‘I want the world to know that I am the father. You have my child in your belly, Lisa. Do you really think I intend to relinquish my claim on my own flesh and blood?’

The words sounded almost primitive, and they were filled with a sense of possession. They reminded Lisa of the full force of Luc’s power and the fact that he had grown up with very different values from hers.

‘Of course I don’t!’ she said. ‘We can meet with a lawyer and have a legal agreement drawn up. You can see your child any time you like—within reason. Surely you can have no objection to that?’

His eyes were cold, and so was his voice. ‘I think you are missing the point, cherie. I intend to marry you.’

‘I’m sorry, Luc.’ She gave a slight shake of her head as she reached for the door handle. ‘I’m afraid that’s just not going to happen.’

‘I don’t want to have to fight you to get what I want, Lisa,’ he said softly as they reached her door. ‘But if you force my hand then I’m afraid that’s what’s going to happen. Perhaps I should warn you now that it is better not to defy me.’

Dear Reader,

One hundred. Doesn’t matter how many times I say it, I still can’t believe that’s how many books I’ve written. It’s a fabulous feeling but more fabulous still is the news that Mills & Boon are issuing every single one of my backlist as digital titles. Wow. I can’t wait to share all my stories with you - which are as vivid to me now as when I wrote them.

There’s BOUGHT FOR HER HUSBAND, with its outrageously macho Greek hero and A SCANDAL, A SECRET AND A BABY featuring a very sexy Tuscan. THE SHEIKH’S HEIR proved so popular with readers that it spent two weeks on the USA Today charts and…well, I could go on, but I’ll leave you to discover them for yourselves.

I remember the first line of my very first book: “So you’ve come to Australia looking for a husband?” Actually, the heroine had gone to Australia to escape men, but guess what? She found a husband all the same! The man who inspired that book rang me up recently and when I told him I was beginning my 100th story and couldn’t decide what to write, he said, “Why don’t you go back to where it all started?”

So I did. And that’s how A ROYAL VOW OF CONVENIENCE was born. It opens in beautiful Queensland and moves to England and New York. It’s about a runaway princess and the enigmatic billionaire who is infuriated by her, yet who winds up rescuing her. But then, she goes and rescues him… Wouldn’t you know it?

I’ll end by saying how very grateful I am to have a career I love, and to thank each and every one of you who has supported me along the way. You really are very dear readers.

Love,

Sharon xxx

Mills & Boon are proud to present a thrilling digital collection of all Sharon Kendrick’s novels and novellas for us to celebrate the publication of her amazing and awesome 100th book! Sharon is known worldwide for her likeable, spirited heroines and her gorgeous, utterly masculine heroes.

SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring often stubborn but always to die for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life …

Crowned for the Prince’s Heir

Sharon Kendrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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With special thanks to a dear friend—the wildly talented and inspirational Stewart Parvin — who designs amazing clothes and wedding dresses for discerning royals and women everywhere!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE NAME LOOMED up in front of him and on the back seat of the limousine, Luc’s powerful body tensed. He knew what he ought to do. Ignore it. Drive on without a backward glance. Forget the past and accept the future which was waiting for him. But the dark voice of his conscience was forgotten as he leaned forward to speak to his driver, because sometimes curiosity was just too damned strong to resist.

‘Stop the car,’ he ordered harshly.

The car slid to a halt in the quiet street of London’s Belgravia, a street full of unusual restaurants and tasteful shops. But only one of these caught his eye—which was surprising, since Luciano wasn’t the kind of man who had ever featured shopping as a hobby. He didn’t need to. Even the expensive baubles discreetly bought as compensatory keepsakes for departing lovers were purchased on his behalf by one of his many staff.

But there had been no purchase of baubles for quite a while now and no heartbroken lovers to pacify. He had recently undertaken two long years of celibacy—not exactly happily, but because he’d recognised it was something he needed to do. And he had risen to the challenge. His mouth hardened at the unintended pun. He had channelled his considerable energies into his work. He had worn out his hard body with exercise. His mind had been clear, strong and focussed—yet he wondered where that focus was now as he read the two words scrolled in fancy letters above the shop across the street.

Lisa Bailey.

He could feel the sudden throbbing of his groin as her name whispered into his memory just as her soft voice had once whispered urgent little entreaties into his ear as he drove deep inside her. Lisa Bailey. The hottest lover he’d ever known. The talented designer with the unblinking gaze. The tumble-haired temptress with the delicious curves.

And the only woman to kick him out of her bed.

Luc shifted in his seat, locked in an uncharacteristic moment of indecision because ex-lovers had the potential to be complicated—and complications he didn’t need right now. He should tap on the glass and tell his chauffeur to drive on. Continue the journey to his embassy and deal with any last-minute queries before he returned to his island home after the wedding. He thought about what awaited him in Mardovia, and a sudden stillness settled over him. He had a duty to fulfil, or a burden to carry. It all depended which way you looked at it, and if he preferred to look for the positive rather than the negative—who could blame him?

His gaze returned to the shop front, and it was then that he saw her walking across the showroom and the pounding in his heart increased as he glimpsed the tumble of her curls. She turned slightly—showcasing the swell of her magnificent breasts. Lust arrowed sharply down into his groin, and stayed there.

Lisa Bailey.

His eyes narrowed. It was strange to see her here in this expensive part of town—far away from the edgier area of London where their paths had first crossed, in the tiny studio where she had designed her dresses.

He told himself it didn’t matter why she was here because he didn’t care. Yet he was the one who had directed his driver to take this route, wasn’t he? And all because he’d heard some woman mention her name and had discovered that Lisa Bailey had come up in the world. His tongue snaked out over suddenly dry lips. What harm could it do to drop in and say hello, for old times’ sake? Wasn’t that what ex-lovers did? And wouldn’t it convince him—as if he needed any convincing—that he was over her?

‘Wait down the road a little,’ he told the driver, opening the door himself and stepping onto the pavement. A few discreet yards away, a second car containing his bodyguards had also stopped, but Luc gave an almost imperceptible signal to tell them to keep their distance.

