“I intended to introduce myself as soon as you were recovered.”

“You’d better tell me now,” Allie urged.

Before Lorne could speak, his security man said in awed tones, “I have the honor to present His Royal Highness, Prince Lorne de Marigny, ruler of the sovereign islands of Carramer.”

She felt faint, but this time it had less to do with the pounding she had taken in the surf than with the impact of the man standing before her. “You’re the ruler of the whole country?”

Lorne nodded.

The combined effect of her ordeal and the discovery that she had been rescued by the monarch himself combined to overwhelm her precarious hold on consciousness. The security man’s startled cry and Lorne’s barked command were the last things she heard before she saw the sand rushing up toward her.

The Monarch’s Son

The Prince’s Bride-To-Be

The Princess’s Proposal

Dear Reader,

Looking for sensational summer reads? All year we’ve been celebrating Silhouette’s 20th Anniversary with special titles, and this month’s selections are just the warm, romantic tales you’ve been seeking!

Bestselling author Stella Bagwell continues the newest Romance promotion, AN OLDER MAN. Falling for Grace hadn’t been his intention, particularly when his younger, pregnant neighbor was carrying his nephew’s baby! Judy Christenberry’s THE CIRCLE K SISTERS miniseries comes back to Romance this month, when sister Melissa enlists the temporary services of The Borrowed Groom. Moyra Tarling’s Denim & Diamond pairs a rough-hewn single dad with the expectant woman he’d once desired beyond reason…but let get away.

Valerie Parv unveils her romantic royalty series THE CARRAMER CROWN. When a woman literally washes ashore at the feet of the prince, she becomes companion to The Monarch’s Son… but will she ever become the monarch’s wife? Julianna Morris’s BRIDAL FEVER! persists when Jodie’s Mail-Order Man discovers her heart’s desire: the brother of her mail-order groom! And Martha Shields’s Lassoed! is the perfect Opposites Attract story this summer. The sparks between a rough-and-tumble rodeo champ and the refined beauty sent to photograph him jump off every page!

In future months, look for STORKVILLE, USA, our newest continuity series. And don’t miss the charming miniseries THE CHANDLERS REQUEST…from New York Times bestselling author Kasey Michaels.

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

The Monarch’s Son
Valerie Parv

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my darling Paul, the real prince in my life

Books by Valerie Parv

Silhouette Romance

The Leopard Tree #507

The Billionaire’s Baby Chase #1270

Baby Wishes and Bachelor Kisses #1313

The Monarch’s Son #1459

VALERIE PARV

lives and breathes romance, and has even written a guide to being romantic, crediting her cartoonist husband of nearly thirty years as her inspiration. As a former buffalo and crocodile hunter in Australia’s Northern Territory, he’s ready-made hero material, she says.

When not writing about her novels and nonfiction books, or speaking about romance on Australian radio and television, Valerie enjoys dollhouses, being a Star Trek fan and playing with food (in cooking, that is). Valerie agrees with actor Nichelle Nichols, who said, “The difference between fantasy and fact is that fantasy simply hasn’t happened yet.”

HISTORY OF CARRAMER

The Carramer Crown takes place in the fictitious island kingdom of Carramer in the South Pacific. French explorer la Perouse called Carramer “the loveliest fleet of islands anchored in any ocean.” Carramer comprises three inhabited islands and a handful of tiny offshore islands. The main island is Celeste, home to the capital city of Solano, and the ruling monarch, Lorne de Marigny. Across the Carramer Strait lies the larger, blissfully beautiful Isle des Anges (Island of the Angels) and its near neighbor, tiny Nuee, both governed by Prince Lorne’s younger brother, Michel, next in line to the throne after Lorne’s son, Nori. Younger sister Adrienne sees no role for herself in government, and yearns to establish a horse-breeding stable.

Carramer’s traditions are a mixture of French and Polynesian influences. It enjoys a perfect climate, as near-constant trade winds prevail throughout the year and most rain falls as daytime showers that are accompanied by rainbows, giving rise to the popular name for Carramer of “the Rainbow Isles.”

There is rumored to be another royal offspring living in the United States, but so far that story remains untold.

Valerie Parv

Official historian to the sovereign state of Carramer

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One

As soon as Allie Carter felt the powerful undertow start to drag her out to deep water she knew she was in trouble. The current flowed as fast as a river, much too powerful for her to swim against. It was all she could do to keep her head above water.

Every instinct urged her to fight her way back to the fast-receding beach, but she resisted the temptation, knowing it was the way to certain death. Instead she made herself swim parallel with the shore. She knew that sooner or later the current would dissipate in calm water, then she could turn toward land, although judging by the ferocity of the current, it was likely to be a long way from Saphir Beach where she’d entered the water.

“Let it take you, don’t fight it,” she told herself to curb her rising panic. She couldn’t help thinking about the sharks that frequented the deeper waters. Maybe they only ate women from Carramer and not visiting Australians, she thought. Talk about wishful thinking. The thought distracted her briefly from the growing ache in her shoulders and arms, although it did nothing for the rawness of her throat from swallowing salt water.

Just when she was afraid she wouldn’t have the strength to make it back to shore, she felt the current’s grip slacken, and she began angling her strokes to carry her to a cove visible in the distance. Exhaustion and salt water blurred her vision but she thought she saw someone moving about on the sand, unless it was more wishful thinking.

By the time she reached shallower water she couldn’t summon the energy to stand up, and she flopped in the breakers, chest heaving with the struggle to breathe, barely able to see out of stinging eyes. Waves washed over her head and threatened to carry her out to sea again but she had no strength left to fight them.

Suddenly she felt herself being lifted into strong arms and carried the last few feet up the beach. “It’s all right, you’re safe.” The French-accented voice sounded powerfully male, although the man himself was an infuriating blur. With an odd sense of detachment she felt herself being placed on her stomach on an unyielding surface. A heavy pressure made itself felt on her back and she tried to protest but couldn’t force the sound out. The pressure returned several times at steady intervals until she coughed, bringing up copious amounts of seawater.

“Much better,” the vibrant male voice commented as if to himself, adding to her, “lie still while I get a doctor.”

Groggily she rolled over onto one elbow and struggled to focus on her rescuer. Looming seemed like a good word to describe the tall, broad man bending over her. But his voice sounded concerned, and the hands that placed a folded towel under her head and offered her another to clean her face were gentle. When he leaned over her, she was enveloped in a tantalizingly elusive scent, something expensive and French and very, very masculine.

“I don’t need a doctor. I’ll be fine if I can rest for a few minutes,” she croaked, hoping she sounded more convincing to him than she did to herself.

“You are far from fine. You almost drowned in the grip of the serpent.” This time he sounded definitely disapproving.

She felt spent but knew she wasn’t delirious. “The serpent?”

“Local folklore. You Australians would call it a rip. An undertow. You obviously haven’t been in Carramer very long or you would know that Saphir Beach is dangerous unless you know these waters well.”

Her temper wasn’t helped by her exhaustion and the awareness of how close she’d come to drowning. She didn’t need this stranger to point out that it was due to her own stupidity and lack of local knowledge. “I wasn’t to know, was I?” she snapped. “The only warning signs were in Carramer language.”

“How surprising.”

The sarcasm in the man’s voice wasn’t lost on her. She struggled to sit up and found herself lying on thick woven matting under a white canopy that reminded her of a sheik’s tent. She blinked hard, realizing uncomfortably that she must have washed up on one of the many private beaches around the island kingdom. Its owner, as his behavior suggested he was, sounded annoyed by the intrusion.

