Rich, Ruthless and Secretly Royal

by Robyn Donald

  ‘Yes.’ A strand of golden sunlight probed through the leafy canopy over the terrace, summoning a lick of fire from his hair.

  A fierce, sweet sensation burst through her, startling her with its intensity. After her treatment by Felipe she’d never thought to experience desire again—in fact, she’d welcomed her total lack of interest in the opposite sex because it kept her safe.

  But this was desire as she’d never known it—a cell-deep hunger that pierced her with helpless delight. And with fear. She didn’t dare fall in love again.

  But she could perhaps exorcise Felipe’s malign influence over her life by—

  By what? An affair…

  Shocked yet fascinated by this outrageous thought, she said in her most sedate tone, ‘Then I must write her that note to thank her.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll see her again. She’s as curious as a cat. In a few days she’ll be down at the bach trying to lure you out of your solitude.’

  Rosie was a nice, neutral topic. Relieved, Hani seized on it. ‘What does she do? Is she at university?’

  ‘Gap year,’ he said succinctly. ‘Her mother decided she was too immature to be let loose on an unsuspecting world, so she’s staying at home.’

  Something in his voice made her say, ‘You don’t approve.’

  ‘I think she should be doing something, not just swanning around having fun,’ he said uncompromisingly. ‘She’s got a damned good brain beneath that red hair, and she needs to exercise it instead of wasting time flitting from party to party.’

  ‘Perhaps she needs a year of enjoying herself. High school is hard work.’

  ‘She’s never had to work hard for anything.’ He dismissed the subject of his cousin. ‘So tell me what you’re planning to do while you’re here.’

  A mischievous impulse persuaded her to say, ‘I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps I’ll do some running around too.’

  He cocked that brow at her. ‘It shouldn’t do you any harm, although you’re still looking a bit fine-drawn.’

  His tone was impersonal, but a note in it fanned the forbidden, smouldering flame inside her. Ignoring it she said steadily, ‘Actually, I’m not the flitting type.’

  ‘Are you going to be able to go back to the tropics?’

  Startled, she said, ‘Of course. This is the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth.’ She lifted her glass of lime juice. ‘Here’s to the miracles of modern medicine.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ he said, and did so.

  As he set his glass down Hani looked out across the valley and said, ‘The vines look like braids across the hillside. They must be stunning in the autumn when the leaves change colour.’

  ‘We don’t get intense autumn colours this far north,’ Kelt told her. ‘For those you need to go to the South Island.’

  He’d moved slightly so that his back was presented to a group just being seated, and she wondered if he was ashamed of being seen with her. These women seemed overdressed for a casual vineyard lunch, but their clothes—like Rosie’s—bore the discreet indications of skilful design and obvious expense.

  Kelt might be a snob—she hadn’t seen him with other people enough to know otherwise—but his enviable aura of self-assurance surely meant any embarrassment was unlikely.

  He’d certainly shrugged off his distant cousin’s open claim to him—not to mention her statement that women wept when they realised he wasn’t interested in them. And without so much as a tinge of colour along those sweeping, stark cheekbones. Perhaps it was a joke between them?

  A comment from Kelt broke into her anxious thoughts. ‘That’s an interesting expression.’

  Hani was saved from answering by the arrival of the first course—iced soup for her, a considerably more substantial dish for him.

  As she tackled the soup she thought ironically that she hadn’t eaten with a man for over six years, and here she was, for the second time in two days, sharing a meal with the most interesting man she’d ever met.

  And one of the best-looking. Apart from Rafiq, she thought loyally, but of course her brother didn’t affect her like—

  Her thoughts came to a jarring halt.

  Well, OK, she was affected by Kelt.

  But only physically. She was safe from the shattering emotional betrayal she’d suffered at Felipe’s hands.

  Kelt had shown her he wasn’t at all like Felipe—that lick of contempt in his voice when he’d asked if she was drunk or drugged, his affection for his cousin, the children’s innocent, open respect and liking…

  Any woman who took him for a lover wouldn’t end up with splintered self-esteem and a death wish.

