He hardly dared to read its contents. By now, he had no doubt that the news wouldn’t be good.
His fears were quickly confirmed.
Dear Rafe,
Goodbye and thanks so much for everything. Your country is beautiful and you’ve been a wonderful host. It’s been an amazing experience.
My bank will be in touch to repay you the money in full. I wish you and Olivia every happiness.
Oh, and I’ve borrowed your chauffeur.
Apologies for the inconvenience,
Charlie xx
If Rafe had thought he’d cared about Charlie before this, now the true weight of his feelings crashed down on him. The thought of losing her was as painful as cutting his own heart out with a penknife.
He couldn’t possibly let her go without making sure she understood how he felt.
He wasted no time on a second reading of her note. Grabbing his phone, he speed-dialled his chauffeur.
‘Tobias, where are you?’
‘Good morning, Your Highness. I have just driven Mademoiselle Morisset to Grenoble.’
‘You’re there already?’
‘Yes, Your Highness.’
Rafe cursed. It was rather telling that Tobias had referred to Charlie by her correct name—Morisset. ‘I gave you no such instructions,’ he barked.
‘Forgive me, Your Highness, but you told me to make myself available to the mademoiselle at all times.’
This was damn true, Rafe remembered now, through gritted teeth. And perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that Charlie had won over his staff. ‘So you’re already at the airport?’
‘I am, sir.’
‘And Mademoiselle Morisset has already booked her flights.’
‘I believe so, Your Highness.’ After a small silence. ‘Yes, she has.’
Damn.
As Rafe disconnected he was already racing through the castle. He had no choice but to drive his own car down the mountain as quickly as possible. No matter what risks were involved, he couldn’t let Charlie simply fly away.
* * *
It was freezing when Charlie stepped out of the car at Grenoble airport. She almost wished she’d brought her lovely new overcoat with her, but she was determined to leave behind everything that meant she was in any way indebted to the Prince.
Now, she knew that Tobias had been speaking to Rafe on the phone. In other words, Rafe knew where she was, so on the off chance that he might, for some crazy reason, try to follow her, she shouldn’t linger over farewells.
She needed to get away, to get safely home to Sydney and to put this whole heartbreaking experience behind her.
‘Thank you, Tobias,’ she said as he set her suitcase on the footpath. ‘I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, especially your skilful driving down those steep snowy roads.’
‘Thank you, mademoiselle. It’s been my pleasure.’
‘I hope Prince Rafael won’t be too angry with you for bringing me here this morning,’ she said.
Tobias shrugged. ‘Don’t give it another thought. Would you like me to help you with your suitcase?’
‘No, thank you. It has wheels. It’s as easy as pie.’ She pinned on a smile as she held out her hand. ‘Goodbye, then, Tobias.’
‘Adieu, mademoiselle. I wish you a safe journey.’ To Charlie’s surprise, a look of genuine warmth shone in the chauffeur’s eyes as he smiled. ‘I and the rest of the castle staff will miss you, mademoiselle.’
Miss me? This was so unexpected, Charlie felt a painful lump in her throat. Her vision grew blurry. Why, oh, why was she so susceptible to people saying nice things about her?
She managed a shaky, crooked smile. ‘I’ll miss you, too. I’ve had a wonderful stay in your country.’
Then quickly, before she made a total fool of herself, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, yanked it into its extended position, gave a hasty wave, and hurried away, dragging the wobbling suitcase behind her as she went through the airport’s huge sliding glass doors.
* * *
Rafe drove as quickly as he dared down the steep, winding mountain road. Of course, there were princely responsibilities that he should have been attending to this morning, but right now finding Charlie before she boarded a plane was far more important than anything else.
He couldn’t bear to think that Charlie might slip away before they had a proper conversation. Charlie knew nothing about the way his entire situation had changed overnight. He had to tell her that he was free from the pressure to marry her sister. More importantly, he had to tell her the truth that lay in his heart.
Unfortunately, it was going to be a damned difficult conversation to get right. Rafe needed Charlie to understand the true strength and depth of his feelings for her.
Some might say this was an unreasonable expectation, given that Rafe hadn’t really understood these feelings himself until this morning. It was only when he’d read Charlie’s note and realised that he was going to lose her that he’d faced a moment of terrifying truth. Everything had been suddenly, frighteningly clear.
Charlie Morisset was desperately important to his future happiness.
Rafe had known many women—all glamorous, beautiful or charming in their own way—but he’d never known a woman like Charlie. Charlie was not only beautiful and sexy, but she was honest and genuine and caring and funny and kind.
In just a few short days, she had become so much more than a girlfriend Rafe wanted to bed. She’d become a rare and real friend. She’d answered a deep need in himself that he hadn’t even realised existed. Until now.
Unhappily, he knew it would be asking a great deal to expect Charlie to believe in the truth of his rapid transformation. It would be especially difficult when time was so pressing. Charlie had every right to tell him to take a flying leap.
Rafe cursed aloud, but it wasn’t the particularly sharp bend in the roadway that bothered him. It was the harrowing possibility that he might let Charlie go.
