waiting receives a list of them every three months. They are planned a great deal in advance.' Louis looked relieved at being able to change the subject. 'There are hospitals and factories to open, and of course you will be president of the Red Cross. My grandmother has held the position until now, but' 'Can't she continue?' 'As my wife, you will be expected to become the patron. Phoebe will tell you all about it. You will also require your own ladies-inwaiting. I suggest Phoebe and Alexi's own sister as two of them.' 'What about Elise as the third?' His jaw clenched. 'I don't find that remark funny.' 'I thought it would save you from suggesting it yourself! After all, wouldn't you like her to be at the Court every day?' 'Naturally.' His look was cold. 'But I doubt if it would appeal to you.' 'I couldn't care less if she lived here!' With a toss of her head, Melissa stormed out. One week passed and then another, both of them going so quickly that she was amazed. But then her time was so preoccupied that

she barely had a moment to call her own. When Louis had said there were factories and hospitals to visit she had not imagined there would be one or two each week, apart from a similar number of nursery schools, clinics and old age homes. As the new President of the Red Cross, she was given a luncheon in her honour by the wives of the Embassy officials in the capital. This luncheon, more than anything else, made her appreciate the important military position Motavia occupied in Europe, and she was amused at the way Krassky's wife vied with the American Ambassador's wife for her attention. Melissa acted as though to royalty born and was delighted when Phoebe, coming to dinner with Alexi, complimented her on her performance. 'You should have seen the way Her Highness dealt with Krassky's wife,' Phoebe told the table in general. 'The woman insisted on following Her Highness round the room, and it required split second timing to get rid of her!' Melissa smiled. 'I saw a throng of people which included the British contingent, and I sailed through them and let them close ranks immediately. They completely hemmed Madame Krassky in!' Alexi chuckled. 'I can just see her being surrounded by cackling women in feather hats!' 'She had the biggest feather of the lot!' Melissa said. 'She really is an unsightly creature.' 'You make most women look unsightly.' The compliment came from Conrad Tolkin, a friend of Louis's who had recently returned from America.

He was a leading neurologist, Melissa had discovered, and wondered whether he was the man who had fired Louis with the desire to study medicine. He looked the sort of man who could encourage one to do anything, for he had a friendly personality allied to the craggy good looks of a bear. Tonight was the third time Melissa had seen him, and she was glad to have him sitting on her right. Since he travelled abroad a great deal, he had a more Western outlook than most of the Motavians she had met, and the discovery that they had several mutual friends in New York and London increased her feeling of warmth towards him. 'This is the first time I've ever known you compliment a woman,' Louis smiled at the surgeon. 'Her Highness's beauty is unique,' Conrad replied. 'Phoebe excluded, of course!' 'Don't bother being tactful,' Phoebe chided. 'Her Highness is already well known in Motavia for her beauty.' Melissa blushed. She was still not used to hearing herself spoken of in the third person; it made her feel as if she were not there. Seeing her embarrassment Conrad started to talk of other things, and when dinner came to an end he remained by her side as they withdrew to the drawing room. She was not sure if he knew that her marriage to Louis was a farce, but decided it would be unwise to ask him. Though the two men were close friends, Louis might feel it was his duty to remain silent as to the reasons for his marriage, and it was only when the door opened and Elise came in that the look on Conrad's face told her he was indeed in Louis's confidence. This was the first occasion that Melissa had seen the Countess since returning to the capital, and she was reminded of the last day

of her honeymoon and the hour she had spent in Louis's arms. A tremor went through her and Conrad leaned close and put his hand on hers. 'Didn't you know Elise was coming tonight?' 'No. Louis must havehave forgotten to tell me.' 'Or decided not to,' he said bluntly. 'I love your husband as if he were my brother, but he still has a lot to learn when it comes to dealing with women like Elise.' 'I'd rather not talk about it,' Melissa said painfully. 'One day you will have to. But I agree that now isn't the time.' He stood up as Elise glided towards them. In black chiffon, with diamonds glittering round her throat and in the lobes of her ears, she looked like the Queen of the Night, and Melissa would not have been surprised to hear her burst into song. 'Forgive me for arriving so late, Your Highness.' Elise curtsied low. 'But I only returned from Paris an hour ago and found Louis's invitation waiting for me.' Before Melissa could reply, Elise gave her hands to Louis and curtsied again. The bodice of her dress tipped forward provocatively, affording him a view of her beautiful breasts. Melissa saw his eyes rest on them and she turned away quickly and gave her attention to Conrad, hoping to forget the tall blond man who now was giving his whole attention to the equally blonde woman beside him. It was not possible to hear what they were saying, but occasionally Elise's husky laughter drifted over to her. Louis seemed to be