The August sun was hot on his head and there wasn’t a whisper of wind in the leaves of the trees in the nearby square, despite the fact that it was getting on for five o’clock. The city had been caught up in a heatwave so fierce that news bulletins had been featuring clips of people frying eggs on the pavement and lying sprawled in the city’s parks in various states of undress. Luc was looking forward to getting back to the air-conditioned cool of his palace in Mardovia. There white doves cooed in the famous gardens and the scent of the roses was far sweeter than the clogging traffic fumes which surrounded him here in the city. If it hadn’t been for Conall Devlin’s wedding party this weekend then he might have taken an earlier flight. Back to begin the process of embracing his new future—which he intended to do with whole-hearted dedication.

He pushed open the shop door and there she was, crouched down beside a rail of dresses with a needle in her hand and a tape measure around her neck—worn in the same way as a doctor might wear a stethoscope.

‘Hello, Lisa,’ he said, his tongue curling around the words as once it had curled around the soft swell of her breasts.

* * *

Lisa glanced up and narrowed her eyes against the light and at first she didn’t recognise him. Maybe because he was the last person she was expecting to see, or maybe because she was tired and it was the end of a long day. A hot day at the end of August, with most people away on holiday and the city overrun by tourists who weren’t really interested in buying the kind of clothes she was selling.

She felt the clench of rising hope as the doorbell gave its silvery little tinkle and a tall figure momentarily blotted out the blaze of the summer sun as the man stepped inside. She was due to close soon—but what did that matter? If this was a customer then he could stay until midnight for all she cared! She would switch on her best smile and persuade him to buy an armful of silk dresses for his wife. As he moved towards her she got an overwhelming impression of power and sensuality, and she tried to keep the cynicism from her smile as it crossed her mind that a man like this was more likely to be buying for his mistress than his wife.

But then he said her name and she stiffened because nobody else had an accent quite like his. She could feel the painful squeeze of her heart and the sudden rush of heat to her breasts. The needle she was holding fell to the carpet and vaguely she found herself thinking that she never dropped a needle. But then the thought was gone and the only one left dominating her mind was the fact that Luc was standing in her shop. His full name was Prince Luciano Gabriel Leonidas—head of the ancient royal House of Sorrenzo and ruler of the island principality of Mardovia.

But Lisa hadn’t cared that he’d been a prince. She had known him simply as Luc. The man who had—unbelievably—become her lover. Who had introduced her to physical bliss and shown her that it had no limits. He’d made her feel things she’d never believed herself capable of feeling. Things she hadn’t wanted to feel if the truth was known—because with desire came fear. Fear of being hurt. Fear of being let down and betrayed as women so often were—and that had scared the life out of her. He’d told her he wasn’t looking for love or commitment and that had suited her just fine until she’d started to care for him.

She’d done her best to hide her growing feelings and had succeeded, until the day she’d realised she was fighting a losing battle with her heart. And that was when common sense had intervened and she had shrunk away from him—like someone picking up a pan to discover that the handle was burning hot. Telling him it was over hadn’t been easy—and neither had the sleepless nights which followed. But it was easier than getting her heart broken and she hadn’t once regretted her decision. Because men like Luc were dangerous—it was written into their DNA.

Her gaze flickered over him and immediately she became aware of the powerful sex appeal which surrounded him like an aura. His black hair was shorter than she remembered, but his eyes were just as blue. That brilliant sapphire blue—as inviting as a swimming pool on a hot day. Eyes you just wanted to dive straight into.

As always he looked immaculate. His handmade Italian suit was creaseless and his silk shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a tantalising triangle of silken skin. Lisa wished she didn’t feel so warm and uncomfortable. That she’d had a chance to brush her wayward curls or slick a little lipstick over lips which suddenly felt like parchment.

‘Luc,’ she said, and the name sounded so right—even though it was two years since she’d spoken it. Two long years since she’d gasped it out in delight as he’d filled her and her body had splintered into yet another helpless orgasm around his powerful thrust. ‘You’re...’ She swallowed. ‘You’re the last person I expected to see.’

He closed the shop door behind him and Lisa glanced over his shoulder, wondering where his bodyguards were. Lurking out of sight, probably. Trying to blend in to the upmarket location by peering into windows, or melting into the dark shadows of a shop doorway as they controlled access to their royal boss. And then she saw two low black cars with tinted windows parked further down the road and she was reminded of all the protocol which surrounded this charismatic man.

‘Am I?’ he questioned softly.

His voice was velvet and steel and Lisa felt a rush of desire which made her feel momentarily breathless. Against her lace brassiere her nipples hardened and her skin grew tight. She could feel the instant rush of heat to her sex. And it wasn’t fair. How did he manage to provoke that kind of reaction with just one look?

So stay calm. Act like he’s a customer. Maybe he was a customer—eager to commission one of her trademark silk dresses for one of his countless girlfriends. After all, wasn’t that how she’d met him, when he’d walked into her workroom near Borough Market and she hadn’t had a clue who he was? Her designs had just been taking off—mainly through word of mouth and thanks to a model who had worn one of her dresses to a film premiere. All sorts of people had started coming to see her, so it hadn’t been that surprising to see the imposing, raven-haired man with a beautiful blonde model on his arm.

She remembered the blonde trying to draw his attention to one of the embroidered cream gowns Lisa had been making at the time and which women sometimes wore as wedding dresses. And Lisa remembered looking up and witnessing the faint grimace on Luc’s face. Somehow she had understood that he was no stranger to the matrimonial intentions of women, and their eyes had met in a shared moment of unwilling complicity until she had looked away, feeling awkward and slightly flustered.

But something had happened in that split second of silent communication. Something she could never entirely understand. He had dumped the blonde soon afterwards and laid siege to Lisa—in a whirlwind of extravagant gestures and sheer determination to get her into his bed. He had turned all that blazing power on her and at first she’d thought she had been dreaming—especially when she’d discovered that he was a prince. But she hadn’t been dreaming. The amazing flowers which had started arriving daily at her workshop had borne testament to his wealth and his intentions. Lisa had tried to resist him—knowing she had no place at the side of someone like him. But it had turned out he hadn’t really wanted her by his side—he’d just wanted her writhing underneath him, or on top of him, or pushed up against a wall by him, and in the end she’d given in. Of course she had. She would have defied any woman to have held out against the potent attraction of the Mediterranean Prince.

