AS THE four-by-four SUV raced over a bumpy road in the
arid north-eastern Brazilian countryside, HRH Prince
Ricardo of Maldoravia asked himself — not for the first
time — what had induced him to accept an invitation that
could only lead to trouble.
He glanced at the SUV's driver — a small, wiry individual
in designer sunglasses, brown as a nut, with a wide smile
and an attitude when it came to dealing with the local
police. They seemed to enjoy stopping a car on the road
for no apparent purpose other than to check papers, then
hum and ha for a while, before sending its occupants on
their way. Ricardo then glanced at his watch: three-thirty-
five. The intense heat outside had penetrated the interior
of the SUV, despite its tinted windows and the air-
conditioning, which was on full blast. From his limited
Portuguese, he understood the journey would take at least
another hour. And that, he realised, could signify
anything: time here had a different meaning.
He leaned back and stretched his legs as far as they would
go. He must, he concluded wryly, be crazy to have accepted
his late father's old friend's invitation. Gonzalo
Guimaraes and his parent had studied together at Eton and
Oxford many years ago, and although their lives had taken
very different routes — Ricardo's father becoming ruler of
the small island Principality of Maldoravia in the
Mediterranean, and Gonzalo heading back to his vast
Brazilian fazenda — the two men had enjoyed a lifelong
friendship. And in all those years Ricardo had never known
Gonzalo to ask for any favours. Which was what made the
request for Ricardo to visit him in his fiefdom all the
more intriguing.
They were driving along the coastline now, and the
landscape had changed: rolling waves, white sand and
scattered coconut trees swayed with samba-like rhythm in
the summer breeze. Two skimpily dressed men sat by the
roadside, seemingly oblivious to the blazing sun. Another
led a packed mule at a gentle pace. Speed was apparently
not a factor in this part of the world. At one point
Ricardo could see a little bronzed boy of about ten
holding up a snake with the hopes of selling it to one of
the few passers-by heading along the dust-bitten road.
So, although he had misgivings about the trip, Ricardo was
fascinated. It was not the first time he'd visited Brazil —
he'd made a brief visit to Rio a few years ago, for
Carnival. But what he was seeing here and now was a very
different country, one locked in a time warp where not
much had changed and where the outside world meant little.
An hour and a half later they turned left down an earth
road and the driver pointed to huge gates surrounded by
coconut trees. Beyond them Ricardo spied a small bridge.
Thick vegetation hid whatever else lay beyond. At the
gates several dark-suited guards came out and greeted
them. One bowed and, through gold teeth and in broken
English, bade him welcome. Then the gates opened
electronically and the vehicle proceeded at a more sober
pace up a driveway bordered by a vivid mass of multi-
coloured hibiscus and bougainvillaea. To the right more
coconut trees framed the cerulean ocean. The driveway,
Ricardo noted, was in considerably better repair than the
highway.
About a mile and a half farther on a sprawling mansion
came into view — a maze of whitewashed walls and low-lying
red-tiled roofs emerging from a panoply of lush
vegetation. It was strangely harmonious, as though the
architect had felt entirely in tune with his surroundings.
"We here," Lando, the driver, proclaimed triumphantly as
he stamped on the brakes and the SUV came to a standstill.
Ricardo smiled thankfully. He wondered why Gonzalo didn't
have a private airstrip, which would have made life a lot
easier; he could certainly afford it.
Then servants appeared, doors opened, and as Ricardo
exited the vehicle he saw Gonzalo, a man of medium height,
brown and wiry — rather like the SUV's driver — in a short-
sleeved white shirt and beige trousers, his thick white
hair swept back, coming down some shallow steps to greet
him.
"My friend," he said, with a broad smile of
greeting, "welcome to my home."
"Thank you. I'm happy to be here." The two men shook hands
warmly.
"I'm sorry we couldn't send the plane to pick you up in
Recife, but there has been a problem with our radar system
and in this back-of-beyond place we have to wait two days
for the specialist to arrive. Usually my own team can take
care of minor problems, but I'm afraid this time it was
too complex. Come in out of the heat," Gonzalo insisted.
Ricardo obeyed gladly and stepped inside a huge cool
marble hall. "It certainly is hot out there," he remarked.
"At least forty degrees today," Gonzalo agreed, leading
the way into a vast living room decorated with modern
white sofas, Persian rugs, exotic plants and tasteful
antiques. The panoramic view over the ocean was
magnificent.
"You have a beautiful place here," Ricardo said, gazing
out, impressed. There was something wild and untamed about
the landscape — something he couldn't define but that he
found viscerally disturbing.
The two men sat down on the sofas and two uniformed maids
materialised with coffee and fruit juice.
"This fruit is umbu," Gonzalo said as Ricardo tasted the
refreshing juice. "It is typical of the north-east of the
country. We have a great variety of fruit here."
"Delicious." Ricardo was still wondering what it was that
had triggered Gonzalo's urgent message. He was travelling
incognito, having left his usual retinue behind in
Maldoravia, and he was enjoying the freedom this allowed
him. Right now he was content to bide his time. So,
instead of showing overt curiosity as to why Gonzalo had
summoned him, he sipped his juice and waited. Three years
as ruler of the Principality had taught him patience. He
had no doubt that all would be revealed in good time.
Several minutes later Gonzalo was conducting him up a wide
marble staircase, past walls covered with bright colourful
paintings that Gonzalo explained were from local and other
South American artists, to a large suite of rooms. There
the maids were already unpacking his belongings.
"I suggest you take a rest," Gonzalo said. "When it is
cooler we can meet for drinks downstairs and chat." 'That
sounds perfect," Ricardo replied. A few minutes later he
was under the shower, enjoying the rush of ice-cold water.
