Читать книгу Royals: His Hidden Secret - Kelly Hunter, C.J. Miller - Страница 14

GABRIELLE’S dinner fork clattered to her plate, lightly steamed carrot and snow pea still attached, as she stared at Rafael as if he’d grown horns and a tail.

‘Etienne de Morsay’s coming here?’ she said on a rising note of panic.

‘Yes.Tomorrow.’ Rafe studied his sister curiously from the opposite side of the dining table. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘Yes,’ she said tightly. ‘What does he want?’

‘He wants to look around the vineyard, and then he wants to discuss a vineyard restoration project he’d like me to oversee.’

‘Rafe, please…’ Gabrielle looked almost frightened. ‘You don’t want to work for this man. Cancel the meeting. Tell him he can’t come. Tell him you’ve too many wedding preparations to attend to!’

‘Everything’s done. Besides, apparently he’s a king. Can you cancel an audience with a king?’

‘You can do any damn thing you want,’ said Gabrielle fiercely. ‘You owe him nothing.’

‘Except an explanation,’ said Rafael dryly. ‘I’d like one too. What’s going on, Gabrielle? What do you have against me conducting business with this man?’

‘Nothing,’ she said quickly, as if only just realising how much her reaction would intrigue him. ‘Nothing, except that I’ve met the man, I don’t like him and I don’t think we should have anything to do with him.’ Gabrielle’s mouth set into a stubborn line. ‘He’s not an honest man.’

‘How so?’

‘Rafe, please!’ Gabrielle picked up her fork and Rafe watched in silence as her hand shook so badly that she had to put the fork back down. Bowing her head, she hid her trembling hand from his view. ‘I don’t want to go into it. Just…tell him not to come. It’s not a good time. The wedding’s in three days, Luc won’t be here for another two, and I just can’t cope with the thought of Etienne de Morsay right now. I can’t.’ Ashen-faced, she stared at him. ‘Please!’

‘All right. I’ll put him off until after the wedding. But then you’re going to tell me what this is all about.’

Gabrielle looked away, but not before Rafael had seen in her eyes a mixture of unbearable pain, stark fear, and defiance. Rafe knew that look. He’d seen it throughout their miserable childhood, in his own eyes, as well as in Gabrielle’s. He never thought he’d see it here. ‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ he said in the dialect of their youth, in the language of Caverness and all that went with it. ‘Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.’

‘But you can’t fix it.’ Gabrielle stood and placed her napkin on the table. ‘Not this time. No one can. Don’t let him come here, Rafael. I’m begging you.’

‘Shh.’ Dinner forgotten, he rose and enfolded his sister in his arms as he attempted to ease her distress. ‘Shh. It’s all right. I won’t let him come here. Just tell me why?’

‘I can’t.’ Her arms tightened around him and she sobbed as if her heart were breaking. ‘I can’t.’

The day of the wedding dawned silvery and clear and Simone thanked heaven for it as she eased the curtains from the sliding door and let the peace of early morning soothe her and chase away the remnants of her troubled sleep. Gabrielle had grown increasingly withdrawn and edgy in the days leading up to the wedding and nothing Simone had done had seemed to calm her down. It hadn’t been until Luc had arrived yesterday that Gabrielle had settled and regular bridal jitters had resumed. Simone could cope with the likes of those. What she didn’t like was knowing that something was wrong and not knowing what, and not being able to fix it.

She hated that.

Almost as much as she hated knowing that Rafael had once again been deliberately avoiding her these past few days and that her nerves were stretched almost as thin as Gabrielle’s because of it. Didn’t he know that familiarity bred contempt and that absence only made the want grow stronger?

Didn’t he know that seeing his hand in the wedding preparations all around her and not once seeing him was likely to drive her loopy? The tens of dozens of old roses that Inigo had taken delivery of yesterday and hidden in one of the cool rooms had been Rafael’s doing, Inigo had told her. As was the horse-drawn carriage that would take Simone and the blushing bride from the guest house to the lakeside gazebo where the ceremony would take place.

