She took a step forward, daring him to flinch. ‘You say that—but I was stupid enough to let you seduce me!’ she blazed. ‘You coward! You’re walking away from me in the same way you’ve abandoned all those other girls over the years—to prove that you can. Don’t deny it!’ she spat furiously.
The look transforming his face told her she was right, but that he hadn’t realised it himself until then. Seeing his sudden shock was unnerving. Lysander didn’t notice. He was on an adrenaline high and struck back instantly.
‘I’ve got nothing to prove!’ he roared back. ‘You’re the one whose future is on the line if you stay here. Go, now! It isn’t safe for you here!’
‘I’m going! But not because of anything you’ve said or done, Lysander Kahani,’ she hissed. ‘My first loyalty is to Ra’id. As far as I’m concerned, you can go to hell!’
‘Good! That’s exactly how it should be! I don’t damn well employ you to put me off my stroke!’ he shouted over the racket of helicopters dropping onto the apron outside the palace, but it didn’t make any difference to Alyssa. She was running back upstairs, desperate to get away from him.
Alyssa was in such turmoil she took refuge in organising. Packing and timetables were facts and figures she could control. Lysander might have thrown her on the scrapheap, but she had to bury that at the back of her mind. Ra’id was upset by all the confusion and change, and her first duty was always to him. Her own future looked bleak. The little boy was Lysander’s number one fan, with all that meant. If he wasn’t talking about his uncle, he was waiting for that one special visitor to the nursery. Alyssa would never be able to escape the influence of a man who had lifted her up and then dropped her from a great height.
The only silver lining was that, while she had so much to do for Ra’id, she didn’t have time to get in a state about their hastily arranged flight home to England.
For the next few days, Alyssa spent her time trying to forget Lysander. It was impossible. By the time they got back to Combe House, the place was buzzing with news. Every bulletin started her fussing over Ra’id so she wouldn’t have to hear, and bundling him away from every TV and radio. She said it was to stop the little boy getting upset. The truth was, she didn’t know what would be worse: to hear that Lysander was in danger, or to find out that the emergency was all over and he was back home, looking for a new distraction. Either way, her heart would be pierced. Finally, the time came when she couldn’t run any more. One morning she woke up while it was still dark outside to hear a television blaring away somewhere close at hand. Dragging on her dressing gown, she stumbled through the door connecting her suite with the nursery sitting room.
Ra’id was bouncing up and down on the couch, alight with excitement. He didn’t notice that Alyssa’s scowl would have curdled milk, and that she was pale with lack of sleep and loss of appetite. He had the TV on full blast, and launched straight into his great news.
‘Uncle Ly’s won!’ he squealed with excitement.
‘I’ve told you before not to switch the television on yourself!’ she began, but Ra’id was far too excited to take any notice.
‘Uncle Ly’s won!’ He kept on repeating it, but Alyssa couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but dread. Ra’id’s delight made it hard to pick out many details, but the words ‘royal wedding’ came through loud and clear as he pointed towards the giant TV screen. ‘Now we can go home, and he can get married!’
Alyssa was shocked into life. She whirled around, and was confronted by Lysander’s life-sized image moving over the huge TV screen. It twisted a knife in her stomach. His smile was exactly as she remembered; she could almost believe he was gazing straight at her. But he wasn’t. He was sharing a joke with a rebel leader seated beside him at the conference table.
‘He’s getting married?’ Alyssa’s voice rose uncontrollably.
‘Of course. He’s going to marry Princess Peronelle.’ Ra’id’s smile reached from ear to ear.
Alyssa barely heard. She was frozen with horror, watching Lysander—the man who had cradled her, and made love to her until all her pain had gone. He was smiling and nodding wisely, ranks of photographers and film cameramen catching his every chuckle.
‘He’s … in love with a princess?’ Alyssa felt faint. Suddenly the floor felt as if it were made from rubber. She caught hold of the nearest chair for support.
