Eventually, the huge plane rolled forward on the tarmac, gathering speed, and she told herself over and over that she’d done the right thing, the only sensible thing. She could only hope that if she kept saying this until she reached Sydney, she might at last believe it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Six weeks later
AFTER YET ANOTHER unsuccessful job interview, Charlie climbed the stairs to her flat, lugging grocery bags with food for her cat, as well as the ingredients for her own dinner.
She was now at the end of her second full week of job hunting and she’d lost count of the number of interviews she’d endured. If she’d known it would be this difficult to get another job, she might not have accepted the gallery’s redundancy so readily. Not that she’d had much option.
From the moment her father had been heralded as the art world’s latest sensation, the directors of the gallery where Charlie had worked for five years had promptly decided to employ experts with ‘proper’ qualifications. Charlie hadn’t been to university, so her intimate knowledge of the work of local artists hadn’t counted.
The dismissal had upset her for a day or two. Her father had protested and wanted to fight for her to stay, but she’d begged him not to cause a fuss. In her heart of hearts, she’d already accepted that it was time to move on. After all, the gallery was a constant reminder of a certain tall, commanding figure who’d come striding through the doors to turn her world upside-down.
Now it was late on a Friday. Charlie reached the landing at the top of the steps and set down her shopping while she fished in her jeans pocket for her keys. It was a warm afternoon at the end of summer. Edna from next door had left her door open to catch a breeze and the smell of her baking wafted down the hallway.
The tempting aroma of freshly baked chocolate cake was accompanied by the sound of voices—Edna’s voice and a masculine baritone. Judging by the happy chatter, the two of them were having a jolly old time. Disturbingly, the man’s voice reminded Charlie of Rafe’s.
So annoying to have yet another reminder of the man she was trying so hard to forget. Pushing the key roughly into the lock, Charlie shoved at the door, holding it open with her knee, while she gathered up the shopping bags.
Meow!
Her darling cat, Dolly, pattered down the hall, eager to greet her. ‘Hello, beautiful girl, you’re going to love me when you see what I’ve bought for your dinner.’
Dolly answered with another meow and rubbed her silky black and white body against Charlie’s shins. Then she began to sniff at the shopping bags.
Charlie was closing the door when Edna’s voice called from the next flat, ‘Yoo-hoo! Is that you, Charlie?’
‘Yes, Edna, just home.’ Charlie tried to inject a little enthusiasm into her response, but she knew from experience that Edna liked to drag her in for a cuppa and to meet her friends. She wasn’t in a sociable mood this evening.
If she was honest, she hadn’t been in a sociable mood for weeks. A broken heart could do that to a girl, and losing her job hadn’t helped. Charlie’s dad and her neighbour had both commented on her low moods, but so far they’d been tolerant, sensing that something ‘deep’ was the cause. However, she knew their tolerance would turn to annoyance before too long.
‘Ah,’ said Edna’s voice.
Charlie turned to see her neighbour beaming from her doorway.
‘I told him you should be home soon,’ said Edna.
Told him?
Charlie’s heart began a fretful kind of pounding. ‘Told who?’ she asked shakily.
Edna’s beaming grin broadened. ‘Your lovely friend.’
‘My—’
Rafe appeared in the hallway behind Edna, and Charlie froze. He was dressed in casual blue jeans and a white T-shirt. His black hair was a little longer and shaggier than she remembered, and his jaw was shadowed by the hint of a beard. He seemed a little leaner and more strained, and yet Charlie thought he’d never looked more gorgeous.
Why was he here?
She had relived the details of their farewell a thousand times, torturing herself with questions about what might have happened if she’d gone with Rafe instead of walking away.
Regrets? Yes, she’d had more than a few, but for the sake of her sanity she’d chosen to believe that she’d done the right thing, the only sensible thing.
Now, amazingly, after six long weeks, here Rafe was. Truly. In the flesh. Charlie was so blindsided she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think how to react. Could only stand there stupefied.