Her vision had nearly cleared, and almost against her will she was intrigued by the man meeting her curious gaze. In spite of his disapproving expression he had the most arresting features she had ever seen, strongly carved as if from stone. Only the working of a muscle at his jawline belied this impression.

His obsidian eyes glared at her from under hair of almost the same color. Gold flecks glittered in the dark pools of his gaze. Something familiar about him tugged at her, although she was so tired she could barely think straight. Another question occurred to her. “How did you know I’m Australian?”

He frowned, censure in every line of his face. “If your accent hadn’t betrayed you, your beauty and your boldness would have done so.”

She seized on his last points. “Are you telling me that Australian women have a look you can recognize?”

He nodded. “Your particular robustness is quite different from the delicacy of Carramer women, even when you’re as slender and shapely as you are, Miss…”

He tailed off, clearly expecting her to supply a name. “Alison Carter,” she said, pleased to hear her voice sounding less husky already. “Allie to my friends.”

“Alison.” The curt way he said her name immediately removed him from the friend category. “I am Lorne de Marigny.”

“Pleased to meet you, Monsieur de Marigny.” She matched his formal tone and granted him the locally preferred French appellation almost unconsciously. In Australia she would have called him Lorne without a second thought, but his upright bearing and stern manner suggested that it wouldn’t be wise, for some reason. Oh well, when in Rome or Carramer, she thought. Summoning her limited reserve of strength, she struggled to her feet. “Thank you for your help, but I’d better go.”

A wave of dizziness caught her and she swayed. Instantly his arm came around her shoulder, supporting her. “You are in no condition to go anywhere until you have been cleared by a doctor.”

His supportive arm felt so good that she was tempted to lean into his embrace and let him continue making decisions for her. He sounded accustomed to it, and she was very, very tired, but she couldn’t impose on him any longer when he clearly resented her presence. “No, thanks. You’ve done more than enough. I’m sorry I intruded on your privacy, but I’ll leave now.”

The black gaze bored into her, his closeness emphasizing the intensity in his expression. “Precisely how do you plan on leaving?”

She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I guess I’ll walk back to Allora. I’m staying at a hostel there.”

He dismissed the notion with a curt gesture. “In the first place, you’re in no condition to walk anywhere, far less a couple of miles back to the town.”

She started in surprise. “The current took me that far?”

“It has been known to.” He sounded dryly amused.

She could hardly wait for the second place. “And?”

“You’re seeing a doctor before you go anywhere. Come, my villa is over the rise.”

He clearly took her compliance for granted, and she lifted her head in automatic defiance. “Next thing you’ll tell me you keep a doctor on call.”

Lorne merely looked at her. “As it happens I do.”

“And a chauffeur and a helicopter complete with pilot, too, I suppose?”

He inclined his head slightly. “Among other staff, yes.”

She couldn’t restrain her outrush of breath, feeling more like a fish out of water than ever. A nearly drowned fish at that. Either this prepossessing stranger had delusions of grandeur or he was a man of some importance. She squared her shoulders. No matter who Lorne de Marigny was, where she came from, one person was as good as another. “I don’t see any staff around here right now,” she said with a pointed glance around them.

His black look impaled her. “Are you questioning my word?”

He sounded as if it was a rare event. Maybe it was time somebody did. “In Australia we call things as we see them,” she stated, her gesture encompassing the empty beach.

He dragged in a deep breath and she could practically feel him restraining his temper. “Make no mistake, we are under observation from several quarters even now. This beach is well known to be off-limits to the public, and my staff is trained to be discreet, giving me at least the illusion of privacy.”

Unlike certain foreigners, came the unspoken criticism. “Look, I didn’t plan on washing up on your private beach,” she protested, tiring of his imperious attitude and his insulting suggestion that she required watching. What harm could one bikini-clad tourist possibly do to a man of his impressive physique? “If one of your…staff…will give me a lift back to Allora, I’ll get out of your hair. I promise I’ll see a doctor as soon as I get back,” she added before Lorne could say any more on the subject.

His dark brows drew together. “Are you always so annoyingly persistent?”

“Only when half-drowned,” she assured him tiredly. Her every muscle ached from fighting the current, and her legs weren’t doing too well at holding her up. She was in no state to deal with Mr. Arrogance even if it turned out that he owned half of Carramer.

He regarded her in obvious disbelief. “Why do I doubt that it takes a bout with the serpent to bring out this tendency in you?”

On the other hand he had saved her life, she conceded to herself. “When I was four, my mother called me Miss One-Note because she said I was so single-minded,” she confessed, not entirely sure why. “I guess I haven’t changed.”

“I imagine you have changed considerably since you were four,” he commented, appraising her so frankly that she was left in no doubt as to the changes he was referring to.

His blatantly masculine scrutiny reminded her of how much her white bikini revealed. Having forgotten to pack her own swimsuit, she had purchased the bikini locally yesterday, allowing the saleswoman’s enthusiasm to override Allie’s misgivings about its brevity. She hadn’t allowed for the way the twin bands of stretch material molded themselves to her body when wet, revealing even more of her shapely figure than they had when dry.

Well, so what if they did, she told herself defiantly. It wasn’t as if she had anything to be ashamed of. She was no supermodel, but a careful diet and exercise routine had given her curves in all the right places. All the same, Lorne’s slow inspection provoked a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with nearly drowning. It came to her that she felt more out of her depth beside Lorne on the sand than she had in the grip of the undertow.

“You’d better take the lead,” she suggested in an unsteady voice.

He inclined his head, his expression darkly amused. “I invariably do.”

As he took her arm and steered her toward a narrow path skirting a dune, the heat of his hand seared her skin as if a naked flame had touched it. She glanced in surprise at the strong fingers cupping her elbow. No flames, only ordinary flesh and blood. Her exhausted state must be the reason why his touch sent shivers dancing along her spine. Maybe he was right and she would be wise to consult a doctor after all.

“What brings you to Carramer? Are you on vacation?” he asked as she tried vainly to match his long-legged strides. He noticed and moderated them a little.

His disinterested tone suggested that he was only making polite conversation. “It’s a working holiday,” she supplied. “I came here to paint.”

“You are an artist?”

Again she caught the disapproval in his tone and wondered at its source. Her sigh was more betraying than she intended. “That’s what I want to find out. Back home in Brisbane I teach art at a girl’s school, but I’ve always wanted to paint professionally. I decided to spend some accumulated leave exploring what I can achieve.”

“Why Carramer specifically? Surely you can paint in Australia?”

She nodded. “I could, but there are too many distractions.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Distractions as in a man?”

Distractions as in a family for whom she had always been on call, she thought, automatically suppressing a flash of resentment. Between a constantly ailing mother who expected Allie to parent her, and a spoiled younger sister who thought her needs should always come first, there had never been much time or money for anything Allie herself wanted.

Her father had left them when Allie was sixteen, and since then her mother had looked to her daughter for support, swearing that she couldn’t manage alone. Her many ailments could never be specifically diagnosed but prevented her from working full-time and ensured that Allie was always there for her, doing all she could to make her mother’s life easier. She had even abandoned her dream of attending art school in favor of teacher training so she could bring in enough money to help put her sister through university.

Then a few months ago, Alison’s mother had dropped the bombshell that she intended to marry a neighbor who had apparently courted her while Alison was at work. Nothing was said in words but it was made clear that it was time Alison made a life for herself. She was duly thanked for all she had done but shown clearly that her sacrifice was no longer necessary.