They had dated—if you could call it that—for six weeks. Weeks which had whizzed by in a blur of sensuality. He’d never taken her to any of the glitzy functions featured on the stiff cards which had been stacked on the marble fireplace of his fancy house, which she had visited only once, under the cloak of darkness. He had been reluctant to be anywhere which didn’t have a nearby bed, but Lisa hadn’t cared. Because during those weeks he had taught her everything he knew about sex, which was considerable. She had never experienced anything like it—not before, and certainly not since.

The memory cleared as she realised that he was standing in her shop, still exuding that beguiling masculinity which made her want to go right over there and kiss him. And she couldn’t afford to think that way.

‘So you were just passing?’ she questioned politely as she bent and picked up her fallen needle.

‘Well, not exactly,’ he said. ‘I heard in a roundabout way that you’d moved premises and was interested to see how far up in the world you’ve come. And it seems like you’ve come a long way.’ His eyes glittered as he looked around. ‘This is quite some change of circumstance, Lisa.’

She smiled. ‘I know.’

‘So what prompted the transformation from edgy designer to becoming part of the establishment?’

Lisa kept her expression neutral as she met his curious gaze and even though she owed him no explanation, she found herself giving him one anyway. He probably wouldn’t leave until she told him and she wanted him to leave, because he was making her feel uncomfortable standing there, dominating her little shop. ‘I was selling stuff online and from my workshop—but it was too far out of the city centre to appeal to the kind of women who were buying my clothes.’

‘And?’

She shrugged. ‘And then when the opportunity came up to lease a shop in this area, I leapt at the chance.’ It had been a bad decision of course, although it had taken her a while to see that. She hadn’t realised that you should never take out an expensive lease unless you were confident you could meet the charges, and she’d chosen a backer who didn’t know a lot about the fashion industry. But she had been buoyed up and swept away on a wave of acclaim for her dresses—and had needed a new project to fill the void left in her heart after Luc had gone. And then when her sister had announced she was going to have a baby, Lisa’s desire to increase her income had become less of an ego-boosting career move and more of a necessity...

He was looking around the shop. ‘You’ve done well,’ he observed.

‘Yes. Very well.’ The lie slipped with practised ease from her tongue, but she justified it by telling herself that all she was doing was protecting herself, though she wasn’t quite sure from what. And everyone knew that if you talked yourself up, then people might start to believe in you. ‘So what can I do for you?’ She fixed him with her most dazzling smile. ‘You want to buy a dress?’

‘No, I don’t want to buy a dress.’

‘Oh?’ She felt the unsteady beat of her heart. ‘So?’

He glittered her a smile. ‘Why am I here?’

‘Well, yes.’

Why indeed? Luc studied her. To prove she meant nothing? That she was just some tousle-haired temptress who had made him unbelievably hot and horny—before she’d shown him the door.

But wasn’t that what rankled, even now? That she had walked away without a second glance—despite his expectation that she’d come crawling back to tell him she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. His pride had been wounded in a way it had never been wounded before, because no woman had ever rejected him—and his disbelief had quickly given way to frustration. With Lisa, he felt like a man who’d had his ice cream taken away from him with still half the cone left to lick.

As his gaze roved over her, the sheer individuality of her appearance hit him on a purely visceral level. He had dated some of the world’s most desirable women—beautiful women whose endlessly long legs gave him the height he preferred in his sexual partners. But Lisa was not tall. She was small, with deliciously full breasts which drew a man’s eyes to them no matter what she was wearing, or however much she tried to disguise them. She was none of the things he usually liked and yet there was something about her which he’d found irresistible, and he still couldn’t work out what that something was.

Today she was wearing a simple silk dress of her own design. The leafy colour emphasised the unusual green-gold of her eyes and fell to just above her bare knees. Her long, curly hair was caught in tortoiseshell clips at the sides, presumably in an attempt to tame the corkscrew curls. Yet no amount of taming could disguise the colour of her crowning glory—a rich, shiny caramel which always reminded him of hazelnut shells. A glossy tendril of it had escaped and was lying against her smooth skin.

But then he noticed something else. The dark shadows which were smudged beneath her eyes and the faint pinching of her lips. She looked like a woman who was short on sleep and long on worry.

Why?

He met question in her eyes. ‘I’m often in this part of town and it seemed crazy not to come in and say hello.’

‘So now you have.’

‘Now I have,’ he agreed as his mind took him off on a more dangerous tangent. He found himself remembering the silken texture of her thighs and the way he had trailed slow kisses over them. The rosy flush which used to flower above her breasts as she shuddered out her orgasm. And he wondered why he was torturing himself with memories which had kick-started his libido so that he could barely think straight.

His mouth hardened. Soon his life would follow a predictable pattern which was inevitable if you were born with royal blood. Yet some trace of the man he would never be called out to him now with a siren voice—and that siren’s name was Lisa Bailey. For this was the woman who had fulfilled him on almost every level. Who had never imposed her will on him or made demands on him as so many women tried to. Was that why the sex had been so incredible—because she had made him feel so free?

And suddenly the self-imposed hunger of his two celibate years gnawed at his senses. An appetite so long denied now threatened to overwhelm him and he didn’t feel inclined to stop it. What harm could there be in one final sweet encounter before he embraced his new life and all the responsibilities which came with it? Wouldn’t that rid him of this woman’s lingering memory once and for all?

‘I’ve just flown in from the States and I’m here for a party this weekend,’ he said. ‘And on Monday I leave for Mardovia.’

‘This is all very fascinating, Luc,’ she observed drily. ‘But I fail to see what any of this has to do with me.’

Luc gave a short laugh, for nobody had ever spoken to him as candidly as Lisa—nor regarded him quite so unflinchingly. And wasn’t that one of the things which had always intrigued him about her—that she was so damned enigmatic? No dramatic stream of emotion ever crossed her pale face. Her features were as cool as if they had been carved from marble. The only time that serene look had ever slipped was when he’d been making love to her and it was then that her defences had melted. He’d liked making her scream and call out his name. He’d liked the way she gasped as he drove deep inside her.

