Rafe grinned. ‘Not today. Not in his home.’
‘What about shaking hands? Is that OK?’
‘Offering your hand would be perfectly acceptable. You’ll find Faysal is a charming gentleman.’
‘Right.’ Charlie looked down at her hands and realised she should probably have painted her nails. She looked at her simple T-shirt and trousers. ‘I should probably change into something a bit dressier.’
‘Not at all. You’ll be fine, Charlie. Relax.’ Rafe closed his laptop and slipped it into an overhead locker. ‘It’s time to strap ourselves back into the seat belts for landing.’
The flight attendant collected their coffee trays, and, once they were belted, she disappeared as the plane began its descent.
In her seat beside Rafe, Charlie couldn’t resist asking more questions. ‘So, this Faysal—how many wives does he have?’
This brought another chuckle. ‘None at all so far. He’s still enjoying the life of a bachelor.’
‘Right. So he’s a playboy?’
‘Of course,’ Rafe said with a knowing smile.
And I suppose you were a playboy, too, before your father died.
This sudden realisation bothered Charlie more than it should have. Why should she care about Rafe’s sex life? It was none of her business—although it did make her wonder again about why Olivia had run away from him.
‘And for your information, Faysal’s father only has four wives,’ Rafe said.
‘Oh?’ she replied airily. ‘Only four?’
Rafe shrugged. ‘It’s a sign of the times. His grandfather had forty.’
Good grief.
* * *
After only a very short time in Dubai, Charlie realised how truly ignorant she was about this part of the world. Of course, she’d expected to see regal and haughty, dark-bearded men in flowing white robes, and she knew these men were extraordinarily wealthy and heavily into horse-racing and speed-cars and living the high life. But she hadn’t been prepared for the over-the-top opulence.
On the short journey from the airport to Sheikh Faysal Daood Taariq’s home, she saw a car painted in gold—and yes, Rafe assured her, it was real gold—and another studded with diamonds. And good grief, there was even, in one bright red sports car, a leopard!
A proper live, wild creature. Massive, with a glorious coat of spots and a silver lead around its neck. The leopard was sitting in a front passenger seat beside a handsome young man in white robes and dark sunglasses.
Gobsmacked, Charlie turned to Rafe. ‘That wasn’t really a leopard, was it?’
He grinned. ‘It was indeed.’
‘But it couldn’t be. How can they?’
Rafe shrugged. ‘Welcome to Dubai. Extravagance abounds here and dreadfully expensive exotic pets are all the rage.’
‘But surely—’ Charlie wanted to protest about the dangers. About animal rights, but she stopped herself just in time.
‘Listen, Charlie.’ They were in the back seat of a huge limousine and Rafe leaned a little closer, speaking quietly. ‘Try not to be too surprised by anything you see here.’ He waved his hand to the view beyond the car’s window, as they passed a grand palace at the end of an avenue lined on both sides with fountains and palm trees.
‘I can’t help being amazed,’ she said somewhat meekly. But she knew she had to try harder. ‘I guess Olivia’s used to all this,’ she said. ‘Her jaw wouldn’t be dropping every five minutes.’
Rafe nodded. ‘Exactly.’
In that moment, Charlie realised something else. ‘You’ve brought me here to your friend’s house as a test, haven’t you? It’s a kind of trial run for me?’
Rafe’s only answer was a smile, but Charlie knew she was right. Visiting his good friend, Faysal, was a kind of fast-track apprenticeship for her in her new role as Rafe’s fiancée. If she made any gross mistakes here, the errors would remain ‘in house’ so to speak.
But she wasn’t going to make mistakes. She could do this. In Sheikh Faysal’s home, she would ensure that she had perfect posture and perfect manners. She would remember to stand straight, sit with her knees together, and never cross her legs, always be polite and eat neatly, and—
And it would be exhausting to be a full-time princess.
But Charlie was determined to pass any test Rafe St Romain presented. Of course, she could hold her tongue and play the role she’d been assigned. After all, he was paying her very handsomely.