Lorne mistook her silence for agreement. “Was this man cheating on you?”

Alison’s confused gaze flew to his face. “No, I mean there is no man. I came for my own reasons.”

He looked skeptical. “You’re telling me that a woman of your obvious charms has no man waiting for her at home?”

She would have taken it as a compliment if not for the painful knowledge that Lorne was right. Supporting her family and dealing with their emotional demands left her little room for a love life. She’d dated a colleague from school but he was, if possible, more demanding than her family, even objecting to this vacation because she wouldn’t be at his beck and call.

Suggesting that he might not wait for her return was intended to bring her to heel. She wasn’t sure who had been more surprised when she agreed that it was probably better that way. “There’s no man waiting at home anymore,” she denied, unable to keep an edge of bitterness out of her voice.

“I suppose your own needs took priority.” Lorne’s cutting tone was a judgment in itself.

At his high-handed tone resentment surged through her. She had had enough of ordering her life around the demands of people who were only too ready to shrug her off when it suited them. Now it was time for some changes. Unconsciously she lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with pleasing myself?”

He paused before replying. “In my experience, it usually means riding roughshod over the feelings of others.”

It was the last thing she would do, but she was too drained by her near drowning to feel like defending herself to Lorne. What would he know about the price her responsibilities had exacted from her, anyway? From his extraordinary good looks and talk of his villa and staff, it sounded as if he didn’t have anyone but himself to worry about.

She shot him a sidelong glance, confused by her ambivalent response to him. His take-charge attitude should have bothered her, but instead it excited her at some unexpected level. She forced herself to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and study him as he had studied her. He was indeed as tall as she’d first concluded, but not dauntingly so, perhaps a head taller than Allie herself. His straight back and easy carriage created an intriguing impression of leashed power.

His hawklike features should have been alarming but instead she found herself imagining how he would look in a moment of joy, the dark eyes lightening with pleasure and the full-lipped mouth curving into a smile. A shiver ran through her.

She would like to paint him exactly as he looked now, she thought. Wearing sleek black swim briefs that rode low around narrow hips, he nevertheless managed to look aristocratic, like a knight in full regalia. Trying to capture that quality would challenge any artist. He looked as if he knew exactly where he fitted into the world.

She suppressed a surge of envy. It must be wonderful knowing exactly who you were and what you should be doing, something Allie herself was still trying to sort out. “What do you do here?” she asked on impulse.

He looked baffled for a moment then said, “Do? You could probably say I run things.”

She was intrigued in spite of herself. “You mean like a manager? In business or government?”

His compelling mouth tightened. “You haven’t been in Carramer very long, have you, Alison?”

“A week, but I plan to stay as long as my money lasts. Why? Should I know who you are?”

He shook his head. “No, but I suspect you’re about to find out.”

She followed the direction of his gaze to where a dark figure plunged toward them from the trees beyond the cove. Then she saw a man in pursuit of a much smaller figure pelting across the sand.

“Nori,” Lorne said, his voice softening with such affection that she regarded him curiously. He opened his arms, and the child threw himself into them, wrapping both arms around the man’s neck as if he would never let go. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be taking a nap,” Lorne asked.

“Don’t need a nap, I’m a big boy now.” The child’s voice was a piping imitation of Lorne’s vibrant French-accented voice.

For some reason Allie felt a stab of disappointment. There was no doubt that Lorne and Nori were father and son. The resemblance was far too strong. So he was married. She didn’t know why it bothered her, as their paths were unlikely to cross again, but the discovery felt as uncomfortable as a grain of sand in her shoe.

The child looked from the stranger to his father. “This is Alison Carter. She got into trouble with the serpent and isn’t feeling well,” Lorne explained.

The little boy nodded gravely. “I know to be very careful of the serpent and only swim with my nanny.”

Allie couldn’t help smiling. With huge dark eyes that shone like stars and skin the color of honey, Nori looked utterly captivating. The mischief dancing in his expression only made him look more appealing. “Maybe I should only swim with my nanny, too,” she agreed.

The little boy looked scornful. “You’re too big to have a nanny. When I’m big, I won’t have one, either.”

Allie laughed. “How old are you, Nori?”

“I’m a big boy now. I’m four.” He held up three chubby fingers, the little finger and thumb curling into his palm.

Without stopping to think, Allie straightened the little finger alongside Nori’s extended fingers. “This many fingers make four.”

The child frowned. “I know that. I was teasing.”

It ran in the family, she thought. Taking the child’s hand had brought her close enough to Lorne to feel the whisper of his breath against her cheek, bringing with it another trace of the masculine French aftershave lotion mingling with his own compelling male scent. The combination spoke of balmy walks under the stars and moonlit swims and endless nights in the arms of a lover. She blinked hard. The experience of nearly drowning must be affecting her more than she realized.

The moment was shattered when a solidly built man in a white shirt and dark trousers lumbered up to them. “I’m sorry about the interruption, Your Highness. Nori insisted on seeing you and took off before his nanny or I could stop him.”

Shock rippled through Allie and her legs started to buckle. Your Highness? No wonder Lorne had expected her to recognize him. A detail she had barely absorbed from the guide book came rushing back to her: de Marigny was the name of Carramer’s ruling family. She had gatecrashed the royal residence. If she hadn’t been so groggy from her ordeal she would probably have recognized his name.

You take the lead. In her head she replayed her own foolish words and his imperious reply. I usually do. At least she hadn’t called him Lorne. The penalty for that was probably beheading with a rusty sword or some such. It was a wonder he hadn’t called his guards instead of coming to her aid himself when she washed up at his feet. As it was, she couldn’t have made a bigger fool of herself if she’d tried.

“It seems I owe you an apology, Your Highness. I had no idea,” she said, holding her anger in check with difficulty. He might have told her the truth and saved her a lot of embarrassment, but she could hardly say anything without making matters worse.

He waved away her concern. “It was a novel experience not to be recognized.”

Her blood began to boil, threatening to overrule common sense. “I’m glad I provided a diversion, Your Highness. Court jesters must be in short supply in Carramer.”

Her anger evidently caught him by surprise. “Contrary to what you think, I wasn’t amusing myself at your expense. I had intended to introduce myself properly as soon as you were fully recovered.”

“Then you’d better tell me now,” she urged. “I don’t want to make a bigger fool of myself than I’ve already managed to do.”

Although she spoke softly, the security man looked startled. Evidently people didn’t speak to members of the royal family like that very often. Before Lorne could speak, he said in awed tones, “I have the honor to present His Highness, Prince Lorne de Marigny, ruler of the sovereign islands of Carramer.” The man sounded astonished that such a self-evident fact needed stating.

She felt faint again but this time it had less to do with the pounding she had taken in the surf than with the impact of the man standing beside her, his arms around an adorable four-year-old who must be the heir to the throne of Carramer. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off as she said, “You’re the ruler of the whole country?”

Lorne nodded, his black eyes shining. “So it would seem.”

The combined effect of her ordeal and the discovery that she had been rescued by the monarch himself combined to overwhelm her precarious hold on consciousness. The security man’s startled cry and Lorne’s barked command to take the child from him were the last things she heard before she saw the sand rushing up toward her.

Chapter Two

As Lorne scooped up Alison’s inert body, he automatically reassured his son. “It’s all right, Nori. Miss Carter is only tired because of her fight with the serpent. Return to the house with Robert and I’ll bring Miss Carter myself.” To his aide he added quietly, “Have the doctor meet us there.”

