Defying the Prince Sarah Morgan Page 7

  ‘Given that swimming in the fountain is not normally part of my working day, a suit is perfectly practical.’ He placed his pen on the desk with exaggerated care. ‘We need to agree to some boundaries while you’re staying here.’

  ‘Boundaries? Yippee.’ Izzy pulled a face and then saw his expression and shrugged. ‘OK. Fire away.’

  ‘The first is that you don’t swim in the fountain.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it isn’t designed for swimming.’

  ‘It’s water. What else do you need to swim?’

  ‘It is an ornamental lake, designed in the seventeenth century by a famous landscape architect.’ He enunciated the words carefully, as if speaking to a child. ‘I open the gardens several times a year to interested visitors. The fountain is part of the tour. It’s an object of interest to historians. It is not for bathing.’

  ‘Then whoever designed the fountain must have been a real tease because every normal person would automatically want to leap in it to cool down.’ Catching his smouldering glare she nibbled her lip. ‘Could I swim in it if I promise to leap straight out if I see a coach party coming?’ His expression went from black to thunderous and she rolled her eyes. ‘Right, no fountain.’ She looked for a chink in his armour but there was no sign of the passionate man she’d glimpsed the night before and no trace of amusement on that hard, sensual mouth.

  ‘There is a swimming pool on the south terrace. When we’ve finished here I’ll show you the way.’

  ‘I bet it doesn’t have a statue of Neptune in the middle of it.’

  He ignored her interruption. ‘I do not expect to have to remove you half naked from the fountain. And when I ask you to do something, I expect you to comply without argument.’

  ‘Comply. That basically means I’m supposed to do what you say.’ Izzy wrinkled her nose. ‘I can’t promise that without knowing what it is. I mean, you might ask me to do something shocking. Or eat oysters or something disgusting like that. Ew.’

  ‘Oysters are a delicacy.’

  ‘They’re slippery, slimy, putrid things that make me—’

  ‘Fine! Spare me the details.’ His eyes gleamed dark and promised dire punishment if she interrupted again. ‘Oysters will not be on the menu, but when I ask you to join me for lunch, you’ll do it.’

  ‘The thing is, I know you don’t really want me to join you. And although I appreciate the gesture, honestly it would be just too much pressure.’ Izzy lifted her hand to her lips and nibbled the corner of her nails.

  ‘Joining me for lunch is “pressure”?’

  ‘Yes. And if you must know I did put my head round the dining room door fifteen minutes before I was supposed to meet you but I lost my nerve.’

  Dark eyebrows rose. ‘It requires nerve to enter my dining room?’

  ‘There was a whole army of forks on the table. And knives. And four different glasses,’ Izzy mumbled. ‘Why on earth a person needs that much cutlery I have no idea unless you were just doing it to make me feel small. And as for the four glasses—after last night I’m just not that thirsty.’

  There was a long, loaded silence.

  ‘So you’re happy to elbow your way onto the stage and hijack the entertainment, but you won’t walk into a room laid for lunch?’

  ‘That’s completely different. I sing all the time. I have confidence in my ability even if no one else does. I don’t eat in formal dining rooms being stared at by dead people.’

  Astonishment flickered across his face. ‘Dead people?’

  ‘All those portraits. The people are all dead, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘It’s very unsettling. In my house we have family photos but they’re all of people who are alive. Dad, Mum, my sisters—actually, there is one of my gran and she died last year, but that doesn’t count because at least I knew her. There’s something truly weird about having nothing but dead people staring down at you.’

  ‘I’m confused,’ he drawled softly. ‘Is your problem with the “dead people” or the place setting?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘I refuse to remove the portraits, but I can help you navigate the glasses and cutlery. It’s very easy. The simple rule is that you start at the outside and work your way in. Don’t put your elbows on the table and—’ he frowned at her ‘—don’t bite your nails.’

  ‘I’m supposed to use a knife and fork for that too?’ But her hand dropped into her lap and she watched warily as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze disturbingly intense.

