a path down?”
He shook his head. “Not for miles. It’s a straight drop down to the water. Tactically speaking, it was the perfect place for my ancestors to build the castle. Invading forces would have been forced to dock their ships miles down the coast.”
She leaned farther over, trying to see the sharp incline of the cliff wall.
“Be careful,” he said, concern in his voice.
“I’m always careful.” At least, almost always.
“Not afraid of heights, I guess.”
She shrugged and backed away from the edge. “Not afraid of anything, really.”
He regarded her curiously. “Everyone is afraid of something.”
She though about it for a moment, then said, “Centipedes.”
He grinned. “Centipedes?”
“All those legs.” She shuddered. “They give me a serious case of the creeps.”
“Well, then, you have nothing to fear here,” he said, offering his arm and leading her back toward the castle. “We don’t see many centipedes.”
There was one other thing she feared. Feared it more than a stampede of creepy centipedes.
She was afraid she might fall for Prince Christian. Then get her heart broken as she had so many times before.
Chapter Three
Chris and Melissa strolled slowly back to the castle, she a soft and comfortable presence beside him. They chatted about the weather and the flowers and the different crops they grew on the island. She had an insatiable curiosity about practically everything, and always looked genuinely interested in his answers and explanations. But when he led her past the shrubbery maze, her eyes all but shimmered with excitement. She stopped him just outside the entrance. “It’s taller than it looks from the air.”
“Three meters, give or take,” Chris said. “It takes an entire crew a full day to manicure.”
“I’m sure it’s worth it.”
“This maze has been standing here, unchanged, for hundreds of years.”
Her eyes filled with mischief. “Could we go inside?”
“You’d like me to lead you through?”
“Oh, no, I’ll figure it out myself.”
Chris looked at his watch. “Unfortunately, there’s no time. We’re to meet with my parents for drinks before supper.”
“How long does it usually take?”
“Drinks or supper?”
She laughed. “No, the maze.”
“If you know your way, not long. Ten minutes, maybe. For the novice, though, it’s easy to get turned around. I’ve seen people wander through there for hours.”
She shot him a cocky smile. “I’ll bet I could figure it out in no time.”
“It’s more confusing than you might think.”
“I have a very good sense of direction. And I like a challenge.”
He didn’t doubt that she did. She certainly had spunk. He liked that about her. In his opinion, it took a strong and independent woman to withstand a marriage of convenience. Melissa seemed to have what it would take. He hoped she felt the same way.
“Just in case, I think it should wait.”
She looked disappointed, but she didn’t push the issue. Duty was duty, and she seemed to embrace the concept. One more trait in her favor.
“Tomorrow, then?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She gazed up at him through a curtain of thick, dark lashes, a wicked smile teasing the corners of her lips. “You promise?”
“I’m a man of my word,” he said.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the saying ‘Chivalry is dead.’”
“Not on Morgan Isle it isn’t.” He gazed down at her, into the smoky depths of her eyes, and swore he could see a shadow of apprehension. Maybe even sorrow. Then it was gone.
Either he’d imagined it, or she wasn’t as tough as she wanted people to believe.
“Now,” he said, “are you ready to have drinks with my parents?”
“I guess so.” She took a long, deep breath, and blew it out. Then asked, “Anything I should know before-hand? It’s important that I make a good impression.”
“Just be yourself and I know they’ll find you as enchanting and interesting as I do.”
He could see from her smile that she appreciated his answer.
“I like you, Your Highness.”
He returned the smile. “I would have to say, that’s a very good thing.”
“Why is that?”
“Because, Princess, I like you, too.”
As Melissa had suspected, “drinks with the king and queen” was code for a thorough grilling by not only Chris’s parents, but his brother and sisters as well. They seemed to want to know all about her and her half siblings, and the country of Morgan Isle. And they weren’t shy about asking. She tried to answer their questions as honestly as possible without giving away too much, or in some cases, too little. She had been with her new family such a short time that in some cases she simply didn’t know the answers.
Dinner was a five-course feast of seafood caught off their own shores, organic vegetables from the royal family’s personal garden and bread baked fresh from wheat grown in their own fields. They followed it up with a dessert that was so mouthwateringly delicious Melissa was tempted to ask for seconds.
Though she had never been one to choose organic or natural products, it really did make a difference. She would go so far as to say it was one of the tastiest, freshest meals she’d ever eaten.
It was nine-thirty by the time dinner was over and she thoroughly expected another round of drinks, and very possibly more questions. Instead, Chris’s parents excused themselves to their quarters. The king did look exhausted, but she supposed that was only natural when she considered that he spent his days running an entire country. And though he didn’t exactly have one foot in the grave, he was no kid, either. In his late sixties would be her guess, but she wasn’t rude enough to ask.
She also didn’t miss the way his children seemed to coddle him. The fleeting and furtive looks of concern they would direct his way when they thought no one was looking. She couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something going on with his royal highness. Something they didn’t want her to know.
Everyone said their good-nights, his brother and sisters included—although she doubted they all actually went to bed this early—and Chris walked her to her room.
“Everyone retires early here,” she said when they stopped outside her door.
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Our primary business is farming. Early to bed, early to rise.”
“In New Orleans, if I was in bed by one it was an early night. It’s a totally different culture.”
“To be honest,” he said, “I’ve always been something of a night owl myself.”
“Would you like to come in for a while?” she asked, gesturing inside her room. “We could have a drink and…talk.”
He looked past her into the bedroom. A single lamp burned beside the bed and the maid had turned down the covers. There was no denying that it looked awfully inviting. “I’d like to, but I shouldn’t.”