The bodyguard was too well trained to argue the prince’s edict, but his eyes were full of questions as he took Nori and hurried toward the villa. Lorne knew he had always been something of a hands-on ruler, but it was unusual for him to take such a personal interest in a stranger even if she was inordinately beautiful. Of course, most strangers didn’t wash up on the beach at his feet, he admitted to himself.

Alison didn’t stir when he held her in his arms for the second time in an hour. Much more of this and it could get to be a habit. He frowned as he took in the paleness of her features. They were already finely drawn, and her pallor added to his impression that he held a life-size porcelain doll.

Smudges of violet rimmed her huge sea-green eyes. He felt annoyed with himself for letting her talk instead of insisting she see his doctor right away. Who knew what damage her brush with the serpent had done?

He had allowed her to talk because he had enjoyed it, he acknowledged inwardly, crossing the white sand in long strides until he reached a row of ironwood trees fringing the beach. Meeting a woman on equal terms was a rare experience in his world, where almost everyone knew who he was at first sight and invariably reacted with deference. It had come as a shock to realize that Alison had no idea of his position. Then he had started to enjoy being treated as a man rather than a monarch.

Fool, he berated himself. Hadn’t he learned anything from his experience with Nori’s mother? Chandra had been Australian, too, and as refreshing in her way as Alison was in hers when they met during an official visit to her country. He had fallen in love with the former Miss Australia and against the advice of his ministers, had brought Chandra back to Carramer as his bride.

The fantasy had lasted only long enough for her to realize that, unlike her reign as Miss Australia, her duties as a member of Carramer’s royal family wouldn’t end after a year. During one of their more spectacular arguments, she had assured Lorne that attaining the title of princess had been her ambition all along. Having achieved it, she could see no reason to put up with the duties attending the title.

Motherhood had proved even more of a burden and she had readily handed their son over to a nanny until Lorne stepped in, taking an active role as the baby’s father. Chandra simply hadn’t cared about either of them, preferring to fly off to Paris where she could attend the latest fashion showings and revel in the attention she received as a princess without the inconvenience of royal duties.

In desperation Lorne had reduced her allowance, forcing her to stay at home for longer periods, only to be accused of being a tyrant with no thought for her needs and feelings. Over time, she found almost everything about the island kingdom disagreeable—including their marriage, leaving Lorne feeling more alone than he had ever felt when he was single.

Chandra also grew increasingly resentful of the attention Lorne devoted to their baby and retaliated by criticizing everything to do with Carramer. His country could never compete with Australia in her eyes. He had become sick of hearing how much better everything was in Australia. Yet he couldn’t do the one thing Chandra really wanted him to do—free her from their marriage vows so she could enjoy being a princess without any other ties.

In his country marriage was a union for life. Only in the most dire of circumstances could separation be considered. There was no such thing as divorce. A couple might live apart, but they would be bound together until death. Chandra had demanded that Lorne change the laws, but having seen the effects of divorce on children in other countries, he couldn’t bring himself to institute it in Carramer, not even for his wife. Had they not been royal, he could have allowed her to live apart from him, but he had no intention of setting such a poor example for his people.

A furrow etched his brow. If he had changed the law, would Chandra be alive today? He would never know. He only knew that another fierce argument had resulted in her flight away from the villa at reckless speed, ending when her car went out of control on a cliff top, sending the car crashing to the surf below. Chandra had found her release but in a way that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The woman in his arms moaned softly, drawing his attention. While they talked, her long hair had dried into a curtain of nut-brown curls that now fanned out against his shoulder. Silken strands of it twined around his fingers. He caught himself wondering at how little she weighed, surely not much more than Nori. The feel of her lithe body against him reminded him unwillingly that it had been a year since Chandra died, a long time for a man of his strong appetites to be without the company of a woman.

The frown returned. What was it about Alison Carter that made him so aware of his celibate life? After Chandra he knew better than to involve himself with a woman not of his own kind, especially another Australian. What was their expression? Once bitten, twice shy. It definitely applied to him. And he wasn’t so starved for female attention that any woman would turn his thoughts in the same direction.

There was something about this woman that affected him in ways he preferred not to think about, he knew. The sooner his doctor cleared her to be on her way, the better for all of them.

When Lorne reached the villa, Dr. Pascale was pacing the marble terrace, his expression anxious. As soon as he saw Lorne, he gestured for servants to relieve the prince of his burden. Lorne gave Alison up to them with a reluctance he didn’t care to examine too closely.

“Take her to the Rose Suite,” he instructed. Of all the guest suites in the villa, it was the most beautiful. An artist would appreciate waking up in such surroundings, he thought. To the doctor, he said, “Report to me as soon as you’ve examined and treated her.”

The doctor’s eyebrows lifted curiously. “I take it this young lady is special to you?”

The doctor had brought Lorne into the world thirty-one years ago and was one of the few people who would dare to speak so familiarly to him. Lorne’s parents had died during a cyclone when he was only twenty, and the doctor had become something of a father figure. The man’s informality usually warmed him, but right now he found it intensely irritating. “She is a stranger in need of our help, Alain. I suggest you provide it for her.”

The doctor didn’t look in the least put out by Lorne’s abruptness. “As you wish, Your Highness.” Somehow he managed to infuse the title with a touch of reprimand.

Lorne regretted his tone immediately. He deserved Alain’s censure. No matter how confused he felt over the unexpected arrival of the Australian woman, it didn’t give him the right to abuse a dear friend. Raking long fingers through his hair, Lorne said, “Wait, Alain. I’m sorry for snapping at you. Do what you can for her, all right?”

Amusement danced in the doctor’s expression. “As you wish, Your Highness.” This time, the title contained the wealth of affection that had built up between them through the years.

By the time the doctor returned with his report, Lorne had showered and changed into a white open-necked shirt and black pants. He was surprised at the tension he noticed coiling inside himself as he waited for the doctor’s verdict.

“The young lady has suffered no lasting harm from being caught in the rip,” the doctor informed him. “At least no physical harm.”

Alarm flared through Lorne. “Then why did she faint?”

The doctor paced to a large window overlooking the villa’s expansive grounds. “Exhaustion would be my diagnosis.”

“From her ordeal?”

The doctor turned back to him and shook his head. “From more than that, I would say. She’s run-down and slightly anemic. When she came around, she was groggy enough to be honest and admit she hasn’t taken a holiday for years. I gather she hasn’t had much sleep since arriving in our beautiful country.”

Bracing himself, Lorne said, “I imagine she spends her nights partying with other travelers her own age.”

“I doubt it,” Dr. Pascale observed dryly. “She’s staying at Shepherd Lodge.”

“I see.” Lorne did see. Shepherd Lodge was run by an order of lay nuns who took strict care to see that their residents behaved themselves. The young women who stayed there endured the spartan rooms and requirement to do chores either to please parents who lived in the country or, in the case of foreigners, because it was clean and incredibly cheap. He had a good idea which of the reasons applied to Alison. On the beach she had mentioned staying as long as her money lasted.

“I’ve given her something to help her rest,” the doctor continued. “Do you want me to arrange transportation for her back to the Lodge when she wakes up?”

Lorne was in no doubt what answer the doctor expected. Alain Pascale might be getting on in years but he was nobody’s fool. “You know perfectly well I can’t send her back to that bleak place if she’s unwell,” he observed testily. “They have a rule against residents remaining in their rooms during the day. You have to be almost dying to be exempted.”