‘Prince and princess, king and queen. That’s how it goes,’ Ra’id announced happily. ‘The TV says King Boduan is sending Princess Peronelle on an official visit to Rosara as soon as Uncle Ly gets back there next week. It’s inked,’ Ra’id announced. He had picked up that delightful phrase parrot-fashion from one of Lysander’s briefing team.
Alyssa was falling through space, helpless and alone. Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. ‘Prince Lysander’s going to get married?’
‘I keep telling you. It’s Princess Peronelle. Everyone knows that!’ The little boy laughed.
‘Since when? I didn’t,’ Alyssa said faintly, wondering how she could have been so deaf, blind and stupid.
‘That’s probably because it happened a long time ago,’ Ra’id decided. ‘I wasn’t supposed to be listening. They thought I was playing. My father said Princess Peronelle had a good pedigree, whatever that is, but Uncle Ly said what good had that done our family in the past and that she was a …’ he rolled his eyes with the effort of remembering ‘ … a perfect clothes horse.’
A long time ago. So Lysander must have known
about his engagement before he carried me off to The Queen’s Retreat and … Alyssa couldn’t bear to think back over what had happened. She had seen all those magazine photographs of Lysander escorting beautiful women around the world. She knew the type only too well, but a hideous need to know more about one in particular overwhelmed her.
‘What’s she like?’
The television coverage switched to other news, so Rai’d lost interest in it. Instead of bouncing up and down on the spot he was now catapulting from cushion to cushion along the length of the couch. Alyssa had to repeat her question before he took any notice.
‘The princess? She’s not as nice as you.’
That made Alyssa feel worse, not better. The only prize for coming second in the competition for Lysander’s love was a broken heart, and she already had one of those.
‘Have you met her?’
‘Sort of. She came to the palace once. She walked past me. She’s all rustly, and smells like shops. She didn’t stop or talk to me or anything, but her ladies-in-waiting did. They gave me sweets. Lots of sweets. And chocolate. And marzipan. Lots of that, too. Then we went into dinner and I was sick on the table and the princess screamed and ran away.’
Alyssa might be dying inside, but that little picture made her smile like a jealous jaguar.
‘Oh, dear. Was it just on the table?’
Ra’id nodded.
‘That was a shame,’ Alyssa said with real feeling, but not the sort Princess Peronelle would have liked.
Lysander had some damned nerve, seducing me when he had a royal bride already lined up for himself, she thought, covering her face with her hands. Now I know why he was so keen to send me back here without talking to me—I’d served my purpose.
Despite everything, she felt strangely calm. Since Georgie died, she had always known that getting too fond of anyone was a mistake. So why had she let Lysander break her heart twice over? He had the words ‘love rat’ written all over him, he was fully aware of his own worth, and he was beautiful with it. She only had herself to blame for ignoring all the warning signs, but that couldn’t stop her hating him.
‘What’s the matter? Have you got a pain?’ Ra’id stopped bouncing and looked almost as stricken as Alyssa felt.
‘Yes,’ she said.
But she didn’t tell him that pain was called Lysander Kahani.
CHAPTER TEN
THERE was no escape. From that moment on, Combe House was filled with talk about the forthcoming royal
wedding. The newspapers seemed to know more than the staff did, so each morning a copy of every title was brought in. Everyone but Alyssa pored over them to discover the latest rumours. The ceremony was going to be held in the vast chapel at the Rose Palace in Rosara. All the talk was of which royal families and TV celebrities would be invited, what they would eat and which designer would be dressing the bride. Ra’id was so excited at the thought of his uncle Ly getting married, he talked about it non-stop. Egged on by the footmen, he decided he would be the official ring-bearer. His happy chatter wrecked every second of every day for Alyssa—until someone showed him the official photographs of his parents’ wedding. Ra’id took one look at the lace encrusted, Rosari court dress their little pageboys had been forced to wear, and went strangely quiet.
Once he discovered how he would be dressed for the big occasion, Alyssa had no more trouble with Ra’id. He had spent hours trampling over her feelings and nagging to be involved. Now he couldn’t wait to retreat with her to the spa wing. He didn’t mention either Lysander, or the wedding, again.