‘Hello, Charlie,’ he said.
She might have nodded. She couldn’t be sure.
‘Rafe told me you weren’t expecting him,’ Edna explained self-importantly, almost hugging herself with excitement. ‘Isn’t this a lovely surprise for you?’
‘I—guess,’ Charlie muttered faintly.
Her neighbour turned to Rafe. ‘Well, I really enjoyed meeting you again, Rafe, and thank you so much for our lovely chat.’
‘Thank you for the tea and chocolate cake,’ he responded with his customary courtesy.
‘I’ll leave you two to have a really nice catch-up now.’ Edna winked rather obviously at him.
Crikey, thought Charlie. The poor woman would probably have a heart attack if she knew she was winking so brazenly at a European prince.
With a final smiling wave, Edna closed her door.
Charlie swallowed as she looked at Rafe. Her impulse was to rush into her flat and slam the door in his face, but that would be childish, not to mention rude. And it would leave her with too many unanswered questions.
Her second thought was to hold Rafe at bay, here on the landing, while she demanded that he explain exactly why he had come all this way. She was still thinking this through when Rafe spoke.
‘How’s your baby sister?’ he asked.
It was the last thing Charlie had expected him to say and, in an instant, she could feel her resistance crumbling.
‘Isla’s doing really well,’ she said. ‘She’s home again and she’s getting fatter. She even gave her first smile last week.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
‘Yes, it is.’ He looked so gorgeous and, with so much emotion shimmering in his eyes, Charlie wanted to hurl herself into his arms. ‘I guess you’d better come inside,’ she said instead.
‘Thank you, Charlie. I’d like that.’
In the hallway, she bent to pick up her shopping.
‘Here, let me.’ Rafe bent down too and their hands bumped together as they both tried to grab the bags at the same moment.
Lightning flashes engulfed Charlie. She stepped away, her hands clenched to her sides as she thanked him weakly. ‘Can you bring the bags through to the kitchen?’
She couldn’t believe she was conversing about ordinary everyday things like her shopping bags with Rafe St Romain. Shouldn’t she be demanding to know exactly why he was here? Why he’d crossed hemispheres to be here?
But those questions felt too huge. Charlie had spent six long weeks trying to get over this man. Unfortunately, she now knew for sure that her efforts had been in vain. The mere sight of him stirred up every last vestige of the old longing and pain.
Oh, help!
Dolly rubbed at her ankles again, meowing more insistently. ‘She can smell her dinner,’ Charlie said, glad of the distraction. ‘I’d better feed her, or she’ll drive us mad.’
‘By all means.’
She nodded to a red kitchen stool. ‘Pull up a pew. Or if you’d prefer, you can sit in the lounge. I won’t be long.’
‘Here in the kitchen is fine, thanks.’
‘Would you like another cup of tea?’
Rafe smiled, rubbed a hand over his flat stomach. ‘No, thanks, I’m swimming in tea.’
‘Wine?’
He shook his head, and smiled again. ‘Take care of your cat.’
Charlie felt as if she’d woken in the middle of a weird dream as she unwrapped the fish she’d bought for Dolly and set it on a chopping board to dice. ‘When did you arrive in Sydney, Rafe?’
‘A couple of hours ago.’
‘You must be feeling jet-lagged.’
‘It’s not too bad.’
She transferred the fish to Dolly’s stainless-steel feeding bowl, set it on the floor, where Dolly greeted it with ecstatic, purring delight.
Rafe laughed. ‘That’s one happy cat.’
‘It’s a special treat. Fresh fish is like foie gras and champagne for her.’ Charlie washed her hands at the sink, dried them on a hand towel hanging on a hook, then turned back to Rafe without quite meeting his gaze. Under normal circumstances she would start cooking her own meal now.
These were anything but normal circumstances.
‘I was hoping that you might be free,’ Rafe said. ‘So I could take you out to dinner tonight.’
