A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding. Sandra Marton

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      Pillowing his hands behind his dark head, he leaned back in the aircraft seat and studied her. ‘What happened in your childhood?’

      It took a tense few moments before the words came out and that was when she realised she’d never talked about it before. Not even with Britt. She’d buried it all away. She’d shut it all out and put that mask on. But suddenly she was tired of wearing a mask all the time—and she certainly had no need to impress Luc. Why, if she gave him a glimpse into her dysfunctional background, maybe he might do them both a favour and finish the marriage before it really started.

      ‘My father died when my sister and I were little,’ she said. ‘I was too young to remember much about him and Britt was just a baby. He was much older than my mother and he was rich. Very rich.’ She met his sapphire gaze and said it before he could. ‘I think that was the reason she married him.’

      ‘Some women crave security,’ he observed with a shrug.

      She had expected condemnation, not understanding, and slowly she let out the breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding. ‘She was brought up in poverty,’ she said slowly. ‘Not the being-broke-before-payday kind, but the genuine never knowing where your next meal is coming from. She once told me that if you’d ever experienced hunger—real hunger—then you never forgot it. And marrying my father ensured that hunger became a thing of the past. When he died she became a very wealthy woman...’

      ‘And?’ he prompted as her voice trailed off, his eyes blue and luminous.

      ‘And...’ Lisa hesitated. She had tried to understand her mother’s behaviour and some of it she could. But not all. She compressed her lips to stop them wobbling. ‘She found herself in the grip of lust for the first time in her life and decided to reverse her earlier trend by marrying a man much younger than herself. A toy boy,’ she finished defiantly. ‘Although I don’t believe the word was even invented then.’

      ‘A man more interested in her money than in a widow with two young children to care for?’

      She gazed at him suspiciously. ‘How did you know that?’

      ‘Something in your tone told me that might be the case, but I am a pragmatist, not a romantic, Lisa,’ he said drily. ‘And all relationships usually involve some sort of barter.’

      ‘Like ours, you mean?’ she said.

      ‘I think you know the answer to that question,’ he answered lightly.

      She stared down at the silk-covered bump of her belly before lifting her gaze to his again. ‘He wasn’t a good choice of partner. My stepfather was an extremely good-looking man who didn’t know the meaning of the word fidelity. He used to screw around with girls his own age—and every time he was unfaithful, it broke my mother just a little bit more.’

      ‘And that affected you?’

      ‘Of course it affected me!’ she hit back. ‘It affected me and my sister. There was always so much tension in the house! One never-ending drama. I used to get home from school and my mother would just be sitting there gazing out of the window, her face all red and blotchy from crying. I used to tidy up and cook tea for me and Britt, but all Mum cared about was whether or not he would come home that night. Only by then he’d also discovered the lure of gambling and the fact that she was weak enough to bankroll it for him, so it doesn’t take much imagination to work out what happened next.’

      His dark lashes shuttered his eyes. ‘He worked his way through her money?’

      Lisa stared at him, trying not to be affected by the understanding gleam in his eyes and the way they were burning into her. But she was affected.

      ‘Lisa? What happened? Did he leave you broke?’

      She thought she could detect compassion in his voice, but she didn’t want it. Because what if she grew to like it and started relying on it? She might start wanting all those things which women longed for. Things like love and fidelity. Things which eluded them and ended up breaking their hearts. She forced herself to remember Luc’s own behaviour. The way he’d coldly left her in bed on the night their child had been conceived. The way he’d focussed only on the mark she’d left on his neck instead of the fact that he had used her. And that there was some poor princess waiting patiently in her palace for him to return to marry her. Kind Princess Sophie who had been generous enough to send them a wedding gift, despite everything which had happened.

      So don’t let on that it was a stark lesson in how a man could ruin the life of the women around him. Let him think it was all about the money. He would understand that because he was a rich man and rich men were arrogant about their wealth. Lisa swallowed. He’d shown no scruples about buying out her business and exerting such powerful control over her life, had he? So tell him what he expects to hear. Make him think you’re a heartless bitch who only cares about the money.

      ‘Yeah,’ she said flippantly. ‘The ballet lessons had to stop and so did the winter holidays. I tell you, it was hell.’

      She saw the answering tightening of his lips and knew her remark had hit home. And even though she told herself she didn’t care about his good opinion, it hurt to see the sudden distaste on his face. Quickly, she turned her head towards the window and looked out at the bright blue sea as they began their descent into Mardovia.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      ‘AND THIS,’ SAID LUC, ‘is Eleonora.’

      Lisa nodded, trying to take it all in. The beautiful green island. The white and golden palace. The child kicking frantically beneath her heart. And now this beautiful woman who was staring at her with an expression of disbelief—as if she couldn’t quite believe who Luc had married.

      ‘Eleonora has been my aide for a number of years,’ Luc continued. ‘But I have now assigned her to look after you. Anything you want or need to know—just ask Eleonora. She’s the expert. She knows pretty much everything about Mardovia.’

      Lisa tried to portray a calm she was far from feeling as she extended her hand in greeting. She felt alone and displaced. She was tired after the flight and her face felt sticky. She wanted to turn to her new husband and howl out her fears in a messy display of emotion which was not her usual style. She wanted to feel his strong arms wrapped protectively around her back, which would be the biggest mistake of all. So instead she just fixed a smile to her lips as she returned Eleonora’s cool gaze.

      She wondered if she was imagining the unfriendly glint in the eyes of the beautiful aide. Did Eleonora realise that Lisa had been feeling completely out of her depth from the moment she’d arrived on the island and her attitude wasn’t helping? The aide was so terrifying elegant—with not a sleek black hair out of place and looking a picture of sophistication in a slim-fitting cream dress, which made Lisa feel like a barrel in comparison. Was she looking at her and wondering how such a pale-faced intruder had managed to become Princess of Mardovia? She glanced down at her bulky tum. It was pretty obvious how.

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