Charlie found this hard to believe. ‘Who would ask about me?’
Rafe smiled again. ‘Absolutely everyone. My staff. My good friend Faysal. Monique at Belle Robe. The people at the hospital. Just about anyone who’s met you, Charlie.’
She had no idea what to say to this. She was astonished that these people even remembered her, let alone cared about her. Totally flustered, she stood abruptly and wondered if it was too soon to start clearing the table.
Rafe stood too and he moved towards her, reached for her hand before she could try to pick up a plate.
‘Charlie,’ he said softly.
‘What?’ She could barely hear her nervous response above the thumping of her heart.
‘You were right to be cautious. We do hardly know each other.’ His hand closed around hers. ‘But I meant what I said at the airport. I want us to have a second chance.’
A second chance...
Charlie was as enchanted by Rafe’s touch, by the pressure of his fingers wrapped around hers, as she was by his words. But there were things she needed to sort out. This man was supposed to be finding himself a wife to help him to rule Montaigne. He had access to the wealthiest and most beautiful women in Europe and he now had time to court one of these women properly. So what was he doing in a suburban flat in Sydney?
‘What sort of second chance are we talking about, Rafe? Last time you wanted me to pretend to be your fiancée.’
‘I know, I know.’ He gave a soft groan. ‘Looking back it was crazy, but it was the best crazy thing I’ve ever done.’
Now he reached for her other hand and held them both together, cradled against his chest.
Charlie could feel the heat of him through his thin white T-shirt, feel the thud of his heartbeats. She blinked back tears and tried to breathe. Don’t cry. Not now.
‘Charlie, I’ve missed you so much I thought I was going out of my mind.’
She couldn’t speak. All the air had been sucked out of her lungs.
‘But I owe it to you to do better,’ Rafe said. ‘I want us to go about dating the way any other couple might. No pressure, no huge expectations. Just the two of us getting to know each other, seeing how things work out.’
‘Where—where might this happen?’
‘Here. In Sydney.’
‘You mean, you’d stay here in Sydney?’
‘For a while, a couple of weeks at least. I’d love to explore this place with you. Bondi Beach, the harbour, maybe the Blue Mountains.’
It was Charlie’s idea of bliss and she could no longer think of reasonable objections. ‘Well, I don’t happen to have a job any more, so I’m actually free.’
‘That’s handy.’ Laughter shone in Rafe’s eyes.
Charlie tried to smile back at him, but she couldn’t see him now for tears.
It didn’t matter. Rafe’s arms were around her. Strong and reassuring and safe. She closed her eyes, let her head rest against his chest. It felt like coming home.
He didn’t kiss her immediately. For long lovely moments he just held her close as if she was the most precious thing in the world. And when his lips finally found hers, his kiss was lazy and lingering, and the magic was there from the first contact.
Charlie felt the heat and the power of him flowing through her, touching flashpoints, igniting the yearning that had never really gone away.
Rafe in jeans and a T-shirt, here in Australia, was every bit as sexy and dangerous as he’d been in his castle in full princely regalia. Desire curled through Charlie like smoke. Like smoke and flames and she wanted to press close to him, to wriggle against him, to tear off her clothes.
Between increasingly frantic kisses, she asked, ‘Have you booked into a hotel?’
‘Yes. Somewhere near the harbour.’
‘But you said you wanted to see me in my natural environment.’
Rafe smiled. ‘That’s true, I do.’
‘Then you should cancel your booking,’ she suggested recklessly. ‘Stay here.’
She heard the sharp rasp of his breath. ‘That would be perfect.’
Then in a burst of unbelievable confidence, she said, ‘But, of course, you’d need to check my bedroom first. Make sure the mattress is up to scratch.’
Now he laughed. ‘Have I ever told you I love the way you think, Charlie girl?’
In one easy motion he swept her high, holding her with an arm beneath her knees and another around her shoulders. ‘Which way is the bedroom?’
