LITMIR.BIZ

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she’d slipped into it effortlessly. Now…She’d missed the odd word but she understood what the lawyer had said.

      Or she thought she understood what he’d said.

      Crown Prince of Cepheus. Ramón.

      It might make linguistic sense. It didn’t make any other sort of sense.

      ‘My uncle’s dead?’ Ramón said at last, his voice without inflexion.

      ‘In a light plane crash four weeks ago. Your uncle, your cousin and your cousin’s wife, all killed. Only there’s worse. It seems your cousin wasn’t really married—he brought the woman he called his wife home and shocked his father and the country by declaring he was married, but now we’ve searched for proof, we’ve found none. So the child, Philippe, who stood to be heir, is illegitimate. You stand next in line. But if you’re not home in ten days then Carlos inherits.’

      ‘Carlos!’ The look of flat shock left Ramón’s face, replaced by anger, pure and savage. ‘You’re saying Carlos will inherit the throne?’

      ‘Not if you come home. You must see that’s the only way.’

      ‘No!’

      ‘Think about it.’

      ‘I’ve thought.’

      ‘Leave the woman to tend the boat and come with me,’ Señor Rodriguez said urgently. ‘We need to speak privately.’

      ‘The woman’s name is Gianetta.’ Ramón’s anger seemed to be building. ‘I won’t leave her.’

      The man cast an uninterested glance at Jenny, as if she was of no import. Which, obviously, was the case. ‘Regardless, you must come.’

      ‘I can look after the boat,’ Jenny said, trying really hard to keep up. I won’t leave her. There was a declaration. But he obviously meant it for right now. Certainly not for tomorrow.

       Crown Prince of Cepheus?

      ‘There’s immigration…’ Ramón said.

      ‘I can sort my papers out,’ she said. ‘The harbour master’s office is just over there. You do what you have to do on the way to wherever you’re going. Have your discussion and then come back and tell me what’s happening.’

      ‘Jenny…’

      But she was starting to add things together in her head and she wasn’t liking them. Crown Prince of Cepheus.

      ‘I guess the Marquita would be your boat, then?’ she asked flatly, and she saw him flinch.

      ‘Yes, but…’

      She felt sick. ‘There you go,’ she managed, fighting for dignity. ‘The owner’s needs always come first. I’ll stow the sails and make all neat. Then I might go for a nice long walk and let off a little steam. I’ll see you later.’

      And Ramón cast her a glance where frustration, anger—and maybe even a touch of envy—were combined.

      ‘If you can…’

      ‘Of course I can,’ she said, almost cordially. ‘We’re on land again. I can stand on my own two feet.’

      There were complications everywhere, and all he could think of was Jenny. Gianetta. His woman.

      The flash of anger he’d seen when he’d confessed that he did indeed own the Marquita; the look of betrayal…

      She’d think he’d lied to her. She wouldn’t understand what else was going on, but the lie would be there, as if in flashing neon.

      Yes, he’d lied.

      He needed to concentrate on the lawyer.

      The throne of Cepheus was his.

      Up until now there’d never been a thought of him inheriting. Neither his uncle nor his cousin, Cristián, had ever invited Ramón near the palace. He knew the country had been in dread of Cristián becoming Crown Prince but there was nothing anyone could do about it. Cristián had solidified his inheritance by marrying and having a child. The boy must be what, five?

      For him to be proved illegitimate…

      ‘I can’t even remember the child’s name,’ he said across the lawyer’s stream of explanations, and the lawyer cast him a reproachful glance.

      ‘Philippe.’

      ‘How old?’

      ‘Five,’ he confirmed.

      ‘So what happens to Philippe?’

      ‘Nothing,’ the lawyer said. ‘He has no rights. With his parents dead, your aunt has organized foster care, and if you wish to make a financial settlement on him I imagine the country will be relieved. There’s a certain amount of anger…’

      ‘You mean my cousin didn’t make provision for his own son?’

      ‘Your cousin and your uncle spent every drop of their personal incomes on themselves, on gambling, on…on whatever they wished. The Crown itself, however, is very wealthy. You, with the fortune your grandmother left you and the Crown to take care of your every need, will be almost indecently rich. But the child has nothing.’

      He felt sick. A five-year-old child. To lose everything…

      He’d been not much older than Philippe when he’d lost his own father.

      It couldn’t matter. It shouldn’t be his problem. He didn’t even know the little boy…

      ‘I’ll take financial care of the child,’ Ramón said shortly. ‘But I can’t drop everything. I have twelve more weeks at sea and then I’m due in Bangladesh.’

      ‘Your team already knows you won’t be accompanying them this year,’ the lawyer told him flatly, leaving no room for argument. ‘And I’ve found an experienced yachtsman who’s prepared to sail the Marquita back to Cepheus for you. We can be on a flight tonight, and even that’s not soon enough.’ Then, as the lawyer noticed Ramón’s face—and Ramón was making no effort to disguise his fury—he added quickly, ‘There’s mounting hysteria over the mess your uncle and cousin left, and there’s massive disquiet about Carlos inheriting.’

      ‘As well there might be,’ Ramón growled, trying hard to stay calm. Ramón’s distant cousin was an indolent gamester, rotund, corrupt and inept. He’d faced the court more than once, but charges had been dropped, because of bribery? He wasn’t close enough to the throne to know.

      ‘He’s making noises that the throne should be his. Blustering threats against you and your aunt.’

      ‘Threats?’ And there it was again, the terror he’d been raised with. ‘Don’t go near the throne. Ever!’

      ‘If the people rise against the throne…’ the lawyer was saying.

      ‘Maybe that would be a good thing.’

      ‘Maybe it’d be a disaster,’ the man said, and proceeded to tell him why. At every word Ramón felt his world disintegrate. There was no getting around it—the country was in desperate need of a leader, of some sort of stability…of a Crown Prince.

      ‘So you see,’ the lawyer said at last, ‘you have to come. Go back to the boat, tell the woman—she’s your only crew?—what’s happening, pack your bags and we’ll head straight to the airport.’

      And there was nothing left for him but to agree. To take his place in a palace that had cost his family everything.

      ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, feeling ill.

      ‘Tonight.’

      ‘I will spend tonight with Gianetta,’ Ramón growled, and the lawyer raised his brows.

      ‘Like that?’

      ‘Like nothing,’

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