The Prince's Convenient Proposal Read online

  ‘Of course you will.’

  His hand was warm on hers.

  Already, she was beginning to like Rafe. Too much.

  * * *

  The early twilight was growing darker by the minute. Below them, the lights of Grenoble twinkled prettily, and as the road wound ever upwards, night pressed in. They passed clusters of steep-roofed chalets that glowed with welcoming warmth, but for most of the journey the Alps loomed dark and slightly ominous, the car’s headlights catching huge rocky outcrops topped with snow.

  Charlie wondered how long it would take to reach Montaigne, but she refrained from asking Rafe and once again exposing her ignorance. It wasn’t easy for a natural chatterbox to remain silent, but discretion was her new watchword.

  From time to time, Rafe talked to her about matters that he needed to attend to over the next few days. Meetings, luncheons, more meetings, dinners.

  ‘You’ll be busy,’ Charlie said, and she wondered what she would do while Rafe was buzzing around attending to his princely duties.

  ‘You’ll probably need to attend some of these functions,’ he said. ‘Especially the dinners, but I’ll try to keep your duties light. You’ll have plenty of time for shopping.’

  Shopping. Oh, dear.

  It was about an hour and a half later that they reached Montaigne perched high in an Alpine valley. The capital city was incredibly pretty, bathed in the clear moonlight, with lights shining from a thousand windows. The valley looked like a bowl of sparkling, golden flakes.

  ‘Home,’ said Rafe simply.

  ‘It’s very beautiful,’ Charlie told him.

  He nodded and smiled. ‘You must be so tired. It’s been a long journey.’

  They were pulling up at the front steps of a fairy-tale castle. Charlie forgot her tiredness. She was far too excited.

  * * *

  ‘Bonsoir, Your Highness. Bonsoir, mademoiselle.’

  A dignified fellow in a top hat and a braided greatcoat opened the car door for them. Another man collected their luggage.

  Rafe ushered Charlie up a short flight of snow-spotted steps and through the huge open front doors. A woman aged around fifty and dressed in a neat navy-blue skirt and jacket greeted them with a smile.

  ‘Good evening, Chloe.’ Rafe addressed her quickly in French, as she greeted them and took their coats. ‘Mademoiselle Olivia is very tired, so we’ll retire early this evening, but we’d like some coffee and perhaps a little soup?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll have it sent up straight away, Your Highness.’

  ‘That would be very good, thank you.’

  Charlie managed with difficulty to refrain from staring about her like an awestruck Aussie tourist, but Rafe’s castle was amazingly beautiful. There were white marble floors and enormous flower arrangements, huge gold-framed mirrors, chandeliers, and a grand marble staircase carpeted in deep royal blue.

  Despite her nervousness, she planned to drink in every moment that she spent here, and one day she would tell her grandchildren about it. But she wasn’t sure she could ever get used to hearing Rafe addressed as ‘Your Highness’. Thank heavens she was only mademoiselle.

  ‘I’ll show you to your room,’ Rafe told her.

  To her surprise, they didn’t proceed up the staircase. A lift had been fitted into the castle.

  ‘My grandfather had this lift installed for my grandmother,’ Rafe told her. ‘Grandmère had a problem with her knees as she got older.’

  ‘It must make life a lot easier for everyone else, too,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Yes. Here we are on the second floor. Your room is on the right.’

  Charlie’s room was, in fact, an entire suite, with a huge bedroom, bathroom and sitting room. And although the castle seemed to be heated, there was even a fireplace, where flames burned a bright welcome, and off the bedroom a small study, complete with a desk, a telephone and an assortment of stationery ready for her use.

  The whole area was carpeted in a pretty rose pink with cream and silver accessories, and there were at least three bowls of pink roses. Charlie’s suitcase had already been placed at the foot of the bed and it looked rather shabby and out of place.

  ‘This is rather old-fashioned compared with your flat in Sydney,’ Rafe said.

  ‘But it’s gorgeous,’ protested Charlie, who couldn’t believe he would even try to make a comparison. ‘Oh, and look at the view!’ She hurried over to the high, arched window set deep in the stone wall with a sill wide enough for sitting and dreaming.

  Below, the lights of Montaigne glowed warm and bright in the snowy setting.

  ‘I can’t believe this.’ She was grinning as she turned back to Rafe. ‘It’s so incredibly picture perfect.’

  ‘There’s a remote control here beside the bed.’ Rafe picked it up and demonstrated. ‘It makes the glass opaque for when you want to sleep.’

  ‘How amazing.’ Charlie watched in awe as the glass grew dark and then, at another flick of the switch, became clear again. ‘It’s magic. Like being in a fairy tale. Aren’t you lucky to actually live here?’

  His smile was careful. ‘Even fairy tales have their dark and dangerous moments.’

  ‘Well, yes, I guess.’ Charlie wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. ‘I suppose there are always wicked witches and wolves and evil spells.’ And in Rafe’s case, a wicked Chancellor and evil miners who wanted to wreck his country. ‘But at least fairy tales give you a happy ending.’

  ‘Unless you’re the wolf,’ suggested Rafe.

  Charlie frowned at him. ‘You’re very pessimistic all of a sudden.’