Charlie pointed.
* * *
Of course, she knew she should be nervous about directing a royal prince to her boudoir. She had no idea what happened when a girl let a fairy tale and real life collide. But she was too entranced to analyse the problem, too impressed by Rafe’s strength, by the easy way he carried her as if she were a featherweight.
‘It’s like a glamorous cave in here,’ he said as he set her down on the snowy white bed in her black-walled bedroom with just a single lamp glowing in the corner.
‘I got carried away with the black and white theme.’
‘It’s great. I love it.’ He sat on the bed beside her, and her body hummed with anticipation as he leaned over her, supporting himself with a hand on the mattress on either side of her.
Please, she whispered silently. She’d never felt so ready, so wanting.
Bending closer, he kissed her throat, her chin, her brow and, in that moment, as her eyes drifted closed, he pressed gentle kisses to her eyelids, and Charlie forgot the whole prince thing. This was Rafe and that was all that mattered. Rafe, the hunkiest and the nicest guy she’d ever met, who’d come all this way to get to know her.
‘I’ve missed you so much I thought I was going out of my mind,’ he’d said.
He kissed her mouth, teasing her lips apart with his tongue, and any last efforts to think dissolved as sensation claimed her, washing over her in heated, hungry waves. She wound her arms around his neck, and her hips bucked, needing him closer still.
It should have been gentle and lingering, this first time, but they’d been waiting too long. Need built fast and furiously, breaking through any final barriers of politeness. Everything went a little wild and slightly desperate as they helped each other out of their clothes and then scrambled to be close again. Skin to skin.
At the centre of the wildness there was happiness, too. For Charlie, a fierce, bubbling, over-the-top joy. She and the man who’d stolen her heart were together at last, and everything was OK. It was perfect.
* * *
It was ten days later when Charlie got the phone call. For Rafe they had been ten glorious days, spent exclusively with Charlie, exploring Sydney, dining out, cooking at home, talking, talking, making love. A kind of honeymoon without the wedding. A perfection they both knew couldn’t last.
On this particular day they had been to the Blue Mountains, hiking, checking out the gift shops and dining in a hotel with an amazing view of craggy cliffs and a deep, tree-studded valley. Rafe was driving his hire car back into Charlie’s garage when her phone rang. She had to fish the phone out of her bag.
‘I’ve no idea who this can be,’ she said as she checked the caller ID. She climbed out of the car to answer the call.
Rafe collected their sweaters from the back seat, locked the car, and indicated to Charlie that he would go ahead to open the flat.
Still intent on the phone conversation, she nodded.
He was in the kitchen, giving Dolly a welcome scratch behind her ears, when Charlie came in. Charlie’s eyes were wide, as if she’d had a shock, but there was also a tightness in her expressive face that suggested she might not want to share her news.
‘That was unexpected,’ she said, setting her phone on the kitchen counter.
‘Is everything OK?’ Rafe asked cautio
usly.
‘Well, I guess. I’ve been offered a job.’
An unwelcome chill spread over his skin. Charlie had already told him about her father’s sudden rise to fame and the changes at the art gallery where she used to work. But they hadn’t talked about her future plans. They’d been busy making the most of their time together, and Rafe had promised Charlie there would be no pressure or expectation, so he’d been careful to hold any discussion about the future at bay. Charlie hadn’t mentioned any job prospects.
‘It’s weird,’ she said now. ‘I’ve applied for all kinds of positions and been knocked back and now I’m offered a job I never even applied for.’
Rafe’s throat tightened. ‘What kind of offer?’
‘To run another art gallery at the Gold Coast. In Queensland.’ Her eyes widened and it was clear she was impressed. ‘There’s a big tourist market up there,’ she said. ‘A huge turnover.’
‘A big responsibility, then.’ Rafe spoke quietly, despite the chilling lump of dread that had settled in his gut.