Now, with her thoughts sorted, she realised that their car was turning. Huge iron gates were rolling open to allow them entry to a gravelled drive and a tall, white, three-storeyed house decorated with arches.
The car stopped at a heavily embossed front door, which opened immediately to reveal a dark-haired, olive-skinned man almost as handsome as Rafe.
‘Rafe and Olivia!’ he cried, throwing wide his arms. ‘How lovely to see you both again. Welcome!’
* * *
Breakfast at Faysal’s was wonderful, as always, and to Rafe’s relief Charlie behaved admirably.
They dined on the terrace beside the swimming pool, where they were served Arabic coffee made from coffee beans ground with cardamom and saffron, as well as spicy chick peas and balabet, a dish of sweetened vermicelli mixed with eggs and spices. There were also delicious pancakes flavoured with cardamom and coloured with saffron and served with date syrup.
Charlie was on her best behaviour, and Rafe knew she was trying hard not to be too overly impressed by everything she saw and tasted. But he could also tell that she was enjoying the meal immensely, possibly even more than she’d enjoyed last evening’s meal on the plane.
Just the same, she managed not to gush over the food, and she only jumped once when Faysal called her Olivia.
She couldn’t quite hide her fascination with her surroundings, though. Her bright blue eyes widened with obvious delight at the fountains and the terraced gardens and the arcade decorated with exquisite blue and gold tiled mosaics. And Rafe thought she was just a little too impressed by Faysal, who was, as always, handsome and ultra-charming.
Nevertheless, the meeting went rather well, and Rafe was feeling relaxed when Charlie retired to the powder room.
As soon as she’d left, however, Faysal, who had dressed today in European trousers and a white polo shirt instead of his customary white robes, looked across the table to Rafe with a narrowed and sceptical dark gaze.
‘So,’ he said, his lips tilting with amusement. ‘Who the hell is that girl, Rafe?’
Inwardly groaning, Rafe feigned ignorance. ‘You know who she is. She’s my fiancée, Olivia. What game are you playing?’
‘That’s the very same question I want to ask you. You’re trying to pull a swift one over me, old boy.’ Faysal nodded to the corridor where Charlie had disappeared. ‘That girl is Olivia’s double, I’ll grant you that, but, unless she’s had a complete personality transplant, she is not the girl I met in Saint-Tropez and again at your engagement ball.’
Rafe sighed heavily as he remembered the extravagant ball he’d hosted. At the time he’d needed to make a big stir about his engagement and to show Chancellor Pontier how serious he was. He hoped there hadn’t been too many guests as astute as Faysal. ‘Is it really that obvious?’
Faysal’s smile was sympathetic as he nodded. ‘I’ll admit I observe women with a deeper interest than most.’
This was true, but still Rafe was afraid he had a problem.
‘Her name’s Charlie,’ he said. ‘Or rather, Charlotte. She’s Olivia’s twin sister. I tracked her down in Australia.’
‘Australia? So that was the accent.’
Rafe grimaced. ‘Is that what gave her away? Her accent?’
‘Not really.’ Faysal eyed Rafe with a level and serious gaze.
‘What, then?’ Raf
e demanded impatiently.
‘Her sincerity.’
Hell.
Rafe knew exactly what Faysal meant. There was a genuineness about Charlie that had been totally absent in her sister. He gave a helpless shrug. ‘I can’t do much about that.’
‘No,’ Faysal observed quietly. Then he frowned. ‘So what happened to Olivia? She hasn’t been abducted, has she?’
‘No, I wouldn’t be sitting here passing the time of day with you if that was the case.’ Rafe shrugged. ‘She ran away.’
Faysal looked only mildly surprised. ‘She panicked, in other words.’
‘Yes, I think she must have.’
His friend gave a slow, thoughtful nod. ‘Getting engaged to that girl wasn’t your smartest move, my friend.’
‘I know.’ Rafe sighed again. ‘As you know, it was all about convenience. It was such a shock when my father died. So unexpected.’
