The Prince’s Outback Bride Page 5

  ‘The fire’s hot. Pippa says the clothes dryer costs money to run.’

  ‘I’ll pay,’ Max growled and Pippa looked up from her pastry-making and grimaced.

  ‘That’s enough. You’ve been very generous but there are limits. We’re very grateful for the dryer and we will use it, but only when we must.’

  He stared at her, bemused. She had a streak of flour across her face. The girls were making plaits of pastry to put on the pies. They were surrounded by a sea of flour and she didn’t seem to mind. Had he ever met a woman who worried how much it cost to dry clothes? Had he ever met a woman who looked like she did and was just…unaware?

  She was knocking him sideways, he thought, dazed. Which was dumb. He’d had girlfriends in his life-of course he had. He was thirty-five. He’d grown pretty damned selective over the years, and the last woman he’d dated had almost rated a ring. Not quite though. She’d been maybe a bit too interested in the royal connection.

  So what was he thinking? He hated the royal connection, so any attraction to Pippa would be disastrous. It was only this weird domesticity that was making him feel like this, he decided. Here were echoes of his childhood at his grandparents’ farm. Time out from royalty. Family…

  A boy who looked like Thiérry. Cute-as-a-button twins. A snoring old dog.

  Pippa.

  Pippa had flour on her nose. He had the weirdest desire to kiss…

  ‘Will you stay for dinner?’ Marc asked, and he thought no, he needed to say what needed to be said and go. Fast. But he just wanted to…

  He bit back his stupid wants. What was he thinking? Launching himself across the kitchen past kids and dog and kissing her? You’re losing your mind, boyo.

  ‘I…Pippa, I need to talk to you.’

  But she was focused on pies. ‘These are ready to put together as soon as I come in from the dairy.’ She wiped her hands on her windcheater and smiled ruefully at her floury fingerprints. ‘What a mess. No matter. The cows won’t mind. But they’ll be waiting. I need to start milking.’

  ‘I’ll bring the cows in for you,’ Marc said, but Pippa shook her head.

  ‘I’ll do them myself. Marc, can you look after the girls?’ Then she turned to Max, worry behind her eyes. ‘I need to go,’ she said. ‘I assume you’ll be leaving as soon as your clothes dry? I…I’ll leave Dolores here.’

  She was torn, he thought. She needed to milk, but she didn’t want to leave the children alone with him. And she couldn’t kick him out until his clothes dried. He looked down at Dolores, who was sleeping off one steak and dreaming of another.

  ‘She’s a great watchdog.’

  Pippa flushed. ‘I didn’t mean…’

  ‘I know you didn’t,’ he said gently. ‘Do you always milk alone?’

  ‘Marc helps me a bit. We have a place in the shed where the girls can play and I can watch them. But Marc’s just got over bronchitis and I don’t want him wet again.’

  ‘I can help,’ Marc protested, but Pippa shook her head.

  ‘I know you can but I don’t want you to. I want you and the girls to stay dry.’

  ‘Are they safe here alone?’ Max asked, and then as he saw Marc’s look of indignation he thought maybe it was an inappropriate question.

  ‘Marc’s more than capable,’ Pippa said, hurriedly before Marc could protest. ‘He’s had to be. But I do have an intercom. I listen in and Marc calls me if there’s a problem.’

  ‘There’s never a problem,’ Marc said stolidly and Max smiled at him. The more he saw of this kid, the more he liked him.

  ‘How long does milking take?’

  ‘About three hours,’ Pippa said and Max blinked.

  ‘How many cows?’

  ‘A hundred and twenty.’

  ‘I thought your vats were contaminated.’

  ‘Cows dry out. If you let cows dry off for a week, then there’s no more milk until next calving. Which is in six months.’

  ‘So you milk every night and throw the milk away?’

  ‘Twice a day,’ Marc corrected him, and turned his big brown eyes straight on Max. ‘It’s much faster than three hours with two people working,’ he said, innocently. ‘And these pies will be yummy. We’ll have tea much earlier if you help.’

  ‘He’s not invited for tea,’ Pippa said.

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Marc said. ‘If he helps you milk.’

