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reason for the woman’s sudden departure from the island so soon after arriving. The young woman had been in good spirits during their flight, and, even though she hadn’t spoken a word to Sienna, it had been clear through her animated conversation with her mother how excited she had been to be travelling to Montvelatte. Sienna had figured her own reason for the visit, but given her sudden departure, now she wasn’t so sure. ‘Surely she would have stayed longer.’
    Across the table Rafe leaned back, dragging in a breath. He crossed fingers in his lap, even though she could tell by the tightness of his shoulders that he wasn’t as relaxed as he made out. ‘She came for an interview, that’s all.’
    ‘She was applying for a job?’
    This time he gave an ironic laugh. ‘You could say that. My adviser seems to be obsessed with finding Montvelatte a princess. Which unfortunately involves finding me a wife.’
    ‘A wife?’ Sienna dragged in her own breath and fiddled with the placement of her napkin. Rafe was getting married?
    She should have seen it coming. It wasn’t a constant supply of high-class mistresses he’d had ferried to the island over the last couple of weeks—since when did they take their mothers with them?—it was potential brides.
    And somehow that was no relief at all .
    She did her best to inject some amusement into her voice. ‘And this is how princes of Montvelatte find their wives, is it? By interview? How very romantic.’
    Rafe reached for his wine glass and swirled the white wine in lazy circles, but he didn’t take a sip. ‘Romance doesn’t enter the equation. A direct Lombardi descendant must take thethrone, or the principality loses its right to exist. This is all about ensuring that doesn’t happen.’
    ‘That sounds very melodramatic.’
    ‘Simply fact. Montvelatte’s right to exist is predicated on the continuation of the line.’
    ‘So that’s where you came in.’
    He leaned back in his chair. ‘Even bastards have a purpose, it seems.’
    His self-deprecating manner didn’t fool her for a second. ‘That’s what was happening—that night—when the news broke on the television and they carted away your two half-brothers. You knew then, didn’t you? You knew what it meant.’
    ‘I had a gut feeling I might get a call.’
    ‘And you just couldn’t wait to take over the reins and put on that crown.’
    He raised the glass to his lips and, without taking his eyes from hers, drank down the wine. ‘You think I wanted this? To have my life turned into public property?’
    ‘You seem happy enough lording it over me, holding me here against my will and forcing your way into my room when you’re not welcome. Seems to me you’re a natural at playing to the manor born.’
    He stared at her a while, his eyelids half closed. ‘If you say so.’
    ‘And now you must have a wife. To give you an heir and to give Montvelatte the breathing space it needs.’
    ‘That’s right.’
    She toyed with her dessert, making lazy figure eights through the raspberry coulis that lapped at the edges of her triumph in chocolate. ‘So you’re “interviewing” prospective wives. And meanwhile you’re dining with a woman you once spent a night with, and who you have every intention of sleeping with again.’

    It was meant to be an accusation, something that put him at a disadvantage, but the way he looked at her, the sudden widening and wanting revealed in his eyes, the planes of his face suddenly harsher in the fading light, more dangerous seemed to have the opposite effect. ‘I am.’
    And she felt a rush of heat infuse her skin, throbbing in places that responded eagerly to his words like an invitation. She was a fool for walking into his trap, for bringing up the one thing he’d somehow avoided talking about all night, and yet the one thing she knew he expected to happen. She looked down at her plate helplessly, at the dessert she’d barely touched, and knew there was no escape