He grimaced. He’d meant Pippa to be happily settled in the castle, determined never to revert to poverty, before he set this before her. Why was it suddenly so complicated?
He loved her?
The thought was so incredible that he took his foot off the accelerator for fear of doing something dumb.
Love?
Impossible. He didn’t do love.
‘Tell me about Friday,’ she demanded in a small, cold voice and he forced himself to focus.
Friday.
‘The succession has to be decided by next Friday.’ Somehow he made his voice free of inflexion. ‘The incumbent to the throne has to accept that position within sixty days of Bernard’s death.’
‘The incumbent. You mean Marc.’
‘I guess so. Though you’ll have to sign in his stead.’
‘Because you won’t?’
‘I can’t sign for him.’
‘I mean you won’t be Crown Prince.’ She brushed her arm across her eyes in a gesture of weariness. ‘No. Of course you can’t.’
‘Pippa, this will be a wonderful life for you.’
‘It will,’ she said dully. ‘I can see that.’
He swore and shoved his foot on the brake. The car stopped dead, right in the middle of the road.
‘I hate doing this to you.’
‘Sure.’
‘No, really.’
‘Just leave it, Max.’
‘I can’t,’ he said miserably. ‘Hell, Pippa, to drag my mother through such a mess…’
‘I can’t see that’s necessary.’
‘I mean figuratively.’
‘Oh,’ she said flatly. ‘Figuratively. I see.’
‘You don’t see,’ he said and he reached out and took her shoulders, turning her so she was forced to meet his gaze. ‘My mother was a teenage bride-seduced by my father’s looks and money. He got her pregnant. The only reason he married her was that he was in the midst of a row with his own father at the time. Louis wanted him to marry an heiress and he married my mother out of spite.’
‘You don’t need to tell me this.’
‘I need you to understand.’
‘I do understand.’
‘Pippa, you’re gorgeous.’
‘Oh, right,’ she said and tried to pull away. ‘Cut it out.’
‘I mean it. Hell, Pippa, all I’m thinking about is you. I’m trying to sort out the succession, the politics, the way the country needs to be structured and all I can think about is you.’
‘Then stop thinking about me,’ she said angrily. ‘You’ remaking me miserable, and I can’t be miserable. I’m going back to the palace to be chirpy like I always am. I’m going back to singing.’
‘Like you were in the dairy. To block things out.’
‘You’re blocking the road.’
‘Pippa-’
‘You’re blocking the road.’
‘Dammit, I’m the Prince Regent of Alp d’Estella,’ he growled. ‘I’m at least the Prince Regent. If I want to block a road then I damn well can.’ He glared at her for all of a minute, daring her to gainsay him.
She didn’t gainsay him.
‘You just sit there looking at me…’ he growled.
‘What am I supposed to do?’
He knew what he was supposed to do. His path was suddenly crystal-clear.
He kissed her.
He kissed her, and suddenly confusion fell away. Whatever else was wrong in this crazy world, this was right.
She tasted…like Pippa.
Nothing more. Nothing less. He wanted nothing else.
Pippa.
His hands grasped her shoulders so he could pinion her lips right where he wanted them. His mouth claimed hers. For a fraction of a moment she held herself rigid, as if she might pull away-as if she might react with horror, slap him once more?-but it was the sensation of a moment. Nothing more. He felt her resistance slump out of her. He felt her lips open under his.
Pippa.
She was perfection. His hands lowered to her waist and he gathered her close. Dammit, the gear stick was in the way. Why the hell did he have such a tiny car? He was hauling her close, closer and still the damned gear stick was between.
He’d break the thing if he could.
He couldn’t. There was no room on her side of the car for him, or his side for her. Outside there was bare bitumen.
He had to make do with what he had. Which was Pippa, kissing him as he was kissing her. Opening her lips and letting him taste her as deeply as he wanted. Letting his hands hold the curves of her, slip under her T-shirt to feel the silken smooth curve of her bare skin.
He wanted her. He wanted her as he’d never wanted a woman. He wanted her in his bed, and more.
Her hands were in his hair, making him crazy. Of all the erotic sensations…She was deepening the kiss all by herself. Wonderful woman, he thought, amazed by the cleverness of her gesture. Wonderful, wonderful sprite. A red-headed minx who had the knowledge that if she pulled him tighter the kiss couldn’t be broken…
He was nuts. He was granting her intellect for one simple gesture. The idea made him smile from within, a great, warming, inward sigh of pure wonder.
Any woman might have done the same, he thought, but there was only one Pippa.
The kiss was endless. Neither of them was willing to break the moment. Maybe if this had been another time, another place, with just a fraction more privacy, without the awful impediment of a gear stick, then they would have taken this further, tumbling into glorious passion.
But they couldn’t. They were in the middle of a one-way cliffside road.
Someone was watching.
Max had closed his eyes, savouring the moment. Suddenly some extra sense made him open one eye.
Cautiously.
There were three men and a woman right beside their open sports car. Their audience was watching with every evidence of enjoyment.
‘Don’t mind us, M’sier,’ one of the men said, and he recognised one of the players from the village. ‘Our director tells us to study real life. Romain thought we should sound the horn so you could move your vehicle, but, no, I said, one is only young once and maybe we have forgotten. It does no harm to remind ourselves.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘The play we are performing, you see,’ He said, apologetic but still smiling. ‘I play a young man with a young man’s passion. Like yourself. But I’m fifty-three years old and I should not be cast as a young man. No matter. All our young have left to try and find work in Italy or France so we are left to do what we can. But it does the heart good to see such reminders.’
Max’s eyes were wide open now. As were Pippa’s. She was still in his arms but she’d burrowed her head into his shoulder. She choked.
‘You laugh and I’ll have to kill you,’ he whispered.
‘Or kiss me again?’ she whispered back and he fought to maintain a straight face. Kiss her again? Mmm.
But his audience was waiting for a response. ‘I was just comforting Miss-’
‘Oh, yes,’ the only woman in the group said, understandingly. ‘It’s very nice that our Prince Regent comforts the