  ‘He won’t know how to milk.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Max said faintly. ‘I can milk.’

  They both looked at him as if he’d sprouted wings.

  ‘Cows?’ Marc queried and Max grinned.

  ‘Cows.’

  ‘But you’re a prince.’

  ‘I’m not a prince. My grandparents had a farm.’

  ‘Hey, Pippa,’ breathed Marc. ‘He really can milk cows.’ He turned back to Max. ‘You can stay the night and help Pippa again in the morning. The morning milking’s really cold.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Pippa.

  ‘He can have Mum and Dad’s bedroom. No one else uses it.’

  ‘Who’s the adult in this family?’ Pippa asked, sounding desperate. ‘I haven’t invited him to stay.’

  ‘Why can’t he stay?’ Marc sounded astonished.

  Pippa blinked, obviously searching for an answer. ‘What if I don’t like him?’

  ‘What’s not to like?’ Marc demanded and Max’s chest puffed out a little. ‘I know he looks dumb in your pants…’ his chest subsided ‘…but he’s bought us all this stuff. I bet he’s rich.’

  Rich is better than nothing, he guessed.

  ‘I won’t stay if Pippa doesn’t want me,’ he offered.

  ‘She does want you,’ Marc said.

  ‘Pippa gets lonely,’ Sophie added, distracted momentarily from her pastry. ‘Claire and me have got friends at kindergarten and Marc has friends at school. Not now though ’ cos school’s closed for winter holidays. But no one talks to Pippa.’

  ‘Sophie…’ Pippa said helplessly and spread her hands as if she didn’t know where to go from here. ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘It is,’ Marc said stolidly. ‘No one likes us ’cos you won’t sell the farm.’

  ‘I don’t want Max to…’ She bit her lip and fell silent. Max looked at her for a long minute. She really was battling the odds, he thought. But then she tilted her chin and steadied.

  It’d take a lot to get this woman off course.

  ‘I will help with the milking,’ he told her gently. ‘And if you don’t mind, I would like to stay for dinner. I need to talk to you about the children.’

  Pippa’s face had been wary. Suddenly now though he saw the edges of fear. ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  Her chin jutted just a little higher. ‘Alice wasn’t proud of her royal heritage,’ she told him. ‘She said she fled all the way to Australia to get away from it and she was never going back. She said it was utterly corrupt, so if that’s why you’re here we don’t want anything to do with it.’

  ‘You don’t think you might be jumping to conclusions?’

  ‘Maybe I am. But you haven’t come all this way to buy fish and chips. You want something.’

  ‘Maybe I do.’

  ‘Then tell me now.’

  ‘I’d rather do that when we’re alone.’

  ‘No. I don’t keep things from the kids and they don’t keep things from me. I’m their godmother, their guardian and their friend, and I want to keep it that way.’

  She met his look, their gaze holding. She didn’t look as if she’d budge.

  Why not say it? The twins were involved in artwork with leftover pastry. Marc, though, was listening intently. He was only eight years old. Surely decisions should be made for him.

  But he glanced at Marc and he saw the same courage and determination that Pippa had. No, he thought. Pippa’s right. He wasn’t sure what Marc had been through, but his eyes were wiser than his years. Between Marc and Pippa there seemed to be a bond of unbreakable trust.

  So he had to say wh
at he’d come to say. To both of them.

  ‘The Crown Prince of Alp d’Estella died last month,’ he said. ‘Bernard died childless and there’s no one left of his line. The succession therefore goes back to Bernard’s grandfather and follows the line down. Thus we reach Marc. Marc is heir to the throne. He’s the new Crown Prince of Alp d’Estella.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  EVEN the twins heard that. Or maybe they heard the loaded silence where Pippa stared at Max, appalled, and he tried to figure what she’d say when she finally found her tongue.

  In the end it was Marc who spoke first. ‘What’s a Crown Prince?’

  ‘It’s like a king,’ Max told him. ‘It’s a head of a country that’s called a principality rather than a kingdom.’

  ‘Is a Crown Prince rich?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘We’re not rich,’ Marc said.