Now he regretted his reticence to talk about their future. He hadn’t wanted to rush Charlie, to overwhelm her with the truth about his deep feelings for her. But the past days had only served to prove to him how important she was to him.
In every way, Charlie was the most desirable woman he’d ever known, but his feelings went way beyond their incredible chemistry. With her own special brand of wisdom, Charlie brought the perfect balance to his world.
As he juggled the privileges of royalty with its responsibilities, he needed this sunny, open-hearted and genuine girl in his life. By his side.
Hell. Had he left it too late?
* * *
Charlie stood very still with her arms folded tightly over her chest, trying hard not to mind that Rafe had taken her news so calmly, as if he wasn’t in any way a part of her future.
A big responsibility, then.
Was that all he could say?
After ten of the best days of her life? After ten ecstatically beautiful days filled with fun and laughter and their deepening friendship, not to mention sublimely satisfying sex?
Foolishly, she’d spent these ten days falling more deeply and helplessly in love with the man, despite the fact that there’d been no talk at all about where any of this was leading.
Now Charlie hugged herself tighter and tried not to panic. But Rafe was taking her news so calmly. Too calmly. Had she been a total fool? Had she totally misunderstood where their relationship was heading?
Was the new job opportunity a turning point? Was Rafe about to gently let her go?
It was really nice knowing you, Charlie, but I’m royalty after all, and I’m afraid you’re not quite up to scratch.
‘I didn’t realise you were still job-hunting,’ Rafe said.
Charlie shrugged miserably and kept her gaze on the black and white floor tiles. ‘I wasn’t really hunting for this job.’
‘If I’d known you were looking for work, I might have spoken earlier,’ he said. ‘I’d like to offer you a job.’
She stiffened. A job offer from Rafe was like a slap in the face. What did he have in mind? To employ her as some kind of secretary-cum-mistress?
How dared he?
‘No, thanks,’ she snapped, jamming her lips tightly together to bite back the sob that threatened.
‘Because being my wife is a kind of job, I’m afraid.’
At first, Charlie thought she’d misheard him.
‘As you know,’ Rafe went on with uncharacteristic earnestness, ‘there are certain expectations and responsibilities. But I think—no, I don’t just think, I know you’d be brilliant at that particular job, Charlie. So I was hoping you’d do me the honour—’
He stopped talking and looked at her with a smile that was both shy and hopeful.
Charlie stopped hugging herself. Instead she gripped the counter before her knees gave way. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said shakily. ‘I think I might have missed something. What exactly are you asking me?’
And that was when it happened. Tall, impossibly handsome Rafael St Romain, Prince of Montaigne, got down on one knee on her kitchen floor and placed a hand over his heart.
‘I love you, Charlie. I suspect I’ve been in love with you from the day I first met you, but now I know it for certain and it’s a relief to be able to tell you at last.’
Oh.
‘I’m desperate to spend the rest of my life with you.’
‘Oh-h-h-h.’
‘And I’m shamelessly begging you to marry me.’
‘Oh, Rafe.’ Charlie dashed at tears with one hand while she held her other hand out to him. ‘I’ve been the same.’ Her voice was very wobbly as she linked her fingers with his. ‘I didn’t know it was possible to love someone so deeply. I had no idea till I met you.’
The intensity in his face was heart-stopping. ‘So you’ll marry me?’
Charlie was grinning now, with tears streaming down her face. ‘Only if you get up off that floor and kiss me.’
Leaping to his feet, Rafe was more than happy to oblige. ‘I promise I’ll make you happy,’ he said as he gathered Charlie close.
‘And if marrying you is a job, my first job will be to keep you happy, too,’ she told him.
A pleading meow sounded at their feet. Charlie felt a silken pressure against her ankles and looked down to a swishing black and white tail. ‘Oh, dear. If we get married, what will happen to Dolly?’
Rafe smiled. ‘No worries, as you Aussies say. She’ll fit in just fine in the castle.’