‘The pressures of being an only child,’ Faysal mused. ‘If your mother had still been alive...’
Faysal didn’t finish the sentence, but Rafe knew exactly what he was implying. His mother had died three years ago, but if she’d still been alive she would have seen through Olivia Belaire in a heartbeat. And in no time at all, his mother would have produced a list of a dozen or more highly suitable young women for him to choose from.
These girls would have been from good schools and families. They would probably have all had university degrees and perfect deportment and grooming and impeccable manners and be interested in good works. The list of his mother’s requirements for a princess were numerous. She had never approved of the girls Rafe had dated.
His criteria for selecting a female companion had been quite different from his mother’s. But those carefree days were over.
‘If you can see through Charlie,’ he said, somewhat dispiritedly, ‘I’ve got a problem on my hands, haven’t I?’
His friend shook his head and smiled. ‘No, not a problem, Rafe. If you play your cards correctly, I’d say your Charlie could be quite an asset.’
No, Rafe thought, Faysal’s reading this wrong. His friend might have approved of Charlie’s prettiness and sincerity, but he hadn’t seen her horror at the thought of actually having to marry him.
‘She’s a temporary stopgap,’ he said firmly. ‘That’s all.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘SO, ARE YOU going to give me a performance appraisal?’
Charlie and Rafe were back in the plane and taking off for Europe when she posed this question.
She’d tried her hardest to be cool and sophisticated in Faysal’s home and she needed to know if her efforts had been satisfactory. After all, there wasn’t much time to lift her act before they arrived in Montaigne.
She was watching Rafe intently, waiting for his answer, and she didn’t miss his frown, although he very quickly hid it behind a smooth smile.
‘You were perfect,’ he said.
‘Are you sure?’ She’d tried really hard to lose her accent, but she suspected that he wasn’t being totally honest. ‘I need to hear the truth, Rafe. I don’t want to let you down.’
Which was a noble way of saying that she didn’t want to face the embarrassment of being caught out.
‘You were fine,’ he said with a hint of impatience.
Charlie wasn’t sure that ‘fine’ was good enough, but she didn’t want to pester him and become annoying. She consoled herself that Rafe would have told her if she’d made a major blunder.
‘So there’s nothing you need to warn me about before I arrive in your country?’ she tried one more time.
Rafe smiled. ‘No, just be yourself, Charlie. It would be different if you really were my fiancée, but for now, I think you’ll do well just as you are.’
‘Right.’ Charlie wished the mention of Rafe’s ‘real’ fiancée didn’t bother her so much.
‘Just try to look as if you’re enjoying yourself,’ he said.
She couldn’t help smiling. ‘That shouldn’t be too hard.’
It was true. Everything about this trip so far had been wonderfully exciting. If Charlie hadn’t been so worried about poor little Isla, she would have looked on this as the adventure of a lifetime.
* * *
As soon as they reached their cruising height, Rafe opened his laptop again. Apparently, he was studying everything he could about mining, so that he could outwit the Leroy Mining Company who wanted to wreck his Alps.
For most of the flight Charlie watched movies. Her head still buzzed with a host of questions—questions about Rafe, about his family and his country, and what he expected of her—but he was clearly preoccupied. And, as he’d made it quite clear, she didn’t have the responsibility of a ‘real’ job.
That belonged to Olivia.
Her sister.
Charlie felt a deep pang at the thought of the girl who was her mirror image. Her sister. They shared the same mother. Had shared the same womb. The same DNA.
How could her father have kept this secret from her? Learning about it now, Charlie felt hurt. Deeply hurt, as if she’d been denied something precious. The other half of herself.
She wondered how on earth the decision had been made. Obviously her parents had decided to split and take a child each. But how had they made that choice?
Tossed a coin? Drawn straws?
