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Now he felt wary…well, hungry…but that was just sex and sex didn’t make him feel confused. He didn’t recall this sort of torment before in his life, but he had invited it…her in. Obviously, marriage was going to impact his life, but that effect could be measured. Elsie was not a measurable quantity.

What was it about this woman that seemed to cut through the layers of purpose, burned away logic and left need?

As he pulled himself free of the introspective and ultimately unproductive moment, he was conscious of Elsie sitting upright, smoothing back her hair, which had come adrift. She looked flustered, confused and vulnerable.

The vulnerable wrenched free a cascade of feelings, painful feelings that were alien.

It was sex. Why was he trying to work logic into hormones? Just accept it and maybe feel lucky. Why was he seeing a problem where there was none? It was better to be attracted to the woman you were going to marry than the reverse, and when a flame burnt this bright it would inevitably have a short life.

Not sad, just a fact.

‘I could do with the…bathroom.’

Elsie’s prosaic request cut into his reverie.

Without a word, he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, where Elsie was already clambering out. She ignored his supportive hand and landed on the gravel before pushing a skein of her now free and flowing hair from her eyes with one crooked elbow.

‘Who is that?’

He turned his head.

She didn’t understand the language—there might have been several, but she knew a curse when she heard it.

‘Stay here. I’ll deal with this,’ he snapped, not looking at her.

Elsie slid a sideways glance at his profile as he strode volcano-style across the gravelled area. He had really shed the playboy prince. This was a Leandro she had only glimpsed before, but then this was his turf, quite literally.

She proceeded to ignore his instructions on principle and walked at a more moderate pace across the gravel to where the two men were in conversation, although it seemed to her that Leandro was doing most of the talking.

She could feel his icy anger vibrating in the air; it was almost as cold as his tone as his voice floated across to her.

‘My instructions were clear. Every arrangement was to go to my office for approval,’ he reiterated. ‘You have exceeded your authority.’

‘It was intended as a sign of respect.’

‘You can shove your respect and you can rescind your invitations.’ Leandro’s low voice was arctic. ‘And I do not care how far anyone has travelled or how offended they might be.’

The other man bowed obsequiously low.

‘And if I read or hear one word, one whisper, that hasn’t been approved by my office, as in me… And as for photographs, flattering or otherwise…?’

The other man stayed silent, which Elsie thought was a good move.

‘Do I make myself clear?’

This was a Leandro Elsie had never seen. He was awesome and not a little scary. She was not surprised to see the man nod and bow again.

‘I have not sent out the invitations yet, Majesty.’

If Leandro was mollified by this information, he did not show it. Both men appeared to register her approach at the same moment. Leandro went silent, though the muscle beside his mouth continued to clench and unclench like a ticking time bomb.

‘This is Count Tomaz and this is my guest.’ His hand went to a point between her shoulder blades, the touch both light and possessive. ‘Princess Elsie of Quindara.’

‘Miss Oliver.’

After overhearing the conversation, Elsie had been inclined to feel sorry for the man but at the mention of his name she stiffened, no longer needing to question her instinctive dislike. It was the way he looked at her, the barely concealed contempt behind the fixed unpleasant smile and obsequious bow.

She didn’t say a word, she just raised a brow, a trick she’d seen her normally laidback mother use to good effect when circumstances warranted it, and fixed him with her coolest unblinking stare—she was definitely not going to be the first to blink.