“Then she can remain in the Rose Suite for a day or so until she recovers?”

Wondering if he needed his head examined, Lorne nodded. “For a day or so. Have someone notify the matron at Shepherd Lodge that their resident is staying at my villa so they have no need to send out a search party.”

The doctor’s eyebrows lifted. “And you got mad at me for harboring suspicions. They’ll have nothing on the rumors doing the rounds once that message is received.”

Lorne gave a heavy sigh. “You’re right as usual. Have my aide tell them Alison has taken up a post with my household as…as Nori’s companion for the remainder of our vacation here.”

Alain had the grace not to grin, although he looked pleased by the decision. “You’re assuming that she’ll accept, of course.”

Lorne wondered if he looked as stunned as he felt. “Of course she will, if I command it.”

The doctor shrugged. “You of all people should know Australians can be infuriatingly independent. Miss Carter seems to be no exception. I’d ask her nicely if I were you, then she might say yes.”

Asking nicely wasn’t something Lorne was accustomed to doing. As the sovereign ruler of Carramer, his word was quite literally law. For the first time it came to him to wonder if it hadn’t been one of the stumbling blocks to happiness with his late wife. Since he would never know the answer, he dismissed it from his mind. “I’ll think about it,” he said ominously.

“I recognize a dismissal when I hear one,” the doctor said easily. “I’ll stick around overnight in case your young lady needs me again.”

“She isn’t my young lady,” Lorne said irritably. “Although I seem to be stuck with her for the time being.”

“Approach her with that attitude and it won’t be a problem. She’ll be gone so fast your head will spin,” the doctor pointed out. “Most virile young men wouldn’t consider accommodating a beautiful young woman to be a hardship.”

Lorne favored him with his most regal glare of disapproval although he knew it was wasted on the doctor. “Most virile young men don’t have a country to run.”

“Or a bad experience with an Australian beauty behind them,” the doctor observed with remarkable insight. “Remember, not all women from that country are like Chandra. Some of them enjoy living in Carramer.”

Alain Pascale’s wife, Helen, was one of them, the prince knew. A nicer, more generous person was impossible to meet. Even in her late sixties, she was still a beauty, and although she returned regularly to visit relatives in her native country, her loyalty to Carramer was unwavering.

“Neither are they all like Helen,” Lorne countered. “She may be Australian, but her heart belongs to Carramer.”

The doctor laughed. “Give me some of the credit at least. When you’re as much in love as Helen and me, even after forty years of marriage, it hardly matters where you live as long as you’re together.”

Jealousy gripped Lorne so fiercely it was like a physical pain, but years of royal training enabled him to mask the reaction. He kept his expression impassive as he bade the doctor good evening. “You may have only one patient, but I have a million of them and I need to get some work done, vacation or no,” he explained.

At the door the doctor paused. “You may have a million subjects, but you’re still a man with a man’s normal needs and desires. Maybe you needed to have a woman wash up at your feet to remind you of the fact. Good night.”

Before Lorne could frame a scathing reply, the doctor had gone and Lorne was alone. Never before had his private apartment seemed so vast or lonely, he reflected somberly. Maybe the doctor was right. It was time he got to know one or two of the beautiful women who were regularly paraded before him at official functions. One of them would never capture his heart unless he gave them a chance. Somehow the idea had less appeal than he thought it should.

“Good, you are awake. Papa said no one was to disturb you until you woke up by your own self.”

It took Allie a moment to connect the child at the foot of her bed with her surroundings, then she sat up with a jolt as memory came rushing back. She had almost drowned in the undertow known locally as the serpent and had been rescued by Prince Lorne himself. She remembered collapsing at his feet, then awakening briefly to find herself being checked over by a kindly doctor who said he would give her something to help her rest.

“What time is it?” she asked the wide-eyed little boy watching her intently.

He made a face. “I don’t know, I’m only four. You went to bed even earlier than me, Miss Carter.”

She couldn’t help smiling and realized how much better she felt. “I did, didn’t I, Nori? I’d like it if you called me Allie. It’s the name my friends use, and I hope you’ll be my friend, too.” She levered herself onto one elbow and patted the space beside her. “Jump up.”

He didn’t need a second invitation. “You talk funny.”

“I’m from Australia. That’s why I sound funny to you.”

He settled himself more comfortably beside her. “My mummy came from Australia. Is that like Heaven?”

Something was wrong here. “Australia’s a place like Carramer, Nori,” she explained, adding gently, “is your mummy in Heaven?”

The child nodded and his eyes grew luminous. “Papa says we can’t visit her but she’s very happy.”

Allie’s heart felt as if a giant hand had clamped around it. So Lorne’s wife had been Australian, too, and had died not so long ago. She remembered the cold way Lorne de Marigny had identified her nationality. Allie must have reminded him painfully of his loss. He must have loved his wife a great deal to react so strongly, she thought on a wave of sadness. What must it be like to be so loved? “I’m sure your daddy’s right, sweetheart,” she assured the little boy tremulously.

He nodded, then brightened. “Do you have a pet kangaroo in Australia?”

He was so sweetly earnest that she wanted to hug him, but hesitated. Was one allowed to hug a crown prince, even if he was only four years old? She settled for placing an arm around his small shoulders. He responded by nestling into the crook of her arm, triggering a surge of maternal longing deep inside her. “No, I don’t,” she said with a laugh. “Kangaroos are wild animals that live in the bush, not in people’s houses. But I have cuddled a koala. They’re adorable, like you.”

He looked disgusted. “I’m not ’dorable. But I’d like to cuddle a koala.”

“They’re only found in Australia and a few zoos in other places. Tell you what,” she said on a sudden inspiration, “I have a toy koala in my luggage back at Allora. I promise I’ll send it to you as soon as I get back there.”

“There’s no need. Nori has plenty of toys,” came a stern injunction from the doorway.

Allie turned to see Lorne standing there, looking like thunder. It was very attractive thunder, she couldn’t help thinking, as memories of him carrying her up the beach returned unbidden. He was dressed in a light-blue polo shirt with a monogram on the pocket and navy pants, the fine cut of the clothing emphasizing the athletic figure underneath. She pulled the bedclothes up higher in an instinctively defensive gesture.

At the sight of his father, little Nori scrambled off the bed and ducked under his father’s arm out of the room. Lorne said something to him about a nanny waiting with breakfast, and the child scampered off.

“I would rather not have my son’s head filled with fantasies about Australia,” the prince said grimly.

What had she done? “I only promised him a toy koala,” she explained. “I brought one with me in case I needed a gift, so it’s no problem.”

He folded his arms across his broad chest and angled his body against the door frame, a picture of masculine disapproval. “Perhaps not to you. But Nori already thinks of Australia as a kind of Disneyland where everything is more exciting than in his own country.”

The child probably associated all Australians with his mother and endowed them with the same magic, Allie thought. She wondered if Lorne knew just how much the little boy missed his mother. Without knowing more of what had happened, she didn’t feel free to bring it up. And she had already made enough mistakes where Lorne was concerned, starting with treating him as a commoner instead of the most powerful man in Carramer.

“About yesterday, Your Highness,” she began formally, although the effect was reduced somewhat by their relative positions. “I’m sorry for intruding. Thank you for having your doctor treat me and for letting me recover here, but I should get back to Allora.”

“Alain—Dr. Pascale—has prescribed several days’ rest for you,” the prince informed her. He didn’t sound pleased about it. “He tells me you’re run-down and slightly anemic.”

