by Donald Robyn
Rosa drained the glass, then said, ‘Ah, that’s much better! Now I feel myself again.’
But as they tramped the vines she was uneasily aware of Max’s scrutiny. He was rarely more than a step away from her until they went back to the house, where they were fortified by magnificent coffee and a slice of blackberry tart served by the women of the house.
The owner asked gruffly, ‘So, what is the verdict, Highness?’
‘I won’t know for certain until I see the lab results,’ she told him, wishing she could reassure him. ‘But I’m afraid it doesn’t look like good news.’
There was collective silence, broken when the owner crossed himself and said bleakly, ‘It is in God’s hands. Thank you for coming to help us.’
Rosa blinked back tears after they left, this time with Giovanni in the back seat of the car.
Max asked with cold abruptness, ‘Are you all right?’
Aware of the elderly man behind them, Rosa said briskly, ‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I still feel silly, staggering like a drunk when I got out of the car; it was just jet lag, along with muscles that need to be used.’
She directed a smile over her shoulder, somewhat surprised when she met the older man’s solemn, dark gaze.
Formally he said, ‘It would perhaps be a good idea to take you back to the castello so that you can sleep.’
‘I need to accustom myself to Niroli time,’ she told him. ‘And I want to see all three affected vineyards.’
Max said coolly, ‘She is no longer the sweet child we once knew, Giovanni.’
‘Life goes on,’ Giovanni replied. ‘People change, but some things always stay the same. Family and the good earth are all we can rely on. And God, of course.’
Rosa had been admiring the hills, their slopes braided with vines, but she risked a glance at Max’s profile—aloof and aristocratic against the golden light outside. It could have been her imagination, but she thought his mouth had compressed.
Perhaps Giovanni had merely succumbed to one of the privileges of age—making sententious statements—but his words had sounded perilously close to a warning.
Her head lifted and she squared her shoulders. Yes, Giovanni had been on the royal island the summer she was sixteen, supervising the harvest. No doubt he too recalled her hopeless crush.
If it’s the last thing I do, she vowed savagely, I’m going to show everyone who remembers that stupid, futile infatuation that I’m well and truly over it!
Max said, ‘Why are these vines affected, yet not the ones in the adjacent vineyards?’
Relieved, she turned her attention back to the problems of shot blight. ‘We don’t know, but it can start like this, in scattered areas rather than clusters.’
‘So every vineyard in the valley will have to be constantly monitored.’
‘Exactly.’
Silence fell as they contemplated the enormous task this would be.
Rosa said quietly, ‘Another problem is that methods of control that show promise in one part of the world often don’t work in another. It’s fascinating, because so far it hasn’t followed any pattern, yet there must be one.’
‘There speaks the scientist.’ Max’s tone was dry. ‘You see an intriguing problem—I see people whose livelihoods and lives are at huge risk.’
Hurt, she returned, ‘I don’t forget them.’
Ahead of them the white road narrowed into a farm track; another barricade and two more soldiers prevented entry. Again the soldiers snapped to attention and saluted, then swung the barrier back to let the car through the bath of solution.
It was a process repeated several hours later at the last of the three vineyards. Similar too, were the anxious faces of those who depended on the grapes, their heavy, palpable fear wringing Rosa’s heart.
At the final one an aged patriarch, brown and seamed by the sun, told her, ‘Highness, we are praying you can help us.’
‘I will do my best,’ she said, miserably conscious of just how futile that promise might be.
Stooped but vigorous after a lifetime spent tending the vines, his wife demanded sharply, ‘What will happen if you cannot?’
Rosa met her worried gaze and hesitated. It hurt her to say the words, but false promises would only make things worse.
While she was choosing the least blunt way to say it, Max said harshly, ‘The truth.’
Rosa repressed a swift spurt of anger. She understood how he felt; the improved wines of Cattina were his creation. To a man as strong and powerful as he was, defeat would be especially bitter. ‘The vines will have to be uprooted and burnt, and the land kept free of them for at least ten years.’
The woman wailed, striking her hand to her forehead then covering her mouth while she rocked back and forth, her faded eyes staring into some bleak future.
Max said crisply, ‘It may not come to pass; if it does, that is the time to weep. But whatever happens, you will not starve. I will see to that.’
The old man hushed his wife. With a slight bow to Max, he said, ‘And we will thank you for that, Highness, even those of us who fought your scheme. But these vines are older than my grandfather; I know them as well as I know my grandchildren. Besides, new plantings will produce only thin, poor wine for at least another generation. If this blight kills the island’s vines, not even you will be able to save our wine.’
Max said decisively, ‘Then we will learn to produce good wines from the young grapes.’
It was commonly accepted that the vines produced no wine worth drinking until they were at least fifty years old, but if anyone could work a miracle it would be Max.
On the way back to the castle, Rosa commented, ‘From what you just said, I gather you’ve got some sort of social welfare scheme going here.’
‘Yes,’ Max said briefly.
From behind Giovanni interposed, ‘He fought the king long and hard for this, and fought the vine-growers even longer and harder, but they are grateful now.’
