The Prince's Bride

by Sophie Weston

“Jonas,” he said, distracted.

  She shook his hand firmly. “Jonas what?”

  He hesitated for a millisecond. But her eyes were dancing now and she’d called him Ranger. There were no Serene Highnesses in the forest. So the die was already cast.

  “Jonas Reval,” he said firmly.

  Chapter Three

  Hope couldn’t help it. She thought: he’s lying. And was instantly ashamed of herself.

  The man had been nothing but kind. Tried to protect her from a wolf and then brought her back to find her car, instead of leaving her to get on with it, which would have taken hours. He hadn’t taken offence when she ranted at him. He’d got her back to the clearing in just a few minutes without saying, “I told you so.” That would earn him high marks in anybody’s book. He’d been tolerant, helpful and funny. He deserved better than groundless suspicion.

  Except that it wasn’t – quite – groundless. Hope knew how people behaved when they were lying. Her father had done it all the time.

  But Jonas Reval was nothing like her father, she told herself now. Maybe the Ranger was a bit too sexy for his own good. Even over the uneven forest floor he moved beautifully, as if his joints were oiled and he couldn’t wait to break into a run, just for the pleasure of springing from foot to foot.

  But it was hardly his fault that she was attracted to lithe men. He’d showed no sign of noticing her reaction, anyway. And just now he had even made her laugh.

  If she mistrusted him, it was all in her own head. She was letting her old wariness get out of hand. It was about time she got over it.

  So she waved the Ranger to get into the vehicle, while Moby scrambled into the back. When she swung into the driving seat, their shoulders touched and she jumped.

  Stop it, she told herself silently. Aloud she said, “You’ll need to navigate.”

  “Of course.” He gave her directions.

  And Hope, who had driven everything from a stretch limousine to stock cars in mud, crashed the gears for the first time in her life.

  She found it strangely awkward driving the Ranger back to his Centre. He gave her a prickly, restless feeling. She felt as if he never took his eyes off her. Yet when she managed to glance casually sideways, he was leaning forward checking the track ahead, not looking at her at all.

  “Ah, thought so. Big pothole here,” he said helpfully.

  Hope wrenched the vehicle round it just in time. Even so they bumped hard and poor Moby, in the back, gave a hiccupping bark of protest.

  Jonas laughed. “Back-seat driver,” he said and reached behind to let the dog sniff his hand. But he kept his eyes on the rough terrain ahead, Hope saw.

  Eventually he directed her off the vestigial track. At his direction she threaded her way between substantial trees. The off-roader lurched sickeningly a couple of times. But Hope gritted her teeth and kept it steady. He seemed impressed.

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “I was brought up in the country. I was driving through my family’s woods before I was old enough to get a driving licence.”

  “It shows,” he said approvingly. “One last heave over the next rise and we’re onto the main track again.”

  The nose lifted like the prow of a boat in a rough sea, but Hope was prepared for it this time. “Thar she blows,” she crowed, as they breasted the summit with a bone-shaking thump.

  Concentrating, she turned the steering wheel gently so that they descended the far side at an optimal trajectory to the rate of decline.

  “Very cool.”

  She was just bouncing off the forest floor and onto a visibly beaten track, when he said that, so she didn’t have any spare attention to reply. But she had the impression that she had surprised him. It was comforting after all that amateur gear crashing she’d done when they started.

  The Rangers’ Centre proved to be a huddle of single-storey buildings that looked as if it had grown organically, rather than been designed and constructed by hand. Hope said so, then wondered too late if he would count it as an insult.

  But he just laughed and said, “About right. It started off as a woodman’s cottage a couple of hundred years ago. Bits got added. Now it’s part Rangers’ HQ, part Education Centre. Come and see.”

  He jumped down from the vehicle and went in. Hope paused to put Moby on his lead before she followed more slowly.

  Inside were two men, one white-haired holding a massive walking stick, and one middle-aged, both watching Jonas write on a whiteboard. There was also a delicious smell of coffee. Hope stopped dead, her nose twitching with lust.

