By Request Collection Part 3. Robyn Donald

of Zanzibar,’ she murmured when she could talk again. ‘When you told me Moraze got its name because it means east, I thought anything could happen east of Zanzibar—even something so wildly romantic as finding a soul mate. I didn’t really expect it to happen, though.’

      He leant his cheek on the top of her head. ‘But it did. To both of us,’ he said in a voice dark with satisfaction, and together they walked hand in hand towards a future as bright and glittering as the fabled fire-diamonds of Lexie’s new country, the country that held her heart.

       Prince of Scandal

      Annie West

      ANNIE WEST spent her childhood with her nose between the covers of a book—a habit she retains. After years preparing government reports and official correspondence she decided to write something she really enjoys. And there’s nothing she loves more than a great romance. Despite her office-bound past she has managed a few interesting moments—including a marriage offer with the promise of a herd of camels to sweeten the contract. She is happily married to her ever-patient husband (who has never owned a dromedary). They live with their two children amongst the tall eucalypts at beautiful Lake Macquarie, on Australia’s east coast. You can e-mail Annie at www.annie-west.com, or write to her at PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

      For Karen, Reeze and Daisy, who celebrate with me and who understand all the rest.

      Thank you!

       CHAPTER ONE

      RAUL stared unseeingly out of the chopper as it followed the coast south from Sydney. He shouldn’t be here when the situation at home was so delicately poised. But he had no choice.

       What an unholy mess!

      His hands bunched into fists and he shifted his long legs restlessly.

      The fate of his nation and the well-being of his subjects were at risk. His coronation, his right to inherit the kingdom he’d been born to and devoted his life to, hung in the balance. Even now he could scarcely believe it.

      Desperately the lawyers had sought one legal avenue after another but the laws of inheritance couldn’t be overturned, not till he became king. And to become king …

      The alternative was to walk away and leave his country prey to the rivalries that had grown dangerous under the last king, Raul’s father. Civil war had almost ripped the country apart two generations ago. Raul had to keep his people safe from that, no matter what the personal cost.

      His people, his need to work for them, had been what kept him going through the bleak wasteland of disillusionment when his world had turned sour years before. When paparazzi had muckraked and insinuated and his dreams had shattered around him, the people of Maritz had stood by him.

       He would stand by them now when they most needed him.

      Besides, the crown was his. Not only by birthright. By dint of every long day, every hour he’d devoted to mastering the myriad royal responsibilities.

       He would not renounce his heritage. His destiny.

      Tension stiffened every sinew and anger simmered in his blood. Despite a lifetime’s dedication to the nation, despite his experience, training and formidable capacity, it had all come down to the decision of a stranger.

      It scored his pride that his future, his country’s future, depended on this visit.

      Raul opened the investigator’s report, skimming familiar details.

       Luisa Katarin Alexandra Hardwicke. Twenty-four. Single. Self-employed.

      He assured himself this would be straightforward. She’d be thrilled and eager. Yet he wished the file contained a photo of this woman who would play such a pivotal role in his life.

      He closed the report with a snap.

      It didn’t matter what she looked like. He wasn’t weak like his father. Raul had learned the hard way that beauty could lie. Emotions played a man for a fool. Raul ruled his life, like his kingdom, with his head.

      Luisa Hardwicke was the key to safeguarding his kingdom. She could be ugly as sin and it would make no difference.

      Damn! The cow shifted, almost knocking Luisa over. Wearily she struggled to regain her footing in the bog at the edge of the creek.

      It had been a long, troubling morning with early milking, generator problems and an unexpected call from the bank manager. He’d mentioned a property inspection that sounded ominously like a first step to foreclosure.

      She shuddered. They’d fought so long to keep the small farming co-operative going through drought, illness and flood. Surely the bank couldn’t shut them down now. Not when they had a chance to turn things around.

      Overhead came the rhythmic thunder of a helicopter. The cow shifted uneasily.

      ‘Sightseers?’ Sam shouted. ‘Or have you been hiding some well-heeled friends?’

      ‘I wish!’ The only ones she knew with that much money were the banks. Luisa’s stomach coiled in a familiar twist of anxiety. Time was fast running out for the co-op.

      Inevitably her mind turned to that other world she’d known so briefly. Where money was no object. Where wealth was taken for granted.

      If she’d chosen she could be there now, a rich woman with not a financial worry in the world. If she’d put wealth before love and integrity, and sold her soul in that devil’s bargain.

      Just the thought of it made her ill.

      She’d rather be here in the mud, facing bankruptcy with the people she loved than be as wealthy as Croesus, if it meant giving up her soul.

      ‘Ready, Sam?’ Luisa forced herself to focus. She put her shoulder to the cow. ‘Now! Slow and steady.’

      Finally, between them, they got the animal unstuck and moving in the right direction.

      ‘Great,’ Luisa panted. ‘Just a little more and—’ Her words were obliterated as a whirring helicopter appeared over the rise.

      The cow shied, knocking Luisa. She swayed, arms flailing. Then her momentum propelled her forwards into the boggy mess. Wet mud plastered her from face to feet.

      ‘Luisa!’ Are you OK?’ Her uncle, bless him, sounded more concerned than amused.

      She lifted her head and saw the cow, udder swaying, heave onto firm ground and plod away without a backward glance. Gingerly Luisa found purchase in the sodden ground and crawled to her knees, then her feet.

      ‘Perfect.’ She wiped slime from her cheeks. ‘Mud’s supposed to be good for the complexion, isn’t it?’ She met Sam’s rheumy gaze and smiled.

      She flicked a dollop of mud away. ‘Maybe we should bottle this stuff and try selling it as a skin tonic.’

      ‘Don’t laugh, girl. It might come to that.’

      Ten minutes later, her overalls, even her face stiff with drying mud, Luisa left Sam and trudged up to her house. Her mind was on this morning’s phone call. Their finances looked frighteningly bleak.

      She rolled stiff shoulders. At least a shower was only minutes away. A wash, a quick cup of tea and …

      She slowed as she topped the hill and saw a helicopter on the grass behind the house. Gleaming metal and glass glinted in the sun. It was high-tech and expensive—a complete contrast to the weathered boards of the house and the ancient