‘Silence, old man,’ Max said, but without heat. He negotiated a flock of sheep heading for the hills. ‘At first my grandfather could see no necessity for such a scheme, and neither could the growers. They are fiercely independent, but they came around in the end, thanks to Giovanni.’
The old man chuckled. ‘You do me too much honour—it was your authority and logic that won over the stubborn king and the even more stubborn vineyard owners. Also, you promised that the co-operative would match their contributions—and that you would underwrite the scheme until it was viable.’
Impressed, and oddly proud, Rosa said, ‘That’s wonderful.’
Max shrugged. ‘They’re hard bargainers.’
Giovanni said, ‘They do not have to wring every penny from their grapes now just to survive. They can afford to plan, to improve, to use the land wisely.’ After a moment he added, ‘But if this outbreak is not confined, all that will go.’
A heavy weight of responsibility weighed Rosa down. It must be even worse for Max. ‘I need to check the lab results,’ she said, smothering a yawn that came out of nowhere.
From behind Giovanni objected gruffly, ‘Highness, you sent us medicines for the vines. Should we not use them immediately?’
‘No,’ she said, gently but firmly. ‘It’s still experimental, and there simply isn’t enough of it to waste. I must be sure that it’s shot blight.’
Max smiled in irony. ‘It’s strange for us who remember Rosa as a young filly, all arms and legs and a mane of hair in her eyes, to see her as an expert, but she is. So we do what she says.’
He sounded like an uncle—no, a great-uncle! Disinterested, detached and withdrawn.
‘Thank you,’ she said tonelessly, fighting back a betraying edge of frustration. ‘I’ll do the best I can, but I can’t make any promises about success.’
Max turned the car into the castle forecourt. ‘The only alternative is to watch the entire industry shrivel and die.’
He pulled up at the bottom of the steps that led to the t
wo huge doors into the great hall. ‘Come inside for a drink,’ he said to Giovanni.
‘If you’re going to discuss anything, I need to be there,’ Rosa said tightly.
‘What use would you be now?’ he asked in open irony as she hid another yawn. ‘What you need is at least twelve hours sleep.’
‘I’m perfectly all—’
‘You are not!’ he said, cutting her off with formidable authority. ‘Your eyes are smudged and you can’t stop yawning. Go to bed now and sleep the night away, and tomorrow you’ll be able to give your full attention to this problem.’
He was right, damn him! Clinging to her composure, she turned to Giovanni. ‘It’s been lovely to see you again,’ she said with a smile. ‘I just wish it had been on some more auspicious occasion.’
The old man nodded, his expression solemn. ‘Your servant, Highness,’ he said formally.
Clearly his faith in her power to halt the epidemic was pretty minimal. As, she suspected, was Max’s. His decision to call her across the world had been one of desperation, made only because he had no other recourse.
After showering again, she transcribed the comments she’d made from the recorder to the laptop, then ate about half the dinner brought up to her. She tried to assess the lab tests, but even two cups of coffee couldn’t keep her awake. Within about two minutes the words started dancing in front of her and she had to put the papers down and crawl into bed, surrendering to sleep.
Some time during the night she woke, climbed groggily out to get a glass of water, and stood at the window to drink it. The town that clustered around the castle was dark except for the few streetlights, fading now. Morning had to be on the way, although no dawn-glow lightened the eastern sky. Rosa felt as though she’d slept too long and too heavily—slightly headachy, her bones still heavy, her eyes gritty.
She picked up the papers that held the lab tests, but put them down again without looking at them, and crept back into the huge bed, to lie watching the stars in the dark sky.
She’d been so sure that whatever she’d felt for Max had been conquered, a victim of the years and her maturity. Perhaps she should have guessed that it had merely gone underground; after all, there had been no other man for her. At twenty-one she was still a virgin. Bleakly, and for the first time, she faced the fact that no other man had ever meant anything because Max still filled her mind and her heart. Oh, she’d had mild flings, but the instant anything looked like getting serious she’d backed off.
More worryingly, the childish puppy love of her teens had transmuted into something much more dangerous—a driving hunger that shook her to the core whenever he was near. His voice—deep, dark and distinctive—sent shivers of pleasure through her.
And when he’d held her…
Angrily she tried to dismiss the memories, but they persisted, new-minted and sharp as though hours hadn’t passed. In his arms she’d felt completely and utterly safe—except from her own needs and hunger.
And when she’d rested for a moment against his big, lean body, it had hardened against her, and for a second she’d understood the power of sexuality. That moment of recognition, of revelation, had melted her bones. Making love to Max would be heaven.
Ruthlessly she refused to let her mind travel down that banned path. In other parts of the world cousins could marry, but not if you belonged to the royal family of Niroli.
A humourless smile creased her lips as she remembered Kate’s shock when she’d heard about that arcane set of strictures put into place by Rosa’s ancestors for reasons that had probably seemed excellent at the time.
‘Outrageous!’ she’d exclaimed. ‘And does everyone have to obey them?’
‘No, just everyone in the royal family.’
Incredulously Kate said, ‘So once you get to be King you can think up whatever weird law you want and everyone has to obey or be expelled from the royal family? That’s simply asking for trouble. What if you get a crazy king?’
