Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
Annalena felt her features freeze, like ice spreading across a mountain tarn in winter. She even heard the warning crackle of shifting ice beneath her feet, as if she’d stepped beyond the bounds of safety.
It took a second to realise the sound wasn’t ice, but twigs cracking beneath her shoes as she instinctively backed up.
That made her stop and draw in much-needed oxygen.
There could be no retreat. No sign of vulnerability. Not while negotiating with Karl’s son. He’d use weakness to his advantage.
This was what she needed. His admission was the first step to stopping the dam. To saving homes, jobs, habitats and people’s way of life.
Yet being next in line for the throne was so not what she wanted, fate’s joke at her expense.
Deep breaths. Now the negotiations begin. Now he knows the power in your hands he’ll agree to your terms. It will be over soon.
She breathed out, willing her taut frame to relax. ‘You admit I’m the rightful heir?’
His expression gave nothing away. What had she expected? A bitter rant? Threats?
Before she’d left home, she’d anticipated all that and more. But once she’d met him, her expectations had altered. Despite his earlier antipathy, she’d never felt in physical danger as she would have with his father.
Benedikt was annoyed and authoritative but she couldn’t believe he’d harm her. If she did, she’d never have stayed overnight. She’d have persuaded Colonel Ditmar to escort her out, or found another way to leave.
Or are you naive? You’re in a secluded grove with a man you barely know and no witnesses.
Old nightmares brushed hoary fingers across her nape. Nightmares of the father she’d never known in a car that tumbled into an inferno at the bottom of a mountain.
A shudder racked her from the base of her skull to her heels, now planted wide on the ground.
‘I admit that…’ he paused as if reluctant to continue ‘…it appears possible. There are facts to be confirmed before we know for sure.’
Of course he wouldn’t give in immediately. He’d hang onto power as long as possible. He mightn’t be his father but he was a powerful man who didn’t want to relinquish authority.
Annalena wanted to say she wasn’t interested in taking it off him, but that was her bargaining chip. She had to stay firm until they reached agreement.
‘How many people know?’ she asked.
‘Only those who need to.’
He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, in the process pulling his jacket open to reveal a broad, hard-looking chest.
She blinked. He hadn’t moved but that change of stance reminded her of their biological differences. He was taller and, by the look of it, fit. No doubt he was physically stronger.
She was sure he wouldn’t harm her.
Yet you didn’t tell Oma you were staying in the palace. You let her think you were in a hotel.
Because her grandmother had lived through the trauma of losing a beloved daughter and a son-in-law. Despite her fierce intelligence and iron will, that had changed her. Annalena hadn’t wanted to worry her.
He asked, ‘How many have you told?’
‘None.’ Before she could prevent them, more words spilled free. ‘But my grandmother knows I’m here, and a lawyer has extra copies of the documents. If I don’t return—’
Benedikt’s oath was loud in the quiet grove. ‘You think I’d harm you? You really believe…?’
She saw his disbelief, then his features settled in an outraged scowl before he turned and strode away. He reached the far side of the glade then spun back, his long paces eating up the distance, bringing him to a halt an arm’s length away.
It felt closer. He all but crackled with energy. She felt it lift the fine hairs on her arms and nape, drawing her skin tight with goosebumps.
Eyes like molten metal held hers. It was like looking into a furnace, so bright it hurt.
‘Whatever you believe about my father, whatever he may have done… I. Am. Not. Him.’
His chest rose mightily and she saw the frenetic beat of his pulse at his temple.
When he spoke again his voice was softer yet heavy with repressed emotion. ‘I don’t deliberately hurt people, Annalena. I won’t harm you.’
She believed him. His horror at her words was real. She still felt the shock of it reverberating around them.
Annalena nodded. ‘I know.’
‘Do you? You take my word for it? Isn’t that too trusting?’
An outsider might think so. She’d have thought so earlier. She didn’t pretend to understand everything about him, but the man she was just beginning to know didn’t fill her with dread.
On the contrary, he filled her with an uncomfortable feminine yearning stronger than she’d ever experienced.
Instead of wanting to shrink from him, she wanted to get close. It was one of the reasons she had to ground herself firmly whenever he was around. So as not to give in to temptation and get closer.
‘I’m not saying we’re on the same side. I’m not naive. But I believe you.’