  ‘I realise you’re not.’ Max turned to Pippa. ‘But there is money. Bernard was never…scrupulous in his financial dealings, but as Marc is his heir there should have been provisions. There will be now. I expect this may take all sorts of pressures off.’

  ‘What sort of pressures?’ Pippa asked

  He hesitated again, still unsure. ‘Maybe we need to talk away from the children.’

  ‘The girls aren’t listening and this is more Marc’s business than mine. I need to milk but I guess we need to have this out first.’ She perched on the edge of the table and folded her arms. Marc gave her a dubious glance, then did likewise.

  Max had come a long way to say this. It had to be said. But first…

  ‘I didn’t expect to see the girls,’ he said, tentatively. ‘Palace sources said that Marc was an only child.’

  ‘He’s not. Claire and Sophie were born just before Gina died. Maybe your palace sources didn’t keep up.’ Pippa put a hand on Marc’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘Will we tell him what happened, Marc?’

  ‘Yes,’ Marc whispered. ’Cos he’s sort of a cousin.’

  ‘So he is.’ Pippa’s eyes were carefully expressionless. She sighed, seeming to dredge up energy to tell a dreary story.

  ‘Gina was my best friend,’ she said. ‘Alice was friend to my mum and she practically adopted me when my mother died. So Gina and I were like sisters. I was bridesmaid at Gina’s wedding and godmother to Marc. Gina and Donald were very much in love but they battled to keep this farm going. Alice lived here with them, and I was here a lot, too. Anyway, Alice died just before the twins were conceived. The pregnancy was problematic-Gina was ill and the money was tight. For their wedding anniversary I paid for them to have a weekend in a plush hotel in the city and I came here to milk and to look after Marc. They were killed that weekend.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was a freak accident,’ she said sadly. ‘A lorry lost its load and a ton of logs crashed onto them. Donald was killed instantly. Gina lived for six more weeks-long enough for the twins to be born-but she never regained consciousness. She never saw her babies.’

  There was a moment’s pause. He should say something, he thought. What? ‘So you stayed,’ he asked at last and she sent him a look that said he was stupid to think she could have done anything else.

  ‘Of course I did. Gina and Donald were my friends. Maybe if it had only been the twins we could have thought of…other options. But I love Marc to bits, and now I love the twins as well.’

  ‘I see.’ He hesitated but it had to be said-what needed to be said. ‘So you’ve put your life on hold since Gina’s death?’

  ‘I’ve done no such thing,’ she retorted, anger flaring.

  ‘There’s no other family?’

  ‘Donald was an only child of elderly parents. They predeceased him by many years. There’s no one else.’

  ‘But you were a nurse.’

  ‘And now I’m a dairy farmer. I’m milking cows and sharing my life with Marc and Sophie and Claire and Dolores.’

  ‘My sources say you were a highly skilled nurse.’

  ‘I’m getting pretty renowned in cow circles.’

  ‘This isn’t helping,’ he said, and she stared at him in astonishment.

  ‘It isn’t helping what?’

  ‘Me explaining.’

  ‘You’re not explaining. You’re making me do the explaining.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve talked enough. It’s your turn. Go on. Explain.’

  ‘These children are Alp d’Estella’s new royal family.’

  ‘These children are eight and four. They’re Australian kids.’

  ‘They’re that as well, but they have an inheritance in Alp d’Estella.’

  She stared. ‘What exactly have they inherited?’

  ‘The Crown.’

  ‘A crown’s not much use. A dairy farm’s a lot more help for paying the bills.’

  ‘I don’t see many bills getting paid here.’

  ‘There’s no need to get personal. What else do they inherit?’

  He paused. This was the crunch, he thought, the factor that had had him thinking all the time that all he had to do was lay the facts before her and he’d have her in the palm of his hand.

  But now, suddenly, he wasn’t so sure. He glanced at Marc and his words echoed again.

  ‘We’re not rich,’ Marc had said, but it hadn’t been spoken with regret. It was a simple fact.

  ‘The Crown means wealth,’ Max said, repeating the words he’d rehearsed when he’d thought he’d known how it would be received. ‘Huge wealth.’

  ‘Is Alp d’Estella a wealthy country?’

