Barbara Hannay - A Royal Proposal

‘Of course.’

‘And you don’t have to worry about jewellery either,’ he said next. ‘There’s a huge collection here in the castle vault. All my mother’s and grandmother’s things.’

‘How—how lovely.’

‘I imagine that sapphires and diamonds will suit you best.’

Charlie fingered one of her simple, pearl stud earrings, and Rafe suppressed yet another urge to join her on the couch, to trace the sweet pink curve of her earlobe, preferably with his lips. Then he would kiss her smooth neck—

He sat up straighter, cleared his throat. ‘And you’ll have a driver to take you everywhere.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a maid as well? A female companion?’

Charlie shook her head. ‘If I had another girl hanging out with me, I’d be sure to chatter and give myself away.’

He smiled, knowing that this was true. Charlie was so honest and open, but he wished she weren’t still looking so worried. He felt much better when she was smiling. He’d been growing rather used to her smiles.

He hoped his next suggestion wouldn’t make her even more worried. ‘I was hoping you might be able to visit a children’s hospital,’ he said carefully. ‘It would be very helpful for your image.’

The change in Charlie was instantaneous. Her shoulders visibly relaxed and she uncrossed her legs and, yes, she actually smiled. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’d love that. I love kids. That’s a great idea.’

The sudden reversal was puzzling until Rafe remembered that his men had reported Charlie visiting a hospital in Sydney just before she’d made her final decision to accompany him to Montaigne.

What was her interest in hospitals? He hadn’t asked his men to follow up on this, but now he recalled the upsetting phone call from her father and wondered if that was the connection. He would have liked to question Charlie about it. But if she’d wanted to tell him, she would have done so by now, and there were limits to how far he could reasonably expect to pry into her private affairs.

After all, their relationship was strictly business.

Charlie yawned then, widely and noisily, and Rafe was instantly on his feet. ‘It’s time I left you. You need to sleep.’

‘I am pretty stuffed,’ she admitted with a wan smile.

They both stood. Beside them, the fire glowed and danced.

‘Goodnight, Charlie.’

‘Goodnight, Rafe.’

Her eyes were incredibly blue, their expression curious, and he supposed she was wondering if he planned to kiss her.

He certainly wanted to kiss her. Wanted to rather desperately. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her soft lips. Wanted to kiss her slowly and comprehensively, right there, on the sofa, by the warmth of the fire. Wanted to feel the softness of her skin, feel the eagerness of her response. Rafe imagined that Charlie’s uninhibited response would be rather splendid.

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, eyeing him cautiously.

Rafe came to his senses. ‘Yes.’ He spoke brusquely, annoyed by his lapse. ‘I usually have breakfast at seven-thirty, but you will be tired from the jet lag, so sleep as long as you wish. There’s a phone by your bed, so just call for a maid when you wake. Have coffee, breakfast, whatever you want, brought here to your room. Take your time.’

‘Thank you.’

Stepping forward, he kissed her politely on both cheeks. ‘Bonne nuit,’ he said softly, and then turned and left her without looking back.

* * *

Don’t do it, Rafe told himself as he walked away. Don’t mess with this girl. You know you’ll only end up hurting her.

Problem was, the habits Rafe had developed during his years of freedom were strong. He’d grown used to having almost any girl he fancied, usually without any strings attached.

Now he was surrounded by restrictions and almost every breath he took had a string attached. The press was watching him. Chancellor Pontier was watching him. For all he knew, the whole country was watching him. His enemies were waiting for him to stuff up, while his people were waiting for him to step up to the mark.

At times the weight of expectation and responsibility pressed so heavily Rafe could barely breathe. Even Charlie, despite her willingness to help him, was just another responsibility.

For her sake, he had to remember that.

* * *

Charlie checked her phone before she went to bed, but there was no message from her father. She pressed the remote to darken the window and climbed into bed. The sheets were smooth and silky, they smelled of lavender and were trimmed with exquisite lace and embroidery. The pillow was soft but firm.

Nevertheless, she lay awake for ages, worrying about Isla. Did no news mean good news? Or was her father too busy to bother with texting? Were he and Skye and Isla already in the air on their way to Boston?

How was Isla?

She remembered the lecture she’d given Rafe about positive thinking. She should follow her own advice. She had to believe that all would be well. Isla’s tiny heart would survive the long plane flight and the highly skilled doctors in Boston would make her well. The money Rafe had so generously handed over would be put to good use and this whole crazy venture would be worthwhile.

The money...

This was another thing for Charlie to worry about. How on earth could she afford the clothes she needed to carry off the role of Prince Rafael’s fiancée? Why on earth hadn’t she foreseen this problem?

Anxiously she tossed and turned, playing with the notion of coming clean, of telling Rafe about Isla and explaining what she’d done with his money. But there were problems with this revelation.

First, there was a chance that Rafe might not believe her and they could end up having a row about it. It was an unlikely outcome, Charlie admitted. Rafe appeared to be quite generous and reasonable.

But Charlie certainly didn’t want to take advantage of his good nature. The thing was, she’d struck a deal with him and now she had to keep up her end of the bargain. To ask for more money on top of his ample payment would feel totally shabby.

Besides, if she tried to tell Rafe about her baby sister’s condition and the impending surgery, she would almost certainly offload all her fears and then blubber all over him.

This was the last thing Prince Rafael of Montaigne needed. He hadn’t brought her here to listen to her problems.

He had enough problems of his own.

Once she’d thought things through to this point, Charlie felt calmer. Lying in the darkness, she watched the flickering firelight and she thought about the lovely evening she and Rafe had spent together. She remembered the moment before he’d left when he stood there in the firelight, looking at her. So tall and dark and sexy, with an expression in his eyes that had set her heart thumping.

So intense he’d looked. For a giddy moment, she’d thought he was going to kiss her. Properly. Passionately. Her heart had carried on like a crazy thing, thrashing about like a landed fish.

Such a ridiculous reaction. Perhaps she could blame the jet lag. Tomorrow she’d feel much more like her old self.

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN CHARLIE WOKE the next morning, she took a moment to get her bearings. She couldn’t remember another time she’d ever woken to such sumptuous surroundings.

She reached for the remote and pressed the button, and—hey, presto! Bright sunlight streamed into her room.

She wondered how late she’d slept and snatched up her phone to check the time. It was nine o’clock, and there were four new messages on her phone.

Three messages were from her father. One told her that he and Skye and Isla were leaving for Boston. Another gave her their flight’s departure and arrival times. A third message asked where she was.