‘Oh, I—um—’ Charlie’s head spun dizzily as she imagined dining somewhere glamorous with this man. He would be sure to choose a restaurant with sensational gourmet food, first-class wines, candlelight and ambience by the truckload. She saw herself falling under his spell. Again.
Be careful, girl.
‘Actually, I—I was about to cook my dinner,’ she told him. ‘Why don’t you join me here?’ She couldn’t quite believe she’d said that, but she could hardly send him packing, and surely it was far safer to eat in her kitchen than to go to a restaurant? At least she would be able to keep busy here. She could distract herself with any number of small kitchen tasks.
‘There’s enough for two,’ she said. ‘That’s if you don’t mind a Thai prawn stir-fry?’
Rafe’s grey eyes gleamed with an intensity that made her heart stumble. ‘Thank you, Charlie. I’d like that very much.’
She swallowed. Now she felt stupidly nervous about cooking a meal in front of this Prince, even though she’d made the dish so many times she could practically do it in her sleep.
‘What can I do to help?’ Rafe asked.
She blinked at him. ‘Do you know how to cook? Have you ever been in a kitchen?’
He smiled. ‘Not since I was a small boy, but I used to love sneaking downstairs to help the cooks to peel apples, or to cut out gingerbread men.’
It was an endearing thought, and, despite her qualms, Charlie set two chopping boards and two knives on the counter. ‘You can help with chopping the veggies, then. I’ll do the onions—I’d hate to see a grown man cry. You can do the carrots. Or would you prefer—?’
‘Carrots are fine.’
It was surreal. Six weeks ago, they had parted at the door of an international jet amidst a huge amount of embarrassment and tension and now there were still huge questions hanging in the air. But Rafe seemed perfectly happy to help with preparing their dinner as if they were an old couple who’d lived harmoniously together for ages.
Charlie showed him how to cut carrots on the diagonal for stir-frying, rather than in strips or rounds.
‘Stir-frying needs to be very quick and this way there’s more of the carrot’s surface area coming in contact with the heat.’
He nodded. ‘That makes sense.’
As they chopped capsicum, shallots and fresh ginger Charlie asked about Tobias and Mathilde, Guillaume and Chloe. Rafe told her they were all well.
He looked up from his task, sending her a glance that hinted at amusement. ‘They all asked to be remembered to you.’
‘Oh.’ This was a surprise. Her face flamed as she nipped the ends off snow peas, and she refrained from asking any more questions as she set jasmine rice cooking on a back burner.
Charlie found the fish sauce she needed and combined it with soy sauce, sesame oil and honey in a small bowl. Luckily the prawns were already peeled, so she could avoid that messy task.
As she set the wok on the gas flame she wondered what Rafe was really thinking. She felt tense as a bowstring. Questions kept popping into her head, but they were so very personal and important that to ask them felt as reckless as running through a field of unexploded landmines.
She forced herself to concentrate on her task, working calmly and methodically, cooking the prawns in the hot oil with garlic and chilli.
‘When do the vegetables go in?’ Rafe asked as he came to stand beside her.
‘Soon. They only take a few minutes.’
‘It smells sensational.’
Her skin was flaming—not from the cooking heat, but from his proximity. ‘Would you—ah—mind setting the table? The plates and bowls are in the cupboard up there.’ She pointed. ‘And the cutlery’s in that drawer.’
Rafe set the table with black place mats and white china and Charlie’s red-handled cutlery, while Charlie transferred the stir-fry and the rice into two black and white ceramic bowls.
‘Wine!’ she announced. She suddenly, most definitely, needed wine. ‘There’s a nice cold white chilling in the fridge. I’ll get the glasses.’
But she’d run out of delaying tactics. In a matter of moments, everything was ready. Rafe was sitting opposite her at her dining table, and he was smiling—looking unaccountably happy, actually—and drop-dead sexy in his casual jeans and T-shirt. And Charlie knew her efforts to keep herself busy and diverted had been no help whatsoever.