enjoying himself too, for his face was flushed and he was smiling in such an inane way that she longed to kick him. At midnight the small party broke up and Louis murmured that he would see Elise to her car. A quick look flashed between Alexi and Phoebe, though neither of them made any comment as they too left, and it was only Conrad who referred to Louis's behaviour. 'Don't forget you've got power too,' he said. 'Elise may command Louis's heart, but you can command his loyalty.' 'You make it sound easy.' 'Loving another person is never easy.' She was startled. 'Why do you put it like that?' 'Because you do love him. The look in your eyes ... the way you tense when he comes near you. But don't be afraid. No one else has guessed.' 'That's some consolation,' she muttered. 'I don't mind about Alexi and Phoebelike you, they know the truth of my marriagebut the rest of the Court don't.' 'Remind Louis of that,' the surgeon said, raising her hand to his lips. 'It will show him where his duty lies.' Left alone, Melissa went to her room. She was too nervy to sleep and wrapping a housecoat around her, she paced the floor. She was not sure if Louis had left the palace with Elise, and her spirits momentarily lightened as she heard his step in the corridor. Without giving herself time to think she flung open her door and called him.

If he was surprised he hid it well, and bridged the carpeted distance between them in silence. He looked tired and had none of the vitality she normally associated with him. Perhaps he was finding their make-believe marriage more of a strain than he had anticipated. The knowledge that his sleepless nights might also be caused by desire for Elise gave her voice added sharpness. 'I didn't think you would ask your mistress to our private apartments,' she snapped. 'What difference does it make? She comes to the Court.' 'I wish she didn't!' 'I have no intention of making her an outcast. We discussed that before our marriage.' 'Then at least have the decency to confine her visits here to official functions,' Melissa stormed. 'Don't expect me to welcome her when I am dining privately with friends. I'm your wife and I deserve respect.' 'You are not .the wife of my own choosing.' 'But you did choose me and I am your wife.' 'In name -' He stopped and bit his lip, knowing he could not complete the sentence. Heat flooded through her, bringing with it the memory of their sweet hour together. She had always believed that a woman rarely experienced fulfilment on the first occasion a man made love to her, yet Louis had been so tender and understanding that her response had been immediate, and their bodies had merged together as though they had known each other many times before.

'You are right, Melissa,' he said unexpectedly. 'Elise will not come to our apartment again. But I cannot ask her not to come to the Palace.' 'Her own discretion should keep her away,' Melissa snapped. 'Or doesn't she mind the gossip?' 'Of course she minds. How would you feel in her position?' 'I can't answer that, I don't know how she feels about you.' 'She is my mistress,' he said harshly. 'How do you expect her to feel?' Without replying, Melissa stepped back and slammed the door in his face.

The State visit to Slovenia was now imminent. Surprisingly Louis had agreed to let her remain in Motavia, and though she did not know what excuse he had made to Krassky, the Ambassador did not appear to regard it as a slight, and came to see her the night before he was due to accompany Louis to his own country. 'I hope Your Highness will be able to visit us on the next occasion that the Prince pays us a visit,' he said. Carefully she gave a meaningless answer. She might not have been educated in royal diplomacy, but she had learned enough from her uncle to know when to keep silent. 'Let other people do the talking and committing,' Henry Benton had always said. 'You just smile. They can read into it what they like.'

Krassky left before dinner, which Melissa and Louis took with Princess Helene in her private apartments at the other end of the Palace. She had not yet moved and Melissa, entering the old lady's presence, wished she could persuade her to remain. Walking into these rooms was like stepping back in time for everywhere there were visual signs of the past: photographs of Louis's parents and aunt; medals that had been worn by the last reigning prince, and furnishings and bric-a-brac of an era long since gone. But Princess Helene's mind was firmly fixed in the present, and she asked pertinent questions about her grandson's forthcoming visit to a country which she made no bones about regarding as their enemy. 'Is there any news from the mines?' she asked when, dinner over, they sat on hard-backed gilt chairs in the salon, sipping coffee. 'They are having to sink deeper shafts,' Louis replied. 'And that will cost much more than we had estimated.' 'How much more?' 'I don't know.' Something about the set of Louis's jaw convinced Melissa he was lying, and this was confirmed when, returning to their own apartments, he abruptly asked if he could talk to her before she retired. In their drawing room she sat down and waited for him to speak. Because they had dined with his grandmother they were both formally dressed, she in a long gown and Louis in a white dinner jacket that made him look too young to be weighed down by the responsibilities of a country struggling for its independence.