  Jonas turned and saw her expression.

  “Ah. You’d like a coffee. Guys, this is Hope Kennard, with Moby who is not a wolf.”

  The other two hooted. “Better luck next time, young Jonas,” said the middle-aged one.

  “Miss Hope looks better than a wolf to me,” said the one with the stick, beaming. “Well done, lad.”

  Jonas and the other man rolled their eyes.

  “Thank you, Marko,” said Jonas dryly. “Hope, may I introduce Klaus, the bringer of coffee. He’s also Ranger Supremo. Cro-Magnon man over there is Marko.”

  Hope laughed. “I’m flattered,” she assured Marko and accepted coffee from Klaus. It was black, steaming and smelled gorgeous. She closed her eyes and absorbed it, revelling. “Mmm.”

  There was an odd little silence.

  She opened her eyes but the other two weren’t looking at her. Their eyes were on Jonas. He looked as if he’d been stuffed.

  “I mean, thank you,” she said hurriedly, conscious of a shortfall in manners.

  Jonas cleared his throat. “You’re welcome. I’ll – er – just go and get rid of my stuff. Klaus, why don’t you show Hope on the map where she’s been? I found her just short of the lower birch grove. She’d left her vehicle at Crossways Clearing. Oh and she needs a Dog Walkers Code.”

  It seemed to Hope that he bolted like a rabbit down a burrow. She raised her eyebrows.

  “There’ll be clean socks in his room,” explained Cro-Magnon man comfortably. “Lot of mud between here and the lower birch grove.”

  “His room?” Hope was astonished. “He lives here?”

  The other two looked at each other. “What did he tell you?”

  “Just that he’s a Ranger. A volunteer Ranger. So that would make him pretty much bottom of the food chain, I assume?”

  Klaus gave a crack of laughter, which he turned into a cough. But Marko nodded.

  “About right,” he said with satisfaction. “Boy’s got a lot to learn.”

  Hope found a contrary desire to stand up for Jonas, in spite of his high-handed ways. “He had enough experience to lead me out of the forest when I got lost,” she pointed out.

  Marko opened his mouth but Klaus interrupted quickly. “Jonas is very experienced in the forest. You couldn’t have been in better hands,” he said, frowning Marko down. “He’s a regular volunteer and he’s even done a degree in wilderness studies in America.”

  Marko snorted. He clearly didn’t think much of wilderness studies.

  “So do all of your volunteers have a room here?”

  “Good point. No. But Jonas has just arrived for a fortnight of full-time volunteering. We always try to get people up here in the spring. That’s when we get high winds, floods sometimes, even a fire when it’s been a dry winter like now.”

  And he launched happily into a description of the Rangers’ duties and organization. Then he remembered to show her the map and trace the course she must have taken. He gave her three leaflets, one with a history of the forest and a map on the back, the Dog Walkers Code and one on safety. Hope skimmed the latter, wincing. She’d broken every one of the first three Forest Etiquette Protocols already. She folded it and put it carefully in her pocket.

  “I’ll go through this properly when I get home. I’ve clearly got a lot to learn.”

  “Jonas can help you with that,” suggested Marko. “Next two weeks, you’ll find him here,
day and night.”

  Klaus looked exasperated. “Except when he’s out on patrol or doing some element of his refresher course.”

  “Then Miss Hope had better try night-time then, hadn’t she? He won’t be out on patrol then. Not unless there’s an emergency.”

  Klaus breathed hard. “As I’ve just been explaining, spring is the time when there are emergencies. And Jonas is here to work, not socialize.”

  Marko waved that aside. “If you’re thinking of that Professor person, she won’t be back until the summer and, anyway, she’s over sixty. Fine-looking woman, mind,” he added, momentarily sidetracked from Jonas.

  Klaus snorted and muttered something in his own language that Hope had no difficulty at all in interpreting as a variant of randy old goat.

  She had the greatest difficulty in keeping a straight face. “I see that the Rangers are a close-knit bunch, volunteers or not.”

