Every south face had been used to effect-no one here had worried about window taxes-and sunlight streamed in everywhere.

The Castaliae family had been known to sit on the fence for all the castle’s history, Penny-Rose knew. The independence of this tiny principality was a tribute to the political savvy of its royal family.

Penny-Rose glanced about her with awe as she was led from room to room. For a twenty-six-year-old Australian, this was new and wonderful indeed. She almost forgot to be nervous.

Almost. She remembered again the moment she entered the great hall.

They were waiting for her.

She knew them by sight. Marguerite, of course. The new prince’s elderly mother. She was the woman who’d spoken to her in the garden, and her smile was warm and welcoming.

Then there was Belle. Although it wasn’t official, rumour had it that she was engaged to be married to the prince. She was a cold fish, the boys had decided, but it didn’t stop them admiring her good points. She might be a cold fish, but she was a very beautiful cold fish. Belle didn’t move from her seat now, and she certainly didn’t smile.

And, of course, there was Alastair. Alastair de Castaliae… His Serene Highness, they said, if he could figure out the inheritance hiccups.

And why shouldn’t he be the prince? she thought. He certainly had the look of it. He might be dressed for farmwork now, in an ancient pair of moleskins and a shirt that was grubby and frayed at the cuffs, but he was still drop-dead gorgeous, with a smile to die for.

Mmm! He was smiling now-sort of-as he rose to greet her. It was a smile that stilled her nerves and caught her attention as nothing else could. What a smile. And what a…

Well, what a man!

Penny-Rose had never had time to play round with the opposite sex but a lack of time had never stopped her appreciating what was in front of her. And this one was worth appreciating! He was tall, lean and hard-muscled, with long, long legs, and…