Didn’t Rafe know that a sit-down meal last night with just the four of them—Luc, Gaby, Rafe and her—would have done far more to ensure a smooth wedding day than Rafe spiriting Luc away to the vineyard last night and leaving her and Gabrielle to occupy guest-house rooms as per tradition? At least Luc and Gabrielle had spent most of yesterday together.

Simone had spent the day alone with only her thoughts for company.

They’d been decidedly dangerous thoughts.

Soon, Simone would call for coffee and then call to see if Gaby was awake and wanted her company, but for now she remained content to sit in her little guest-room courtyard, with the smell of night jasmine still lingering in the silvery dawn air.

She could do this.

No matter what Rafael’s mood today, or her own mood for that matter, she would do this. For the brother she adored. For Gabrielle with whom she’d shared so many childhood dreams. For her own sake, because she would never forgive herself if she made a mess of the bridesmaid duties bestowed upon her.

She could control her longing for Rafael today. She just had to do something to take the edge off her need beforehand, that was all. Maybe she should have booked a dawn skydive or gone for a quick swim in shark-infested waters. Maybe she still could. How far away was the beach? She padded inside and looked at the tourist leaflet on the bench. The beach was hours away and there was no promise of sharks.

Fine, then, she would just have to think rural. Horses. A spirited stallion with a burning desire to remain unbroken. A wild, beautiful, big-hearted beast who refused every normal rule of engagement and all you had to do was forget the rein and earn his trust and trust him not to hurt you in return. That was if he ever let you get close enough to him to try. But if he did let you close…if he did let you ride…the experience stayed with you for ever and ruined you for all other horses.

‘Bastard stallions,’ she muttered. ‘More trouble than they’re worth.’

She could be good, this day. She could do her duty as Gabrielle’s bridesmaid and her duty to the houses of Duvalier and Alexander both. One day. It wouldn’t kill her to behave for one more day.

Then she would go to war.

‘Your brother’s been pacing my kitchen since 6:00 a.m.,’ said Rafael, when Simone phoned the vineyard at Gabrielle’s urging, ostensibly to get an update on Luc’s frame of mind. ‘I cooked half a pig, a leg of cow and a dozen eggs and he barely managed a slice of Vegemite on toast. That’s gratitude for you.’

‘Show him your winery,’ said Simone.

‘Done that.’

‘I haven’t seen you round these last couple of days,’ she said next. Easy to be fearless from a distance. ‘Inigo even asked if you were deliberately avoiding me—you know how people talk. He seemed to be under the impression that you might be afraid of me. Or something. And that would be a shame seeing as we’re about to become one big happy family.’

Gabrielle snorted. Gabrielle grinned. Gabrielle silently shook her head.

‘I’m not afraid of you, Simone,’ Rafe said curtly. ‘I’m not avoiding you. And I thought we had a truce for today.’

‘Oh, we do,’ she said earnestly. ‘Has it started already?’

‘It’s today, isn’t it?’

‘Does that mean our truce finishes at midnight?’

Silence at that, followed by a curt one-word reply. ‘No.’

‘That’s what I thought. Why don’t we make this a twenty-four-hour truce starting from, say, now?’

‘Fine.’ If the phone could have bit her it would have.

‘Perfect. So what are we going to do about my brother?’

‘He’s driving me almost as insane as you do.’

‘Get him to help you make some wine,’ she offered.

‘I already have. Last night’s vintage has been tried, tested, barrelled, and for evermore shall be known as Bride’s Bane. It’s quite a drop.’

‘Luc better be sober, Rafael, or so help me you’ll both pay.’

‘Trust me, he’s sober,’ he said. ‘But tell me this. What the hell am I supposed to do with him for another six hours?’

‘You mean you don’t have a plan?’ Simone covered the phone with her hand and addressed Gabrielle in a loud whisper. ‘Luc’s fine. Completely relaxed. Not stressing at all.’ She uncovered the handpiece and addressed the angelic man on the other end of the phone. ‘Some best man you are.’

‘I do have a plan,’ he said. ‘Bring the wedding forward five and a half hours and we’ll meet you in the gazebo in twenty minutes. Luc likes it.’