He didn’t look convinced. ‘Yet you took precautions in case you disappeared.’
So she’d had a moment of uncertainty and fear. But her fear had more to do with her turbulent reaction to him than any true belief he’d harm her.
She lifted one stiff shoulder. ‘I was going into battle. I couldn’t take risks.’
Was that understanding in his gaze? ‘Especially given what happened to your father.’
Her heart jolted. ‘You believe now that it wasn’t an accident?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt we’ll ever know, given how much time has elapsed. But there are discrepancies in the reports.’
For the first time Annalena noticed lines of tiredness around his eyes, worry imprinted on his forehead and bracketing his mouth. She’d sensed yesterday that he wasn’t close to his father. But to confront the possibility Karl had been a killer…
‘Where do we go from here?’
His mouth kicked up at one corner, like a tick of approval. ‘Charming as this place is, I vote we move to somewhere we can be more comfortable.’ He gestured for her to walk with him. ‘Shall we?’
Annalena cast a glance around the clearing. Personally, she’d rather have their discussion here. She found the palace oppressive. But admitting that would hand him an advantage. He mightn’t want to harm her but she needed her wits for this negotiation.
A quarter of an hour later they entered a large walled garden. Unlike the topiary garden, this wasn’t regimented. Paths meandered and there was a riot of colour from flowering trees, shrubs and annuals.
‘Let’s talk here,’ she said impulsively. He paused mid-step, and she hurried on. ‘Surely you’ve had enough indoor meetings?’
‘Why not? I know just the place.’
He led her around a circular path to a summerhouse surrounded by scented, climbing roses in shades of cream, yellow and bronze. Opening the door, he invited her to precede him.
A few paces in Annalena stopped, breath catching. The octagonal room was filled with light from the many full-length windows, despite them being half obscured by roses.
White-painted furniture looked comfortable with an abundance of cushions in pastel gelato colours.
The ceiling was wallpapered with a vivid print of a lavish garden from which peeped exotic birds and animals.
Suspended from the ceiling was a chandelier, not antique crystal, but of glass in a multitude of colours, creating rainbows across the room.
The place was whimsical and welcoming and lifted her spirits. She’d never thought to see anything so delightful in the palace.
Between two windows was a tall cabinet crammed with books, drawing Annalena. The titles weren’t organised alphabetically or by size but by some arcane logic, presumably known only to the owner. They seemed well read and most were about plants and gardening.
She swung around, taking in the lovingly tended pot plants.
The small tables strategically placed beside the seats.
She could imagine afternoons here with friends.
Or curling up on that long sofa with books from the cabinet and a piece of cherry torte.
It would be a cosy place to work on her laptop.
‘This is marvellous! Just…perfect.’
In the doorway, Benedikt’s expression was inscrutable. Finally he stepped inside, looking around as if he hadn’t seen the place in a while. ‘I’m glad there’s one part of the palace you approve of.’
Apparently she hadn’t hidden her dislike for the place well. ‘I’m not really into gilding and formality.’
‘You grew up in a castle. Your grandmother still lives there.’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘Some of the rooms there are very grand but not all the spaces are formal. It’s old and quirky and…comfortable.’
‘And this palace isn’t?’ Before she could answer he continued. ‘You don’t have to be polite. No one in their right mind would call Prinzenberg’s palace cosy.’
‘But you have this. Whoever designed it knew how to create a welcoming, relaxing space.’
‘My mother’s talent. You should have seen our New York penthouse.’
‘Your mother designed this?’ Annalena looked around with new eyes. It couldn’t be any more different to the parts of the palace she’d seen. ‘She could have been a professional designer.’
‘I agree. But it wasn’t seen as compatible with her royal obligations.’
Annalena’s gaze sharpened. Was he telling her a queen wouldn’t have time for another career? That if she took the throne, she’d have to give up her profession?
But his expression as he surveyed the room suggested he wasn’t thinking of her.
She racked her brain for everything she could remember about the now dead Queen.
An American who’d increasingly spent more time overseas than in Prinzenberg.
She’d borne the King one live son and one stillborn.
In the last few years before her death she’d appeared at the King’s side only at a few key royal events.
Had she been unhappy? Was that why Benedikt looked pensive? Annalena had barely had time to adjust to the possibility when he turned that bright stare on her, sending heat arrowing through her body.
‘We need to discuss the future.’