by Jennie Adams
Mel searched his face. ‘I—I could just as easily have lost you that deal!’
‘I do not think so.’ Rik gave a slight shake of his head. ‘He was too enamoured of you from the first moment. The job offer he made…’
‘Was flattering but it’s out of the question, isn’t it?’ She didn’t make a question out of it. Well, it wasn’t one! ‘I’ve signed on to help you, not to try to set myself up to cook in a Paris restaurant the day after our m-marriage ends.’ Mel crossed her fingers and prayed that Rik hadn’t heard that slight stumble when she’d referred to that last bit.
‘You are very faithful, Nicole Melanie Watson.’ Rik shifted his arm and instead caught her hand in his.
His fingers were strong and warm and familiar, and Mel couldn’t stop from curling hers around them.
Rik’s eyes softened as he smiled at her. ‘That is rare and I admire you for it very much.’
They continued their walk in silence, just strolling side by side as though they had all the time in the world. As though they didn’t have a care in the world.
But underneath, tensions simmered. If everything were so comfortable and unthreatening, why did Mel’s heart beat faster with each step they took? Why did a sense of hope and anticipation mix with her awareness of Rik and make her want their walk never to end, and yet at the same time make her want to return to the hotel because she hoped against hope…
That he would kiss her goodnight again? That this night would never end? That it would end for her in his arms? All such foolish thoughts!
‘Here we are.’ Perhaps he felt it, too, because he swept her into the hotel without another word.
And it seemed as though time warped then because they were at the door of their suite before she could draw a breath, and yet she remembered the endless silent moments in the lift, just the two of them, wishing she could reach out to him, wishing she had the right…
Face it, Mel. You’re starting to care for him. To care for Prince Rikardo Ettonbierre of Braston. Caring as though you might be…
Caring for a man who was a good man, but also a prince, and that meant he was not any man for her because she was an everyday girl.
Mel didn’t know what she was thinking, what she hoped for!
Except for a kiss from…a prince?
No. A kiss from Rikardo. That was what she wanted and needed. He was a prince, but he could have been the boy next door and she would have wanted that kiss just as much.
You are in trouble, Mel. Big, big trouble because you can’t fall for him!
The scent of brewed coffee met them as they entered the suite. A glass bowl with fruits, a bottle of wine and chocolates sat on the low coffee table near the sofa and chairs, and, in the small kitchenette, a basket held fresh baked croissants. The lights were turned down. The suite looked ready to welcome lovers.
Mel’s breath caught in the back of her throat. They weren’t, of course. There were two bedrooms. It wasn’t as though she and Rik—
‘The coffee smells good. Just the ticket after that walk in the night air.’ Mel stripped off her coat and followed her nose to the kitchenette. She felt she did really well at acting completely normal and unconcerned.
Except she should have dodged the idea of coffee altogether, said goodnight and headed straight for her room rather than prolonging this. What if Rik thought she’d done that so they could take advantage of this romantic scene? What if he thought she was angling for more of his company for that reason?
‘You don’t need to have any, of course,’ she blurted, and then added, because that could have been taken as rather ungracious, ‘but I’ll pour you a cup if you like, and if you’re hungry I can get you a croissant.’
‘Coffee would be welcome.’ He briefly glanced at the food items and away again. ‘I do not think I will spoil the memory of that meal just now.’
Mel found two cups. She got them out of the cupboard and filled them with steaming liquid, and was proud that her fingers didn’t tremble.
There was an enclosed balcony, beautifully warm and secluded with stunning views. They took their drinks out there and stood side by side soaking in the ambiance of the city lights.
They weren’t touching and yet Mel felt so close to him, so aware of him. How was she supposed to walk away at the end of this arrangement without…looking back and wishing?
If wishes were horses then beggars would ride. Wasn’t that the saying? She wasn’t a beggar, but she was also not the princess who lived around the corner from the prince. She and Rik weren’t on an even playing field; they never would be. Mel needed to remember that. She had to remember who he was, and who she was.