  “We look out for each other,” said Klaus with emphasis.

  Marko ignored his hard stare and agreed blithely. “Yes, even when they live in Liburno, like young Jonas. Of course, he can’t help it.”

  The stare became positively ferocious.

  “Really?” said Hope, quite looking forward to a further joust. Clearly Klaus was hopping mad and, even more clearly, Marko enjoyed winding him up.

  Now Marko grinned at the Senior Ranger and said, “Being as he’s a lawyer. Don’t know how long you’ve been here, Miss Hope. But if you don’t know yet, you’ll soon find out. Liburno is Lawyer Central. Can’t throw a brick in the centre of town without hitting one.”

  Klaus’s glare could have made a fair sized bonfire burst into flame. Hope judged that it was time to negotiate a truce.

  “That’s very interesting. I’m ashamed to say all I know about San Michele is in the preface to my phrase book.”

  “Then Jonas is definitely the man to tell you all about it,” said Marko with a chuckle.

  “All about what?” Jonas appeared in the doorway.

  He’d rid himself of the backpack and lost the wet-weather gear and heavy boots. Without them he looked taller and somehow more muscular, thought Hope. Sort of at ease in his skin and calm, as if he could handle anything and knew it.

  That was when he noticed her looking at him. And looked back.

  Hope went very still.

  Hot, she thought, suddenly confused. Very hot.

  Marko was saying something. She had no idea what. Jonas looked amused.

  Oh dear Lord. When he was amused his eyes sparkled as if he expected her to share the joke. Hotter and hotter.

  Moby, who’d been sprawled peacefully by the desk with his nose on his paws, suddenly sat up, pulling on his chain.

  Hope came to herself with a jump. “Time I was going,” she said, over the residual ringing in her ears. “Thank you for coffee and forest guidance. I’ll do better next time. Goodbye.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” said Jonas serenely.

  To her dismay she dissolved into what she’d have called flustered spinster mode in anyone else. “Um – no need but – um – thank you and – er – Moby’s dinner time. Goodbye.”

  She fled.

  Jonas got to the door before her and held it open courteously. Moby managed to tangle himself round her legs, so that she went first one way, then the other and ended nearly falling over him. All the while Jonas stood there holding the door, with a look of unholy appreciation.

  Hope made Moby stand still, while she stepped over the entangling dog lead. Then she grabbed him firmly by the collar and scooted him towards the car.

  “I am not a flustered spinster,” she muttered.

  “Excuse me?” said blasted Jonas, too close behind her.

  Hope tripped over her own feet and nearly fell. Moby stopped and looked at her with well-earned reproach.

  “May I?” Without waiting for a reply, Jonas possessed himself of Moby’s lead, gave the dog a reassuring head rub, hoisted him into the back of the vehicle, lead and all, and firmly closed the door on him.

  Meanwhile Hope fought for composure. “Thank you,” she said with a dignified gratitude she was rather proud of. It was completely phoney.

  Jonas knew it, too. His eyes sparkled. “You’re very welcome.”

  She could well believe it. She got behind the driving wheel but before she could close the door on him, he was beside her, all courteous anxiety. She ground her teeth and managed a gracious nod. It did not have the desired effect. He still stood there, door open.

  “Will you be all right?”

  When I get my mind back.

  “In what way?” she asked suspiciously.

  His mouth stayed grave. How could he do that when his eyes laughed like demons?

  “I mean, will you be able to find your way home?”

  “Yes,” Hope said recklessly. She didn’t care if she had to go home via the mountains or even across an international border. Somewhere on the road she would find a stranger to give her directions. Anybody would do. Anything was better than Jonas Reval as in-car navigator.

  She reached out with determination and closed the driver’s door. “Goodbye.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  He’d brought out a smart phone and was standing there, waiting for her to give him her number, Hope saw. Once again, she had that tiny flicker of mistrust. He was too confident, somehow. The last time she’d ignored her instincts had not turned out so well, she reminded herself.

  “No need,” she said, with a pleasant smile. Yes, that was the right tone, friendly but firm.