He smiled now, enjoying the familiar lick of sexual frisson between them. ‘And I thought I might ask you a favour,’ he said.

‘Me?’

‘Well, we’re old friends, aren’t we?’ He saw her pupils dilate in surprise and wondered how she would respond if he came right out and told her what was playing in his head.

I want to have sex with you one last time so that I can forget you. I want to bend my lips to those magnificent nipples and lick them until you are squirming. I want to guide myself into your tight heat and ride you until all my passion is spent.

His pulse pounded loudly in his ears. ‘And isn’t that what old friends do—ask each other favours?’ he murmured.

‘I guess so,’ she said, her voice uncertain, as if she was having trouble associating their relationship with the word friendship.

‘I need a date,’ he explained. ‘Someone to take to a fancy wedding with me. Not the ceremony itself—for those I avoid whenever possible—but the evening reception afterwards.’

Now he had a reaction.

‘Oh, come on, Luc,’ she said quietly. ‘You need a date? You of all people? I can’t believe you’re revisiting an old lover when there must be so many new ones out there. There must be women lining up around the block to go out with you—unless something is radically different and you’ve had a complete personality change.’

He gave an answering smile and wondered what she would say if she knew the truth. ‘I cannot deny that there are any number of women who would happily accompany me,’ he said. ‘But none of them entice me sufficiently enough to take them.’

‘So why not go on your own?’

‘Unfortunately, it is not quite that simple.’ He glanced out of the window, where he could see the shadowy shapes of his bodyguards standing beside one of the waiting limousines. ‘If I turn up without a woman, that will leave me in a somewhat vulnerable position.’

‘You? Vulnerable?’ She gave a little snort of a laugh. ‘You’re about as vulnerable as a Siberian tiger!’

‘An interesting metaphor,’ he mused. ‘Since, in my experience, weddings are a prime hunting ground for women.’

‘Hunting ground?’ she repeated, as if she’d misheard him.

‘I’m afraid so.’ He gave an unapologetic shrug. ‘Some women see the bride and want to be her and so they look around to find the most suitable candidate for themselves.’

Her eyebrows arched. ‘You being the most suitable candidate, I suppose?’

Luc looked at the tendril of hair still lying against her pale cheek and wanted to curl it around his finger. He wanted to use it like a rope and pull her towards him until their lips were mere inches apart. And then he wanted to kiss her. He shifted his weight a little. ‘I’m afraid that being a prince does rather put me in that category—certainly amongst some women.’

‘But you think you’d be safe with me?’

‘Of course I would.’ He paused. ‘Our relationship was over a long time ago, and even when it was in full swing neither of us was under any illusion that there was any kind of future in it. You were probably the only woman who truly understood that. You can protect me from the inevitable predators.’ He smiled. ‘And it might be fun to spend the evening together. Because we know each other well enough to be comfortable around each other, don’t we, Lisa?’

Lisa looked at him. Comfortable? Was he insane? Didn’t he realise that her pulse had been hammering like a piston ever since he’d stepped inside the shop? That her breasts were so swollen that it felt as if she’d suddenly gone up a bra size? Slowly, she drew in a deep breath. ‘I think it’s a bad idea,’ she said flatly. ‘A very bad idea. And now if you don’t mind—I’m about to shut up shop.’

She walked over to the door and turned the sign to Closed and it was only afterwards that she wondered if it was that gesture of finality which suddenly prompted him to try a different approach, because Luc was nothing if not persistent. Because suddenly, he began to prowl around the shop like a caged tiger. Walking over to one of the rails, he slowly ran his fingertips along the line of silk dresses, a thoughtful expression on his face as he turned around to look at her.

‘Your shop seems remarkably quiet for what should be a busy weekday afternoon,’ he observed.

She tried not to look defensive. To replicate the same cool expression he was directing at her. ‘And your point is?’

‘My point is that a society wedding would provide an excellent opportunity for you to showcase your talent.’ His blue eyes glittered. ‘There will be plenty of influential people there. You could wear one of your own designs and dazzle the other guests—isn’t that how it works? Play your cards right and I’m sure you could pick up a whole lot of new customers.’

And now Lisa really was tempted, because business hadn’t been great. Actually, that was a bit of an understatement. Business had taken a serious dive, and she wasn’t sure if it was down to the dodgy state of the economy or the more frightening possibility that her clothes had simply gone out of fashion. She’d found herself looking gloomily at magazines which featured dresses which looked a lot like hers—only for a quarter of the price. True, most of the cheaper outfits were made from viscose rather than silk, but lately she’d started wondering if women really cared about that sort of thing any more.

She kept telling herself that the dip in her profits was seasonal—a summer slump which would soon pick up with the new autumn collection, and she prayed it would. Because she had responsibilities now—big ones—which were eating into her bank account like a swarm of locusts rampaging through a field of maize. She thought about Brittany, her beloved little sister. Brittany, who’d flunked college and become a mother to the adorable Tamsin. Brittany, who was under the dominating rule of Jason, Tamsin’s father. Lisa helped out where she could, but she didn’t have a bottomless purse and the indisputable fact was that Jason wasn’t over-keen on earning money if it involved setting the alarm clock every day. Just as he seemed to have a roving eye whenever any female strayed into his line of vision. But Brittany trusted him, or so she kept saying.

A bitter taste came into Lisa’s mouth. Trust. Was there a man alive who could be trusted—and why on earth would any woman ever want to take the risk?

‘So pleased you’re giving my proposal some serious consideration,’ Luc said, his sardonic observation breaking into her thoughts. ‘Though I must say that women don’t usually take quite so long to respond to an invitation to go out with me.’

‘I’m sure they don’t.’

‘Though maybe they would if they realised how much a man enjoys being kept guessing,’ he added softly. ‘If they knew just how irresistible the unpredictable can be.’