Charlie wouldn’t dwell on the fact that her mother had rejected her and chosen Olivia. It could warp her mind if she let that sink in too deeply. The important thing to remember was that she loved her father very much. She’d had a wonderful childhood and they’d shared many adventures, and they had a great relationship. She couldn’t imagine her life without her sweet, dreamy dad.
But she also couldn’t deny that her feelings about Olivia were incredibly complicated. On one level she longed to meet her sister and get to know her, but on another level she was stupidly jealous that Olivia was going to marry this deadly handsome Prince.
When Rafe found her.
* * *
They arrived in Grenoble mid-afternoon, descending through thick clouds into a world of whiteness. Snow blanketed every rooftop and field and Charlie was so excited she could hardly drag herself from the window when the flight attendant delivered her coat and scarf.
‘Do you have boots?’ Rafe asked, eyeing Charlie’s flimsy shoes. ‘You might need them.’
‘They’re packed away in my suitcase.’
‘Hmm.’ He came closer and fingered the fabric of her coat.
Charlie could tell by his frown that the coat was inadequate.
‘This should be OK to get you from here to my car,’ he said. ‘But you’ll have to get something thicker and warmer for Montaigne.’
‘Yes, I dare say.’ The new coat would probably need to be a good deal more glamorous, too, Charlie thought, as she noted the elegant cut of Rafe’s thick overcoat. In other words, she would have to spend a big chunk of her meagre savings on a coat that she’d only need for a couple of weeks. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask Rafe for more money.
Despite Rafe’s warning, Charlie wasn’t prepared for the blast of frigid air that hit her as she stepped out of the plane. The cold seemed to bite straight through her coat and penetrate to her very bones.
‘Are you OK?’ Rafe asked, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘Charlie, you’re shivering. Here, take my coat.’
‘No, it’s all right. We’re almost there.’
Welcome warmth enveloped them as they left the tarmac and the airport’s doors slid open for them. But now there was something else to worry about.
‘Are there likely to be paparazzi here?’ she asked.
Rafe slanted her a smile. ‘There shouldn’t be. I’ve tried to keep my movements undercover.’
Just the same, Charli
e turned up the collar on her coat and tried to look relaxed when heads turned their way. She kept a fixed little smile in place as she walked with Rafe to the chauffeur waiting with a sleek black, unmarked car. All was well. So far.
* * *
Grenoble lay at the very foot of the Alps, so it wasn’t long before the car was climbing the mountainous slopes. Snowflakes drifted all around them, and Charlie watched through the car windows in delight.
‘It doesn’t snow in Sydney,’ she told Rafe. ‘I’ve seen snow in the Blue Mountains and on the tops of the peaks in Nepal, but we were there in summer. I’ve never seen it like this. With snow simply everywhere.’
It was only then that she caught Rafe’s warning frown and his quick glance to the chauffeur sitting just in front of him.
Oh, help.
Charlie flinched. What an idiot she was. Of course, this chauffeur would talk to the rest of Rafe’s staff about the strange change in their master’s fiancée. Damn. She’d only just arrived and already she’d made a huge blunder.
Her face was burning as she pressed her lips tightly together. She was such a fool. Turning away sharply, she held her eyes wide open to try to hold back any hint of tears.
Until now, she hadn’t doubted that she could do this, but with this first silly gaffe the enormity of her task almost overwhelmed her. There would be so many chances to make mistakes—with servants, with government officials, with Rafe’s friends, shopkeepers...
Rafe reached for her hand and she jumped, but his touch was gentle.
‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.
‘But—’ Charlie nodded meaningfully towards the back of the chauffeur’s head.
‘It’s OK,’ Rafe said quietly, still holding her hand. ‘I’ll speak to him.’ After a bit, he added, ‘You’ll probably prefer not to have a personal maid.’
Heavens no. Charlie supposed Olivia might have had a maid, but she was bound to make way too many slip-ups under that level of vigilant attention. ‘I don’t think a maid will be necessary,’ she said carefully.
Rafe nodded.
Deeply grateful, Charlie managed a weak smile. ‘I’ll get the hang of this,’ she promised.
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