‘It’ll never happen,’ said Simone blithely. ‘Take him to the barber’s instead. The barber can give him a nice close shave.’

‘No can do,’ said Rafael. ‘The days of the close shave are over. I’m the brother of the bride. This wedding’s on. What say we meet you and Gabrielle for brunch? How’s that for not avoiding you? You could come here. There’s bacon.’

‘No.’

‘Lunch, then?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll throw in some fried onions and BBQ sauce?’

‘Feed that man fried onions today and I’ll trim your grapevines to the ground and feed them to nameless ducks.’

‘All right already,’ he said with a long-suffering sigh. ‘No need to labour the point. I’ll name the ducks. Now where can we meet for lunch?’

‘You are so sweet when you’re desperate,’ she said. She’d seen a golf course not far from the guest house. ‘Take him for a game of golf.’

‘Does he play golf?’

‘He can learn.’

‘Golf’s a psychologically demanding game. I don’t know that he should start learning it on his wedding day. It’s unlikely to soothe him.’

‘Then play poker. And put him on the phone.’

‘Later.’ Anyone would think Rafe actually wanted to talk to her. ‘How’s my sister this morning?’

‘She’s an oasis of radiance and calm.’

‘Of course she is. Now try the truth.’

‘Put it this way. Remind me to get married at dawn.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to meet up for afternoon coffee at, say, three?’

‘Your sister and I will be at the gazebo at six this evening. She’ll be the one in the long white gown.’ Simone rolled her eyes at Gabrielle who was laughing outright now. ‘I’ll be the one trailing behind her in the caramel-coloured sheath and, I promise you, we’ll both be worth the wait.’

‘I hate waiting,’ he said.

Simone grinned. There was something about weddings and truces that appealed to the sadist in her. ‘Don’t we all.’

By five-thirty that afternoon, Gabrielle and Simone were gowned and groomed to radiant perfection, and Sarah had taken over fussing duty.

‘Stop it,’ said Sarah sternly as Simone bent to check the hem of Gabrielle’s gown. ‘It’s my turn. From now on, you both get to stand there and look astonishingly beautiful and I get to do any last minute running around.’

The photographer arrived and started snapping. Harrison arrived and smiled shyly. Simone had met him earlier in the week—a big, spare-framed man with gentle strength, a rough-hewn face and eyes that were almost as blue as his son’s. Rafe didn’t resemble him much, apart from the colour of his eyes. Gabrielle’s resemblance to Harrison was only slightly more pronounced. Both Rafe and Gaby were their mother’s children when it came to startling good looks. But their hearts were true, and that, thought Simone, had more than a little to do with this man.

Harrison Alexander loved his children.

It was blindingly obvious from her conversations with Gabrielle that Harrison was their strongest supporter, and Simone wondered—not for the first time—what it was that had kept this man away from his children throughout their long and miserable childhood.

Josien hadn’t allowed him access to them, obviously, but why?

Why hadn’t he fought for them?

‘Harrison!’ Gabrielle didn’t call him father, but the warmth of her smile and her outstretched hands proclaimed her love for this big, gentle man. ‘You’re looking very handsome.’

Harrison’s bemused smile made it the truth. ‘Trust me, I’ve got nothing on the best man and groom.’

‘Except wisdom, experience, and charm,’ murmured Simone. ‘I bet you didn’t spend the day trying to think of something to do to occupy your time until the wedding.’

‘No, but I did remember a day like that, once,’ confessed Harrison. ‘I took pity on your brother and his groomsman and collected them up this morning. Every cow and calf I own has been herded from the far paddocks and into the cattle yards to the north. Tomorrow I’ll shift them back.’

‘You’re a good man,’ murmured Gabrielle, with a kiss for his weathered cheek.

‘There was some method to my madness,’ said Harrison. ‘I’ll probably drench them first.’

‘Practical too,’ said Simone admiringly. ‘Those boys have so much to learn…’ She fussed with a wisp of Gabrielle’s hair, never mind Sarah’s exasperated clucking. ‘I do believe we’re ready.’

‘Daughter,’ said Harrison gravely and extended his arm. ‘If I may?’