Lisa looked at him. Instinct was telling her to refuse but the voice of common sense was suddenly stronger. It was urging her to stop acting as if millions of offers like this came her way. She thought about the kind of wedding someone like Luc would be attending and all the upmarket guests who would be there. Women with the kind of money who could afford her dresses. Women who wouldn’t dream of wearing viscose. Surely she’d be crazy to pass up such an opportunity—even if it meant spending the evening with a man who symbolised nothing but danger. She swallowed. And excitement, of course. She mustn’t forget that. But she could resist him. She had resisted him once and she could do it again.

‘Who’s getting married?’ she questioned carelessly.

He failed to hide his triumphant smile. ‘A man named Conall Devlin.’

‘The Irish property tycoon?’

‘You’ve heard of him?’

‘Hasn’t everyone? I read the papers like everyone else.’

‘He’s marrying a woman named Amber Carter.’

Lisa nodded. Yes. She’d seen pictures of Amber Carter, too—a stunning brunette and the daughter of some industrial magnate. Someone like that would be unbelievably well connected, with friends who might be interested in buying a Lisa Bailey dress. And mightn’t this wedding serve another purpose at the same time? Mightn’t it get Luc out of her system once and for all if she spent some time with him? Banish some of her dreamy recollections and reinforce some of the other reasons why she’d finished with him. It would do her good to remember his fundamental arrogance and inbuilt need to control. And while she had shared his bed for a while, she realised she didn’t really know him.

Because Luc hadn’t wanted anything deeper—she’d understood that right from the start. He’d made it clear that the personal was taboo and the reason for that was simple. He was a royal prince who could never get close to a foreigner. So there had been no secrets shared. No access to his innermost thoughts just because they’d been sleeping together. He’d said it would be a waste of their time and make their parting all the more difficult if they became more intimate than they needed to be. She had understood and she had agreed, because her own agenda had been the same—if for different reasons—and she had also been determined not to get too close. Not to him. Not to anyone. And so they had just lived in the present—a glorious present which had been all about pleasure and little else.

She returned his questioning look. ‘Where is this wedding happening?’

‘At Conall’s country house at Crewhurst, this Saturday. It’s only just over an hour out of London.’

She looked directly into his eyes. ‘So it would be possible to get there and back in an evening?’

He held her gaze and she wondered if she’d imagined another flicker of triumph in his smile. ‘Of course it would,’ he said.

CHAPTER TWO

WHY THE HELL was she here? Lisa’s fingers tightened around her clutch bag. Alone in a car with the handsome Prince as they approached a stately mansion which was lit up like a Christmas tree.

Had she been crazy to accompany Luc to the A-list wedding of two complete strangers? Especially when she wasn’t even sure about his motives for asking her. And meanwhile her own motives were becoming increasingly muddled. She was supposed to be concentrating on drumming up new business, yet during a journey which had been short on words but high on tension, all she’d been able to think about was how gorgeous Luc looked in a dark suit which hugged his powerful body and emphasised the deep olive glow of his skin.

The summer sky was not yet dark but already the flaming torches lining the driveway had been lit—sending golden flames sparking into the air and giving the wedding party a carnival feel. On an adjacent field Lisa could see a carousel and nearby a striped hut was dispensing sticks of candyfloss and boxes of popcorn. A smooth lawn lay before them—a darkening sweep of emerald, edged with flowers whose pale colours could still be seen in the fading light.

It looked like a fairy tale, Lisa thought. Like every woman’s vision of how the perfect wedding should be. And you’re not going to buy into that. Because she knew the reality of marriage. She’d witnessed her stepfather crushing her mother’s spirit, like a snail being crushed beneath a heavy boot. And even though they weren’t even married, she’d seen Brittany being influenced by Jason’s smooth banter, which had changed into a steely control once Britt had given birth to Tamsin. Lisa’s lips compressed into a determined line. And that was never going to happen to her. She was never going to be some man’s tame pet.

A valet opened the car door and out she got. One of her high-heeled sandals wobbled as she stepped onto the gravel path, and as Luc put out his hand to steady her Lisa felt an instant rush of desire. Why was it still like this? she wondered despairingly as her nipples began to harden beneath her silky dress. Why could no other man ever make her feel a fraction of what she felt for the Prince? She looked into his eyes and caught what looked like a gleam of comprehension and she wondered if he could guess at the thoughts which were racing through her head. Did he realise she was achingly aware of her body through the delicate fabric as she wondered whether he was still turned on by a woman with curves...?

‘Look. Here comes the bride,’ he said softly.

Lisa turned to see a woman running towards them, the skirt of her white dress brushing against the grass, a garland of fresh flowers on top of her long, dark hair.

‘Your Royal Highness!’ she exclaimed, dropping a graceful curtsey. ‘I’m so happy you were able to make it.’

‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ answered Luc. ‘Amber, do you know Lisa Bailey—the designer? Lisa, this is the brand-new Mrs Devlin.’

‘No.’ The bride shook her head and smiled. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met. I’ve heard of you, of course—and your dress is gorgeous.’

Lisa smiled back. ‘So is yours.’

She was introduced to Amber’s new husband Conall—a tall and striking Irishman, who could barely tear his eyes away from his wife.

‘We’re not having a formal dinner,’ Amber was saying, her fingers lacing with those of her groom as they shot each other a look which suggested they couldn’t wait to be alone. ‘We thought it much better if people could just please themselves. Have fun and mingle. Ride on the carousel, or dance and eat hot dogs. You must let me get you and Lisa a drink, Your Highness.’

But Luc gave a careless wave of his hand. ‘No, please. No formality. Not tonight,’ he said. ‘Tonight I am simply Luc. I shall fetch the drinks myself, which we will enjoy in this beautiful garden of yours, and then I think we might dance.’ His eyes glittered as he turned his head. ‘Does that idea appeal to you, chérie?’

Lisa’s heart smashed against her ribcage as his sapphire gaze burnt over her skin and the unexpected French endearment reminded her of things she would prefer to forget. Like the way he used to slide her panties down until she would almost be pleading with him to rip them off—and his arrogant smile just before he did exactly that. But those kinds of thoughts were dangerous. Much. Too. Dangerous.

‘I like the sound of looking round the garden,’ she said. ‘Not having any outside space is one of the drawbacks of living in London, and this is exquisite.’