  ‘I can’t believe you were scared of my dining room.’

  ‘Not scared exactly.’ Izzy bristled at the thought. ‘I’m not scared of anything. There’s a big difference between scared and uncomfortable. It’s just that there are all sorts of rules for eating in a place like that and I don’t know any of them.’

  ‘You didn’t seem too bothered about rules when you were swimming in my fountain.’

  ‘Are you seriously telling me you’ve never been tempted to swim in that fountain?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Now you’re lying.’ She watched him closely. ‘Admit it—just for a moment back there you were tempted to get in the fountain with me. You did think about it. If your PA hadn’t arrived when she did you would have taken off that suit and—’

  ‘I would not have taken off the suit.’ He snapped out the words and she stared at him, stunned by the sudden change in him. The transformation from ice cool to scorching hot was so rapid she found it unsettling.

  ‘Right. OK. If you say so.’ The whole atmosphere of the room had changed. A knot formed in her stomach and just looking at him made her heart race. She’d been trying so hard not to think about that kiss but the more she tried not to think about it, the more she thought of it.

  And she knew he was thinking of it too.

  Was that why he was so on edge?

  For the briefest moment his gaze flickered to her mouth and then he stood abruptly. ‘I have work to do.’

  ‘Me too.’ Izzy stood, objecting to the implication that she was distracting him. ‘You’re the one who dragged me in here. I was perfectly happy doing my own thing.’

  ‘Your “own thing” involved swimming in my fountain. Are you capable of occupying yourself for a few hours without disrupting the place?’

  ‘I’m not a toddler.’ Izzy was about to make another quip when she saw the lines of tiredness around his eyes. Guilt pressed down on her. ‘You look like you’re having a really bad day. Is that because of me?’ He’d been forced to bring her here, hadn’t he? Her eyes slid to the stack of newspapers and she strolled over to his desk and grabbed one. ‘So did they cover the party? Any news of drunk, badly behaved sisters getting thrown out?’ But despite her light tone she hoped desperately that her own actions hadn’t ruined her sister’s engagement because that had never been her intention.

  ‘Fortunately they seem to have focused on Alex and Allegra.’

  ‘So you and your brother really stick together. Look out for each other.’ Used to family who were monumentally selfish, Izzy flicked through the pages and tried not to feel envious of the obvious bond between the two princes. ‘Oh—lovely one of Allegra’s dress. And her hair looks great like that.’ Was it her imagination or did her sister looked strained? She peered closer but decided that newspapers had a habit of making you look awful as she knew from bitter experience.

  ‘Just one British newspaper decided you were more interesting than your half-sister.’ He handed her a tabloid newspaper and her heart missed a beat because she could guess the headline all too easily.

  This time it read Izzy the Entertainment.

  ‘That could be worse.’ Ignoring the stab of misery that came with each bout of public mockery, Izzy reminded herself that being in the media spotlight was just part of what she’d signed up for and there was no point in whining about it. She put it to one side, facedown so she didn’t have to look at the picture they’d chosen from their archiv
e. ‘The headlines are mostly positive and that’s what you wanted. The public loves the whole prince-marries-ordinary-girl thing. So why are you frowning? Are you still mad that I swam in the fountain?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Let’s just say I’m naturally suspicious of women who make me their Goal of the Day.’

  ‘I won’t apologise for having goals. I’m proud of how hard I work,’ Izzy exploded in her own defence. ‘I could have gone into that party with no objective other than to dance and drink which is what most people did, instead of which I knew what I wanted and I went for it.’

  He leaned his hips against the desk and watched her. ‘I suppose I should at least applaud your honesty.’

  ‘You make it sound like a bad thing but that’s because you have no idea what it’s like to be a normal person. It’s easy for you—if you speak, everyone listens. You have access to anyone and anything that interests you. Someone like me just doesn’t get the opportunities. That’s why I did Singing Star, but that turned out to be a bad move so it might not be such a great example.’ Izzy bit her lip. ‘I did everything I could to make you notice me. I researched what you liked but research can only tell you so much about a person.’

