Cinderella: Hired by the Prince

But to walk away, from this boat as well as from this man…Cinders had fled at midnight. Maybe Cinders had more resolution than she did.

‘I’ll come back to the boat in the morning,’ she whispered. ‘If the new skipper wants to employ me and I think he’s a man I can be at sea with for three months…’

‘He’s nothing like me,’ Ramon said gently, almost bleakly. ‘He’s reliable and steady.’

‘And not a prince?’

He gave a wintry smile. ‘No, Gianetta, he’s not a prince.’

‘Then it might be possible.’

‘I hope it will be possible.’

‘No guarantees,’ she said.

‘You feel betrayed?’

‘Of course I do,’ she whispered. ‘I need to go now.’

The bleakness intensified. He nodded. ‘As you say. Go, my Gianetta, before I forget myself. I’ve learned this day that my life’s not my own. But first… ’

And, before she could guess what he was about, he made two swift strides across the room, took her shoulders in a grip of iron and kissed her. And such a kiss… It was fierce, it was possessive, it held anger and passion and desire. It was no kiss of farewell. It was a kiss that was all about his need, his desire, his ache to hold her to him for this night, and for longer still.

He was hungry for her, she thought, bewildered. She didn’t know how real that hunger was, but when he finally put her away from him, when she finally broke free, she thought he was hurting as much as she was.

But hunger changed nothing, she thought bleakly. There was nothing left to say.

He stood silently by as she grabbed her carry-all and walked away, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He didn’t try to stop her.

He was her Ramon, she thought bleakly. But he wasn’t her prince.

He watched her go, walking along the docks carrying her holdall, her shoulders slumped, her body language that of someone weary beyond belief.

He felt as if he’d betrayed her.

So what to do? Go after her, lift her bodily into his arms?

Take her to Cepheus?

How could he?

There were threats from Carlos. The lawyer was talking of the possibility of armed insurrection against the throne. Had it truly become so bad?

His father had died because he hadn’t realized the power of royalty. How could he drag a woman into this mess? It would be hard enough keeping himself afloat, let alone supporting anyone else.

How could he be a part of it himself-a royal family that had destroyed his family?

Jenny’s figure was growing smaller in the distance. She wasn’t pausing-she wasn’t looking back.

He felt ill.

‘So can we leave tonight?’ He looked back and the lawyer was standing about twenty feet from the boat, calmly watching. ‘I asked them to hold seats on tonight’s flight as well as tomorrow.’

‘You have some nerve.’

‘The country’s desperate,’ the lawyer said simply. ‘Nothing’s been heard from you. Carlos is starting to act as if he’s the new Crown Prince and his actions are provocative. Delay on your part may well mean bloodshed.’

‘I don’t want to leave her,’ he said simply and turned back-but she’d turned a corner and was gone.

‘I think the lady has left you,’ the lawyer said gently. ‘Which leaves you free to begin to govern your country. So, the flight tonight, Your Highness?’

‘Fine,’ Ramon said heavily and went to pack.

But fine was the last thing he was feeling.

His flight left that evening. He looked down from the plane and saw the boats in Auckland Harbour. The Marquita was down there with her new skipper on board. He couldn’t make her out among so many. She was already dwindling to nothing as the plane rose and turned away from land.

Would Jenny join her tomorrow, he thought bleakly. Would she come to Cepheus?

He turned from the window with a silent oath. It shouldn’t matter. What was between them was finished. Whether she broke her contract or not-there was nothing he could offer her.

Jenny was on her own, as was he.

His throne was waiting for him.

And two days later the Marquita slipped its moorings and sailed out of Auckland Harbour-with Jenny still on board. As she watched the harbour fade into the distance she felt all the doubts reassemble themselves. Gordon, her new skipper, seemed respectful of her silence and he let her be.

She was about to sail around the Horn. Once upon a time that prospect would have filled her with adrenalin- loaded excitement.

Now… She was simply fulfilling a contract, before she went home.

CHAPTER SIX

RAMON’S introduction to royal life was overwhelming. He walked into chaos. He walked into a life he knew nothing about. There were problems everywhere, but he’d been back in Cepheus for less than a day before the plight of Philippe caught him and held.

On his first meeting, the lawyer’s introduction to the little boy was brief. ‘This is Philippe.’

Philippe. His cousin’s son. The little boy who should be Crown Prince, but for the trifling matter of a lack of wedding vows. Philippe, who’d had the royal surname until a month ago and was now not entitled to use it.

The little boy looked like the child Ramon remembered being. Philippe’s pale face and huge eyes hinted that he was suffering as Ramon had suffered when his own father died, and as he met him for the first time he felt his gut wrench with remembered pain.

He’d come to see for himself what he’d been told-that the little boy was in the best care possible. Senor Rodriguez performed the introductions. Consuela and Ernesto were Philippe’s foster parents, farmers who lived fifteen minutes’ drive from the palace. The three were clearly nervous of what this meeting meant, but Philippe had been well trained.

‘I am pleased to meet you,’ the little boy said in a stilted little voice that spoke of rote learning and little else. He held out a thin little arm so his hand could be shaken, and Ramon felt him flinch as he took it in his.

Philippe’s foster mother, a buxom farmer’s wife exuding good-hearted friendliness, didn’t seem intimidated by Ramon’s title, or maybe she was, but her concern for Philippe came first. ‘We’ve been hearing good things about you,’ she told Ramon, scooping her charge into her arms so he could be on eye level with Ramon, ending the formality with this decisive gesture. ‘This dumpling’s been fearful of meeting you,’ she told him. ‘But Ernesto and I are telling him he should think of you as his big cousin. A friend. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?’

She met Ramon’s gaze almost defiantly, and Ramon could see immediately why Sofia had chosen Consuela as Philippe’s foster mother. The image of a mother hen, prepared to battle any odds for her chick, was unmistakable. ‘Philippe’s homesick for the palace,’ she said now, almost aggressively. ‘And he misses his cat.’

‘You have a cat?’ Ramon asked.

‘Yes,’ Philippe whispered.

‘There are many cats at the palace,’ Senor Rodriguez said repressively from beside them, and Ramon sighed. What was it with adults? Hang on, he was an adult. Surely he could do something about this.

He must.

But he wasn’t taking him back to the palace.

Memories were flooding back as he watched Philippe, memories of himself as a child. He vaguely remembered someone explaining that his grandmother wanted to return to the palace and his father would organize it-or maybe that explanation had come later. What he did remember was his father leading him into the vast grand entrance of the palace, Ramon clutching his father’s hand as the splendour threatened to overwhelm him. ‘There’s nothing to be