‘I love you,’ said Gabrielle quietly. ‘I’ll always love you for what you’ve done for Rafael and for me. And yes, Father.’ She placed her hand in the crook of his arm. ‘You may.’

Simone’s pleasure came in snatches after that. Gabrielle’s laughter when she first spied the horse-drawn carriage and top-hatted coachman. Harrison handing them both up into the carriage before seating himself alongside the driver. The ripples of light reflected off the water of the tiny lake. The golden glow cast by the late afternoon sun. The day had held its promise and Simone would keep hers.

A truce.

‘There he is,’ said Gabrielle in a hushed voice.

‘Yes.’ There he was, standing right next to the groom. Simone allowed herself a moment’s aching regret, just one, for what might have been, before putting that regret firmly behind her. ‘There they are.’

‘Courage, mon amie,’ murmured Gabrielle.

‘Today, I have plenty,’ Simone assured her. ‘Enough for you too if you need it.’

‘I don’t need it.’

‘I know.’ Simone smiled at the knowledge that Lucien’s heart was for ever in safekeeping.

The photographer snapped more photos for the camera as they alighted from the carriage. Simone snapped more memories for her heart. The rich fragrance of autumn roses wafting up from the bridal bouquets. The glow of the old gold Duvalier pearls around Gabrielle’s slender neck. Something borrowed, Simone had insisted. They’d belonged to Simone’s mother, whose death had coloured both their lives. They were of Caverness and all that went with it, and they had endured, as the children of Caverness had endured.

Gabrielle wore them with love and with pride.

‘You’ll do,’ whispered Simone as she inspected Gabrielle one last time before Harrison stepped into place to escort his daughter to the gazebo where Luc and Rafael waited. ‘You’ll do very nicely.’

Night and Day, the household staff used to call Luc and Rafael when they were children. So totally different, night to day, but each followed the other and always in perfect rhythm. Brothers of the heart and now brothers-in-law, and Simone was fiercely glad for Luc’s sake that, through Gabrielle, Rafe would be drawn back into her brother’s life.

Luc would be richer for it, and she…she would get by.

Simone barely heard the words of the ceremony. She knew they were beautiful. She knew them for truth. But she’d thrown her senses open, the better to catch the day and hold it close. Luc in his black tie regalia, so certain of his love for Gabrielle. Gabrielle incandescent with her love for him. And Rafael, who loved hard and never looked back, looked on in grave silence as he silently handed the safekeeping of his sister over to Luc.

An exchange of rings and then a kiss while Simone wrapped her calm around her like a shield and looked anywhere but at Rafael.

Congratulations and photos as the wedding party and guests made their way slowly through the gardens towards the restaurant. Simone held both bouquets now as the bride and groom greeted their guests. Many of Luc’s friends and business associates had made the trip from Europe. Some hadn’t had to travel quite so far. Simone kept a politician’s eye open for future allies for the new Mrs Luc Duvalier. She kept a general’s eye out for future enemies.

‘What are you doing?’ a deep and delicious voice murmured in her ear. ‘Calculating the collective cost of every piece of jewellery in attendance?’

‘Shh,’ she said imperiously, resisting the urge to turn at once and look her fill. ‘I’m counting.’

‘Counting what?’

‘Goodwill towards your sister.’ She counted to five before turning to study Rafael, still only marginally prepared for the loss of breath that usually accompanied such a venture. ‘For example—’ yes…goodbye oxygen ‘—Melisandre Dubois does not have any. Such things are worth knowing.’

Rafe scanned the crowd. ‘Point her out.’

‘Black cocktail hat, strapless black bodice, long pink skirt.’

‘Got her. Old flame of Luc’s?’

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Credit him with some intelligence. No, she’s never been Luc’s. She’s a snob.’

Rafe’s features hardened. ‘Who else here is lacking in goodwill?’ he said, and Simone told him. The children of Caverness guarded each other’s backs. Some things never changed.

Inigo signalled discreetly from the restaurant entrance that it was time for the party to move inside. With a nod, Simone told Rafe and separately they worked the guests and made it happen.