  Max shook his head. He felt weird, he decided. He was bare-chested in Pippa’s kitchen, wearing Pippa’s gym pants.

  Weird.

  ‘The coffers of the Crown have always been separate from the State,’ he said, forging on bravely. ‘The royal family of Alp d’Estella has always held onto its wealth.’

  ‘While the peasants starved,’ Pippa retorted. ‘Alice told us.’

  ‘If he’s raised well I believe Marc can go about correcting injustices.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Pippa’s grip on Marc’s shoulder tightened. ‘So…you’d raise him?’ she asked at last.

  ‘No!’ It was said with such force that it startled them all. ‘No,’ he repeated, more mildly this time. ‘This has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Why not?’ She frowned. ‘Come to think of it…I don’t understand. Marc and I read the family tree, or as much as we have of it. If it’s male succession, then you seem to be it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or Thiérry…your brother.’

  ‘Thiérry died almost twenty years ago.’

  She frowned. ‘I guessAlice wouldn’t have known that when she wrote the family tree. But…he was in line to inherit after Bernard.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why aren’t you next?’

  ‘Because the parental names on the birth certificate are different.’

  ‘The names on the birth certificate…’ She blinked. He stared right at her, giving her a silent message.

  Finally he saw the penny drop.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘Can we talk about this later?’ he asked.

  But Pippa seemed too shocked to continue. She blinked a couple more times, then crossed to the back door.

  ‘I have to milk.’ She faltered. ‘I…If you’re here when I get back we’ll discuss this then. I’m sorry, but I need to think this through. Look after Max, kids. I just…need time.’

  ‘If there are any questions…’

  ‘Not yet.’

  She left. Max was left with Marc and the twins. And Dolores. They were all gazing at him with reproach. Accusing.

  ‘You’ve made Pippa sad,’ Sophie said.

  ‘I haven’t,’ he said, flummoxed.

  ‘She always goes outside when she’s sad,’ said Claire.

  ‘She’s gone to milk the cows.’

  ‘Yes, but she’s sad,’ said Marc. ‘Maybe she thinks you’ll take us away from her.’
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  ‘I won’t do that.’

  ‘We won’t go with you.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ he said, feeling more at sea than he’d ever felt in his life. ‘Kids, I promise I’m not here to do anything you don’t like. My family and yours were connected a long time ago and now I’m here I’m really upset to find that you’re cold and you’ve been hungry. I want to help, and I won’t do anything Pippa doesn’t like.’

  ‘Really?’ Marc demanded.

  ‘Really.’ He met Marc’s gaze head-on. Adult to adult.

  ‘I won’t be a prince if Pippa doesn’t want me to be one,’ Marc said.

  ‘I don’t blame you.’

  He really was a good kid, he thought. Maybe…just maybe this could work. But Marc would have to be protected. And he couldn’t be separated from Pippa and the girls. The thought of taking Marc to a distant castle and leaving him with an unknown nanny died the death it deserved. All or nothing.

  ‘I think your Pippa is a really great aunty,’ he told them.

  ‘We’re lucky.’ Marc’s expression was still reproving. ‘Pippa’s ace.’ He thought for a minute, his head tilted to the side. ‘Is there a castle?’

  ‘In Alp d’Estella, yes.’

  ‘Does it have dragons?’ Claire asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t like dragons,’ Sophie said.

  ‘We don’t like Pippa being sad,’ Marc said, moving the topic back to something he understood. ‘She’s gone to milk the cows by herself and she’s sad.’

  ‘She shouldn’t be sad.’

  ‘She gets sad when she thinks about money,’ Claire said in a wise voice. ‘Did you make her think about money?’

  ‘No. I-’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ Marc said. ‘So she’ll be sad and she’s cold and it’s raining.’ He stared at Max, challenging, and his message was crystal clear.

  ‘You think I should help?’ Max said weakly and received three firm nods.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’d better go, then,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t tell her about dragons,’ Sophie said darkly. ‘We don’t want you to scare her.’

  His clothes were still damp. He put them on straight from the tumble-dryer and within minutes they were cold and clammy. He hauled Donald’s waterproofs back on-more for the wind factor than anything else as he’d learned by now they made lousy waterproofs.