The Royal Marriage. Fiona Hood-Stewart
unusual in your world. The Maldoravian royal family have always had planned marriages, as far as I can gather.’
‘Maybe, but—’
‘Even your own parents’ marriage was arranged, dear boy. And I gather a marriage of convenience was what your father had planned for you, was it not?’
‘That’s all very well,’ Ricardo countered. ‘But my father is dead and times have changed, Gonzalo. I lead my own life now.’
‘And from all I’ve heard you are enjoying it very thoroughly,’ Gonzalo replied with a touch of dry humour. ‘But you are thirty-three years old, Ricardo, and the succession must be thought of. Is there anyone you would consider as a future wife?’
‘Well, actually, I haven’t got around to thinking of marriage yet,’ Ricardo replied, a picture of Ambrosia, his exotic Mexican mistress, forming in his mind. He had no intention of giving her up, even though marriage would never come into it. ‘There is still time ahead of me.’
‘Perhaps. I am not asking you to change your lifestyle, merely to consider an arrangement that could be advantageous to both parties. After all, you need an heir—and a wife who is both suitable socially and a virgin. Also, it has come to my knowledge,’ Gonzalo added with a speculative look before Ricardo could interrupt, ‘that your uncle Rolando has made some unfortunate deals for the Principality.’
This last was true. But how this knowledge, which had been kept very secret in the family, could have reached Gonzalo was beyond him. Ricardo experienced a twitch of irritation. Time to tread very carefully, he realised, on the alert now.
‘There have been one or two unfortunate incidents,’ he said guardedly, ‘but nothing serious.’
‘No. But I remember your father telling me that it is written in the Maldoravian constitution that until you marry you are still obliged to accept your uncle’s participation in the Principality’s government, aren’t you? And, should you die without issue, he will automatically become ruler. A daunting thought,’ Gonzalo murmured, letting his words sink in.
‘That is true.’ There was an edge of bitterness to Ricardo’s voice. His uncle had been nothing but trouble with his profligate lifestyle. The fact that he was second in line to the throne was subtly brought home to Ricardo by his Cabinet on every possible occasion.
‘What I propose,’ Gonzalo continued smoothly, ‘is a scheme that could help you organise your affairs satisfactorily and help me die in peace.’
‘Gonzalo, I would love to help you, but—’
‘Your father and I used to talk of this sometimes—jokingly, you understand. But now time is of the essence. My daughter, Gabriella, is nineteen. She will inherit my entire fortune—which, though I say it myself, is sizeable. I cannot leave her unprotected. I fear for her future. I would like to know that she will be marrying someone who will respect her and take care of her affairs, as I know you would. There would be many other advantages to the match, of course, but those we can discuss in due course.’
‘I think I had better make it quite clear,’ Ricardo replied coldly ‘that I consider marriage a big step. I do not view it as a business arrangement, and I am afraid that I must therefore decline. If there is anything I can do to help protect your daughter in other ways, then you can count on me. But I’m afraid marriage is out.’
Gonzalo smiled. ‘I expected this reaction. It proves you are truly the kind of man I thought you had grown into. Your father’s son. But enough for now. Let us relax and talk of other matters.’
At that moment the clipped echo of high heels on marble interrupted the conversation. Ricardo turned. Gonzalo’s head flew up and a warm smile lit his eyes.
‘Querida,’ he said, rising, as did Ricardo. ‘Come in and let me introduce you to His Royal Highness Prince Ricardo of Maldoravia.’
He was certainly handsome, even if he was quite old, Gabriella reflected as she glided into the room, eyeing Ricardo askance out of the corner of her eye. But she knew exactly what her father was up to and had no intention of co-operating. Why he had suddenly become fixed on marrying her off to someone when she had very different plans for her future was beyond her. She would let this man know exactly what she thought of the whole scheme. But for now she would play their game, get her own show on the road, and then, when the time came, she would twist her father round her little finger—as she always had.
‘Ricardo—this is my daughter, Gabriella.’
Stopping in front of Ricardo, she extended long, tapered, tanned fingers. ‘Good evening,’ she said coolly. ‘Welcome to the Fazenda Boa Luz.’
‘Good evening.’ Ricardo spontaneously raised her fingers to his lips, recognising Gabriella as the girl he’d seen earlier on the beach. He had rarely beheld a more beautiful young woman. She carried herself with such grace and elegance that it was difficult to believe someone so young could have acquired this kind of poise.
Gabriella sat down gracefully next to her father. Her flimsy white spaghetti-strapped chiffon dress emphasised the delicate curves of her slim, sinuous body. The single diamond at her throat shone against her tanned skin. Her long black hair cascaded silkily to her waist and her large green eyes shone, but her straight, chiselled nose looked almost disdainful as she crossed her legs. The chiffon parted, revealing never-ending limbs. She was a picture of studied elegance.
Ricardo wondered if she knew of her father’s plan. There was a proud, rebellious glint in her eye that reminded him of the rolling waves and untamed natural beauty he’d observed earlier in the day. Another rush of heat gripped him. He took a long sip of whisky and disguised the desire that had sparked within him.
Just as conversation was about to resume, a uniformed servant appeared. ‘There is a call for you from Brasilia in the study, Seu Gonzalo,’ he murmured to his master.
‘Ah, yes. Will you excuse me?’ Gonzalo got up and disappeared through the wide double doors.
Ricardo and Gabriella sat in silence. She made no effort to engage him in conversation, simply smiled at the servant as he placed a flute of champagne before her on the low coffee table.
‘Do you live here all year round?’ Ricardo asked at last, letting his eyes course lazily over her. This girl was far too confident for her own good.
‘No. I travel and study. I was at school in Switzerland until six months ago.’
‘I see. What do you plan to study?’
‘There is no need for you to make polite conversation with me,’ she replied, her gaze haughty. Her English was perfect, except for a slight sexy lilt. ‘I know exactly why you are here and I despise you for it.’ Her eyes blazed suddenly like two glittering emeralds.
‘You do?’ Ricardo raised an amused brow, intrigued by her candour.
‘Yes. You have come here to inspect me, as you might a filly, because Father wants you to marry me. I don’t know why he has taken this idea into his head, but you could have saved yourself the trouble of your journey. I find it rather amusing that you should travel halfway across the world on a fool’s errand.’
‘You don’t say?’ Ricardo’s voice was smoothly sardonic. His brow rose once more and he leaned back against the cushions, preparing to enjoy himself. Both beautiful and amusing. And in need of a sharp lesson. Had he been at home in his palazzo, his retinue would have rolled their eyes, aware of the danger signs. HRH was charming, but when crossed…
‘Yes,’ Gabriella continued obliviously. ‘My advice to you is that you tell him right away that you don’t agree to the plan. It’ll make this so much simpler for all of us.’ She took a long sip of champagne, sat back languidly on the sofa and flicked an invisible speck of dust from the skirt of her dress.
‘Then you will be glad to know that I already have,’ Ricardo replied smoothly, masking his amusement.
‘You did?’ The sophisticated camouflage