Emily and the Notorious Prince

by India Grey

  Unseeingly he looked out over the beach below, where the fierce heat had gone out of the sun and it was beginning to dip down towards the flat sea. The truth was the strength of his response to her unsettled him, and it was as though he had to make jokes about her being a child to distract him from the fact that his body was all too aware of. Emily Balfour might have been a naive kid last year, but now she was all grown up and ripe for the taking.

  By someone, he reminded himself sourly. Certainly not by him.

  ‘…if that’s OK?’

  Luis shook his head slightly, snapping back to reality. Emily was looking at him from the opposite side of the table, her expression cool and slightly challenging.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I said, we thought it would be good to get one of the big dishes, for sharing, if that’s OK with you?’

  ‘Fine. Whatever.’

  As he motioned to one of the half a dozen waitresses who were hovering, gawping in open admiration, Emily clamped her jaw together and tried to squash the fury that was billowing up inside her. Dinner had been his lousy idea, so now the least he could do was try to cover up how bored he was. As the prettiest waitress virtually sprinted towards the table and gave a breathless curtsy Emily turned her head in disgust, following the direction in which he’d been looking a moment ago.

  Ah. So that explained his utter lack of interest in her and Luciana, she thought irritably, watching two lithe surfer girls splashing about in the sea. She didn’t expect him to be interested in her, not when there were so many gorgeous women around, desperate for the opportunity to be on the receiving end of Prince Luis’s meaningless charm, but at least he could show a bit more interest in his niece, for pity’s sake.

  Determinedly blocking out Luis’s voice as he talked to the waitress in husky Portuguese that made it sound as if he was describing the plot of an erotic film, Emily mustered a smile and turned back to Luciana. Her heart turned over. The child was obviously not used to being out like this and was sitting very stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes downcast. She might have been taught everything in the royal rule book about manners but someone had clearly forgotten to initiate her into the art of enjoying herself.

  ‘Don’t look now,’ Emily whispered, ‘but I can see something looking down at us from that tree behind Uncle Luis.’

  Instantly Luciana lifted her head and looked anxiously up into the plastic palm tree. Seeing the furry toy monkey peeping through the branches her face relaxed into a smile.

  ‘If I was an animal I’d love to be a monkey,’ Emily rattled on. Anything to avoid having to listen to Luis flirting with the waitress. ‘I bet they have loads of fun, swinging in the trees all day. What would you like to be?’

  Luciana thought for a moment. ‘Leão.’ She bared her little white teeth and held out her hands like claws.

  Emily clapped her hands in delight. ‘A lion!’ It seemed an unlikely choice for a child who was as timid as a tiny kitten. But that, she realised, was probably the point of the fantasy. ‘I can see you as a lion,’ she said, very seriously. ‘Especially as you have such beautiful, strong teeth. What do you think Uncle Luis would be?’

  Male chauvinist pig is the obvious answer, she thought crossly as they both regarded him across the table. And then she remembered the night at Balfour when he’d stepped out in front of her from beneath the snowy blossom tress and pulled her into the shadows. A wolf. With his golden eyes glinting with wickedness he’d reminded her of the wolf in Red Riding Hood.

  ‘Do I get the impression that you two are talking about me?’ he asked dryly, as the waitress departed with a final coy curtsy.

  Emily cleared her throat, which suddenly felt painfully dry. ‘We’re talking about if people were animals what animals they’d be,’ she said in a ridiculous, husky voice. ‘Luciana would be a lion.’

  Luis’s elegant, arched eyebrows shot up, indicating that his reaction was the same as hers had been. As he opened his mouth to speak Emily shot him a warning look, and he turned to Luciana with a nod of approval. ‘Good choice. You’ve definitely picked the best animal to be. What about Emily? What would she be?’

  Luciana pointed timidly up at the monkey.

  Luis made a tutting sound. ‘Oh, dear, Emily,’ he said, looking straight at her in that direct, deadpan way that he had. The way that made you forget that there was anyone else in the room. In the world. Damn him. ‘I’m afraid you absolutely could never be a monkey. They’re far too undisciplined and uncouth. Sorry, but you’ll have to think again.’