'It seems the engineers were wrong in their calculations,' Louis flung the words at her as though they were a challenge. 'How wrong?' 'By a hundred million poundspossibly more!' He threw out his hands. 'This new amount makes nonsense of our marriage! Your company won't want to invest any more. It's too risky.' Not sure what Sir Donald would want her to say, she gave a noncommittal murmur. The tightrope of neutrality which Louis was walking was too precarious for her company to put any more money into Motavia. But the normal caution of a company did not apply in this situation, for they were merely acting as a front for the British Government and Sir Donald could well decide to give the extra financial help needed. 'I'll talk to Calvin Clement,' she hedged. 'I should be able to give you an answer by the time you return home.' 'Perhaps my visit to Slovenia is fortuitous.' 'But you have already refused their help.' 'That has only made them more eager,' he said drily. She hesitated, then said recklessly: 'Why not ask the British Government for aid?' 'My Opposition Party would revolt.' 'And you would lose your throne?' She glared at him. 'Is that all you're concerned withyour own personal power?'

'As long as I remained here I would always have a chance of changing things.' 'You're kidding yourself!' 'I wonder.' Sighing again, he turned away. 'If only I knew what was best for the country.' It was, she realised, a rhetorical question, for nothing she said would help him to find an answer. East or West. Whichever way he eventually turned, he alone must make the decision. 'I will talk to Clemmie,' she said. He gave a weary shrug and unexpectedly swung round and caught her hand. 'My plane leaves early in the morning. I will say goodbye now.' 'Goodbye, Louis.' Carefully she pulled her hand away, overcome by such a longing to fling herself into his arms that she said the first thing that came into her head. 'What excuse did you eventually give Krassky for my not coming with you?' 'The one you yourself suggested.' Slowly his gaze travelled down her body, then moved up till his eyes met hers. But he did not speak and, lifting his hand in a final gesture, went out. For most of the night Melissa slept fitfully, and was already awake when she heard the motor cavalcade leave the Palace for the airport. Immediately she got up and dressed. She had to let Sir Donald know what had happened, and this meant following the order he had asked her to adopt. 'Your calls to Britain may be monitored,' he had said. 'So in an emergency go to our Embassy.'

At eight-thirty she was talking to the British Ambassador, having left the Palace by the side door and avoided the guards detailed to watch over her. 'I will send off a coded message to Sir Donald immediately,' the Ambassador said. 'You will be at the Palace for the rest of the day?' She nodded. 'Please call me the moment you have any news.' Slowly the hours ticked by. Melissa lunched with Princess Helene and pretended to pay attention to the old lady's reminiscences, though she only began to listen when the conversation turned to Louis. 'I had hoped your marriage would bring you closer together,' the Princess said, 'but you are both still tense with each other. Louis in particular is nervous with you.' Had Princess Helene used any other word, Melissa might have let it pass. Anger, contempt, dislike; these were all descriptions she could have accepted; but that Louis was nervous of her? Never! 'He is nervous with you,' his grandmother insisted. 'I have watched him carefully and he behaves as if he is acting a part.' 'We're both acting a part,' Melissa replied. 'We both have to pretend we like each other.' 'I have the feeling you are not pretending.' The dark eyes peered at her, but it was a curiosity Melissa was determined not to satisfy. To talk of her love for Louis would serve no purpose. Deliberately she changed the subject and Princess Helene accepted it with good grace.

It was still early in the afternoon when she returned to her own apartments. It was lonely without Louis, for though he did not spend any time alone with her, merely knowing he was close at hand gave her a feeling of painful pleasure. Too restless to read, she listened to music, but even this did not calm her for long, and she switched off the tapes and sat down at the piano, hoping that if she played she might be able to relax. The attempt was unsuccessful and she could not stop wondering what Louis was doing and whether he was resisting the pressure which Krassky would undeniably put on him. Angrily she jumped up, and was standing in the centre of the roompoised as though for flightwhen the Ambassador telephoned and asked her to come to the Embassy. His tone was so urgent that she did not hesitate and, within half an hour, had once again made her escape from the Palace. Entering the Embassy she was astounded to see Sir Donald and Calvin Clement. But she had only time to give her lawyer the barest greeting before the Foreign Secretary came immediately to his reason for being here. 'Do you think Prince Louis's visit was arranged as a cover-up for a secret meeting with them about financial aid?' She shook her head. 'The visit was arranged weeks ago. But Louis believes Krassky will use his stay there to discuss it. When Louis asked me if Bentons would give him the extra money he needed, I hedged because I wasn't sure what you wanted me to say.' 'I didn't know myself until I talked with our Cabinet. We no longer feel we can help him.' The news was a shock, but she tried not to show it. 'Why have you changed your mind?',

