The Rebel King. Melissa James

a dog rolling over on order. You have a mind of your own, ideals and dreams. I respect that.’

      Damn. Much as he liked her words—she’d made it obvious she found him attractive, and liked both his temper and his independence—now he had to be blunt. ‘As tempting as you are, I don’t want to get married, princess. I could never become what you’d want in a prince. I couldn’t stand the constant intrusions into my life you endure from the press every day. It was bad enough after the fire a few months back, but if I had to handle it on a daily basis I’d end up hitting someone. Not very royal behaviour, is it?’

      She shook her head, still smiling. ‘I noticed your discomfort with the press—it was obvious in every photo. But, rest assured, we’d help you to acclimatise to that sort of thing.’

      His jaw clenched tighter. ‘I don’t want to acclimatise,’ he said baldly. ‘I can’t think of a single benefit in being here. I want to live my life without black-suited goons following me and cameras waiting for every stuff-up I make—and I will make them.’

      Jazmine nodded, as if she’d expected him to say it. He found himself wondering what it would take to rattle her cage, to put a crack in her perfect composure. ‘You do realize that the only way you can go home is by repudiating your position, which likely means your sister will go home with you?’

      He shrugged. ‘I don’t see a problem with that. Lia likes her life at home.’

      Her voice filled with gentle amusement. ‘Have you asked Lia what she wants, or are you taking it for granted you can make a decision of this calibre for her?’

      He felt his jaw clench. ‘I know my sister. She’s happy living with Toby and me, running her business and teaching the kids.’ Well, happy enough now, he amended silently. After her failed attempt to enter the Australian Ballet on the heels of their parents’ death in a car crash, it had brought on her dance with death-dealing anorexia. If it hadn’t been for Toby’s complete devotion to her returning to health—staying at the clinic with her day and night around their firefighting training-schedule—she might not have made it. Toby wasn’t only the best friend he’d ever had, the brother he’d always wanted, he was the only person Lia trusted with her secrets.

      Suddenly he wanted to hear Toby’s voice saying everything would be okay, he’d be there soon, though it was sure to be said in four-syllable words he favoured. ‘Lord of the Dictionary’ Toby might be, but he was the staunchest, truest friend he and Lia could ever have.

      There hadn’t been any joking camaraderie or long words when they’d talked to him from the Consulate in Canberra. Toby’s silent reaction to their sudden disappearance ‘on family business’, unable to say when they’d be home, unable to call again—unable even to talk it through with him as a result of the officials listening in on every word—had been an almost more frightening reality than the jet they’d been about to board. He, Lia and Toby were family. None of the three of them had ever kept secrets from each other, as far as he knew.

      Now he and Lia were secrets. Secrets of state. And he hadn’t felt this alone since his parents’ death.

      ‘You know what your sister wants without asking her. I see.’ The amusement lurking in Jazmine’s eyes grew to an outright twinkle. She was so pretty, with that sparkle lighting her up from within. He’d always had a thing about that rich-chestnut colour, and she had it in a double dose: her eyes and hair. No wonder she was known as the last single beautiful princess in Europe, feted and courted by all the noble bachelors within five-thousand kilometres.

      I could be the one kissing her next. I could take her to bed in a matter of weeks…

      And thinking about that, looking into that face, suddenly the whole prince-and-arranged-marriage gig didn’t seem so bad. The perks of unexpected royalty had never come in a more tempting package than Jazmine Marandis.

      He dragged himself out of those thoughts before they turned dangerous. What had she been saying? Seeing something… ‘You see what?’ he demanded.

      ‘I see why you and my grandfather clash. You both believe you know what’s best for others without asking what they want. You’re more of a Marandis than you realize.’ Jazmine’s infuriating half-smile grew. ‘So you know she doesn’t want to be a princess, live in the palace, marry a young and handsome Grand Duke— Oh, and inherit the fifty million euros that is her inheritance and dowry from the duchy?’

      Fifty million euros? Charlie felt a cold shiver run down his back. Good God. He hadn’t thought about the money; he’d been too furious to think. He’d concentrated on what he would lose, what he wanted.

      What about Lia? Would she want the money, the lifestyle, the whole thing? What if she was attracted to the Grand Duke? Would Charlie ruin everything for her because he wanted to return to his life?

      As if tapping into his thoughts, Jazmine asked conversationally, ‘Have you always made decisions for Lia? I hear she runs a successful ballet school. Do you decide what concerts she’ll do, check the accounts, or help her run it?’

      ‘Of course not,’ he snapped, hating that she was right. He had no right to decide for Lia. And he was really irritated that the snooty princess was holding all the cards. He knew nothing of this country, his new family or the laws. The only power he had was his independence. His ‘pig-headed pride’, as Lia put it.

      He grinned suddenly, thinking of his sister as Princess Lia. Just as well his name wasn’t Luke, or this whole thing really would have been a farce.

      But, much as he hated to admit it, the ‘Mona-Lisa princess’ sitting across from him was correct. The title suited her, he thought sourly, with her intriguing, frustrating little smile, and eyes that saw too much. He had no right to decide the future for Lia. His shy, family-loving, homebody sister might hanker after the fairy-tale ending most women dreamed of, and after everything she’d been through she deserved it.

      ‘What do you want from me?’ he growled, backed into a corner for Lia’s sake.

      As if knowing she’d boxed him in, her smile turned hopeful. ‘I only want you to give this life a chance before you disappear. And, please, stop trying to be my white knight. If you’re no prince, I’m no damsel in distress.’

      He felt the flush creeping up his neck. She was right. The fireman in him had crossed the world to a new kind of burning building, ready to carry out the helpless female trapped in a situation not of her making…or liking.

      The muscles on her face didn’t move, but he knew she was smiling inside. That mysterious twinkle in her eyes, lurking deep, fascinated him with her unspoken secrets.

      ‘And?’ He could tell there was more.

      ‘There’s more at stake than your privacy, independence and pride, Charlie. Lives hang in the balance.’ She leaned forward in earnest entreaty as she said his name again, and a hint of soft cleavage showed through the correct folds of her silky blouse.

      Was her skin as silky-soft? Would she say his name with that sweet, sexy little burr as he slipped that blouse from her shoulders and down…?

      Shove it, jerk. She’s a princess. With her minders, there’s no chance of touching her before the wedding night. And a wedding night—or a wedding—just isn’t happening!

      The only reason he was listening to her was because he didn’t know what Lia wanted. He knew what he wanted. And that wasn’t about to change, no matter how pretty and appealing the princess was. Because she was a princess, she came with her own set of royal chains, and he wasn’t the guy to slip his wrists into the king’s cuffs for any amount of money or power. She was bred to this life. He was here by accident of birth.

      ‘So whose life is at stake?’ He was proud of the even tone. Control established.

      She frowned, her head tilting a little. ‘You don’t want to know what your inheritance is?’