‘Thanks,’ said Amber happily. ‘And, Luc, you must look out for my brother Rafe, who’s over from Australia and prowling around somewhere. I thought you might like to talk diamonds and gold with him.’

‘Of course,’ said Luc, removing two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waitress and handing one to Lisa. But he barely noticed the newly-weds walk away because all he could focus on was the woman beside him. She looked... He took a mouthful of the fizzy wine, which did nothing to ease the dryness in his throat. She looked sensational, in a silvery dress that made her resemble a gleaming fish—the kind which always slipped away, just when you thought you might have captured it. Her shoulders were tense and she was sipping her champagne, determinedly looking everywhere except in his direction.

With a hot rush of hunger he found himself wanting to reacquaint himself with that magnificent body. To press himself up against her. To jerk his hips—hard—and to lose himself inside her as he had done so many times before. He swallowed. Would it be so wrong to sow the last of his wild oats in one glorious finale, before taking up the mantle of duty and marriage which awaited him?

They moved before he had time to answer his own question, making their way across a lawn washed deep crimson by the setting sun where many of the other guests stood talking in small groups. Some of these Luc recognised instantly, for Conall moved in similarly powerful circles. There were the Irish Ambassador and several politicians, including an Englishman rumoured to be the next-but-one Prime Minister. There was a Russian oil baron and a Greek hotel magnate, and Conall’s assistant, Serena, came over with Rafe Carter, the bride’s brother—and somehow, in the midst of all the introductions, Lisa slipped away from him.

Yet even though she wasn’t next to him, Luc knew exactly where she was as he went through the mechanics of being a dutiful guest. He accepted a bite-sized canapé from a passing waitress and popped it into his mouth, the salty caviar exploding against his tongue. It was an unusual situation—for him to be doing the watching, rather than for a woman’s eyes to be fixed jealously on him. But she seemed completely oblivious to his presence as she chatted to a clutch of trust-fund babes.

He watched her long curls shimmering down over her tiny frame as she laughed at something one of the women said. He saw a man wander up to the group and say something to her, and Luc’s body grew rigid with an unexpected sense of possessiveness.

And suddenly he wanted to be alone with her. He didn’t want small talk—or, even worse, to get stuck with someone who was hell-bent on having a serious conversation about his island principality. He didn’t want to discuss Mardovia’s recent elevation to join the ranks of the world’s ten most wealthy islands, or to answer any questions about his new trade agreement with the United States. And he certainly didn’t want one of Hollywood’s hottest actresses asking quite blatantly whether he wanted her telephone number. Actually, she didn’t really put him in a position to refuse—she just fished an embellished little card from her handbag and handed it over, with a husky entreaty that he call her...soon. Not wanting to appear rude and intending to dispose of it at the earliest opportunity, Luc slipped the card into his jacket pocket before excusing himself and walking over to where Lisa stood.

There was a ripple of interest as he approached, but he pre-empted the inevitable introductions by injecting an imperious note into his voice. ‘Let’s go and explore,’ he said, taking her half-drunk champagne from her and depositing their glasses on a nearby table. ‘I can hear music playing and I want to dance with you.’

Lisa felt a flicker of frustration as he took her drink away, wondering why his suggestions always sounded like commands. Because he was a prince, that was why, and he had spent his entire life telling people what to do. Not only was he interrupting her subtle sales pitch, he also wanted to dance with her—an idea which filled her with both excitement and dread. She knew she should refuse, but what could she say? Sorry, Luc. I’m terrified you’re going to hit on me and I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist.

The trouble was that everyone was looking at her and the other women weren’t even bothering to hide their envy. Or maybe it was disbelief that such an eligible man wanted to dance with a too-small brunette with an overdeveloped pair of breasts. She wanted to make a break for it, to run towards that copse of trees at the end of the lawn and to lose herself in their darkness. But she hid her insecurity behind the serene mask she’d perfected when her mother had married her stepfather and overnight their world had changed. When she’d learnt never to let people know what you were thinking. It was the first lesson in survival. Act weak and people treated you like a weakling. Act strong and they didn’t.

‘Okay,’ she said carelessly. ‘Why not?’

‘Not the most enthusiastic response I’ve ever received,’ he murmured as they moved out of earshot. ‘Do you get some kind of kick from making me wait?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Why? Is it mandatory to answer immediately when spoken to by the Prince?’ she mocked.

He smiled. ‘Something like that.’

‘So why don’t you just enjoy the novelty of such an experience?’

‘I’m trying.’

‘Try harder, Luc.’

He laughed as they walked across the grass to the terrace and up a flight of marble steps leading into the ballroom, from where the sultry sound of jazz filtered out into the warm night air. Lisa’s chest was tight as Luc led her onto a quiet section of the dance floor, and as he drew her into his arms she was conscious of the power in his muscular body and the subtle scent of bergamot which clung to his warm skin.

It was hard not to be overwhelmed by his proximity and impossible to prevent the inevitable assault on her senses. This close he was all too real and her body began to stir in response to him. That pins-and-needles feeling spiking over her nipples. That melting tug of heat between her thighs. What chance did she have when he was holding her like this? I haven’t danced with a man in a long time, she realised—and the irony was that she’d never actually danced with Luc before. He’d never taken her to a party and held her in his arms like this because their affair had been conducted beneath the radar. And suddenly she could understand why. The hard thrust of his pelvis was achingly evocative as it brushed against her. Dancing was dangerous, she thought. It allowed their bodies to be indecently close in a public place and she guessed that Conall’s tight security was the only reason Luc was okay with that. Anywhere else and people would have been fishing out their cell phones to capture the moment on camera.

Yet somehow, despite her misgivings, she couldn’t help but enjoy the dance—at least up to the point where her throat suddenly constricted and her breathing began to grow shallow and unsteady. Had he pulled her closer? Was that why the tips of her breasts were suddenly pushing so insistently against his chest? And if she could feel her nipples hardening, maybe so could he.

‘You seem tense,’ he observed.

She moved her shoulders awkwardly. ‘Are you surprised?’

‘You don’t like dancing? Or is being this close to me again unsettling you?’

Lisa drew her head back to meet the indefinable expression in his eyes. ‘A little,’ she admitted.

