A crown that Holly herself was now threatening to undermine, whether she knew it or not.

‘Just bring her here fast,’ he said, his tone becoming harsher as he recalled all that was at stake. ‘Bring her straight to the palace.’

‘There might be problems,’ Georgiou said cautiously.

‘What sort of problems?’

‘I told you. She’s not…quiet,’ he said. ‘There’s no saying she won’t scream her head off.’

‘Why would she do that?’

Another silence. Georgiou obviously thought that was a stupid question.

Okay, maybe it was. If they’d dragged her here against her will…If she was still even slightly the Holly he knew…

‘I’ll meet you at the airport,’ he said.

‘Not the main landing strip,’ Georgiou said urgently. ‘You need to talk to the lady privately. If she’ll talk to you.’

‘She’ll talk to me,’ Andreas said grimly.

‘Maybe,’ Georgiou said. ‘How long is it since you’ve seen her?’

‘Ten years.’

‘Then maybe she’s changed,’ Georgiou said and there was suddenly a note of admiration in his tone. ‘Maybe this woman has learned to fight.’

‘She could fight ten years ago.’

‘Could you win then?’ Georgiou asked diffidently. ‘With respect, Your Majesty…It takes four strong men to hold her now. Will you be able to do it?’

They were landing.

Holly had long since stopped struggling. Once she’d been bundled ignominiously onto the jet and the jet was in the air she’d accepted that fighting was useless. She’d withdrawn into what she hoped was dignified silence.

Not that she felt the least bit dignified. She’d been wearing ancient jeans and a dust-stained shirt when she’d been grabbed. She’d just completed a last inspection of the bores and water troughs-for the sake of the kangaroos and emus on the place, for the cattle had been sold long ago-and her blonde curls were thick with dust. Twenty-four hours later that dust was still with her. She’d scrubbed her face in the airplane washroom but there was no make-up to disguise the shadows under her eyes. She looked grubby and exhausted and fearful.