'Because we believe there is a risk of the Prince turning to Slovenia even if Motavia becomes economically sound. That being the case, we prefer to know where we stand as soon as possible.' Melissa knew Sir Donald's fears were reasonable, but because she loved Louis she still intended to help him. Perhaps if he were given time to think, he would make the right decision. 'I will personally give him the money,' she offered. 'It would mean selling my entire holding in Bentons, but -' 'You can't do that!' Calvin Clement interrupted. 'If the Prince turns to Krassky, you won't want to remain here.' 'That's a chance I am willing to take.' She looked at Sir Donald. 'You won't try and stop me, will you?' 'No. But I agree with Mr Clement that you would be acting unwisely.' He hesitated, then said: 'I absolve you from the promise you gave me in London. You may leave the Prince whenever you wish.' 'If I had my way I would never leave him,' she admitted. 'My dear,' Sir Donald looked distressed, 'I am so sorry.' She shrugged and, reluctant to discuss her emotions further, returned to the Palace. Calvin Clement came with her, using the journey to give her an exposition of Louis's predicament. 'He cannot remain neutral and this is what Sir Donald realises. If Motavia remains poor it will have a revolution and be "saved" by Krassky, and if it becomes powerful and rich it will be conquered by Krassky! That's why you must not give him your own personal

fortune. The Prince needs more than money, Melissa. He needs the courage to do the right thing.' 'He doesn't know what to do! That's why I want to buy his time.' 'You won't succeed. The Motavian people themselves must make the choice.' 'They have a right to expect guidance from their Prince,' she said firmly. 'Then I hope he makes the right decision.' 'So do I,' Melissa said. 'Oh, Clemmie, so do I.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE television screen that night showed a film of Louis's departure from Rothnik several days earlier, and Melissa joined Princess Helene to watch it. How handsome Louis looked as he walked past the rows of soldiers drawn to attention on either side of the runway. Krassky walked beside him, .looking so smug that Melissa would not have been surprised to hear his purr coming through the loudspeaker. Behind Louis came Alexi and Phoebe, for the State Visit included several members of the Court. Melissa was vaguely sorry she had elected to stay behind. It would have been interesting to see at first hand a country she had heard so much about. Beside her, Princess Helene gave a sharp exclamation and, looking at the screenfrom which her eyes had momentarily wandered Melissa saw the graceful figure of Elise. As she watched, the woman moved closer to Louis, and was directly behind him as he mounted the steps of the aircraft. Unable to stop herself, Melissa jumped up and switched off the television. How dared Louis take Elise with him after the promise he had made to be discreet! Didn't he know the gossip such an action would cause? It was all very well for him to continue his love affair within the confines of Elise's home, but to advertise it abroad was both foolish and cruel. 'So you didn't know Elise was going with him?' Princess Helene said. 'No. I never talk to Louis about his private life.' 'More fool you! That woman shouldn't be allowed to continue coming here. You should put your foot down.'

'And have it trodden on?' Melissa said bitterly. 'I have no choice in the matter. One of the things my uncle taught me was never to make demands I didn't have the strength to carry out!' 'You do have the strength. If you insist, Louis will listen to you.' 'Through fear?' Melissa sighed. 'That would make him hate me even more.' She jumped up and made a pretence of wanting some air. It enabled her to put sufficient distance between herself and Princess Helene for her tears not to be seen. It was incredible to think she had known Louis for less than two months; her love for him was so strong that she felt he had been part of her life for ever. 'What do you intend to do about the future?' Princess Helene asked. The question took Melissa by surprise until she realised the woman knew nothing of Sir Donald's visit nor where it might eventually lead. It was concerned solely with Louis's emotional life. Yet with Elise urging him to come to terms with Krassky, it was Louis's emotions that could lead him to make a disastrous decision for his country. 'I can do nothing about Louis's future,' she said aloud. 'Perhaps one day he'll see Elise for what she is. They say infatuation doesn't last.' 'It can last long enough to ruin his life.' Melissa made a disclaiming gesture, and recognising it as such, Princess Helene talked instead of the forthcoming luncheon which the French Cultural Attach was arranging in honour of her seventy-fourth birthday.

At nine o'clock Melissa returned to her apartment, and shortly afterwards Calvin Clement arrived. He had been dining with Conrad Tolkien, whom he had met years before when the neurosurgeon had operated on one of the partners in his law firm. Hardly had he settled down in front of her when she asked him if he had made arrangements to sell all her shares. 'It can't be done overnight,' he protested. 'Don't stall, Clemmie. I am giving Louis that money whether you like it or not!' 'It's your money,' the lawyer said mildly. 'Then do as I tell you and make it available!' She walked around the room, too agitated to rest. One thought was uppermost in her mind: Elise was with Louis. Even while she herself was arranging to give him her entire fortuneand possibly lose it allhe was with another woman. Was he making love to her at this moment? She glanced at her watch and then quickly spoke to Clemmie, saying the first thing that came into her head so long as it would force her to concentrate on something else. 'I suppose Sir Donald has returned to London?' 'Not yet.' 'Why is he remaining here?' 'Some other government business, I believe,' the lawyer said vaguely. 'He is, of course, most distressed that your marriage doesn't appear to have solved the situation.'