‘Me, too.’

She pursed her lips together, wishing she could control the thundering of her heart. ‘But you must get to dance with hundreds of women.’

‘Not at all. I’m not known for my love of dancing.’ His finger stroked distractingly at her waist. ‘And no woman I’ve ever danced with makes me feel the way you do.’

‘That’s a good line, Luc.’ She laughed. ‘Smooth, yet convincing—and with just the right note of disbelief. I bet you hit the jackpot with it every time.’

‘It’s not a line.’ His brow furrowed. ‘And why so cynical?’

‘I’d prefer to describe it as having taken a healthy dose of realism and I’ve always been that way. You never used to object before.’

Reflectively, his finger stroked her bare arm. ‘Maybe I was too busy taking off your clothes.’

‘Luc—’

‘I’m only stating the truth. And please don’t give me that breathless little gasp and look at me like that, unless you want me to drag you off to the nearest dark corner.’

‘Carry on in that vein and I’ll walk off all by myself.’

‘Okay.’ He sucked in a deep breath before moving his hands to her waist—the slender indentation of her flesh through the delicate silk feeling almost as intimate as if he were touching her bare skin itself. ‘Let’s keep things formal. Tell me what’s been happening in your life.’

‘You mean the shop?’

A faint frown arrowed his dark eyebrows together, as if he hadn’t meant the shop at all. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Tell me about the shop.’

Lisa fixed her gaze on the tiny buttons of his dress shirt. Did she tell him about how empty she’d felt when they’d split, which had made her throw herself headlong into her work—not realising that her ambition was outpacing her and that by aiming so high, she’d made the potential crash back to earth all the harder? ‘People kept telling me I ought to expand and so I found myself a backer,’ she said. ‘Someone who believed in me and was willing to finance a move to a more prestigious part of the city.’

‘Who?’

His voice had suddenly roughened and she looked up into his face. ‘Is that really relevant?’

‘That depends.’ There was a pause before he spoke again. ‘Is he your lover?’

She screwed up her nose. ‘You’re implying that I started a relationship with my new backer?’

‘Or maybe it was the other way round? Your change in fortune seems a little...dramatic,’ he observed. ‘It would make sense.’

Her feet slowed on the polished floor and Lisa felt a powerful spear of indignation. Was Luc really coming over as jealous—when he’d told her from the get-go that there was never going to be any future in their relationship? Was that what powerful princes did—played at being dog in the manger, not wanting you themselves, but then getting all jealous if they imagined someone else did? But she wasn’t going to invent a closeness with her backer which did not extend outside the boardroom door. She and Martin were business buddies and nothing more.

She gave a laugh. ‘Everyone knows you should never mix business and pleasure, and I’m afraid there hasn’t been time for much in the way of recreation.’

‘Why not?’

Again, she moved her shoulders restlessly. ‘The stakes are much higher now that I’ve got the shop and then there’s Brittany...’

Her words trailed off but he picked up on her hesitation.

‘Your sister?’

Amazed he’d remembered the little sister he’d never even met, Lisa nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She had a baby.’

He frowned. ‘But she’s very young herself, right?’

‘Yes, she is and...’ Her voice faded because Luc wouldn’t be interested in hearing about Brittany’s choice of partner. And even though part of her despised Jason and the way he lived, wasn’t there still some kind of stubborn loyalty towards him because he was Tamsin’s father? ‘I’ve been pretty tied up with that,’ she finished.

‘So you’re an aunt now?’ he questioned.

She looked up at him and Luc watched her face dissolve with soppy affection—her green-gold eyes softening and her mouth curving into a wistful smile. He felt a beat of something unfamiliar because he’d never seen her look that way before and a whisper of something he didn’t understand crept over his skin.

‘Yes, I’m an aunt. I have a little niece called Tamsin and she’s beautiful. Just beautiful. So that’s my news.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘What about you?’

Luc’s throat thickened with frustration, because ironically he felt so at ease in her company that Lisa would be the perfect person to confide in. To reveal that soon he would be marrying another woman—the Princess from a neighbouring island who had been earmarked as his bride since birth. A long-anticipated union between two wealthy islands, which he couldn’t continue to delay.

And Lisa was a realist, wasn’t she? She’d told him that herself. She might even agree that arranged marriages were far more sensible than those founded on the rocky ground of romance, with their notoriously high failure rate. If he hadn’t wanted her quite so much he might have confided in her, but the truth was that he did want her. He wanted her so badly that he could barely move without being acutely aware of his aching groin, and he was glad she was standing in front of him, concealing his erection from any prying eyes.

But something stopped him from starting the inevitable seduction process—something which felt uncomfortably like the fierce stab of his conscience. For a moment he fought it, resenting its intrusion on what should have been a straightforward conclusion to the evening. He knew how much she still wanted him. It was obvious from the way she looked at him—even if he hadn’t felt her nipples hardening against his chest or heard the faltering quality of her words, as if she was having difficulty breathing. Just as he knew that his desire for her was greater than anything he’d felt for any other woman. The words he’d spoken while they’d been dancing were true.

But his duty lay elsewhere and he had no right to lose himself in her soft and curvy body. No right to taste her sweetness one last time, because what good would it do—other than trigger a frustration which might take weeks to settle? It wasn’t fair to the woman who was intended as his wife, even though it had been twelve months since he’d even seen her. And it wasn’t fair to Lisa either.

He remembered that yearning look on her face when she’d spoken about her sister’s child—a look which indicated a certain broodiness, as women of her age were programmed to be broody. He needed to let her go to find her own destiny, one which was certainly not linked to his.

Reluctantly, he drew away from her and it was as though he had flicked a switch inside himself. Self-discipline swamped desire as it had done for the past two years, and, now that sex was off the agenda, he noticed again the pallor of her complexion and faint shadows beneath her eyes. Suddenly, Luc was appalled at his thoughtlessness and ruthlessness. Had he really been planning to satisfy himself with her and then simply walk away and marry another woman?

Yes, he had.

His mouth twisted. What kind of a man was he?

‘Let’s go,’ he said abruptly.

