Invitation to the Prince's Palace / The Prince's Second Chance: Invitation to the Prince's Palace / The Prince's Second Chance. Brenda Harlen
way. I think in Tasmania—’
‘That’s correct, and, yes, they are indeed oak trees.’ He’d taken her arm, and now walked with her towards a grouping of …
Outbuildings? Was that a fine enough word for buildings within the palace grounds? There were garages with cars in them. Sports cars and other cars. Half a dozen at least. They all looked highly polished and valuable. They would go very fast.
Did the sun go in for just a moment? Mel turned her glance away. A man drove past them in one of the vehicles. Rik raised an arm as the driver slowed and tooted the horn before driving on. ‘That is Anrai.’
‘I thought he resembled you in looks.’ Except Rikardo was far more handsome. And having her arm held by him made Mel way too conscious of him.
Small talk, Mel. You’re supposed to be indulging in polite, get-to-know-you-but-don’t-be-nosy-about-it small talk. ‘How many brothers do you have?’
‘Just the two, both older than me and busy trying to achieve their own plans—’ He broke off.
A worker walked towards them, leading … a pig with a studded red collar around its neck. When the animal saw Rikardo, it snorted and almost pulled the worker over in its enthusiasm to get to the prince.
Rikardo looked down at the animal and then turned to Mel. ‘This is Rufusina. She is a truffle hog and will be coming to the groves with us this morning.’
‘This is Rufusina?’ For some reason Melanie had pictured a gorgeous woman in an ankle-length fur-lined coat with long flowing brown hair. Maybe the woman had known Rikardo for ever and had secretly wanted to marry him herself.
Can we say overactive imagination? Well, this was the perfect setting for an imagination to run wild in! Mel tried to refocus her thoughts. ‘She’s a very interesting-looking truffle hog. She looks very …‘
Porcine?
‘Very intelligent,’ Mel concluded.
‘I am sure that is the first thought that comes to all minds.’ For the second time since they’d met, Rikardo’s lips twitched. Though his words laughed at Mel just a little, they laughed at Rufusina, too, for there was a twinkle in his eye as he watched the hog strain at her leash to get to him, and succeed.
Rikardo then told the hog to ‘sit’ just as you would say to a dog. The pig planted her haunches and cast an adoring if rather beady gaze up at him. She got a scratch behind each ear for her trouble. Rikardo took the lead.
They were at the groves before Mel had come to terms with her prince having a pet pig, because, whether he’d said so or not, this animal had been raised to his hand.
Mel would guarantee it. She could tell. They arrived also before Mel could recover from the beauty of Rikardo’s twinkling eyes and that hint of a smile.
And what did Mel mean by ‘her prince’ anyway? He certainly wasn’t! She might have him for a few more hours, if that, and all of which only by default anyway because she’d been silly enough to think he was a cab driver.
Later, after she’d been returned to Australia, she could write her story and send it in to one of those truth magazines and say she’d spent a few hours with a royal.
She wouldn’t, of course. She wouldn’t violate Rikardo’s privacy in that manner.
Today, in the broad light of Rikardo’s … kingdom, Mel couldn’t imagine how she’d mistaken him for anything other than what he was, whether she’d been overtired and overwrought and under the influence of an allergy medication or not.
It wasn’t until they reached the actual truffle groves that Mel started to register that Rikardo seemed to have somehow withdrawn into himself as they drew closer to his destination. She wasn’t sure how to explain the difference. He still had her arm. The pig still trotted obediently at his side on its lead. Rikardo spoke with each person they passed and his words were pleasant, if brief.
But Rikardo’s gaze had shifted to those rows of oak trees again and again, and somehow Mel felt the tension rising within him as they drew nearer.
‘Winnow.’ Rik greeted a spindly man in his fifties and shook his hand. ‘Allow me to introduce my guest, Miss Watson.’
So that was how Rik planned to get around that one. But would that be enough? Because for all the people that mistook Mel for her cousin, plenty more … didn’t.
‘Do you have the results of the soil test, Winnow? Are we infected again with the blight?’
This time Mel didn’t have to try to hear the concern in Rikardo’s tone.
‘The test shows nothing, Prince Rik.’ The man stopped and glanced at Melanie and then back to the prince. ‘I beg your pardon. I mean, Prince Rikardo.’
‘It’s fine, Winnow. We are all friends here.’ Rik dipped his head. ‘Please go on.’
Winnow pulled the cap from his head and twisted it in his hands. ‘The test shows nothing, but last year and the year before …‘
‘By the time the tests showed positive, it was too late and we ended up losing the crop.’
‘Yes. Exactly.’ Winnow’s face drew into a grimace. ‘I cannot prove anything. Maybe I am worrying unduly but the soil samples that I pulled this morning do not look right to me.’
‘Then we will treat again now.’ Rikardo didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, it is expensive and a further treatment we hadn’t planned for will add to that expense, but our research and tests show that enough of the treatment will keep the blight at bay. If you have any concern whatever, then I want the treatment repeated.’
The older man blew out a breath. ‘I am sorry for the added expense but my bones tell me—’
‘And we will listen.’ Rikardo clapped the man on the back. ‘Order the treatment. I will draw funds for it.’
From there Rikardo examined the soil samples himself, and took Rufusina into one of the groves to sniff about. Mel didn’t fully understand the process. The older Winnow kept lapsing into the beautiful local dialect as he spoke with Rikardo.
It was worth not being able to understand, to hear Rikardo respond at times in kind. She felt as though she’d heard him speak to her in the same language but she must have imagined that. In any case it was very lovely, a melodious harmony of tones and textures.
‘We will take breakfast up there, if you are agreeable.’ Rikardo pointed to a spot partway up a nearby mountainside. He’d handed the truffle hog over to Winnow, who was about to put her to good use in the groves before seeing her returned to her home. And with an admonishment to ensure the pig didn’t run off, as she was apparently wont to do on occasion.
But right now …
There was a natural shelving of rock up high where a bench seat and table had been set into it. The view would be amazing. ‘Oh. That would be lovely.’
They began the climb. ‘The truffles. Will they be okay?’
‘I hope so. We’ve had two years of failed harvests. That has resulted in a devastating financial blow to the country’s economy while we searched for a preventative treatment that would work without affecting the quality of the truffles.’ He led her to the bench seat and table.
Opposite was a mountain with large sections covered in ice. Mel sat, and her glance went outward and down, over groves of trees and over the village named after the royal family. ‘There must be so much rich history here. I’m sorry that there have been difficulties with the truffle industry. From Winnow I gather you play a key role in this truffle work?’
‘I run the operations from ground level to the marketing strategies.’
Mel’s gaze shifted to the village below. ‘You must care about the people of Braston very much.’
‘I