'That's the understatement of the year! It not only hasn't solved it, it has tied me to a man who can't wait to get rid of me!' Later, as she lay in bed courting sleep that would not come, she knew that if Louis did turn to Krassky she would have to go back to England. 'I wouldn't wait for him to ask me to leave,' she muttered aloud. 'If he's spineless enough to listen to Elise, he isn't worth loving!' Unfortunately love could not be commanded. It had come to her unbidden and would remain with her for a long time to come. Burying her head in her pillow, she burst into tears. Louis was returning to Rothnik on Friday afternoon. No arrangement had been made for her to meet him at the airport, and she was not sure whether to pretend she was still suffering from the unspecified malaise which the people of Motavia believed had prevented her from accompanying her husband on his State Visit. Discretion finally decided her to remain at the palace, and from lunchtime onwards she hovered by the window in their private drawing room, ears alert for the sound of his plane. At three o'clock she heard the heavy drone of a squadron of aircraft in the sky, and hurriedly she changed into a peach silk dress. The colour gave warmth to her skin and hair, while excitement pinked her cheeks and she tried to mask it with powder. But the colour faded of its own accord as two hours elapsed without Louis's arrival, and she had just concluded that he had gone home with Elise when the door opened and he came in. Absence seemed to have changed him: he looked paler than she remembered and there was a tenseness in his figure she had not noticed before. Abruptly he came towards her, and though he

stopped a few yards away, she saw the fine lines of tiredness fanning out from the sides of his eyes. 'Hello, Louis. I hope everything went well?' 'Very well. I was treated to a magnificent display of air and land power and showed myself to be suitably impressed.' 'And frightened?' 'Not any more.' 'You don't need Krassky's help,' she blurted out. 'I can get you the money you need.' She had not meant to say it like this, but the tautness of his manner had increased her own tension and she was impelled to try and ease his mind. But though she had hoped to do so, he continued to look at her mutely, as though he had not taken in what she had said. 'Don't you understand me, Louis? I can arrange for you to have the money you need.' 'I don't need it now.' 'You mean you're going to...' She stopped, unable to go on, and he filled the silence for her. 'I mean I have decided that Motavia cannot sit on the fence any longer. I have made my decision and I -' He stopped as the door burst open and Alexi rushed in, the shine of sweat on his forehead.

'The Prime Minister wishes to see you! You were right about the Opposition, Louis. They've' 'I knew it!' Louis shouted, and with an oath strode out, followed by Alexi. Melissa went after them, but seeing them run down the stairs to the ground floor, knew they were going to the State Room. Nervously she went to her bedroom. She was not needed here any longer. Louis had made his choice. How easily he had been swayed by the array of strength flaunted in front of him during the last few days. If only his State Visit had been to the West instead of the East! If it had, he might have opted for freedom instead of oppression. Yet perhaps he had made up his mind before he had left Rothnik. That could be the reason why Elise had gone with him; to make sure she received due kudos from Krassky for having exerted her influence over a lovesick Prince. Contempt for him filled her with nausea, and not giving herself time to think, she rang the British Embassy and asked to speak to Sir Donald. 'You've heard?' he said as he came on the line. 'Yes,' she marvelled that the news had travelled so fast. 'I want to leave Motavia. Please arrange it.' 'But surely' 'You've got to help me! I married Louis because you said it was my duty, but that no longer applies.' 'I still think -'

'I want to leave now,' she insisted. 'If you don't want to help me, I'll call Reuters. They'll make a wonderful story out of it!' 'You mustn't do that!' Sir Donald was aghast. 'Leave it to me. But I must get you out incognito, and that means a special passport.' 'I'm sure that's a problem you can easily overcome!' 'It will take time. Ill have to call you back.' It was three hours before he did, three hours during which she paced the room and drank countless cups of coffee. When the telephone rang she was in a state of such agitation she could hardly speak, but luckily Sir Donald did all the talking, telling her to travel only with a small case and that he would send a car for her in an hour. Only as he came to the end did he again ask her to reconsider her action. 'I still fail to see the urgency, my dear.' Again she was staggered that he could expect her to live in a country controlled by people she loathed. Besides, didn't he realise Louis would be asking her to go in any event? 'I will wait by the North Door in an hour,' she said firmly. 'Please see the car is on time.' Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, she changed into a dark dress and coat and put on a hat that covered her hair. Her official photographs showed her in formal clothes and hatless, and she hoped that with her hair hidden she would not be recognised at the airport.

