Captured by the Billionaire: Brooding Billionaire, Impoverished Princess. Robyn Donald

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СКАЧАТЬ suffused her as her body reacted to that highly subversive thought with brazen excitement.

      Even with her eyes fixed onto the scene below, she could sense him beside her—as though he’d imprinted on her at some cellular level, made an indelible impression she’d never be rid of, for ever a part of her…

      Oh, calm down and stop being an idiot, she told herself trenchantly. He’s very sexy, very sure of himself, very experienced and he kisses like a god, but he’s just a man.

      Once they were safely down she swallowed hard, cast a glance his way and managed to say staidly, ‘I thought mangroves were tropical trees.’

      ‘They are, but New Zealand has the furthermost south of all mangroves. They grow along estuaries in the northern half of the North Island.’

      ‘I wonder how they got here?’ Mangroves were safe. If she concentrated on them she wouldn’t be tempted to allow her eyes to linger on his formidably masculine features. ‘I know the seeds float, but there’s a lot of sea between here and the tropics.’

      He smiled. Serina’s treacherous heart somersaulted.

      ‘One suggestion is that seeds could have drifted across from Australia, but I believe the latest theory is that New Zealand and New Caledonia were once connected by a ridge of land or possibly a chain of islands, so the mangroves could have island-hopped south.’

      Serina wrinkled her brow, feverishly trying to recollect where New Caledonia was.

      ‘A large island well to the north and west of us,’Alex provided helpfully.

      She nodded as the mental image of the map clicked into place. ‘Colonised by France?’

      ‘Yes, and still proudly French.’

      Don’t look at him—think trees. ‘So the mangroves would have had to adapt to a colder climate here?’

      ‘Unless they came south during a warmer era and adapted as it slowly got cooler.’

      ‘Fascinating.’ But she couldn’t think of anything further to say about mangroves. Now what? she thought desperately.

      His expression revealed a certain wry amusement. ‘I doubt if many people other than botanists would agree.’

      That made her sound like some nerd.

      Fortunately, the pilot announced their arrival and everyone stood, the bustle of disembarking saving her the necessity of having to reply.

      OK, so nerd she was. That had to be an advance on considering her just another effete aristocrat trading on a title to earn a living.

      Anyway, she thought stoutly, I don’t care what he thinks. And knew she lied.

      Again, a car was waiting for them on the ground but, instead of a well-dressed businessman, this driver was a woman a few years older than Serina, clad in jeans and a woollen jersey that didn’t hide any of her admirable assets.

      ‘Hi, Alex,’ she greeted him cheerfully. ‘Good trip?’

      To Serina’s surprise, Alex bent his head and dropped a swift kiss on her cheek before saying, ‘Serina, this is Lindy Harcourt, who manages Haruru’s finances for me. Lindy, Princess Serina of Montevel.’

      ‘Just Serina, thank you,’ Serina emphasised, and held out her hand. ‘How do you do, Lindy.’

      Lindy’s grip was strong. ‘Oh, good, I was wondering if I’d have to call you Your Highness.’

      ‘Not if you want me to answer,’ Serina said forthrightly.

      The other woman bestowed a smile on Serina that held no more than a hint of speculation. ‘That’s all right, then.’ She glanced down at Serina’s suitcase. Clearly she’d expected more because she commented, ‘I needn’t have brought the Land Rover, after all.’

      Which made a foolishly sensitive Serina wonder if Alex’s female visitors usually arrived with a vast wardrobe. Assuming she’d have no need for them, she’d sent most of her formal clothes back to Nice.

      Too late now, she decided pragmatically, shrugging off the thought.

      Alex picked up his and Serina’s bag and headed through the small arrivals area. She was intrigued when various people there nodded to him; clearly he was liked, but an element of respect in their attitudes impressed her. These people, like the guests at the wine launch, instinctively recognised his formidable strength.

      Out in the car park, Alex said to Lindy, ‘The keys, please.’

      ‘Oh, sorry.’ She handed them over and once the vehicle was unlocked slipped into the back seat.

      Alex swung the bags into the boot, then held open the door to the front passenger seat and Serina got in, wondering about Lindy Harcourt. There was an easy camaraderie about her interaction with Alex that spoke of something more than simple friendship.

      To her shock, Serina realised she was prickly as a cat, tense and smouldering with a completely unrealistic jealousy. The kisses they’d exchanged didn’t give her any claim on Alex.

      As he set the Land Rover into motion Lindy leaned forward and asked, ‘So how did Rosie’s wedding go?’

      ‘Very well,’ Alex said briefly.

      Lindy’s laugh held a note of amused resignation that should have soothed Serina’s feelings. ‘And that’s all you’re going to say about it, I suppose. Serina, you’ll have to tell me everything.’

      ‘I’d be glad to,’ Serina said. She added, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so completely happy.’

      ‘Rosie does radiance very well,’ Lindy said.

      Serina bristled. It seemed an odd thing to say in front of Rosie’s brother. ‘She looked utterly exquisite and yes, very happy, but I was actually referring to Gerd. They made a magnificent couple.’

      Surely that would put an end to any conjecture about whether or not her heart was broken. Almost certainly she was being absurdly—and uncharacteristically—oversensitive; nobody here could possibly be interested in gossip from half the world away!

      Her eyes drifted to Alex’s hands, lean and competent on the wheel as he manoeuvred the Land Rover onto the road. Adrenalin tore through her, clouding her brain and fuelling a nerve-racking increase in heart rate.

      She twisted to look out of the side window. How could a glimpse of his hands do that? It was almost indecent.

      Valiantly, she kept her eyes fixed on the countryside sliding past them—lush green pastures backed by ranges tinged a soft silver-blue as they disappeared into the distance.

      Trees, she thought, remembering the mangroves.

      She swallowed and said briskly, ‘What are those trees? The ones so shamelessly flaunting their autumn leaves? I didn’t expect autumn colour here—I had the impression the climate was almost subtropical.’

      ‘Not quite—warm temperate is the official classification,’ Alex СКАЧАТЬ