When he got out he sleeked back his dark hair and twisted
a bath towel around his waist. He was a tall, well-built
man. At thirty-three, several years of working out had
left him with a trim, sculpted body. His dark brown eyes
surveyed the reflection of his finely chiselled face in
the bathroom mirror as he debated whether he needed
another shave.
Water still trickled down his tanned back as he moved
across the marble floor towards French windows and opened
the doors. As he stepped out onto the balcony he was met
by a pleasant breeze. The scorching heat of earlier in the
day had subsided. Leaning on the balustrade, he looked out
towards the rolling sand dunes and the bright blue sea,
intrigued. From here, the next port of call, he reflected
thoughtfully, was Africa. There was clarity and luminosity
now that the heat haze had subsided, leaving the coconut
trees and the rich vegetation distinct.
Ricardo stretched. He was about to turn back inside and
lie down when a movement in the far distance caught his
eyes. Shading them from the setting sun, he watched a
straight-backed female figure astride a handsome white
horse approaching along the beach at a gentle canter. It
made a pleasant picture. As she drew closer he could make
out her lithe movements, and her long dark hair flowing
wildly in the wind. The woman and the animal blended as
though they were one.
Ricardo stood glued to the spot, watching as she reined
the horse in, then dismounted easily onto the sand and
shook her hair back. The horse stood obediently as she
removed her jeans and shirt, revealing long bronzed limbs
and a perfectly proportioned body encased in a tiny white
bikini. Then, like a top model on a Parisian catwalk, she
glided towards the water and entered the spray, dipped
under a wave and then emerged. He could hear her laughing
and calling to the horse. A smile broke on his lips as the
animal trotted into the water and together they frolicked.
It was a magical scene, unreal. A beautiful deserted
landscape, a girl and a horse so in tune with one another.
Like something out of a movie.
He wondered who she was. He knew little about Gonzalo's
family — only that he had been a widower for many years.
He had never met any of Gonzalo's children. Certainly he
had never heard his own father mention any.
He stood straighter and observed the girl lead the horse
out of the water, back to where she'd left her clothes.
Even at this distance it was confirmed to him that her
figure was almost perfect, and he experienced a rush of
raw sexual attraction. Then, throwing her garments up on
the horse, the girl leapt into the saddle.
Ricardo drew in his breath as she galloped off into the
rich crimson sunset.
"You must naturally be wondering why I asked you to come
here at a moment's notice," Gonzalo remarked as, later,
the two men sat on the lushly decorated veranda, which was
furnished with dark rattan chairs upholstered with
comfortable white cushions, low coffee tables and tropical
plants.
It was pleasantly cool now. A gentle breeze blew in from
the sea and a delicate crescent moon shone above them at a
right angle. Night had fallen quickly due, Ricardo knew,
to the proximity of the Equator.
Brightly etched stars dotted the inky sky even though it
was still early. He could even distinguish the Southern
Cross.
"I must confess to curiosity," he said, taking a sip of
whisky, studying his host.
"Then I shall not beat about the bush," Gonzalo replied,
with a wise, knowing smile that held a touch of
sadness. "I am an old man, Ricardo, and unfortunately my
health is not in the best of shape."
"I'm sorry to hear it." 'So am I. Not for myself, you
understand, but for one that I must leave behind when the
time comes to pass on."
"I wasn't aware that you were married." 'I'm not now. I
have been a widower for many years. I had no children from
my first marriage. But years ago I had an affair with a
young woman — a young English film star whose movie I
financed. We were married in secret, as she didn't want
the publicity to affect her career, but she was killed in
a plane crash just two months after our daughter was born."
Ricardo said nothing, merely crossed one leg over his knee
and waited. Some favour was about to be asked, he was sure.
"Last month my doctors in New York told me that I have
less than a year to live. It's cancer, I'm afraid, and
it's terminal. I have only a few months left."
"I'm deeply sorry," Ricardo said, truly sad for his
father's old friend. "What can I do to help?"
Gonzalo took his time, swivelled his glass in his fingers,
then looked Ricardo straight in the eye. "Marry my
daughter."
"Excuse me?" Ricardo sat straighter. He had expected a
request — but hardly this. "I would like you to consider
marriage to my daughter. A marriage of convenience. It is
not unusual in your world. The Maldoravian royal family
have always had planned marriages, as far as I can gather."
"Maybe, but —" 'Even your own parents' marriage was
arranged, dear boy. And I gather a marriage of convenience
was what your father had planned for you, was it not?"
"That's all very well," Ricardo countered. "But my father
is dead and times have changed, Gonzalo. I lead my own
life now."
"And from all I've heard you are enjoying it very
thoroughly," Gonzalo replied with a touch of dry
humour. "But you are thirty-three years old, Ricardo, and
the succession must be thought of. Is there anyone you
would consider as a future wife?"
"Well, actually, I haven't got around to thinking of
marriage yet," Ricardo replied, a picture of Ambrosia, his
exotic Mexican mistress, forming in his mind. He had no
intention of giving her up, even though marriage would
never come into it. "There is still time ahead of me."
"Perhaps. I am not asking you to change your lifestyle,
merely to consider an arrangement that could be
advantageous to both parties. After all, you need an heir —
and a wife who is both suitable socially and a virgin.
Also, it has come to my knowledge," Gonzalo added with a
speculative look before Ricardo could interrupt, "that
your uncle Rolando has made some unfortunate deals for the
Principality."
This last was true. But how this knowledge, which had been
kept very secret in the family, could have reached Gonzalo
was beyond him. Ricardo experienced a twitch of
irritation. Time to tread very carefully, he realised, on
the alert now.