It was said as if he found her a complete nuisance. Her temper flared. “I didn’t plan on collapsing at your feet, Your Highness. I’m sure I can recuperate just as well at my hostel if you’ll let me dress and be on my way.”

She dimly remembered the doctor helping her to change, after having had clothing brought to her room, presumably from some royal storehouse. Turning her head, she could see several garments folded neatly over a stand under a window. One of the other teachers at the school where she worked would have called the situation “landing on her feet.” Looking at the prince’s forbidding expression, Allie wasn’t so sure. “I’ll make sure you get your clothes back safely,” she added.

The prince shook his head. “The clothes are unimportant. Dr. Pascale wants you to remain here.”

That made one of them, she thought tensely. She sat up, forgetting for a moment that the doctor’s bounty had included a decidedly skimpy nightdress that revealed as much of her as it covered. With difficulty she resisted the temptation to drag the covers back over herself. There were other, more important issues here. “Surely I have some say in this?” she demanded.

It was the wrong tone to use, she saw, when anger flared in the prince’s black eyes, but all he said was, “If you were from Carramer, you would know better.”

“Because you’re the prince and I’m nobody?” she asked. He might be the ruler of his country, but he wasn’t her ruler, and it was time she pointed it out.

If her comment amounted to high treason, he took it remarkably calmly. “Your status is irrelevant. I was referring to Dr. Pascale’s prescription of rest and quiet for you.”

The thought that Lorne wouldn’t allow her to stay for any other reason added fuel to her annoyance. It was clear that, doctor’s orders or no, the prince would like nothing better than to send her packing. She probably reminded him too painfully of the Australian wife he had lost. But Lorne wouldn’t want to risk having her collapse again if he let her leave before the doctor okayed it. And in truth, she did feel shakier than she had any intention of admitting.

The prince saw it, anyway. “Rest now,” he instructed. “Your accommodation has been informed that you are remaining here, and your luggage will be brought later this morning.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” she said mutinously.

He chose to ignore her tone. “Precisely. To allay any unseemly rumors, they have also been informed that you are joining my staff as a temporary companion to the crown prince.”

This was interesting news, given that Lorne obviously didn’t want her anywhere near his little son. “And am I?”

“Of course not. Nori seems to enjoy your company, but he is already well looked after.”

He was also a lonely little boy, but she had a feeling Lorne wouldn’t welcome that observation. “Then I’m afraid I can’t stay,” she said, pushing back the bedclothes.

It was a mistake, she realized as soon as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The nightdress barely reached her thighs. Lorne had seen much more when he rescued her from the surf wearing only a bikini, but she hadn’t felt as exposed then as she did now.

She was acutely conscious that this was a bedroom and Lorne was first and foremost a man, a man among men, she recalled him being described in her guide book. She had thought the phrase extravagant and was alarmed at how readily it sprang to her mind now. He made her feel a sense of herself as a woman that she hadn’t felt in all the years that she had served as her mother’s housekeeper and younger sister’s caregiver.

She refused to let him see how much he discomfited her and stood her ground beside the bed, wishing that the room would stop moving around her and spoiling the effect.

“Get back into bed. You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” he commanded, but his voice had gentled and he moved to her side, steadying her. “Let me help you.”

She could have managed to stay upright if only he hadn’t touched her, but as soon as he took her arm her knees turned to jelly and she sagged against him. “I won’t stay here under false pretenses,” she insisted, trying to ignore the tattoo her heart had set up. It was a symptom of her weakened state, nothing more, she insisted to herself.

His deeply vibrant voice was very close to her ear. “Obviously you have yet to learn that one does not say no to royalty.”

Lorne might be used to his subjects shaking in their shoes when he looked at them, but she came from stock that had made an art form of equality. Respect was another matter, but it had to be earned, and riding roughshod over her preferences was no way to earn it. “And you have yet to learn that we Australians are an independent lot who prefer being asked to being told,” she said as coolly as she could manage.

His expression turned grim. “During my marriage, I was made well aware of your Australian disdain for authority, but you are in Carramer now. You will stay because the doctor advises it.” He didn’t add “and I command it” but he might as well have. She heard it in his steely undertone.

“Or you’ll do what? Throw me over a cliff like the guidebook says your ancestors did?” Her chin came up and she almost closed her eyes as the gesture brought her face alarmingly close to his. She settled for lowering her lashes slightly so she looked at him through a feathery screen. It softened the strong contours of his face but not by much.

The glint in his gaze clearly said “don’t tempt me” but the only outward sign of his anger was in the rigidity of his arm around her and the sudden tightening of his jaw as he said, “Please get back into bed.”

Surprise almost knocked the wind out of her. “There, see? Saying please didn’t hurt a bit, did it?”

As soon as the whispered words were out, she cursed herself. What was it about the prince that made her open her mouth and say stupid things? Lorne was a man who plainly wasn’t used to deferring to anyone. What would it have cost her to be gracious? Instead she had to issue what amounted to a challenge.

She should have known better, she grasped, as she glimpsed the light of battle in his eyes. Then his head came down and his lips claimed hers. Like many grown women, inside Allie was a little girl who had dreamed of one day being kissed by a prince, but nothing in her childhood fantasies had prepared her for the reality. Instinct told her that Lorne was only showing her who was boss, but the molten way he made her feel overruled logic, leaving a sensation so all-consuming that she didn’t want it to end.

When he put her away from him, she was glad of the bed at her back as her knees buckled. She curled her fingers around the edge of the mattress for support. “I wasn’t aware that your customs included the one about droit du seigneur,” she said shakily.

“Supposing it was not just a medieval myth. The right of the ruler to have any woman of his choosing before any other man hasn’t been claimed for centuries,” he said equably. The coldness in his expression reminded her that he hadn’t kissed her out of desire, but because she had challenged his authority.

“But you think it did exist?” She suppressed a shiver at the possibility.

His mouth curved into a perceptive smile, making her wish she had fought him when he kissed her. Why hadn’t she? “It would be…edifying,” he confirmed after a long pause, “but it has nothing to do with why I kissed you.”

She tossed her head, wishing she had more energy to put into the defiant gesture. His kiss had added to her feeling of weakness in ways she was probably better off not thinking about. “I know perfectly well that you did it to show that I may have won the round but you will win the match because of who and what you are.”

He inclined his head in agreement. “Then we both know where we stand.”

He was only confirming what she had suspected, but part of her rejected the thought that it was his only reason for kissing her. In the midst of her own maelstrom of feelings she had sensed an equally strong response in him. Clearly he did find her attractive, but it was plain that she reminded him painfully of the Australian wife he had lost, so he was unlikely to give in to it.

It was fine with her, too, she thought. After years of burying her own needs and desires in favor of her mother’s and sister’s, she wasn’t interested in exchanging one form of tyranny for another. Lorne was the last person in the world who should interest her romantically. He was too hard-headed and his position made him far too inflexible for there to be any common ground between them.

All the same, his kiss lingered on her lips long after he left her to sleep, and although she closed her eyes, it was a long time before her need for rest overcame the turmoil racing through her mind.

Chapter Three

The morning was well advanced by the time Lorne dismissed his aide and stood up from his desk. He stretched luxuriously, feeling his muscles unknot. He wondered briefly what it would be like to enjoy a vacation as others did, totally free of the responsibilities that even rested on his shoulders when he was at his summer residence, away from the capital. Like Alison, came the involuntary thought. No affairs of state troubled her, not even affairs of the heart, it seemed.