Alyssa had to cope with his disappointment while keeping her own agony locked deep in her heart. Letting Ra’id fool around in the ball pit, she tried to drown her own sorrows in the warm, rose-perfumed waters of the Combe House pool. Whatever was happening back in Rosara, Lysander didn’t want her any more. That simple fact drained all the life and hope out of her. She had never known a pain like it. What she was forced to endure now showed up her old heartbreak for what it was—a fuss over nothing but vanity. When Jerry had admitted his affair, she had felt viciously cheated of her big day and the happy ever after she assumed was her right—but that was all. She could see it now. Losing Jerry hadn’t been the cause of all her anguish. Any feelings she might have had for him had shrivelled and died on the day he had told her to pull herself together after Georgie died. She deserved better, but looking back now she could see why Jerry had strayed. They had both been playing parts: hard-working professionals planning a safe, predictable future like all their so-called friends. It had been Alyssa’s shattered dreams and damaged pride that had hurt the most. Jerry had almost been an optional extra in her plans for the perfect wedding.
The way she felt about Lysander had nothing to do with promises and party favours. She had known from the start he would have no interest in either, but for a little while he had been kind, and funny, and a spectacular lover. She had ignored all the pointers in his past and her own experience, and now she was paying the price. What more could she expect?
Despite everything, she found herself worrying as well as hurting. Whatever else he might have done, Lysander had listened, and comforted her. His own very special brand of kindness was impossible to forget. He had led a charmed life so far, but there was still a chance his luck would run out before he got back from his mission to the mountains. Alyssa couldn’t bear to think of him being injured or killed. She knew she shouldn’t care, but she did.
If he could seduce her while knowing about the plans for his arranged marriage, he must think she wasn’t good enough for anything more than a bit part in his life. It hurt—but, thinking about it, she realised her parents and Jerry must have thought about her in much the same way.
It was a turning point. She had got over those disappointments. It felt as though she would never get over this, but there was one thing she could do to start on the road to recovery. If Lysander came back expecting to take up where he’d left off, he’d be out of luck. Alyssa’s recent experiences had made her damned sure of one thing—she was too good to be nothing more than a mistress to him, and if she got the chance she wouldn’t be afraid to say so.
The sound of an approaching microlight cut through her pain like a buzz saw. Rousing herself, she waded to the side of the pool. Ra’id always liked to be called out to see anything like that. As she climbed the steps a two-man machine swept low and slow over the trees surrounding Combe House. It swung around like an irritating horsefly, getting lower with every circuit. Alyssa was already angry and upset. She thought things couldn’t possibly get worse—until she heard one of the riders call out to her. She looked up, and saw a long lens.
She ran to the ball pit to keep Ra’id inside the spa, but the damage was done. There could be only one reason why the press were buzzing Combe House. They had run out of rumours about the royal wedding and now needed to dig deeper for their daily fix. Everyone’s life would be made a misery in the search for pictures and stories.
Especially mine, she thought with a chill of dread. Once the paparazzi arrived at a scene, everyone was fair game. The media feeding frenzy surrounding the Kahani wedding would need to be stoked every day. If there were no fresh details about the bride or groom, the circle would widen. Sooner or later, a slow news day would throw up Alyssa’s name, and her part in Georgie’s tragedy. It would be filed as a ‘human interest’ story, without any humanity at all. Her past pain would be raked over again, trapping her in a hell of her own making.
Lysander had proved he was the only one who could free her from that—and he was getting ready to marry someone else.
The succulent image of Alyssa in her sleek green swimming costume was a gift to the press. It went around the world in moments. Lysander, still deep in political arrangements, eyes tired from endless diplomatic discussions and smothered in yards of royal red tape, saw it and felt something break inside him.