Even without the glamour of a fancy restaurant and mood lighting, even here in her ordinary little flat with a simple home-cooked meal, Prince Rafael of Montaigne was as attractive and charming as ever. And she was still totally, hopelessly under his spell.
Worse, she knew they could no longer avoid the important conversations they’d been dancing around, although Rafe seemed in no hurry to broach them.
‘This is delicious,’ he said. ‘The flavours are fantastic.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’ The meal wasn’t exactly flash.
‘I love it, Charlie. This is exactly what I hoped for.’
‘Prawn stir-fry?’
He chuckled. ‘To see you in your natural environment.’
‘You make me sound like some kind of rare animal.’
‘Sorry.’ He gave a dismayed shake of his head. ‘Am I making a hash of this?’
Was he? Charlie thought he was being rather lovely, just as he’d been in Montaigne, although she was still uncertain and confused about the purpose of his surprise visit.
‘You were right,’ Rafe said suddenly, after he’d helped himself to another spoonful of veggies. ‘I should never have tried to drag you off that plane. I was an egotistical bully. I realised that, as soon as you turned and walked away from me. I couldn’t believe I’d been so crass.’
He looked so repentant, the final wedge of resistance in Charlie’s heart melted.
‘I shouldn’t have run away,’ she admitted. ‘I should have at least stayed at the castle until I’d thanked you for your wonderful hospitality. I should have said goodbye properly.’
Rafe shrugged. ‘I couldn’t really blame you for rushing off. You’d been through the wringer. I’d dragged you across the world and you had the stress of trying to pretend to be someone else. Not to mention all the worry about your little sister.’
‘And I also had a certain playboy prince kissing me senseless when he wasn’t supposed to.’
The smoulder in Rafe’s eyes sent Charlie’s skin flaming again. ‘I’m not going to apologise for kissing you.’
The air seemed to crackle with the chemistry sparking between them. Charlie dropped her gaze. ‘It was pretty awkward to have Olivia turning up just at that moment—’
‘It was,’ Rafe agreed. ‘Her timing was uncanny.’
He set down his fork. To Charlie’s surprise
, he smiled and leaned back in his chair, looking totally relaxed.
‘So how is Montaigne’s political situation now?’ she asked, having deliberately avoided searching the Internet for news of his country. It had seemed sensible to try to put the whole experience behind her, but now, with Rafe here in her flat, dining at her table, she needed to get her facts straight before her brain went into total meltdown. ‘Is everything settled?’
Rafe nodded. ‘Our new Chancellor is brilliant. Leroy Mining have pulled in their horns. Everything’s back to the way it should be as far as I’m concerned.’
‘That must be a relief. And where’s Olivia these days?’
‘On her honeymoon, I imagine.’
Charlie’s eyes widened. ‘She’s married already? To her fellow in Monaco?’
‘Yes. His name’s Frederick Hugo.’ Rafe took a lazy sip of his wine. ‘And she has also spilled her story to the press.’
‘About you—and—’
‘And about you,’ Rafe supplied smoothly. ‘Olivia’s big reveal. It was a double-page spread in a really popular glossy. Everything out in the open about how she only became engaged to me to help Montaigne, and the real love of her life was Frederick.’
‘Gosh.’
Rafe didn’t look the slightest bit put out. ‘No doubt the magazine paid her a fortune. That’s fine.’ He smiled. ‘She’s saved me from having to explain how there came to be two of you.’
Charlie swallowed. ‘So that’s in the magazines, too? About Olivia and me being identical twins?’
‘Yes, including photos of you at the hospital. Olivia declared she was ever so grateful that her sister stepped in when she had her little crisis.’
‘So now your whole country knows who I really am?’
‘Well, those who read gossip magazines, at any rate. But it means,’ Rafe added carefully, ‘that if you ever wanted to come back to Montaigne, we wouldn’t have to worry about awkward explanations.’
‘I—I see.’
‘Of course,’ he added, ‘I’m being plagued with questions about you, especially about why I let you go.’
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