  It didn’t have the desired effect.

  “Not at all. It will be my pleasure.”

  Mistrust was swamped by sheer outrage. She was not going to be railroaded into doing something she didn’t feel comfortable with, just because a man was charming and looked sexy in a Ranger’s uniform.

  She said to herself as much as him, “Look, I’m fine. And so is Moby. Neither of us needs babysitting.”

  “That’s excellent news.” He was bland. “Then we can leave him home when I take you out for the evening.”

  Hope closed her eyes and counted to ten. Then she opened them and said with a calm as great as his own, “Good try but no sale, Mr Reval.”

  And for some reason that did the trick. He looked stricken. She had no idea why but that didn’t matter, she was just grateful for the chance to get away. Hope had learned much on her travels and seizing the moment came right at the top of the list.

  Now was the moment.

  She gave him a friendly wave and drove off.

  Chapter Four

  The relief wore off, of course. By the time they got home, Hope was kicking herself for being too suspicious.

  OK, the last job had ended in a mess because she’d ignored her instincts and allowed herself to be manoeuvred into being nice to someone she didn’t really like. Then her employer’s friend had interpreted her friendly courtesy as something very different and he hadn’t taken his rejection well. In fact, that was the real reason that she’d left.

  But she did like Jonas Reval. So why was she being so wary?

  I had that feeling he wasn’t being straight with me.

  Yes, but she had no reason for it. They’d hardly got up close and personal yet. She could at least have given him a chance.

  Against my instincts?

  There was no right answer.

  That didn’t stop thoughts of Jonas Reval going round and round in her head over the following days. It was as if he had spun a web round her, she thought.

  “Are you OK?” asked Poppy, the third day after their forest encounter. And before Hope could answer she said, “I’m not. Mother’s trying to make me go to a party.”

  She sounded so woebegone that Hope had to laugh. But she sympathized too.

  “Really bad party?”

  Poppy nodded vigorously. “The worst. Huge party. Two girls from school. And I have to have a new dress.”

  “Well, that could be fun, couldn’t it
?”

  Poppy curled her upper lip back from the heavy brace. “Teeth stay the same.”

  “Ouch,” said Hope, instantly comprehending.

  “Could you possibly tell Mother that Moby has gone off his food and I absolutely must come home and take care of him or he’ll die?”

  “I don’t think she’d believe me.”

  That clearly hadn’t occurred to Poppy. “You could at least tell her you wouldn’t mind babysitting me as well as Moby, if I came home.”

  “With pleasure,” said Hope, thinking that Poppy’s company would be a great distraction from worrying away at the problem of whether she should go back to the Rangers’ Centre and whether Jonas Reval would be there if she did. And what message that would give him if he was.

  But Poppy’s mother, when Hope spoke to her, had other issues on her mind.

  “Can you go into town and pick up our post, do you think?” she said distractedly. “We’re supposed to be getting an invitation to the Vintage Ball and my husband’s office says it’s been sent to the villa.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot. I’ll need some authority.” Hope was good at forecasting bureaucracy and worked out a rapid list.

  “You’re brilliant,” said her grateful employer. “I’d never thought of all that.”

  “No problem. And by the way, Poppy asked me to tell you it was fine with me if you wanted to send her home. I’d be happy to babysit her as well as Moby. No extra charge.”

  Her employer sighed. “This is Poppy trying to get out of the Yacht Club Spring Bash, right? I just don’t understand her. I’d have killed for the chance to go to a grown-up party at her age.”

  Hope saw her opportunity. “Um – did you wear braces on your teeth?”

  But all Mrs Anton said was, “Let me know when you’ve got the post, would you?”

  So Hope took a briefcase full of enough official-looking paper to gladden any bureaucrat’s heart, and drove into town. The Post Office was next door to the station, high-ceilinged, with a handsome marble counter, adorned with a full set of Edwardian brass work and almost empty except for an elderly woman in a headscarf – and a man in a Ranger’s all-weather jacket.