It was only as she hurried down the corridor that she remembered she had left her watch in the drawing room. The clasp was loose and she had taken it off to look at it when Louis had walked in. It was a twenty-first birthday present from Clemmie and she was reluctant to leave it behind. Running back, she was half way across the room before she saw the woman half hidden by the curtains. Astonishment brought her to a stop. What was Elise doing here? 'If you are waiting for Louis,' she said icily, 'I suggest you do so in one of the State Rooms.' 'I don't take orders from you!' Melissa caught her breath at the arrogance of the reply. How confident Elise must feel now that Louis had set Motavia squarely on the side she wanted. Confident enough to believe she could disregard his marriage. 'I am surprised you didn't have the courtesy to wait for me to leave,' Melissa continued. 'Or are you scared Louis might find someone else before you can step in?' 'I didn't know you were going.' Elise's eyes were narrow blue icicles. 'Did you expect me to stay here?' Elise shrugged. 'You love him. I expected you at least to put up a fight.' 'I don't believe in fighting for a man.' 'Then you should never have come here in the first place.'

'I agree with you. It has all been a waste of time.' Wearily Melissa picked up her watch from the mantelpice and slipped it into her pocket. 'I hope you and Louis will enjoy doing the goose step together !' Blindly she turned and went out. There were no servants about and she hurried through the main State Rooms, believing she was less likely to be seen here than if she kept to the corridors. It was a wise move, for she only encountered a couple of servants who deferentially moved out of her way. The anteroom leading to the East Wing entrance was deserted. This part of the Palace was used by diplomats for official visits only, and there were no private attendants here, only sentries guarding the outer doors, who drew to attention at her approach and made her realise that even with her hair masked she was still recognisable. But this was because she was in the Palace, she reminded herself. At the airport, among a lot of other people, she hoped her identity would go unnoticed. How would Sir Donald manage about her passport? Would he have to enlist Louis's help? Her heart hammered loudly in her ears and she swallowed several times as she paced the courtyard and waited for the car. Surely half an hour had already passed? She was debating whether to phone the Embassy again when a limousine glided slowly towards her. The driver wore a uniform she did not recognise, but as she murmured Sir Donald's name he nodded and held open the door for her. Slowly they drove through the tall, iron gates, but once on the main avenue they kept up a steady speed. Melissa peered through the window but did not recognise any familiar landmarks.

Expecting to see the British Embassy looming in front of her, she was discomfited to find the journey continuing for longer than she had anticipated and was leaning forward to rap on the partition when they stopped outside a large grey stone house with a front door marked by white columns. 'This isn't the Embassy,' she called. 'Why have you brought me here?' Without answering, the chauffeur came round the side of the car and motioned her to get out. Nervously she did so, wondering if she had been kidnapped and debating whether or not to try and make a dash for freedom. She glanced at the man. He was close beside her, making it impossible for her to get more than a few yards from him. For want of any other solution she had to do as he bade. Head high, she approached the front door, and as though someone had been waiting behind it, it opened and she stepped into a pinepanelled hall and saw Alexi. 'You!' she exclaimed. 'Welcome to my home, Your Highness.' He bowed low. 'Why have I been brought here, Alexi? I was going -' She stopped, reluctant to continue. He appeared not to notice her hesitation and opened a door on her right, beckoning her to enter. 'Is Sir Donald here?' she asked, and stepped inside. The door closed behind her and she found herself in a room so brightly lit that she blinked. As her vision steadied she saw she

was not the only occupant. A man was there too; a wild-eyed, haggard-faced man whom she barely recognised as Louis. If she had thought him tired when she had seen him earlier, he looked totally exhausted now: his face puffy, his tanned skin grey. 'What are you doing here?' she asked. 'I've come to talk to you.' 'But why here?' 'I didn't want it to be at the British Embassy nor the airport,' he added. 'In Alexi's home we can have privacy.' 'We have nothing to say to each other. You have made your decision and I have made mine.' 'I know why I made mine,' he replied, 'but I don't understand the reason for yours.' 'You can't be that stupid,' she cried, and saw him bite his lip. 'I'm sorry, Louis,' she said quickly. After all, he was a prince, and though she despised him she must not forget his rank. 'Please let me leave now. It's a waste of time to go on talking.' 'Are you angry because I refused your money?' 'Why should you take it when you won't need it? From now on you will have more than enough.' 'It wasn't the money alone that prompted my decision. It was something I should have done months agowould have done too, if I hadn't been a coward.' 'What gave you the courage?' she asked sarcastically.