  And she’d learned a lot in six years, grown up, become a different woman from the child-adult who’d fallen headlong for Felipe’s false charm. Even then, it hadn’t taken her too long to realise she’d fallen in love with a carefully constructed image, a mirage.

  A trap.

  And if she wanted to free herself from the lingering aftereffects of her experience with Felipe, prove that she was able to handle a mature relationship, then Kelt would be the ideal lover. Miraculously he’d woken the long-dead part of her that was able to respond.

  And he wanted her…

  Common sense did its best to squelch the secret thrill of excitement, warning Hani not to allow herself the forbidden luxury of impossible dreams. Nothing had really changed; as long as Felipe was alive she’d never be safe, and neither was anyone else she knew.

  CHAPTER SIX

  KELT’S voice—aloof, rather cool—broke into Hani’s tumbled thoughts. ‘Don’t you like that soup? I can order something else for you if you’d rather.’

  ‘No, it’s delicious, thank you.’ Startled, she drank some more without tasting it. She was not going to let herself fantasise about an affair with him—it was altogether too dangerous. Reining in her too vivid imagination, she said sedately, ‘They have a great chef.’

  ‘She’s an American woman with a Brazilian background who met her New Zealand husband in London. When he decided to come back here and grow grapes she set up the restaurant. It’s becoming rather famous.’

  ‘I can understand why,’ she said, suddenly longing for the potent chilli dishes of her homeland.

  A large dog of indeterminate breed wandered around the corner, accompanied by an entourage of ducks. They parted ways, the ducks heading downhill to the pond, the dog stopping to survey the diners. After a few seconds of sniffing, it headed for Hani.

  ‘Shall I send him away?’ Kelt said. ‘He’s well-behaved and very much a part of the restaurant, but if you’re wary of dogs he can look intimidating.’

  ‘I like dogs.’ Quelling a bitter memory, she held out her hand, back upwards, so that the dog could scent her. It obliged delicately, and with excellent manners refrained from actually landing the automatic lick on her skin.

  ‘Yes, you’re a handsome creature,’ Hani said softly. ‘What’s your name?’

  Kelt waved away a waiter who’d started towards them. ‘Rogue. And he’s not allowed to beg.’

  ‘He’s not begging, are you, Rogue?’

  A woman called from behind a screen, and obediently Rogue bounded off.

  ‘I can see you know how to deal with dogs,’ Kelt remarked.

  ‘I grew up with them,’ she said simply.

  Felipe had bought her a puppy. She’d learned to love it—and then, a month or so later, they’d quarrelled.

  She’d gone out, and when she’d got home the puppy was dead. He’d got one of his servants to drown it. To teach her a lesson, he’d said and, when she’d wept, told her negligently that because she’d learned that lesson he’d buy her another one.

  That was when Hani had realised that to him she was every bit as expendable as the puppy—something he’d bought, something he could order to be killed just to make a point…

  Her throat closed; she swallowed and smiled and said much more brightly, ‘I wonder what interesting mix of bloodlines led to Rogue’s conformation.’


  ‘German Shepherd, certainly, and perhaps a hint of bull terrier—with border collie? Apart from that, who knows?’

  The shutters had come down again, barring him from her thoughts. Kelt’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed her calm, emotionless face. Hannah Court’s stubborn refusal to give him any information about herself was getting to him.

  She was nothing like the women he usually wanted. After an experience when he was young and callow enough to break a woman’s heart he’d been careful to choose lovers as sophisticated as he was. He’d given up expecting to fall in love—and he had no intention of falling in love with Hannah Court either.

  But she was an intriguing mystery, one he wanted to solve. He hadn’t missed the moment of stiffness when Rosie had suggested she might have seen her before. She wore that disciplined composure like armour, yet flashes of tension broke through it—when he touched her, when she’d inadvertently revealed she had a brother.

  He doubted that she’d been involved in anything criminal, but possibly her six years in the mining wasteland of Tukuulu was self-punishment. Was she expiating some sin?