‘I am pleased with this evening’s efforts.’ Rik set his empty coffee cup down on the ledge, took hers and placed it beside it. ‘I’ve regained four key markets. There are others to chase but those are smaller and can be done out of Braston over the next couple of weeks.’
‘You’ve taken a big step towards getting the people back on their financial feet.’ There was pride in her voice that she couldn’t hide. In the soft night light Mel looked into his face and knew that her happiness for him must show. ‘You’ve earned the right to feel some peace.’
‘You have played a part in my peace.’ He spoke softly, with a hint of discovery and perhaps acceptance in his voice. ‘And I should keep my distance from you. I know it, but I do not want to do it.’
Her breath quivered in her throat. ‘What is it that you want to do?’
‘This.’ Rik leaned in and claimed her lips with his.
* * *
‘Melanie.’ Rik breathed her name into her hair. Her face was pressed against his chest. He had kissed her until they were both breathless with it. He wanted to kiss her again, and with his fingertips he gently raised her chin.
Her eyes glowed, filled with softness and passion for him. She’d told him there were times when she had thought of him as a man, not a prince. Rik wanted that acceptance from her now, for her to see him as Rikardo, regardless of what else there might be in his life. For once he simply wanted to be a man to a woman.
He drew her soft curves more securely into his arms and breathed the scent from the side of her neck and let his mouth cover hers once again. Tongues caressed and a low moan sounded. His, and a warning bell began to register in the back of his mind not to do this because there was naivety in the way she yielded to him, as though she was new to this, as though perhaps she wasn’t particularly experienced…
‘What are we doing?’ Melanie spoke in a low tone. She drew back. Shields rose in her eyes, concealing her reaction to him, protecting her. ‘This—this isn’t the same as before when there was a reason to kiss me. It doesn’t matter about Paris, about the romance of being here. I shouldn’t have let myself be tempted. I shouldn’t have looked for that—’
Her words were disjointed. Discomfort filled her face, and Rik…wished it didn’t have to be that way, but hadn’t he set them up for exactly this? He’d made his choices. ‘I should not have stepped over this line, either. It was not a smart thing to do.’
He wrestled with his own reactions. He’d wanted to take, conquer, claim—to stamp his ownership on her and possess her until she was his and his alone. That urge had bypassed all his usual roadblocks.
‘I have never—’ He stopped himself from completing the sentence. Instead he tried to turn his attention to tomorrow. ‘You must go to bed now, get some sleep ready for our visit to the markets.’
Her eyes still held the glaze of the moments of passion they had shared, but they also held confusion, uncertainty, and unease. She searched his face and Rik saw each emotion register as she found her way back to here and now and…to who they were and to remembrance of the arrangement they shared. He should have never forgotten that arrangement, yet when he was near her he couldn’t seem to remember even the most basic of principles, of sticking to his word and to their goals.
‘Thank you for showing me a little of Paris this evening, and for allow
ing me to take part in your talks with the restaurateurs.’ Her chin tipped up. ‘Goodnight, Rikardo. I hope you sleep well.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘THANK you for finding these markets for me to see.’ Mel let her gaze shift from one market stall to the next as she and Rik walked through them. Somehow that felt much easier than looking the prince in the eyes.
They’d kissed last night and she’d withdrawn. Did he know how far she had stepped over the line within herself by entering into that kiss? Mel was too close to falling dangerously for…a prince. She couldn’t do that. She had to be businesslike about her relationship with Rik, even if their surroundings or circumstances felt very romantic or extraordinary.
No matter what, Mel. You have to keep your distance inside yourself no matter what. So treat this outing as an outing. Nothing more and nothing less.
She drew a breath and forced her gaze to his. ‘Thank you for making time for us to come here.’
‘You are welcome, Melanie.’ His tone, too, sounded more formal than usual.