  ‘I don’t know, then,’ she laughed nervously, trying to dispel the heat in her cheeks. ‘What do you think, Luciana?’

  Luciana’s forehead creased into a frown again, but Emily was pleased that this time it was one of pure concentration, not of anxiety. Watching her, you could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she considered the matter. Finally she looked up at Luis and said something in quick, breathless Portuguese.

  He nodded slowly, and replied in the same language. For a moment, listening to his velvety voice caressing the cadences of his native tongue Emily had to hold herself very rigid to suppress the shudder of helpless longing she could feel gathering inside. As the two of them carried on their conversation she battled to bring herself back under control, so it was a few moments before she realised that they were both looking at her. She glanced from one to the other in mock alarm.

  ‘What?’

  There was a twinkle of merriment in Luciana’s huge, dark, chocolate-coloured eyes that Emily hadn’t seen before, but which gave her a little thrill of pleasure. A little thrill of a different kind of pleasure than she got from the dull gleam in Luis’s eyes as she looked across at him.

  ‘We’ve decided what animal you should be.’ He lounged back in his chair, his long fingers toying idly with the menu as he regarded her. ‘It wasn’t easy. Luciana suggested a gazelle, whereas I thought you’d make a rather good flamingo, with all those bizarre ballet contortions you do, but in the end we agreed that neither of those were quite right.’

  A hint of a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth, and Emily found herself unable to take her eyes off his lips. ‘Go on,’ she said slightly breathlessly.

  ‘Well, in the end, after much careful consideration and debate—’ he glanced at Luciana, who clasped her hands together shyly ‘—we came up with the answer. You tell her, Luciana.’

  ‘Cavalo! Cavalo!’

  ‘Cavalo?’ Emily looked uncertainly from one to the other. ‘I don’t know what that is, but I don’t like the sound of it.’

  ‘A horse.’

  ‘A horse ?’ she repeated in mock outrage, turning to Luciana who had clapped her hands to her mouth and was giggling excitedly—a sound which made Emily’s heart sing. ‘You think I’m like a horse ?’

  Leaning across the table Luis took hold of her ponytail and ran his fingers through its length. His face bore that sardonic expression, but his eyes had darkened and gleamed like antique topaz. ‘Absolutely,’ he said gravely. ‘A young thoroughbred.’ She flinched as his he brought his hand to her face and stroked the backs of his fingers across her cheek ‘Delicate, nervy, but all taut muscles and quivering energy beneath that restrained surface…’

  Emily was transfixed. It was as if the touch of his hand on her cheek had cast some spell over her, and she was powerless to move. Or think properly. She could do nothing but gaze helplessly into those eyes while he added in a voice that was little more than a low murmur, ‘Unbroken, of course…’

  Adrenaline and indignation and stinging hot desire crashed through her and she felt her mouth open to protest at his audacity, but the waitress was coming back, balancing the tray of drinks expertly on one hand while she executed another neat curtsy, and Luis was pulling away, leaning back in his chair, his attention already somewhere else.

  Discipline, focus, control . Gathering together the shreds of her equanimity, Emily forced herself to turn to Luciana, whose face lit up as the waitress
placed in front of her an enormous drink with a cloudy head of ice cream frothing on the top.

  ‘What is it?’ Luciana whispered uncertainly.

  ‘A cola float, as described by Miss Balfour earlier,’ Luis replied with a faint smile. ‘And since she said it’s her favourite, I thought she might like one too.’ He reached over to the waitress’s tray. ‘There.’ He handed her a tall flute of golden liquid, topped with a scoop of ice cream. ‘A champagne float. The grown-up version. Now you can’t say I treat you like a child.’

  Beyond the shade of their palm-tree canopy the sun had turned pear-drop pink in a sky the colour of parma violets, and the beach was almost empty. The tide was coming in, each successive wave wreaking further damage to a large and intricate sandcastle Emily had noticed earlier.

  That’s what’s happening to me, she thought darkly, taking a sip of ice cream and champagne. Slowly, inexorably, her defences were being broken down, and although she knew what was happening there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Luciana touched her arm very tentatively, bringing her thoughts back to reality. ‘Emily? We didn’t think of an animal for Uncle Luis.’