‘The rules were all made up centuries ago and no ruler can add to them—or at least, not as far as I know. And you’re not thrown out of the family if you do disobey one—you just can’t be King.’
‘Pity you’re not in line to succeed,’ Kate said pithily. ‘You could have done something about hauling that backward little place into the nineteenth century.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Rosa protested, but Kate had shaken her head and gone off muttering.
In the huge bed, Rosa sighed and closed her eyes…
It was broad daylight when she woke again. Sunlight had threaded its way through the gap she’d left in the heavy drapes, falling in shafts across the ancient Oriental carpet so that the room glowed with a soft mellow light.
Someone had arranged vases of flowers around the room; they glowed like miniature suns, their shaggy heads concentrating all the tawny colours of late summer. She was wondering if Max had thought about it, when a gentle tap on the door brought her upright.
‘Come in,’ she called, her heart thumping unevenly.
Chapter 3
Of course it wasn’t Max! Instead a maid brought in a tray. On it, to Rosa’s wistful delight, was the simple breakfast of her childhood, thick yoghurt with honey, chewy peasant bread and olive oil and fruit—oranges and figs and a handful of pistachio nuts.
And coffee…
Eyes half closed, Rosa inhaled the scent of it, rich and redolent and so typical of Niroli, and broke into a broad smile. ‘Now I know I’m home!’ she exclaimed.
With a wide, pleased grin the maid curtsied and left her.
It was a comment Max repeated as they walked through the streets to the scientific complex he’d set up to help the growers with their problems. ‘Irene—the maid—told me that it was the coffee that made you feel at home,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised. From what I remember New Zealand has excellent coffee.’
‘Oh, yes, but it’s not made the way it is here. No other coffee anywhere else in the world smells like it.’
‘You’ve been to so many other parts?’
She shrugged. ‘A few,’ she said, adding, ‘Not as many as you, of course.’
‘Ah, but I’ve had ten extra years to travel,’ he drawled, and indicated a modern building that paid discreet tribute to the ancient houses around it. ‘Here we are.’
Always that reminder, she thought wearily. She banished the ache in her heart with a bright smile as she met the head of the research facility, who welcomed her with a slight air of reserve.
No doubt he thought she was a dilettante. Setting her jaw, Rosa worked hard to remove that impression, and was rewarded when he offered to show her around the installation. It was a relief to walk into a lab that could have been the one in New Zealand, although here again she met that slight, wary resistance.
As though a princess can’t be a scientist too, she thought indignantly.
Or perhaps it was her youth that made her suspect. Well, she couldn’t help being a nerd! Accelerated learning had meant she’d achieved her university degree two years before most others, but although she’d had to prove herself over and over again, it was always irritating.
This was what Max must have faced when he’d used his ancestral estates to show the local wine-growers that they could produce high-grade wine. He’d been only nineteen when he’d inherited the Cattina Valley estates.
Rosa squared her shoulders. He’d proved himself; so would she. The connection warmed her, easing the worry that hovered at the back of her brain—the fear that she wasn’t going to be able to help.
Half an hour of discussion in the lab eased the covert reservations; the researchers soon crowded around, asking questions about the latest progress in New Zealand, and she was immediately immersed in shop-talk.
But not so immersed that she didn’t know when Max took his leave—or when he came back. Even before she heard his voice some primitive sense of recognition tightened the skin on the back of her neck so that each tiny hair stood up. It took a considerable effort to keep h
er mind on the conversation she was having with one of the technicians.
Across the lab, Max fought back a hot, lethally possessive desire to stride across there and yank her away from the young man who was gazing at her with such masked appreciation.
A reckless territorial instinct took over his brain, almost banishing the fact that because she was his cousin he had no right to feel anything other than mild, totally platonic affection for her.
Furious at his weakness, he said in a level, controlled voice, ‘We have to go.’
Rosa’s head came up; Max judged to a nicety the exact angle of her square, stubborn little chin as she tilted it at him.
Her dark eyes gleamed with exasperation, but before she had a chance to say anything Max asked, ‘Unless you need more time here?’
Reluctantly she said, ‘Not at the moment. Before I start work I want to ask my boss in New Zealand some questions.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘But it will be the middle of the night in New Zealand, so I’d better email rather than ring him.’
As they walked back to the castle, he said, ‘That can wait until after lunch.’
And after lunch came siesta, Max thought. He increased the speed of his stride, silently cursing the way his body reacted to the busy interference of his hormones, conjuring up tantalising images of long hours spent in a bed with her while the hot sun drowsed across the sky and the island slept…
Ruthlessly he blocked them. It had to be, he decided grimly, a particularly cynical fate with a malicious sense of humour that had transformed his gawky, round-shouldered cousin with her large spectacles and rather touching crush into this elegant, long-legged creature.
Add to that skin like the finest silk sleeked by a drift of gold dust, exotic tilted eyes that held a challenging gleam and a mouth that didn’t have to say a word to make promises…
Rosa was trouble. Forbidden trouble.
It had been some months since he’d taken a woman to his bed, but it had been at least ten years since he’d stopped responding to beautiful women with the undisciplined eagerness of a high-school boy.