And then he kissed her and, despite the thousand wonderful kisses they’d shared, this was the very best kiss of all.
EPILOGUE
THE BELLS RANG LOUDLY, pealing from churches all over Montaigne, echoing from the mountainsides and rolling down the valleys. Loudest of all were the bells from the cathedral where Prince Rafael and his bride, Princess Charlotte, were to be married.
The joyful sounds surrounded Charlie and her dad as they drove through the streets, lined with crowds of cheering well-wishers who were waving flags or homemade signs.
We love you, Charlie!
Bonne chance!
Félicitations!
Charlie couldn’t help being overwhelmed by all the excitement and goodwill. She felt quite nervous by the time she and her father arrived at the cathedral and the bells were replaced by thundering organ music, lifting to the magnificent soaring ceilings.
Is this real? Is this really happening to me?
As she stood in the enormous cathedral doorway, Charlie trembled as she saw the splendour of it all—the stained-glass windows, the candles, the bishop in his robes, the pews filled with grand-looking strangers. She was almost too scared to look properly at Rafe, who stood at the far end of the very long aisle, incredibly splendid in a red jacket with gold braid and black trousers. She was so overcome she feared she might weep.
In that moment, however, her eye was caught by a bobbing flash of deep purple right at the front of the congregation. Someone had turned to grin and to wave excitedly. Charlie realised it was Edna.
Her neighbour had been over the moon to be invited to the royal wedding and today she looked magnificent in a purple lace suit, with a lavender fascinator, complete with feathers, perched rather precariously on her head.
The sight of her old neighbour’s familiar beaming grin was enough to calm Charlie.
She looked again at Rafe. And he smiled.
His smile was for her. Only for her. She could feel his love reaching her down the full length of the red-carpeted aisle, and she knew that, despite the over-the-top pomp and ceremony, Rafe was just a normal guy who needed her. He had told her this over and over during the past few days.
They loved each other. They might be a r
oyal couple, but they were also good mates. Everything was OK.
With a happy, calming, deep breath, Charlie turned her attention to Arielle, her flower girl, who had just arrived in the car that followed close behind.
Arielle was one of the first people Charlie had visited on her return to Montaigne. The little girl’s hair had grown back since the day they’d first met in the hospital, when she’d worn a crocheted cap and had won Rafe and Charlie’s hearts with her curtsy. On Charlie’s second visit, she had met Arielle’s parents as well. Since then her friendship with the family and with many other patients had deepened.
Today the excited little girl looked beautiful with her mop of short dark curls adorned by a circlet of roses that matched her floor-length dress of palest pink. Olivia looked beautiful too in a gown in the same shade. She’d been thrilled and touched when Charlie had invited her to be her matron of honour.
And Suze, Charlie’s best friend since kindergarten, was also a bridesmaid, looking perfectly lovely, but slightly overawed by the fact that her groomsman partner was a handsome sheikh.
Now, with everyone assembled, Charlie sent them all a final smile and then linked arms with her dad. Michael Morisset had taken a while to get used to the idea of his daughter marrying a prince. At first he’d thought Charlie was pulling his leg. It was too preposterous to believe.
Fortunately, once he’d got to know Rafe, he’d calmed down. Eventually, he’d declared his prospective son-in-law to be a regular ‘good bloke’.
‘I was worried Rafe wouldn’t understand how lucky he was,’ Charlie’s father had confided. ‘But he seems to truly appreciate how wonderful you are, my duckling, so I’m happy to give you my blessing.’
Now her dad smiled at her. His eyes were a tad too shiny, but he still looked happy. ‘I’m so proud of you, kiddo,’ he said fondly, a beat before the organist struck the opening chords of the processional hymn.
The congregation rose, the music swelled and flowed, and Charlie kept her smile just for Rafe as she made her way down the long, long aisle. Throughout the procession, her Prince didn’t take his eyes from her and his message was clear and shining.
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