And yet...if he was honest, he had to admit that he had used the girl to his own ends, with very little regard for her finer feelings. Now he wanted to make amends, but there was only the briefest window of opportunity to set things right.
As the Prince of Montaigne spun the steering wheel back and forth, negotiating yet another set of hairpin bends at the fastest possible speed, he tried to practise what he must say to his no-nonsense, straight-shooting Australian.
If only it could be as easy as it was in the movies when a guy chasing a girl could win her with a simple I love you.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHARLIE FELT CALMER once she’d emerged from the long queue in Customs and was safely in the departure lounge. In less than an hour now she would be on a flight home to Sydney via Paris, this time without a diversion to Dubai and a handsome sheikh’s residence.
She bought herself a cappuccino, a croissant and a paperback novel. She chose a murder mystery, rather than a romance. It would probably be years before she could bear to read another romance. She now knew better than to believe in happy ever after.
Settling at a table in the corner of the café, she took a sip of her coffee and opened the paperback with a great sense of purpose.
Focus, girl, focus.
The story was set in the American Midwest, thousands of kilometres from anywhere Charlie had ever been. It was midsummer, apparently, and the hero cop had a doozy of a hangover. There was a body lying in the middle of a cornfield. Flies were buzzing around it.
Charlie sighed and closed the book. She wasn’t normally squeamish, but this morning she wasn’t in the mood for blood and gore. Problem was, she wasn’t in the mood for any form of entertainment, really.
Her mind, her whole body, felt numb. She broke off a corner of her croissant. She hadn’t had any breakf
ast and she should have been hungry, but even the sweet pastry filled with strawberry jam seemed tasteless.
It was as if her senses had been dulled. She had left Montaigne and sent herself into self-imposed exile, and nothing would ever be the same again.
No Rafe.
Forget him.
But how could she forget him? How could she forget the whole prince-Alpine-castle fairy tale? The gorgeous lunch at Cosme’s. The walk with Rafe through the snowy streets, holding hands. The look in his eyes when he saw her in the ball gown. His kiss.
Oh, help, that kiss.
How was a girl supposed to get over something as life-changing as that?
Heading to the opposite hemisphere is supposed to help. Aren’t distance and time supposed to cure all wounds?
Yes, once she was back in Sydney, surrounded by everything that was familiar and dear, she’d feel so much better. All she wanted was for this flight to be over.
She needed to be home.
* * *
Rafe’s car skidded to a halt in the airport car park. As he leapt from the driver’s seat an attendant glared at him. Rafe pressed several large notes into the man’s beefy hand. ‘Be a good fellow and park this for me.’
‘But—’
‘This is an emergency.’
Without waiting to see the attendant’s reaction, Rafe took off on foot, racing into the airport terminal, heedless of the surprised stares of staff and travellers. He was a man on a mission, a desperate mission as far as he was concerned. He had to see Charlie. He couldn’t let her go back to Australia without speaking to her, without making sure she understood that everything about his situation had changed.
Mathilde had tracked down Charlie’s flight and had texted him the details. Now, in the middle of the busy airport, he scanned the list of flights that were preparing for departure.
Already, Charlie’s flight was boarding. A chill swept through him. He still had to wrangle with Security and Customs, had to persuade them to let him get through to her.
But he would do this. He was the Prince of Montaigne. With luck, someone at the Customs gates would recognise him, but if that didn’t happen he would wave his royal passport in their faces and make them understand.
He would do whatever was necessary to stop that plane.
* * *
Flying home was going to be a very different matter from the flight in Rafe’s luxurious chartered jet. Charlie was crammed into economy class beside a little Japanese man who seemed to go to sleep as soon as he sat down and a very large American businessman who only just managed to get his seat belt done up.
Wedged between them, Charlie tried to look on the bright side. She could watch back-to-back movies if necessary and, if she didn’t sleep, at least she would be home inside twenty-four hours and then she could sleep for a week.
She had hoped to keep Rafe out of her thoughts, but she found herself wondering if he was awake yet. No doubt he’d slept in quite late after the Grand Ball, but he might be up by now.
Had he seen her note? Would he be upset that she’d left without saying a proper goodbye? Or would he simply move Olivia back into her room and get on with his life?
This possibility was so depressing, Charlie picked up her novel and tried again to read, forcing herself to concentrate on the words on the page and to ignore the questions in her head, the heavy weight in her chest.
* * *
‘Miss Morisset?’
Charlie had actually made it to page three—after having read the second page several times—when she heard her name. She looked up to see a pretty, auburn-haired flight attendant fixing her with a wide-eyed, fearful stare, almost as if she suspected Charlie of being a terrorist or something equally horrifying.
Charlie tried not to panic. ‘Yes?’ she said.
‘Could you please come with me?’ the attendant asked.
A shaft of white-hot panic shot through Charlie. What could possibly have gone wrong now? Was there a mistake with her ticket? She’d never bought a plane ticket using her phone before. But surely a problem would have been picked up at the airport desk. Not now, at the last moment.