And were his shoulders held a little more rigidly?
Mel tried very hard after that, to focus only on the moment. The markets were a treasure trove of local clothing, some new, brand name and quite expensive but with equally much vintage and pre-loved. It was the latter that appealed to Mel.
‘You are sure you don’t want to look at the branded items?’ When they arrived here Rik had pressed what felt like a very large bundle of currency into Mel’s hands, and instructed her that she was not to leave empty-handed.
That, too, had felt awkward. Ironically, not because he had wanted to give her this gift but because they had both let their fingers linger just a little too long, and then quickly withdrawn.
Mel’s thoughts started to whirl as they had last night in the long hours of courting sleep that wouldn’t come. A part of her wanted to find a way to get him to care for her truly. That was the problem.
He didn’t, and he wouldn’t. Not today, not tomorrow or next week or next month or in any number of months. At the end of their time together he would send her away from him fully. How much more did she need to think about it before she accepted that fact? Accepted that a few kisses in the heat of the moment in a beautiful city didn’t mean all that much to a man who could kiss just about anyone, anywhere and any time?
Mel drew a slow breath. She forced air into her lungs, forced calm into her inner turmoil. And she cast her glance once more about the market and kept looking until the blur of colours turned once again into garments piled on tables, and she spotted a pretty skirt and moved closer to look…
‘I’d like to buy this one.’ It wouldn’t break the bank. In fact, it was ridiculously cheap. But it was exactly what Mel would wear, a long, beautifully warm tan suede that fell in an A-line cut. A memento of Paris. That thought, too, was bittersweet. ‘It should fit me, but even if it doesn’t I can take it in.’
She held out the rest of the money. ‘Thank you for giving me this gift. I’d like to browse a little longer and then I’ll be ready to go.’ She hoped her words were convincing and didn’t sound as strained as she felt.
‘You must keep that to spend any time you wish.’ Rik pressed the money back into her hands, and waited for her to tuck it away in her purse.
* * *
As the days passed after Paris, Melanie showed her strength by being the perfect fiancée to Rik. No one, not his brothers and not his father, could have said that she wasn’t fully supportive of him, utterly committed to him.
Not in love with him, perhaps. That kind of acting would be a stretch, but the rest yes. She maintained her role beautifully. She showed no stress. She seemed perfectly content as she forged ahead making plans for their marriage, liaising with all those involved in the preparations as the days slid closer to the first of the three wedding rehearsals. But beneath the surface…
Rik was not content. He couldn’t forget holding her in his arms in Paris. He, who had grown up trained to live by his self-control, had felt that night as though he teetered on the brink of losing it. He had longed, longed deep down inside, to make love to her but Melanie had broken away.
‘You behaved like some smitten, lovelorn—’ He bit the words off before he added fiancé. It was already bad enough that he was talking to the walls as he walked along. He was Melanie’s fiancé. Just not in any normal sense of the word.
Their first rehearsal was tomorrow and he did not feel prepared. Perhaps things were just moving too quickly for his comfort, for him to feel that he possessed that control that he needed to have. All would be safe in Melanie’s capable hands. Instinctively he knew this. Provided the actual marriage day went ahead, anything else would not overly matter anyway…
Rik made his way to the kitchen. The palace always had kitchen staff on call. He could have got one out of bed to make him a cup of coffee or a sandwich or to bring him pickings from the refrigerators, but he would rather forage for himself. At least it would pass some time until he managed to nod off, and Mel would be safe and sound asleep in her bed while Rik wrestled his demons.
That was part of his insomnia problem, knowing Mel was so close and he couldn’t touch her. Mustn’t touch her. He strode to the double doors of the palace kitchen and pushed with both hands. Before he even opened them, the scent of fresh baking hit him.
Why would anyone be baking at this time of night? Baking up a storm, he realised as his gaze lit on an array of cakes and cookies spread on the bench.