The state of her heart wasn’t his concern, he told himself fiercely. Until the doctor cleared her to return to her hostel, she was merely another responsibility. Lorne had no need to see her unless he chose to. The villa had more than enough staff to take care of one stray Australian who had had the misfortune to wash up on their private beach. Why was he wasting time thinking about her when his son was waiting?

Alison continued to occupy his thoughts as he changed for Nori’s daily swimming lesson. The task could have been delegated to the palace’s personal trainers, but Lorne enjoyed teaching his son himself, and Nori looked forward to having his father to himself and showing off what he had learned.

Today, however, Nori sat on the edge of the pool looking downcast. Lorne dropped to the marble coping beside his child. “What’s the matter, coquine?”

Nori’s small chin jutted out. “I’m not a little rogue. I’m a good boy.”

Lorne nodded, careful not to smile. “Of course you are.”

Nori’s huge baby eyes flashed to him. “Then why can’t Allie give me a koala? She promised, and I want it more than anything.”

The passion in his son’s voice caught Lorne by surprise. “But you have so many toys already.”

“I don’t have a koala from Australia.”

Lorne winced inwardly but kept his face impassive. So that was what this was all about. He dropped an arm around his son’s small body and pulled him close, reminding himself that as well as crown prince, Nori was still a baby who missed his mother. “Did talking to Miss Carter remind you of your mama?” he asked carefully.

Nori’s full lower lip quivered, and his shoulders trembled under Lorne’s hand, but he didn’t cry, eliciting a pang of empathy in his father. How many times in his own youth had Lorne fought to contain his emotions because of his position? “It’s all right to admit that you miss your mama, you know,” he said softly. “You’re very brave but when we’re alone you can tell me how you really feel.”

Nori turned lambent eyes to him. “You won’t mind if I cry a bit?”

Lorne shook his head. “Not even if you cry a whole swimming pool.”

Nori looked at the vast expanse of water beside them and gave a shaky laugh. “Nobody could cry that much,” he said in the tone of “shows how much you know.”

Thinking of his own loneliness that stretched back to well before they lost Chandra, Lorne wasn’t so sure. Chandra had never been the companion he had hoped for, but she had been Nori’s mother, and the child was entitled to mourn her loss. “How much do you think you might cry then, a bathtub full?”

Solemnly Nori extended his baby hands about shoulder width apart. “Maybe this much.”

“That’s quite a lot,” Lorne agreed. “But it’s all right. Cry that much if you want to. And remember, you can always talk to me about mama, or about anything.”

“Even about koalas?” Nori said, his eyes brightening with hope.

Lorne restrained a sigh. Had he been as persistent as Nori at the same age? “Yes, even about koalas,” he conceded heavily. “While we’re on vacation, why don’t we visit the zoo and you can see a real koala?”

Nori’s eyes shone. “You mean it? Can Allie come, too? She said I should call her Allie and she knows all about koalas.”

Wondering at how easily his son had made friends with their guest, Lorne was aware of a feeling very like envy gripping him. He shook his head. “Alison has other things to do besides entertain you on her holiday.”

Nori’s tiny chin jutted out. “She’ll come if I order her to.”

Lorne suppressed a smile. “Not if I catch you first.” Only the day before, he’d found a soldier marching pointlessly up and down the inner courtyard because Nori had ordered it. Then had followed a serious father-son talk about the responsibilities of being royal. “Didn’t I explain to you about giving orders?”

Nori squirmed uncomfortably. “Yes, Daddy. ’s not much fun being king if you can’t make people do what you want.”

“That’s exactly why Carramer doesn’t have a king,” Lorne explained. “A long time ago in our history, a king made his people’s lives miserable with his orders. When his son became ruler, he promised never to call himself king to remind himself and his heirs not to treat the people as badly as his father had done.”

“I won’t make anybody miserable,” Nori agreed impatiently. He had heard the story before and understood the point his father was making. “I just want Allie to come to the zoo with us. I like her, don’t you?”

“I don’t know her very well,” Lorne evaded.

“If she comes, you could get to know her.”

His son would make a good negotiator one day, Lorne thought wryly. “Very well, she can come if you want her to.” It would add to the fiction that she had been taken on as a companion to Nori, he told himself, wondering at the way his heartbeat suddenly picked up speed. It had nothing to do with the prospect of spending time in Alison’s company, he assured himself. After Chandra, getting involved with any woman, particularly another Australian, was the last thing he needed.

The knowledge didn’t stop a flood of raw emotions from surging through him until he gripped the marble coping of the pool, his fingers whitening with the strain. “How about we get on with your swimming lesson now?” he suggested, hoping Nori wouldn’t hear the tension in his voice.

His son was too distracted to notice. “After the lesson, can we go to the zoo and see the koalas?”

Lorne shot an involuntary glance at the windows of the Rose Suite overlooking the pool. “Alison isn’t well enough to go anywhere today. Perhaps tomorrow if Dr. Pascale says it’s okay.”

As his son mumbled a reluctant acceptance, Lorne thought he caught a glimpse of movement at one of the windows and shook himself mentally. Alison Carter was a temporary distraction, nothing more. Taking her with them to the zoo was unavoidable if Lorne was to keep his word to Nori. But if the doctor approved, she would return to her hostel in Allora afterward and that would be that.

Forget about her, Lorne ordered himself and slid into the pool. He felt like a poker being plunged into ice water. Steam practically hissed off him, and he knew the heat of the morning had little to do with it.

Watching Lorne with his son, Allie felt a rush of admiration. He was the ruler of his country, with all the responsibilities that entailed, but he still found time to give his child a swimming lesson.

This afternoon, after sleeping late, eating the light meal that was brought to her room and taking a leisurely bath in the vast bathroom adjoining her bedroom, Allie felt refreshed. She was still tired from her battle with the serpent yesterday but at least her vision was unclouded.

Yesterday she had wondered if she’d exaggerated the impact of the magnificent man who came to her rescue. Today she knew she hadn’t. Lorne de Marigny was every bit as prepossessing as she’d first thought. She had reached this conclusion before she knew who he was so his effect on her had nothing to do with his position.

She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Why couldn’t she have been rescued by an ordinary Carramer man, then she could have enjoyed his company, maybe even a holiday romance? The thought flashed through her mind, startling her with its unexpectedness. There could be no holiday romance with the sovereign ruler of the island kingdom.

She was amazed he had allowed her to stay at the villa, although she recalled it was on doctor’s orders. Not that she imagined Lorne de Marigny taking orders from anyone unless they coincided with his own wishes. He was the kind of man who naturally led rather than followed. If he had been born a commoner, he would still have been a leader, she sensed. Men like Lorne stood out from the crowd no matter what their station in life.

This perception of him should have been at odds with the gentleness he demonstrated with his son in the pool. The sight reminded her of a lion and its cub. Lorne showed strength when it was warranted and paternal care when it was needed. The fanciful image brought a rueful smile. Lion, indeed! What were lions if not merciless hunters who pulled down living prey on the run?

He had looked at her as if she was potential prey, she recalled with a slight shiver. It wasn’t fear, more like—she refused to identify her response as pleasure. He was unlikely to feel any such thing after the way she had interrupted his holiday. The sooner she left the royal villa, the better.