  ‘No, we didn’t!’ She forced herself to look at him narrowly over the rim of her glass. It wasn’t easy. He was so heart-stoppingly handsome that looking at him directly was a bit like staring at the sun, and doing it now made her realise how much time she spent when she was with him trying to avoid it. ‘Do you think,’ she began slowly, ‘that since you and Uncle Luis are in the same family he could be a lion too? After all, the lion is supposed to be the king of all the animals.’

  Luis took a mouthful of beer and put his glass down, shaking his head. Suddenly all traces of laughter had left his face. ‘Exactly,’ he said acidly. Then he looked down at Luciana and gave a twisted smile. ‘Luciana is Rico’s daughter. She’s a regal lion through and through. But me…’ His laugh had an edge of bitterness to it. ‘Not so much.’

  There was a small silence.

  ‘A tiger,’ Luciana suggested. ‘Uncle Luis could be a tiger?’

  Emily put her arm around her and gave her a little squeeze. ‘Good idea. Uncle Luis can be a big, sleek tiger.’

  Watchful. Predatory. Beautiful. It suited him very well.

  ‘Here’s dinner,’ growled Luis. ‘Be careful or I’ll eat it all up. And you too.’

  They ate deep-fried king prawns, garlicky chicken, acarajé fritters and succulent chunks of tender steak straight from huge heaped plates in the centre of the table, accompanied by lots of French fries. At first Luciana was stiff with horror at the idea of eating with her fingers, but bit by bit, under Emily’s gentle encouragement, she got used to the idea.

  Luis was tempted to feign awkwardness himself, just so Emily would have to feed him little mouthfuls from her own fingers. But, he thought, staring moodily out over the darkening ocean, it would definitely test his promise to Rico if she did.

  The pear-drop sun had fallen right into the sea now and the sky beyond the palm-tree canopy was a soft sherbet pink, dotted with the first tiny diamond stars. The beach was empty, the sea flat and mirror smooth.

  A perfect evening.

  Across the table, Emily sucked her fingers and leaned back in her seat. The pink light gave her skin a rosy glow, so that she looked like a poster girl for some miracle cosmetic cream. Some of his ex-girlfriends paid thousands to achieve the same effect, he thought, with a twist of wry amusement. Fruitlessly, of course.

  ‘That was gorgeous. I think I have to admit you were right about the horse thing. I’ve certainly eaten like one.’

  ‘The food was surprisingly good,’ he said. And the company too. All through dinner Emily had thought up further variations of the animal game, until they’d each decided what colour, plant and type of car they’d be, and in one short hour he’d come to find out more about Luciana than he’d learned in five years.

  She was drooping with tiredness now, only just remembering at the last minute to put her hand politely over her mouth as she yawned, and looking at her he felt the same old tightening in his chest. Guilt, but something else too. For a while he’d also forgotten to see her as an object, a problem, a living, breathing reproach. She was a little girl, and he liked her. In her solemnity and cautiousness she reminded him of Rico.

  ‘I suppose we should get this little one back to her bed,’ Emily said reluctantly, putting her arm around Luciana.

  A fragile sense of something shared had grown up between them over the course of the evening. Luciana had been at the centre of the conversation—Emily had made sure of that—but oddly that seemed to have added to the sense of intimacy between them. He found he didn’t want the evening to end.

  ‘Would you like some coffee?’

  Emily glanced up at him in surprise, and then down at Luciana. She was almost asleep, her head lolling against Emily’s side. Gathering her up, Emily pulled her onto her knee and settled her there, safe and comfortable in the circle of her arms.

  It wasn’t guilt Luis felt in that moment, it was pure envy, and it took him by surprise.

  ‘Well…’ Emily said uncertainly. ‘She’s had such a lovely time—it would be a shame to rush back.’ She looked up at him, and her blue eyes were full of questions. ‘And coffee would be lovely.’

  Luis nodded in Luciana’s direction. ‘Do you think she’s all right?’

  ‘I’m sure she is.’ Emily’s voice had dropped to a low, breathy murmur. ‘Look, she’s pretty much asleep. She’ll be fine, although whether the fierce Senhora Costa in the nursery will be happy is another matter.’