Something tickled the back of his mind, and was lost as he realised who was doing the cooking. ‘Mel—’
‘Rik! Oh, you startled me.’ The cake plate she held in her hands bobbled before she carefully set it down and placed a lid over it.
‘I had permission.’ Her words were almost defensive. ‘I needed some time in the kitchen. It’s what I do when I need—’ She cut the words off, waved a hand. ‘Well, never mind. I’m almost done here, anyway. All I need to do is leave the kitchen sparkling. It’s almost there now.’ Mel turned to wipe down a final bench top.
She had dark smudges under her eyes. Was Melanie, too, more disturbed than he’d realised since their trip to Paris despite her valiant efforts to support him? Was she also feeling tortured and struggling with her thoughts?
Leave the cleaning up for the staff.
Rik wanted very much to say the words. He bit them back because it seemed important to her to leave the kitchen as she had found it. Aside from those cakes and cookies.
‘The staff told me these could be used tomorrow.’ Mel gestured towards the food items. She went on to mention some need for the foods.
Rik only half heard the explanation, because he was looking at those smudges beneath her eyes.
‘I don’t suppose you’re hungry?’ She gestured towards a chocolate cake covered in sticky icing. ‘It’s probably the worst thing to do, but I thought I’d eat a piece and maybe—’
‘Relax for a while?’ He didn’t know what she’d planned to say, but to Rik, standing in the kitchen in the middle of the night unable to sleep, with Melanie obviously also unable to sleep, it made perfect sense to use his insomnia to try to at least help her to relax. ‘Why don’t we take it back with us?’
Mel hadn’t expected Rik to walk in on her cooking splurge. He was the reason for it, so maybe it would be good to spend that time with him. Perhaps then she would be able to shake off the feeling of melancholy and impending loss that had become harder and harder to bear as each day passed.
You’d better smile anyway, Mel. He doesn’t need to see your face and start wondering what your problem is.
In truth Mel didn’t know what the problem was. She’d hoped that cooking would shake the answer loose but it hadn’t.
‘I guess we can make coffee in our suite?’ It was only after she said the words that she realised she’d referred to the suite as theirs as though she had every right, as though she had as much ownership of it as Rik did.
‘I put a pot on before I
left.’
His words made her realise that, while he’d caught her cooking in the middle of the night because she couldn’t sleep, he must have had similar problems otherwise he wouldn’t have been wandering the corridors and making pots of coffee when normal people would be asleep in their beds.
Mel put pieces of cake onto plates and loaded them onto a tray, which Rik promptly took from her hands. One final glance around the kitchen showed that the staff would have nothing more to deal with than delivering the goodies tomorrow morning, and Mel would try to be available to help with that.
The smell of brewed coffee met them as they stepped into the suite. It reminded Mel of Paris, of being held in his arms and kissed.
‘Did the suede skirt fit, or did you have to alter it?’ Rik’s words made Mel realise that he, too, was remembering.
Her breath hitched for a moment. She forced her thoughts away from the reaction. She’d got through day after day doing the same. Each time any unacceptable thought tried to raise its head, Mel pushed it away. Surely no one would be able to tell just how often she thought about Rik, about those moments? How she longed for them all over again? ‘The skirt fits perfectly. I’m planning to wear it tomorrow, actually.’
For the festival being held in the town. Rik hadn’t spoken of it, so Mel didn’t know what his role of involvement would be, if any. And the kitchen staff had told her that the event itself would be a low budget affair.
That didn’t mean it couldn’t be fun, though, and it was an unusual theme. Mel at least wanted to take a look. All of which was trivia, really, and yet there were times when trivia felt a little less emotionally threatening than the rest of life!
They sat side by side on the sofa eating cake and sipping coffee. A very ordinary, normal thing to do except for the fact it was after midnight, and this was Rik’s suite of rooms, and they were engaged and yet in the truest sense they really weren’t.