  ‘I am. You’re right. I apologise.’ But Rafe still looked sad as he stood there watching her.

  Charlie wondered if he was thinking about his father who had died so recently. Or perhaps he was thinking about Olivia, wishing his real fiancée were here in his castle, preparing for their marriage. Instead he was left with an improvised substitute who would soon leave again.

  Or were there other things worrying him? He’d mentioned the mining threat, but he probably had a great many other issues to deal with. Affairs of state.

  She was pondering this when he smiled suddenly. ‘I must say I’m not surprised that you believe in happy endings, Charlie.’

  She thought instantly of Isla. ‘It’s terribly important to think positively. Why not believe? It’s better than giving up.’

  He dismissed this with a shrug. ‘But it’s a bit like asking me if I believe in fairies. Happy endings are all very well in theory, but I find that real life is mostly about compromise.’

  Compromise?

  Charlie stared at him in dismay. She’d never liked the idea of compromise. It seemed like such a cop-out. She never wanted to give up on important hopes and dreams and to settle for second best.

  She wanted to protest, to set Rafe straight, but there was something very earnest in his expression that silenced her.

  She thought about his current situation. He’d been forced to arrange a hasty, convenient marriage to save his country, instead of waiting till he found the woman he loved. That was certainly a huge compromise for both Rafe and for Olivia.

  When Rafe looked ahead to the future, he could probably foresee many times when he would be required to set aside his own needs and desires and to put duty to his country first.

  It was a chastening thought. Charlie supposed she’d been pretty foolish to come sailing in here, all starry-eyed, and immediately suggest that living in a castle was an automatic ticket to a fairy-tale life. She was about to apologise when there was a knock at the door.

  A young man had arrived with their supper.

  ‘Thanks, Guillaume,’ Rafe said as the fellow set a tray on the low table in front of the fire. To Charlie, he said, ‘I thought we’d be more comfortable eating in here tonig
ht.’ When Guillaume had left, he added, ‘You don’t mind if I join you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ After all, it was what the servants would expect of an engaged couple.

  They sat on sofas facing each other. The coffee smelled wonderful, as did the chicken soup, and the setting was incredibly cosy. Charlie looked at the flickering flames, the bowls of steaming soup and the crusty bread rolls.

  The scene was almost homely, hardly like being in a royal castle at all, and for Charlie there was an extra sprinkle of enchantment, no doubt provided by the hunky man who, having shed his overcoat, looked relaxed again now in his jeans and dark green sweater.

  Rafe’s comments about compromise were sobering though, and no doubt they were the check she needed. Royals might not be dogged by the money worries that had plagued her for most of her life, but their money came with serious responsibilities.

  Was that why Olivia ran away?

  * * *

  When they finished their soup, Rafe called for a nightcap, which was promptly delivered, and as he and Charlie sipped the rich, smooth cognac he watched the play of firelight on Charlie’s curly hair, on her soft cheeks and lips. It was only with great difficulty that he managed to restrain himself from joining her on her sofa.

  But man, he was tempted. There was a sweetness about Charlie that—

  No, he wasn’t going to make comparisons with her sister. He couldn’t waste time or energy berating himself for the error of judgement that had landed him with Olivia Belaire. Regret served no useful purpose.

  ‘Tomorrow, when you’re ready, my secretary, Mathilde, will bring you a list of your engagements,’ he said, steering his thoughts strictly towards business. ‘Including your shopping and hair appointments.’

  Charlie looked worried. ‘But I won’t have appointments for shopping, will I?’

  ‘Yes. The stores find it helpful to plan ahead. They can make sure that the right staff is available to give you the very best assistance.’

  ‘I see.’ Charlie still looked worried. ‘Will your secretary also give me a list of the sorts of clothes I need?’

  ‘No, Monique at Belle Robe will look after that. If you show Monique your list of engagements, she’ll be able to advise you on dresses, shoes, handbags or whatever.’

  ‘I—I see.’

  Was it his imagination, or had Charlie grown pale?

  Why? Surely all women loved shopping? Her sister had enthusiastically embraced the shopping expeditions he’d paid for. Unfortunately, Olivia had also taken all those clothes with her when she left. They would have fitted Charlie perfectly.

  ‘You’ll have to try to enjoy the experience,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll try to behave like Olivia. I suppose she loved shopping.’

  ‘Yes, she had quite a talent for it.’

  Charlie lifted a thumbnail to her mouth as if she wanted to chew it. Then she must have realised her mistake and quickly dropped her hand to her lap with her fist tightly curled. ‘So I need to be enthusiastic,’ she said. ‘I can do that.’

  ‘And don’t worry about the expense.’

  To his dismay, Charlie looked more worried than ever. ‘What’s the matter, Charlie?’

  She flashed him a quick, rather brave little smile. ‘No problem, really. It’s just that I’m so used to living on a budget and it’s hard to throw off the habits of a lifetime.’

  Rafe couldn’t remember ever dating a girl who was cautious with money. This was a novel experience. ‘These clothes won’t have price tags,’ he reassured her. ‘So you needn’t know the cost. And remember they’re just costumes. They’re your uniform, if you like, an important part of the job.’

  ‘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.