It was hard to make herself believe it. She didn’t want to, she acknowledged with a flash of insight. The obvious trappings of royalty didn’t attract her as much as the warm family feeling she observed between Lorne and Nori. Toddlers could be a handful at the best of times, but Lorne looked as if he genuinely enjoyed interacting with the child.

When Nori did something amusing, Lorne’s laughter reached her as a warm sound that tingled all the way to her toes. She wrapped her slender arms around herself in an instinctively defensive gesture. Toe tingling was all very well if the man was available and interested, but Lorne was neither.

A discreet knock on the outer door of her suite startled her. In response to her soft acknowledgement, a maid entered carrying clothes over one arm. “His Highness saw you at the window and requested that you join him at the pool,” the maid relayed. “I was instructed to bring a selection of bathing things for you to choose from.”

From the woman’s deferential manner, Allie gathered that refusing was not an option. Her bikini wasn’t among the choices on offer, she also noticed. Was it too brief for the prince’s royal sensibilities, she wondered wryly? The maid hardly seemed like the appropriate person to ask.

“Thank Prince Lorne for me and tell him I’ll be down as soon as I’ve changed,” she agreed. After her experience yesterday she had thought she wouldn’t want to swim again for a long time, but the weather was too hot and the pool far too tempting. Her eagerness had nothing to do with wanting to be a part of the inviting family scene below her, she told herself.

Lorne was swimming laps by the time she emerged from the villa. She had chosen a one-piece swimsuit that was as modest as her white bikini had been revealing. The high cut of the legs was the only remotely provocative feature. Over the ultramarine-colored suit she had slipped a filmy cover-up in a combination of ultramarine and Moroccan gold swirls. Raffia slip-on scuffs protected her feet from the sun-heated marble tiling around the pool. Finding things to fit her had proved remarkably easy because the maid had brought each garment in several sizes.

Huge seagrass umbrellas provided shade, and she sat down on a lounger under one of them, breathing in the exquisite ginger-scented air. Nori’s swimming lesson appeared to be over because there was no sign of the child. Her gaze went almost involuntarily to the figure plowing up and down the length of the pool. The only sound was the beat of Lorne’s arms and legs as he sliced through the water.

He was good enough to swim competitively, she thought, riveted by the sight of his smooth progress that left hardly a ripple in his wake. No wonder he was so muscular if he made a habit of exercising so strenuously. Watching the rhythmic kicking of his long legs and the pistonlike arc of his arms made her feel limp.

He made her feel limp for a lot of reasons, she thought, not least being his overwhelming masculinity. A man among men indeed. It would have been easy to fantasize that he had invited her to join him because he found her equally fascinating, but she knew it wasn’t the case. Being a good host was probably bred into him from childhood. No matter how reluctant he might be to have her company, he would accept it rather than appear inhospitable.

One thing she had learned in her short stay on Carramer was that hospitality was considered a cardinal virtue. She had already received invitations to share meals with a number of families she had done no more than talk to on the beach, so she supposed the monarch could do no less, regardless of his personal feelings.

Knowing she was here on sufferance did little for her mood, and she was frowning when Lorne emerged from the water. “If you still feel unwell, perhaps you should return to your room and let the doctor take a look at you,” he said when he saw her expression.

She started to get to her feet in deference to his position but he waved her back down. “The doctor came to see me half an hour ago,” she informed the prince. “He said I’m fine to get up as long as I don’t overdo things.”

The prince slung a towel around his broad shoulders to catch the moisture beading his honey-toned skin. “Then we must see to it that you don’t overtax yourself. The whirlpool tub might be safer for you than a strenuous swim. I was about to head there next myself so you can join me.”

The thought of sharing a hot tub with the prince was thoroughly alarming. “I’m fine right here,” she said with a furious shake of her head.

He picked up the hesitation in her voice, and his look challenged her. “Afraid of me, Alison? You weren’t yesterday.”

“Yesterday I didn’t know who you were.”

“And now?”

“Now I know you’re the boss around here, I don’t know how I should behave toward you, Your Highness.”

He frowned darkly. “Yesterday you were itching to call me Lorne. Why not start now?”

She was sure her astonishment showed on her face. “How did you know?”

“You forget how well I know the Australian character. You even refer to your prime ministers by their first names. You can’t be that much more intimidated by a prince.”

Want to bet? she thought furiously. He obviously had no idea of the impact he had made on her long before she knew his title. Insisting on using it would be a dead giveaway so she nodded. “Okay, Lorne it is, as long as it doesn’t get me thrown into a dungeon or my head chopped off.”

“Such a beautiful head belongs right where it is, on your shoulders,” he said without missing a beat. “In any case my palace at our capital, Solano, has no dungeons. For those, you would need to visit my brother, Prince Michel, who governs Isle des Anges. Although it’s called Island of the Angels, the island was used to exile criminals centuries ago, and the dungeons remain as historical curiosities. You should see them, as a visitor, of course,” he added.

She gave a slight shudder. “No, thank you. I once visited the former convict settlement of Port Arthur in Tasmania and couldn’t get out of the cells quickly enough. The walls seemed to be impregnated with the hopelessness of the poor souls who were incarcerated there.”

“I think Michel would agree with you. When we were boys, our younger sister, Adrienne, dared us to go into the dungeons, and Michel said much the same thing.”

The thought of Lorne having a brother and sister, let alone playing with them as a boy, made him far too human in her estimation. As well, the image of him teaching his little son to swim was still fresh in her mind. “I hope it makes him a benevolent governor,” she said quickly.

“Unlike his older brother, you mean?”

Benevolence was not a quality she would readily attribute to Lorne. She bridled, stung that he could read her so well on such short acquaintance. “From what I hear you are a popular monarch.”

“But not popular with you,” he divined with the same uncanny accuracy.

The feeling was probably mutual, she reminded herself. She was uncomfortably aware that her nationality reminded him of his late wife. But for the doctor’s insistence that she rest, she was sure she would be back at the hostel in Allora by now. “I’m well aware that I’m here on sufferance,” she said. “You saved my life yesterday, and I’m grateful, but we both know you don’t want me to stay any longer than necessary.”

“Agreed,” he said with a coolness that cut to her core, although it was no more than she had expected him to say. “However, there is a complication.”

She regarded him curiously. “Yes?”

“Nori has taken a liking to you, perhaps because you remind him of his mother.”

She felt her eyes start to mist and automatically lowered her lashes. “This morning he told me he misses his mother since she died.”

“Just over a year ago now,” Lorne supplied tautly, his raw tone confirming Allie’s suspicion that he didn’t want her around because she reminded him of what he had lost. She felt even worse when he added, “Your talk of koalas stirred memories for my son.”

She lifted her gaze to him, not caring if he saw the moistness in them. “I assure you it wasn’t my intention. He’s a delightful little boy. I wouldn’t have said anything to hurt him deliberately.”

The prince’s features hardened perceptibly. “If you had, you would have me to answer to.”

She released the breath she had been unaware of holding. “Is there any way I can make it up to him?”

“There’s a way,” he said shortly. “Nori obviously likes your company. I spend as much time as I can with him but affairs of state are no respecter of vacations. You could agree to become his companion and ensure he enjoys his holiday a lot more.”

Indecision gripped her. Lorne was asking her to stay for his son’s sake, not for himself, she understood. But what about his disturbing effect on her? From first meeting his impact on her had been considerable. Of course, he would be busy working and she wouldn’t have to see much of him, she told herself. The thought should have reassured her, but for some reason it had the opposite effect. “What about his tutors or the nanny someone mentioned, can’t they help?” she asked.