'You.' This was more than she could tolerate. 'If that's your idea of a joke -' 'Do you think I can joke about something so important? I love you, Melissa. Don't you know that?' He stopped and looked at her, as though hoping she would say something. But astonishment had robbed her of speech. This was the last thing she had expected to hear Louis say. Perhaps she had imagined it? Heaven knew she had wanted to hear him say it for so long that the stress of the last few days might easily have played havoc with her mind. Yet staring into his face she knew her mind had not played her false, for he said the words again, his lips trembling as if he found it hard to control them. 'I love you, Melissa. I want to live with you for the rest of my life.' 'No!' she cried. 'It isn't true. If you love me, you could never have...' Her voice broke and she struggled for words. 'I wanted Motavia to be free and you toonot to become a puppet prince!' His lips set into a thin line. He seemed to have forgotten his declaration of love and looked instead like a man prepared to do battle. 'Do you think I signed my country over to slavery? Is that why you're running away?' He saw the answer in her face, and his own grew bleak. 'It is enlightening for me to know you have so much faith in my ability to do what is right!' 'Don't let's argue about right or wrong,' she whispered. 'We must agree to differ.' She turned to leave, but he stepped in front of her.

'So Sir Donald was right. You and I have been talking at crosspurposes ever since I got back to the Palace.' 'You've seen Sir Donald?' She felt her cheeks lose colour. 'So that's how you found out I was leaving Motavia! He had no right to tell you.' 'He didn't see me to tell me that.' Louis hesitated. 'I had a meeting with him on another matter and I arrived at the Embassy soon after you had spoken to him on the telephone. But it wasn't until after my own discussion with him that he told me about it.' 'I don't seem to arouse much loyalty in the people I know,' Melissa said huskily. 'Don't think harshly of him,' Louis said at once. 'He only told me you were leaving Motavia when I said I loved you.' 'You admitted that to him?' He half smiled. 'It wasn't a very royal thing to do, I suppose! But these past hours have knocked protocol for a loop. Pride no longer matters when one realises that only by the grace of God was one able to avert a civil war.' Consternation overcame Melissa's personal anguish. 'So that's why the Prime Minister came to see youwhy you left the Palace in such a hurry.' 'Yes. But it's all over now and we have won. The Armed Services remained loyal to me and the Opposition have been routed.' 'But why did they revolt? I thought they wanted you to accept Krassky?' Bewildered, she paused. 'I don't follow.'

'So I see.' Gently he led her to the settee. He sat beside her, his body so close that his leg touched her skirt. 'Hear me out, Melissa. If you want to leave me afterwards, I won't stop you.' He glanced at her. 'When I returned to Rothnik today I had made up my mind to ally myself with the West. I thought I had made that clear to you during the few minutes we had together at the Palace, but from what you told Sir Donald over the telephone, you believed I had thrown in my lot with Krassky. I don't blame you for thinking it. I blame myself. If I had told you weeks ago that I loved you, you wouldn't have doubted me.' 'Yes, I would,' she cried. 'I don't believe you now! I'm not blind, Louis.' Anger blazed from her face. 'I saw Elise at the Palace less than an hour ago. How can you expect me to believe you don't love her?' 'I had to pretend,' he said swiftly. 'I had to hide my feelings even though the sight of her disgusted me.' 'Since when?' Melissa said scornfully. 'Since I married you. Then I was so bewildered by my feelings I didn't know what I felt. But on our honeymoonthat day in the cabinI was absolutely sure.' Painfully Melissa swallowed. 'Why didn't you tell me?' 'Admit I had fallen in love with a girl who had married me because I was a prince?' His look was wry. 'That was something I had to come to terms with. And it wasn't easy, Melissa.' Again she swallowed. 'But when we came back from the lodge you returned to Elise.'

'I had no choice. Alexi had found out she was in Krassky's pay and -' 'You mean she was a spy!' 'Let's say she had no loyalty to Motavia,' he said grimly. 'It seems her late husband was not as rich as everyone believed, and when Krassky discovered thispeople of his type always know where to find other people's Achilles' heelshe offered to help her if she would help him to get what he wanted.' Louis sighed deeply. 'I made such a fool of myself over her that she believed she had the power to make me do anything she wanted.' 'I thought she could too,' Melissa said tautly. 'I know you didand that was the hardest part of allforcing myself to go on with the pretence. But I had to go on seeing her to make her believe I was still deciding which way to take Motavia. I had to play along with her until I was confident I could cope with the Opposition Party.' 'And you have,' she sighed. 'Yes, we have finally won.' 'But Sir Donald,' she murmured. 'How did you know he was here?' 'I didn't. When the revolt was put down I asked Alexi to arrange for me to fly to Britain to see your Foreign Secretary. When we learned he was already here, I went straight to see him. That's when he told me you were leaving Motavia.' Louis moved closer, his body warm against her side. 'If you go, I cannot come after you. I will be needed here till peace is fully restored and all treaties have been signed. But afterwards I will follow you and I won't rest until I've made you fall in love with me.'

