By Request Collection Part 3. Robyn Donald

urge to dig at his impervious facade was becoming reckless. And recklessness was something she didn’t do.

      In a level, unemphatic tone that managed to refute her snide insinuation, he said, ‘Of course. Moraze has an excellent school system, and my father set up a scholarship scheme that offers promising students access to the best overseas universities.’

      ‘Do you lose many to the lure of bigger, more sophisticated places?’

      ‘We might, if they weren’t bonded to come back here to work for five years; usually after that they’re incorporated back into the fabric of our society. If not, they are then free to leave to pursue those goals.’

      Lexie nodded, eyes widening as he got to his feet. Tall as she was, he towered over her so that she felt crowded. No, dominated, she thought, settling back into her chair and trying to look confident and at ease.

      ‘I must go now,’ he told her. ‘If you need anything at all, tell Cari.’

      An odd emptiness took her by surprise. ‘I’m very grateful for everybody’s kindness,’ she said, and tried to sound her usual practical self as she went on, ‘I assume I’ll get a bill from the hospital—’

      ‘No.’

      ‘But I have travel insurance—’

      ‘It isn’t relevant,’ he interrupted again, brows drawing together.

      Head held so high it made her neck ache, Lexie got to her feet. Was he implying that he’d pay for it? Rich and powerful he might be, but she was an independent woman. ‘Surely Moraze’s health system bills travel insurance companies? In an island that depends on tourists—’

      ‘We do not depend on tourists,’ he said. ‘We have an extremely good and progressive offshore banking system, and we have invested heavily in high-tech industries. Along with sugar, coffee and our gems, these are the pillars of our prosperity. Tourists are welcome, of course, but my government and I have taken note of the problems that come from too heavy a reliance on tourism.’

      She would not let that aristocratic authority intimidate her. Steadily, each word bitten out, she said, ‘Perhaps you would let me finish?’

      A black eyebrow climbed, and his reply was delivered with a cool, autocratic politeness that reminded her he was almost a king. ‘Of course. My apologies.’

      ‘I pay my own way,’ she said with brittle emphasis. ‘And I pay my insurance company to cover me while I’m travelling.’

      He measured her with one of those penetrating green surveys, then shrugged dismissively. ‘I will make sure someone deals with it. I suggest that for the rest of today you take things quietly. There is a pool here, if you wish to swim, although it would be sensible not to go into the water until tomorrow.’

      Lexie fought back a pang of humiliating disappointment, because that didn’t sound as though he was coming back to the castle. She said with what she hoped was some dignity, ‘Thank you very much for everything you’ve done.’

      ‘It is my pleasure,’ he said formally with a half bow, before turning on his heel to stride away.

      Very much the man in control, she thought, subsiding back into the chair.

      Very much the ruler of his own kingdom.

      But why had he been so kind? If it was kindness that had persuaded him to bring her here to convalesce.

      What else could it be? She gazed around at vivid flowers soaking up the sun, her gaze following a bird bright as a mobile bloom that darted from one heavily laden bush to another.

      Uneasily she wondered if the kiss had had anything to do with his consideration. No; he’d given no indication that he even remembered that wild embrace.

      Perhaps he was so accustomed to kissing women he’d forgotten. It had almost certainly been a whim, put behind him once he’d realised she didn’t know much about kissing.

      This holiday had seemed such a good idea; the chance to decide once and for all whether she and Felipe had a future together.

      Now she wished she’d flown straight back home to New Zealand. Felipe’s attempt to pressure her into his bed had convinced her she definitely didn’t want any sort of future with him, and meeting Rafiq had stirred something dark and disturbing in her, making her yearn for some unknowable, unattainable goal.

      Therese Fanchette said, ‘You asked for a check to be kept on Count Felipe Gastano.’

      Not a muscle moved in her ruler’s face, but she felt the chill from across the big desk.

      Eyes chips of green ice, Rafiq rapped out, ‘So?’

      ‘Information has come in about the Interpol operation.’

      Rafiq’s voice gave away nothing of the cold anger biting into him. ‘Is he aware of what’s happening?’

      ‘Not so far, as far as we can tell. His emails have been intercepted, of course. There has been nothing to suggest that anyone in his organisation has yet discovered our plans.’

      Rafiq dampened down his spurt of triumph. ‘We need a couple of days. Has he tried to contact M’selle Considine?’

      ‘So far he has made several telephone calls to the castle. Your people have said she is still resting.’

      ‘It is strange that he knew I was involved in her rescue, yet he has made no attempt to contact me.’

      Therese Fanchette was one of the few people who knew the reason for Rafiq’s caution. She frowned, and said slowly, ‘Which leads one to suppose that he wants to keep out of your way. One of Gastano’s closest associates is convinced that he plans to marry M’selle Considine.’

      Rafiq’s head came up and he stared at her. ‘Is this good information?’ he demanded. ‘Not just gossip?’

      ‘I don’t deal in gossip; this is as good as it gets. The source mentioned that the date had been set. Has M’selle Considine said anything about that? Or about Gastano?’

      ‘Nothing,’ he said briefly. ‘Continue keeping him under observation. I want to know exactly what he is doing, where he goes, who he sees, and I want to make sure that he is unable to contact M’selle Considine for at least another couple of days.’

      Therese inclined her head. ‘Her phone calls and email are being monitored, as you requested. If he tries to contact her we will know immediately.’ After a slight pause she said, ‘With respect, sir, I still think it would be better to let them communicate with each other and see what we can learn.’

      ‘I don’t.’

      She gave him what he called her grandmother’s look, and his mouth quirked, his expression lightening. ‘I know how you feel,’ he admitted. ‘I rarely have hunches, but something tells me to keep her under wraps for the present. If it achieves nothing else, the knowledge that his prospective bride is my guest and incommunicado should keep his mind off his overseas affairs.’

      With a reluctant smile, Therese said, ‘So far your hunches have been one-hundred-per-cent accurate, so I’d be stupid not to accept this one.’

      ‘I realise it’s likely to make things more difficult for you.’ After another speaking look from her, his smile widened. ‘But I’m sure you’ll cope.’

      When he was alone again he sat back at his desk and stared at the gold pen in front of him.

      One part of him was icily furious that Gastano had dared set foot on Moraze, the other was bleakly satisfied—because now the count was in unfamiliar territory where the rules were different.

      Greed bolstered by overconfidence often led to mistakes, Rafiq thought with ruthless pragmatism. And coming to Moraze was the first mistake Gastano had made in a long time.

      Rafiq got to his feet and walked over to