  That confession was met by a deadly silence.

  ‘You researched me?’ His voice was dangerously soft. ‘And what did your “research” tell you?’

  ‘That you have eclectic tastes.’ She was pleased with the word. ‘And lots of people vying for your attention, of course. I knew you wouldn’t be a pushover.’

  ‘But clearly you’re not daunted by a little healthy competition,’ he drawled, and she stared at the glitter in his eyes, wondering what he was getting at.

  ‘Competition is part of life. You have to ignore it. If you have a dream, it’s no good giving up at the first fence. If it means that much to you, you have to keep at it. And if a plan doesn’t work then you have to try another.’ It sounded so much easier to say than to do, she thought, and he certainly didn’t look impressed.

  ‘So is this a Jackson family trait? Does Allegra have a Goal of the Day too?’ His voice was ice cold. ‘How did you agree on which prince would suit which sister?’

  Izzy thought it was a strange question. ‘Technically she’s my half-sister and of course we didn’t fight. I was only ever interested in you. For obvious reasons.’

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  She looked at him. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I’m interested in your reasons for picking me. If I’m supposed to be your Prince Charming then I’d better be informed of the qualities you value. Or were you just living out a princess fantasy?’

  Princess fantasy? Izzy stared at him blankly, rewinding the conversation in her head. Had she missed something? ‘Who said anything about you being my Prince Charming?’

  ‘If your goal is to marry me then I should at least have a basic understanding of your expectations if we’re to stand any chance of living happily ever after.’

  ‘Marry you?’ Izzy gaped at him. ‘Are you crazy? Whoever said anything about marrying you? I can’t think of anything more horrific!’

  ‘You made it your goal to target me. To quote you, “I was only ever interested in you.”’

  ‘Yes, but not because—’ She broke off, robbed of speech as his meaning sank into her shocked brain. ‘I was talking about your music contacts. The fact you have ultimate control over the Rock ‘n’ Royal concert. But you thought—’ It was her turn to look stunned. ‘My goal was to persuade you to give me a role in the concert. Let me get involved in some way. You have all the right contacts. I never, ever wanted to marry you! I don’t want to marry anyone. That’s nowhere on my list of goals—short, medium or long term!’

  There was a long, tense silence and disbelief spread across his face, quickly followed by incredulity.

  ‘You targeted me for my music contacts?’

  ‘Yes! When Allegra invited us all to the engagement party it was just too good an opportunity to miss. My career is totally in the doldrums and then fate intervened. My goal was to impress you with my singing.’ Remembering just how far she’d fallen short of that objective, her face burned.

  ‘Accidenti.’ He rubbed his fingers over his forehead. ‘You’re saying you thought I’d hear your voice and invite you to sing?’

  ‘Maybe it was a little ambitious as goals go, but—’

  ‘So you treated your sister’s engagement party as an audition?’

  Put like that it sounded awful and Izzy squirmed. ‘Well, not exactly, because obviously I was hoping she’d enjoy the song too, but—’

  ‘For your information we had the artists and set lists confirmed months ago. And as for inviting you to participate—’ he breathed deeply ‘—I have never heard anything more ridiculous in my life.’

  ‘Oh. Well, thanks for that compliment. When the other bruises to my ego have healed I’ll be sure to add that one.’ Her spine stiff, Izzy held his gaze and absorbed the blow the way she’d absorbed all the others in her life. ‘Singing was my primary goal, but my secondary goal was just to help in some way. Get involved.’

  ‘You thought you could help with the concert? How?’

  She discovered that amusement could be more hurtful than biting sarcasm. ‘Don’t say it like that. Of course I’m capable of helping. I know about music. I know a lot about music.’

  ‘There’s not much that surprises me, but I confess I am surprised.’

  ‘Me too! How could you be so arrogant as to assume I’d want to marry you? God, what is wrong with you? I don’t even know you! And you’d be totally wrong for me. I could never be with someone who doesn’t want to swim in a fountain.’ She was horribly flustered and that feeling didn’t fade as she watched his spectacular eyes narrow.