'I'm surprised you can love a little hunter!' 'Don't say that! Sir Donald has told me the whole story.' He caught her hand. 'There was so much about you I couldn't understand. I felt you to be one kind of person, even though you were acting like another.' 'I was playing a part too,' she admitted. 'Thank heavens it's over.' 'Only part of it is over,' he said. 'Stay at the Palace, Melissa. Give me a chance.' 'Elise is at the Palace.' 'Not now,' he declared loudly. 'When she heard the revolt was lost she came to find out what I was going to do.' A grim smile turned up one side of his mouth. 'She found it difficult to credit I had been as good an actor as she had been an actress!' The words gave Melissa some satisfaction, though not as much as she would have liked, and the doubts in her mind were reflected on her face. Seeing them, Louis sighed. 'Most young men fall unsuitably in love at some time in their life. It usually happens when they're young. Unfortunately I spent my youth learning how to be a prince, and the foolish things I should have done in my teens I didn't do till my twenties. That's why Elise turned my head.' He paused. 'Then I fell in love with you, and it made me see how shallow Elise was.' Melissa tried and failed to get comfort from what Louis was saying. 'She still remained your mistress and she still went away with you this week.'

'Krassky invited her. I didn't. And she ceased being my mistress from the day I married you.' 'You can't expect me to believe that!' Melissa burst out. 'Elise isn't a fool. You were her lover before. What excuse could you have given her for not continuing?' Louis's head tilted, and there was a gleam in his eyes. 'You're jealous.' 'Of course I'm jealous!' 'Darling!' he cried, and leaned closer. 'Don't touch me! You haven't answered my question yet. If you had to pretend you still loved Elise, surely that meant you were her lover?' 'No...' He looked discomfited. 'IerI made her believe I was impotent.' Melissa's mouth fell open and Louis grinned. 'I told her my impotence was due to guilt. That I regarded marriage as a sacred bond and though I knew my marriage to you wasn't a real one, I was still aware of being your husband.' He flung out his arms. 'You have no idea the psychological claptrap I came out with in order to make her believe me!' 'You'd better not try it with me,' Melissa said, and giggled. Hearing it, Louis pulled her into his arms. 'If I had been more sure of you,' he whispered, 'I would have told you weeks ago that I loved you.'

'I'm glad Sir Donald was indiscreet.' 'Even if he hadn't been, I'd have soon guessed the truth. Before I left Rothnik the other day, I had a feeling you were starting to love me.' 'How did I give myself away?' 'When I told you I had let Krassky think you were pregnant, there was a look in your eyes that made me think you wished it was true.' 'I didI do,' she mumbled, and felt his grip tighten. 'We'll make it come true, Melissa,' he said with passion. 'But not yet. First I want to have you to myself. We'll go away for another honeymoona real one this time.' 'Oh, Louis, I still can't believe you love me.' 'I love you for what you are,' he whispered. 'And I do not require your personal fortune.' 'Sir Donald told you that too? Oh, I wish he hadn't.' 'I'm glad he did. We must not have any more secrets between us.' She dimpled up at him. 'What a pity Uncle Henry can't see us. We'll have to call our first child Henryor Henrietta!' Louis's arms tightened around her, his body was throbbing and she felt the fast racing of his heart. It made her realise the stress he had been under and she was overcome with tenderness for him. Suddenly he was no longer the glamorous Prince of a fairy-tale country, but a man who had faced political intrigue as well as

strife; who had found himself in the centre of a power struggle and had had to play a lone and devious game in order to give himself the time he needed to rout his enemies. But those enemies still existed: might even now be plotting his downfall if not his life. 'I love you, Louis,' she cried. 'I don't care about your being a prince. I would be much happier if you weren't!' She clung to him. 'You're so vulnerable, so open to attack.' Sensing what she meant, he gave her a little shake. 'The leaders of the Opposition Party have been granted an amnesty, and I intend to offer them jobs in the new Government. It's better for the peace of my country if I try to love my enemies. I believe there's a proverb for it.' 'Love turneth away hate,' Melissa whispered. 'But you'd better not apply that to Elise!' 'All my love is yours. It always will be.' He touched his mouth to hers and then drew back. 'Let's go home. Once I start to kiss you I won't be able to stop.' 'That could cause trouble,' she said solemnly. 'That reminds me of an old English saying,' he said equally solemnly. 'What's that?' He grinned. 'May all our troubles be little ones!'