  Or was she afraid?

  She hadn’t pulled away when he’d touched her—she’d actually flinched, as though expecting pain. A violent surge of outrage took him completely by surprise; he had to stop his hand from clenching into a fist beside his plate.

  Hani looked up at him, those dark eyes green and unreadable even though she was smiling. ‘Probably a couple of other breeds too,’ she said. ‘I’m glad Rogue’s well looked after. People shouldn’t have dogs if they aren’t prepared to love them.’

  Kelt heard the momentary hesitation, the flicker of grief in her voice, and watched with narrowed eyes as she scrambled to her feet and said, ‘If you’ll just excuse me…’

  Without waiting for a response she headed across the terrace and into the restaurant.

  What the hell had precipitated that? Bitter memories, or another attack of fever? If she wasn’t back in five minutes he’d get the waitress to go in after her. Or go in himself.

  He didn’t have to wait that long, just long enough to call the waiter over and arrange to pay half of the bill.

  ‘I don’t want my guest to know about it,’ he said.

  The waiter nodded, and left, casting a curious glance at Hannah as she came back.

  Leaning back in his chair, Kelt watched her walk towards him, and something tightened in his gut. Unconsciously seductive, the exotic contours of her face were enhanced by the smile that curved her lips. Her hair gleamed in the sunlight like burnished silk, its dense darkness shot with elusive sparks of red. And the graceful sway of her hips had caught the eye of every man on the terrace.

  Kelt got to his feet on a fierce rush of adrenalin, an arrogant male need to proclaim to the world that she was with him. Without thinking, he took her hand.

  ‘All right?’ he asked abruptly.

  She gave him a veiled look. ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she said in a tone that had an edge to it.

  But her fingers trembled in his, and he could see the pulse beating in the vulnerable hollow of her throat. Fear?

  No. Her colour came and went, and her eyes clung to his. A dangerous triumph burning through him, Kelt released her as the waiter came towards them.

  Something had happened, Hani realised as they sat down again. Her nerves were jumping in delicious anticipation because she both wanted and feared that something.

  But she wanted it much more than she feared it. Fortunately she had to deal with the waiter, who was trying to persuade her to order what he described as a sinfully decadent chocolate mousse.

  ‘I’m already full, but you have some,’ she urged Kelt, refusing to think of the cost.

  He said, ‘Not for me, but if you’re having coffee I’ll have some of that too.’

  Still sizzling with a kind of delicious inner buzz, she surrendered to the urge to say yes, to prolong the moment. ‘Coffee sounds great.’

  After it had been ordered Kelt leaned back in his chair and surveyed her lazily. ‘What do you plan to do while you recuperate?’

  ‘I might write a book.’

  One black brow hitched upwards. ‘Do you write?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she admitted, playing with the idea. ‘But everyone has to start.’

  ‘Would you make use of your experiences in Tukuulu?’

  ‘No, it would seem like exploiting the school and the pupils.’ Another thought struck her. ‘Or I could learn to paint. I’ve always wanted to do that.’

  ‘The local high school has night classes, and I think there’s a group that offers lessons as well,’ he commented, those dispassionate eyes intent on her face. ‘Anything else you can think of?’

  ‘No,’ she said quietly, some of her lovely anticipation draining away at the thought of the three long months ahead.

  ‘You could study something that would help you with your career. There’s a tertiary institute in Kaitake. Are you a New Zealand citizen?’

  Through his lashes he watched her keenly, not surprised when the drawbridge came up again.

  ‘No,’ she said crisply. ‘And I don’t have residency either, which makes study difficult.’ And prohibitively expensive.

  He frowned. ‘So where did you gain your qualifications?’

  After a moment’s hesitation she said, ‘From an Auckland tertiary institute. The principal organised everything.’ And the charity had paid the fees.

  Uneasily she wondered whether the governing body would want repayment if she couldn’t go back to Tukuulu. Brusquely she dismissed the thought; already she felt so much better. The fever had to be on the run.