  ‘It’s not arrogance. It’s experience. Believe me when I tell you that becoming a princess is the pinnacle of aspiration for many women.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know exactly what a pinnacle of aspiration is but it sounds jolly uncomfortable and I don’t want to go anywhere near it.’ Her hands shaking, Izzy stooped and pulled on her wedges. ‘I can’t believe you thought you were my goal. That’s sick.’

  ‘Izzy—’

  ‘That would mean I’d targeted a total stranger for sex. There’s a name for that.’

  ‘Izzy!’

  ‘What?’ Powered by an attack of righteous indignation, Izzy stood straight, remembering that maintaining good posture was another of her medium-term goals. ‘I don’t have to listen to this. You ordered me to come here and I’m here. You told me to get out of the fountain and I did, even though I was actually having a really great time. So far I have obeyed your every command.’ She wanted to stalk out but the ambition in her just wouldn’t allow her to relinquish the opportunity. ‘I could help backstage. I’ll do anything. I’ll scrub the stage. I’ll clean the toilets. I’m not afraid of hard work. I just want to see what happens at a huge live event like that. Please.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back, vowing to give money to charity and never swear again if he let her help.

  He looked at her for a long moment and then shook his head. ‘I don’t need you causing trouble backstage.’

  So that was that.

  His phone rang and he glanced at her for a moment, as if deciding whether she could be trusted not to get into trouble while he answered it. ‘Wait there …’ His eyes still on her face, he took the call. ‘… Yes, I’ve listened to it. It’s not the right sound…. I have no idea but they have forty-eight hours to come up with something else….’

  Eavesdropping madly, Izzy wondered what wasn’t ‘the right sound.’ Needing to look at something other than him, her eyes wandered around his office and she saw a series of black-and-white photographs of various artists, all legends in the music industry. Musicians she’d grown up admiring. People he knew personally.

  She wondered if they had fought the same uphill battle to be heard.

  Had people told them to give up and get a proper job?

  Had
they been ridiculed and ignored?

  When he finally put the phone down she gestured to the photographs. ‘You have friends in high places.’

  ‘Unfortunately none of them seem to be able to come up with the right song for the charity single.’

  She’d intended to get out of his office as fast as possible, but suddenly her feet were glued to the floor. ‘What sort of song are you looking for?’ The words tumbled out from her mouth and she could see from his exasperated expression that she’d sounded like a desperate, breathless groupie. ‘It’s just that I could help you with that.’

  His expression said everything she needed to know about his opinion of her musical talent. ‘You just don’t give up, do you?’

  ‘No, I don’t. And if I were a man, people would praise my tenacity, but ambition isn’t seen as an attractive trait in a woman for some reason.’ Reeling from yet another blow to her confidence, Izzy stalked towards the door. ‘Forget it. I’ll see myself out.’

  ‘Do not leave this room when we’re talking. And this has nothing to do with your gender. You cannot deny that your last record bombed.’

  First a blow then a punch. For a moment Izzy couldn’t breathe. ‘No, I can’t deny that. Thanks for reminding me, because if someone doesn’t throw that at me occasionally I get so full of myself I can’t fit my enormous ego through the door. You’re absolutely right. It bombed. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it was a spectacular failure. And now we’ve finally agreed on something, I’ll leave you to get back to work.’

  ‘I am trying to find a record that will be a huge commercial success.’

  ‘And what would someone like me know about choosing a commercial success, is that what you’re saying?’ The humiliation and sheer sense of failure never left her, but it also drove her forward. Part of her wanted to tell him that it hadn’t actually been her record but what was the point of that? She’d sung it, hadn’t she? People didn’t listen to a song and think ‘Well, she obviously didn’t write that so it isn’t her fault it sucks.’ They either liked a song or they didn’t. As far as they were concerned it was her song. They didn’t think about where the song came from.