Despite her profuse apologies, the large American wasn’t happy about getting out of his seat to make room to let Charlie past. She tried to ignore all the curious stares of the other passengers, but her cheeks were flaming as she followed the flight attendant back down the long narrow aisle, through business class and first class, where people were already sipping champagne, to the very front of the plane.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, when the attendant finally stopped at the plane’s front door. ‘Is there a problem with my ticket?’
‘There’s someone here who needs to speak to you,’ the girl said, nodding towards the air bridge. Her eyes were bigger than ever, and a couple of other attendants were also staring at Charlie.
Crikey, anyone would think she was a celebrity or something. Or had something terrible happened? Was it a message from her father? Were the police trying to contact her?
Stiff with fear, Charlie forced her feet to move forward, through the doorway. Then she saw the tall, dark-haired, masculine figure in a long charcoal overcoat and her knees almost caved.
It didn’t make sense. What was he doing here? Was she dreaming?
‘Charlie!’ A huge smile lit up Rafe’s handsome face as he stepped forward, reaching for her hands.
‘Wh-what are you d-doing here?’
‘I had to see you. I couldn’t let you go.’
‘Why? Is something wrong?’
‘No, not at all. Everything’s fine, in fact. Very fine indeed. That’s why I had to see you, to let you know.’
And suddenly, standing in the air bridge, holding her hands tightly in his, Rafe told her a crazy story about his Chancellor and some Chief Justice and an overnight change in Montaigne’s laws. He said that he and Olivia weren’t going to marry after all, and now he wanted Charlie to know how he really felt about her.
Her head was spinning.
‘I haven’t slept all night for thinking of you,’ Rafe said.
Charlie hadn’t slept for thinking about him, but she wasn’t about to admit that now when her mind was made up. She’d put too much hard thinking into reaching this point.
Now she didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. This was like something out of a dream—or a nightmare; she wasn’t sure which.
‘I want you to stay.’ Rafe’s gaze was intense. ‘I need you to come back with me, Charlie, so I can explain everything to you properly. I want us to have another chance. A proper chance.’
Another chance.
Charlie’s whole body swayed dizzily. It was just as well Rafe was holding her hands or she might have fallen.
He stepped closer, and she smelled the faintest trace of his cologne as he leaned in to speak softly in her ear. ‘I know this is the wrong place and the wrong time, but I’ve fallen in love with you, Charlie.’
In love. In love. In love.
The words circled in her head, but they felt unreal, like part of a magic spell.
Rafe clasped her hands more tightly. ‘Please come back to Montaigne with me.’
Oh-h-h.
She couldn’t believe this was happening now.
It was everything she wanted. It was too much to take in. Her poor heart was soaring and swooping like a bird caught in a whirlwind. She longed to lean into Rafe, to be wrapped in his strong arms, to just let him sweep her away.
But she had to be sensible. She had to remember how she’d sat in her room in the early hours of this morning, alone in Rafe’s castle, thinking carefully and rationally about everything that had happened between them. She had reminded herself then how very, very easy it was to be blinded by this handsome Prince, by his charm, by his wealth and po
wer.
She knew she had to be super careful now, or she could make a very serious mistake.
* * *
Rafe saw the fear in Charlie’s pale face and his heart sank. Had he done this to her? Surely he hadn’t made her feel so scared? It was the last thing he wanted. ‘Charlie, I only want to talk to you, to try to explain.’
She was shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry, Rafe. It’s too much. Too much pressure.’
‘But I wouldn’t try to force you into anything.’
‘You already have,’ she said.
‘No, Charlie, I—’
He was silenced by the stubborn light in her eyes. It reminded him of the tough little terrier he’d met in the Sydney art gallery. Right now Charlie looked both tough and scared.
‘You’re trying to get me off this plane, Rafe. What’s that if it’s not bullying?’ Charlie’s lovely mouth twisted as if she was trying very hard not to cry.
Again, she shook her head. ‘Believe me, I’ve thought this through properly. We come from totally different worlds. We connected for a couple of days and it was fun. But you were right all along. Happy endings are for dreamers. Real life is all about compromise and common sense.’
Despair ripped through Rafe. He couldn’t bear to lose her, to let things end this way.
‘Thanks for everything, but I’m going home,’ Charlie told him quietly, and then, before he could find the all-important words that might stop her, she turned. Her shoulders were ramrod-straight as she walked back into the plane.
* * *
The flight attendants quickly turned from their whispering huddle when Charlie appeared, but not before she heard snatches of their conversation.
‘Rafael...’
‘Prince of Montaigne...’
‘Playboy...’
She didn’t bother to speak to them. With her head high, her eyes stinging but dry, she made the hideously long journey back down the aisle to her seat.
Her large neighbour wasn’t happy about having to get out again to let her past. She thanked him and, as soon as she was buckled in her seat, she found the eye mask for sleeping and slipped it on.
The Prince's Convenient Proposal Page 14