‘Go?’ She looked up at him in bewilderment. ‘But it’s still early.’

‘You’re tired,’ he said tightly. ‘Aren’t you?’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess so.’

‘And you’ve probably done all the sales pitching you can for tonight. The party will really get going in a minute and I doubt whether anyone will be asking you how long your turnaround times are or whether you can make them a dress in time for their birthday party. So let’s just slip away without a big fuss.’

Aware that she was in no position to object, Lisa nodded but her mood was strangely deflated as they walked towards Luc’s waiting car and the sounds of music and laughter grew fainter. For a while back then it had felt so magical and so familiar being in his arms again. She’d felt warm and sexy as he’d held her close and his hard body had tensed against hers in silent acknowledgement of the powerful attraction which still pulsed between them. She hadn’t thought beyond the dance but had thought they might stay like that for most of the evening. But now, with the moon barely beginning to rise and a trip back to her grotty home in London on the horizon—she felt strangely cheated. And embarrassed. As if she had been somehow presumptuous. Because hadn’t she wondered if they might end up in bed together? Hadn’t that been the one thought which had really been on her mind?

Once in the car, she accelerated her Cinderella mood by kicking off the high-heeled shoes and folding herself into one corner of the wide back seat, as if she could simply disappear if she made herself small enough. But Luc didn’t react. He simply took out his cell phone and began to read from the screen. It was as if he had retreated from her. As if she were just part of the fixtures and fittings—as inconsequential as the soft leather seat on which they sat.

So don’t show him you care, she told herself—even though she could feel the unfamiliar pricking of tears behind her eyes. Had she arrogantly thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her? That he still found her as irresistible as she found him? She closed her eyes and leaned back against the soft leather, wondering if she had misread the whole situation.

* * *

Luc stared unseeingly at the screen of his phone until the regular sound of Lisa’s breathing told him she was sleeping. It was torture to sit beside her without touching her—when all he wanted to do was to slip his hand beneath her dress and make her wet for him.

He was silent throughout the journey and it was only as they began to edge towards London that he glanced out of the window and began to notice his surroundings. The city was still buzzy as he leaned forward and quietly told the driver to go to Lisa’s address.

‘You want me to drop you off on the way, boss?’ asked the driver.

Luc glanced at his watch. Tempting to call it a night and get away from the enticement she presented, but he owed her more than waking up alone in an empty car. She didn’t deserve that. The frown at his brow deepened. She’d never given him any trouble. She hadn’t tried to sell her story to the press or to capitalise on her royal connections, had she?

‘No,’ he said. ‘Let’s take her home first.’

But he was surprised when the car changed direction and entered the badly lit streets of an unfamiliar neighbourhood, where rubbish fluttered on the pavement and a group of surly-looking youths stood sucking on cigarettes beneath a lamp post. Luc frowned as he remembered the ordinary but very respectable apartment she’d had before. What the hell was she doing living somewhere like this?

As the car slid to a smooth halt, he reached out and gently shook her awake.

‘Wake up, Lisa,’ he said. ‘You’re home.’

Lisa didn’t want to leave the dream—the one where she was still locked in Luc’s arms and he was about to kiss her. But the voice in her ear was too insistent to ignore and her eyes fluttered open to see the Prince leaning over her, his face shadowed.

Feeling disorientated, she sat up and looked around. She was home—and she didn’t want to be. Still befuddled, she bent to cram her feet back into her shoes and picked up her silver clutch bag. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘This is where you live?’

She heard the puzzled note in his voice and understood it instantly. She bet he’d never been somewhere like this in his privileged life. For a split second she was tempted to tell him that she was just staying here while her own home was being redecorated, but she quickly swallowed the lie. Why be ashamed of what she was and who she’d become?

‘Yes,’ she said, her voice still muzzy from sleep. ‘This is where I live.’

‘You’ve moved?’ he demanded. ‘Why?’

‘I told you that Brittany had a baby and the three of them were cramped in a too-small apartment. So...’ She shrugged. ‘We just did a swap. It made sense. I’m planning to get myself something better when—’

‘When business picks up?’ he questioned astutely.

‘When I get around to it,’ she said quickly. Too quickly. ‘Anyway, thanks for taking me to the party. Hopefully, I’ll have drummed up some new business and it...well, it was good to catch up.’

‘Yeah.’ Their eyes met. ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

‘Honestly, there’s no need.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘I’m a big girl now, Luc.’

‘The subject isn’t up for debate,’ he said coolly. ‘I’ll see you to your door.’

The night air was still warm on her bare arms yet Lisa shivered as Luc fell into step beside her. But it wasn’t shame about him seeing her home which was bothering her—it was the sudden sense of inevitability which was washing over her. The realisation that this really was goodbye. Fishing the key from her bag, she fumbled with the lock before turning back to face him, unprepared for the painful clench of her heart and an aching sense of loss. She would never see him again, she realised. Never know that great rush of adrenaline whenever he was close, or the pleasurable ache of her body whenever he touched her. For a split second she found herself wondering why she’d been stupid enough to finish with him, instead of eking out every available second until her royal lover had ended the relationship himself. She’d done it to protect herself from potential heartache, but what price was that protection now?

Sliding her arms around his neck, she reached up on tiptoe and brushed her lips over his. ‘Be happy,’ she whispered. ‘Goodnight, Luc.’

Luc froze as the touch of her lips ignited all his repressed fantasies. He felt it ripple over his skin like the tide lapping over dry sand as he tried to hold back. He told himself that kissing a man was predatory and he didn’t like predatory women. He was the master—in charge of every aspect of his life—and he’d already decided that no good could come from a brief sexual encounter.

Yet his throat dried and his groin hardened as the warmth of her body drew him in, because this was different. This was Lisa and her kiss was all the things it shouldn’t be. Soft yet evocative—and full of passionate promise. It reminded him of just how hot she’d been in his bed and yet how cool the next morning.

And it was over.

It had to be over.

So why wasn’t he disentangling her arms and walking back towards his purring limousine? Why was he pushing her through her door and slamming it shut behind them? A low moan of hunger erupted from somewhere deep inside him as he pushed her up against the wall and drove his mouth down on hers.

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