Akil had nagged him for years about changing his wild ways. Lysander had never listened, and now he was glad he hadn’t. It had taken only one night with Alyssa to upset his carefully crafted public image, and make him consider something beyond his body’s prime reactions. Akil hadn’t managed that in a lifetime of moaning. Lysander had been perfectly happy enjoying himself, with no thought for anybody else. There hadn’t been room in his busy social life for conventional things like a wife and family. Considerations like that were for other people, not him.
Then Alyssa had walked into his life, and sent his perfectly regulated life haywire. In the long, restless hours since he’d abandoned her, he’d come to a decision. A lot had to change—and his own attitude was top of the list. Alyssa thought he cared more about his image than anything else. That might have been true before they met, but things had moved on for both of them since then.
At first Lysander had found the idea of ruling anything, much less a whole country, a bleak and lonely prospect. Watching Alyssa dealing with Ra’id had changed his thinking. He saw there must be give and take, but within limits. His head was beginning to tell him that being a royal needed two people who liked to be involved with others while staying aloof from them, and didn’t mind hard work or long hours. His heart filled with the warm glow of certainty as he thought of the only person he needed and wanted to fill that special place by his side.
One sleepless night later, he had everything straight in his mind. When all the official communiqués were drafted and sent, and all the phone calls fielded, he called a press conference. He had never cared about what the media said about him in the past, but that was before he became the undisputed ruler of Rosara, until Ra’id came of age. It wasn’t simply his own feelings he had to think about now. He needed to put on a good act for everybody today, and a spectacular show for the only person who really mattered to him.
When the meeting was all over, Lysander pumped the rebel leader’s hand for the last time and walked away. He had achieved nearly all his objectives. Ra’id was safe from idiot rebel attack now the people of Rosara had a strong leader. Lysander was in command, and everyone was on his side. From this moment on he could go where he liked, and do what he wanted. Everything was within his power, but somewhere along the line glamorous bars and nightclubs had lost their appeal. When he looked back on his old life, it felt so shallow and incomplete. Happy it was behind him now, he didn’t want to waste time wondering why or when he had started to think differently. A vital part of his future was missing, and he was going back to England to reclaim it.
Commandeering
the nearest vehicle, he set off to find Alyssa.
The past week had been one of the worst of Alyssa’s life, but it was about to be eclipsed in spectacular fashion. It was late. Time and again over the past few days she had tried to put away the memory of Lysander and his moonlit kisses, but it was no good. Nothing she could do was a big enough distraction to obliterate thoughts of him. They were fixed in her mind like a full-colour, life-sized photograph of the event. Right now she was standing in the shower, but torrents of water could not wash away the contrast between her paradise then, and her living hell now. Lysander’s disdain for her must be ice-cold. It was a side of him he had kept hidden with soft words and careful promises while they were together, but he’d more than made up for it since then.
She came out of the bathroom still towelling her hair dry. Keying commands into a remote-control handset, she plunged her living room into darkness and sent its heavy velvet drapes scurrying apart. She was tired, and would normally have walked straight through to her bedroom. Tonight, though, something made her hesitate. She went over and looked out of the window instead.
Combe House was so isolated, the countryside outside was completely black. All that gloom beyond the windows reflected Alyssa’s feelings exactly. She stared into it until her eyes became accustomed to the dark, and she could make out shapes on the horizon. The pillowy silhouettes of oak trees to the east would soon show some hope of morning. As she watched she noticed a single point of light in the distance. She couldn’t see any other stars, and wondered if it was a planet—Venus, maybe. That was supposed to be the morning star, after all. She couldn’t find it in her heart to really care. She wondered again how she could have wasted so much time grieving for the broken engagement that had brought her here in the first place. That pain had been nothing, compared to the agony of losing Lysander.
The trauma of seeing him with another woman would be too much, but she would never be able to avoid it. She couldn’t hand in her notice—she had to stay here and care for Ra’id. What would happen to him if she resigned? It wasn’t only her conscience talking, it was her heart. She really loved the little boy, and this Princess Peronelle hadn’t treated him very well the first time they’d met. That was unlikely to change when she became Queen of Rosara, or, as Alyssa already thought of her, the Wicked Stepmother.
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