  Luis made a sharp, dismissive sound. ‘I don’t care what Senhora Costa thinks, and I’m not talking about tonight. I mean…’ He paused, feeling the words dry and swell painfully in his throat. ‘I mean, do you think she’s all right…generally?’

  ‘You mean, is she coping with losing her parents?’

  ‘That’s essentially what I’m asking, yes.’ In the soft evening the words sounded harsh and raw. Luis realised that he was looking into Emily Balfour’s clear blue eyes almost imploringly, and he turned away and stared out over the satiny ocean instead.

  Oscar’s words came back to him like a whisper on the warm breeze. She’s good , through and through , and he felt them like a knife in the gut. He wanted her reassurance, he realised. He wanted her to say that Luciana was OK, because he wanted to feel better about what he’d done. He wanted her absolution.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was very soft, but her words twisted the knife. ‘She’s very shy, certainly, but I get the impression that her reserve is more than just shyness.’

  The waitress had brought coffee, he noticed distantly. The glass coffee pot stood in the centre of the table now, but he didn’t bother to pour it. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, of course, I’ve only just met her, and I’m not exactly an expert on children—’ she looked up at him through her dark lashes and flashed him a brief smile ‘—even though you think I actually am one.’

  Luis frowned, too focused on what she was saying to pick up on the joke. ‘But you think she’s…troubled?’

  ‘No more than any other child who’s lost her parents so young. Tell me…’ She paused, and Luis watched her gently twining a lock of Luciana’s dark hair round and round one slender finger. ‘How old were you when your mother died?’

  Luis stiffened as a tiny bolt of shock shot through him at the question. Suddenly he was back in the hotel room in England, looking down on her as she floated in the bath, her hair floating around her pale, still face. With a sharp shake of his head he shoved the image back into the dark corner of his mind where it had spent the past half a lifetime. ‘Much older than Luciana,’ he said impatiently. ‘Fourteen.’

  ‘And how did you cope?’

  He reached out and pushed the plunger down on the coffee pot in one vicious stabbing movement, making a little of the dark liquid spill out onto table. ‘I did a lot of sport and discovered girls.’ And along with gir
ls, the amazing, anaesthetic qualities of sexual attraction, which temporarily blotted out unpleasant emotions, like sadness and loneliness and grief. Of course, now there was only guilt to blot out, but he had to do it without recourse to the old methods. ‘I don’t think either of those things are really an option for Luciana, so I don’t see how this is relevant.’

  ‘You didn’t talk to anyone about it?’

  He exhaled sharply, a gust of incredulity. ‘Deus , no.’

  Lifting her head she looked at him curiously. Hell, she was pretty. Talking to her was the last thing he felt like doing. He wanted to silence her mouth with his and drag her off to bed.

  ‘You make it sound like an outrageous idea.’

  Suppressing a sigh of great weariness Luis splashed coffee into the two cups. The restaurant was quieter now; most of the families with young children had left, and now the tables were occupied by surfers who’d finished on the beach for the day and were relaxing with beers. Luis envied them.

  ‘In our family it is.’ He swiped away the coffee on the table with the side of his hand. ‘Being a Cordoba is about saying the correct thing, not the honest thing. You can’t change that. It’s part of the deal.’

  ‘Surely it doesn’t have to be?’ she persisted gently. ‘There are lots of things that are beyond your control—like what happened to Luciana’s parents—but you can influence how you handle those things. Help her to deal with it.’

  Luis felt as if the world had stopped turning for a moment. There was a pounding in his head, a slow, relentless throb like the beat of a drum, or the toll of a funeral bell. Suddenly his mouth was filled with ash, so he took a gulp of his coffee.

  ‘How?’ he said tersely. ‘How can I help her to deal with it?’

  ‘You can talk to her about it—about them. And let her talk to you. I think that maybe the reason she doesn’t talk much at the moment is because she knows she’s not allowed to say the things that she’s thinking.’

  Luis turned away, his lip curling in disdain. There was so much Emily Balfour didn’t know. So much he hoped she’d never find out. She was too good, too honest and straightforward, to understand that talking to Luciana about what happened was impossible. Unthinkable.