  Kelt said, ‘If you want to study, I’d contact the same institute again. But you should make sure you’re up to whatever you feel like doing.’

  Years of forced independence had made such concern unusual.

  And perilously sweet.

  Picking up the spoon that came with the coffee, she played with it for a moment before saying with a bite to her tone, ‘I certainly don’t think I’m likely to collapse in public again. Apart from anything else, it might give people the wrong impression.’

  His brows lifted at the allusion. ‘I’ve apologised for my misconception,’ he said with formidable detachment.

  He had, so why had she reminded him of it again? Because she was reverting back to the terrified woman who’d avoided any sort of emotional connection for the past six years.

  She drew in her breath to apologise in her turn, but he forestalled her by holding out his hand.

  ‘Shake on it, and we’ll forget it happened,’ he said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to.

  From beneath lowered lids he watched her, noting the subtle signs of unease, the momentary hesitation before she held out her hand.

  Why the hell was he trying to help her? If his suspicions were correct she was damaged in some way that needed professional help, possibly several years of therapy. Normally he’d stay well out of it—after making sure she got that help.

  So what was different?

  Hannah was different, he realised with a shock of anger and frustration. And so was he. He was already deeper in this than he wanted to be, which meant it was time to bail out.

  And even as the words scrolled through his mind, he knew he wasn’t going to. This, for example—her initial involuntary flinch at his touch had eased to a certain tension.

  He’d like her to welcome the feel of his hands on her skin, not be afraid of it. As she extended her hand he forced himself to be gentle, letting her control the quick handshake.

  She gave him a fleeting apologetic smile when she picked up the teaspoon again, glancing away so that she accidentally met the eyes of a woman a few tables away. Skilfully made-up, with superbly cut blonde hair, clothes that made the most of some very sleek physical assets, a very opulent diamond on one elegantly manicured finger—she gave Hani a long, openly speculative stare.

  Hani blinked, gave a stiff little nod and turned back to K
elt. He had noticed, of course.

  ‘She’s the soon-to-be ex-wife of one of the more notorious property developers. He’s just dumped her for a woman ten years younger,’ he said dismissively. ‘He bought a farm further north—on the coast—and built a large and elaborate holiday house and is trying to deny the locals access to his beaches.’

  As though his words had summoned her, the woman at the other table got to her feet and came across.

  ‘Hello, Kelt.’ Her smile was as fulsome as her tone, and her eyes flicked from Kelt to Hani, and back again, devouring him with a bold, open appreciation that set Hani’s teeth on edge.

  ‘Tess,’ he said formally, getting to his feet.

  Hani realised they were under intense covert scrutiny from the people at the other table, and wondered what was going on.

  Kelt introduced Hani without giving any more information than her supposed name, and their conversation was short and apparently friendly enough, but Hani suspected that not only did Kelt disapprove of the woman, but he also disliked her.

  Not that you could tell from his attitude, she thought, wondering whether she was being foolish and presumptuous. After all, she didn’t know Kelt.

  Tension knotted beneath her ribs as Tess Whoever left after one more fawning smile, and walked back to her table.

  ‘She seems pleasant enough,’ she said foolishly to fill in the charged silence when Kelt sat down again.

  ‘I suspect I’ve just been put on a list of possible replacements.’ He glanced at her empty coffee cup. ‘Are you ready to go?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Hani half expected him to insist on paying but he made no attempt to, and to her intense relief the bill was about the amount she’d have expected to pay in a good café.

  They had almost reached the turn-off to Kiwinui when she braked and drew into the side of the road.

  Kelt asked, ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘I just want to look at the view,’ she told him.

  He nodded and got out with her, standing beside her as they looked out over a wide valley with an immense, slab-sided rocky outcrop almost in the middle.

  ‘That’s the remnant of an ancient volcanic plug,’ Kelt told her. ‘There are burial caves there, and—’ He stopped abruptly, turning to frown at a clump of straggly trees on the side of the hill.