Champagne flowed. Canapés were served on silver trays by circulating wait staff. Once the guests had settled and the champagne had begun to work its magic, Inigo announced the arrival of Mr and Mrs Luc Duvalier. They entered to generous applause and the strains of a lone violinist playing an unchained melody.

‘I love what you’ve done with the roses,’ Simone murmured to Inigo, who had moved to stand by the kitchen doors, the better to orchestrate seamless service.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Aren’t they divine? But really, I only had to arrange them. Rafe was the one who scoured the state to find them.’ Inigo eyed Rafael’s fine form and offered up a theatrical sigh. ‘It’s such a waste.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Simone as she caught Rafael’s eye. Rafael knew they were studying him. He hadn’t overheard them, but he was hazarding a pretty good guess as to the topic of their conversation and his eyes promised retribution of the dark and edgy kind. ‘Not necessarily.’

Inigo smiled widely. ‘Did you see that look he just sent you? Call me a prophet but that’s not a merciful look from a merciful man.’

‘Mercy’s not really one of his strengths,’ said Simone and countered Rafael’s displeasure with a smile of pure challenge. Common sense clearly wasn’t one of hers.

‘Ow!’ said Inigo. ‘Sweetheart, you really shouldn’t poke at the man like that.’

‘Have you ever met a man who can take you straight to hell and make you burn for more, Inigo?’

‘No, but I’d like to. Send me a postcard. And don’t be shy if there’s anything I can do to help speed your impending trip into fiery oblivion. Cold water. Polar bears. Ice-train truck chains for restraining the vengeful angel over there, because seriously, my friend, he looks like he’s planning on burning in hell right along with you.’ Inigo shuddered theatrically. ‘You just tell Uncle Inigo what you need.’

Rafael straightened his tie, gritted his teeth, and did his bit to make Luc and Gabrielle’s guests feel welcome. It was an eclectic mix with figureheads of European winemaking dynasties mingling freely, and, to Rafael’s eye, quite readily with their Australian counterparts. Luc had never met some of the wedding guests before. Gabrielle had never met most of them. It didn’t seem to matter.

The reason it didn’t seem to matter wore a muted coffee-coloured sheath, a smile that never dimmed, and wielded hostessing skills that commanded Rafe’s respectful awe.

Poised and breathtakingly beautiful, and by dint of will and skill alone, Simone Duvalier merged the House of Duvalier and its associates with the House of Alexander.

Yes, it was true that Gabrielle and Rafael were the children of one of the most accomplished household estate managers in France, who up until recently had been in their employ.

Yes, indeed, Rafael had learned the art of making champagne from Simone’s late father, but the red-grape blends had beguiled him in a different direction. Yes, it was champagne’s loss—Simone’s father had considered Rafael’s champagne blends to be some of the finest the House of Duvalier had ever produced. In the last year of his life and as far as champagne was concerned, Phillipe had drunk nothing but the Caverness 1995 Special Reserve. It had been blended—under Phillipe’s guidance—by Rafael when he was fifteen. Yes, indeed, collaboration might well take place again between Rafael and Luc.

But wait until you tasted Rafael’s reds.

Gabrielle similarly, by way of Simone’s expansion on Gabrielle’s superior management and marketing skills, became a woman that Europe’s winemaking elite could not readily or sensibly ignore. In between building the Alexander family name, Simone polished the House of Duvalier’s reputation as a vibrant, progressive and wildly successful winemaking dynasty until it shone.

‘She’s a brilliant ambassador for them, isn’t she?’ murmured Gabrielle in one of the rare moments Rafe found himself alone with his sister.

‘Where did she learn all this stuff?’

‘Finishing school, on the job and at her father’s side. Luc says that when you left she turned to her work. She’d sacrificed the man she loved for her role in the family business. Damned if she was going to make a mess of her business obligations too. Sound familiar?’

Rafael took the hit in silence. Gabrielle’s expression softened.

‘She loved you, Rafael. With all that she was. But she’s loyal to her family too, and you left her nowhere to go. No workable solution whereby she could be with you and fulfil her family obligations as well. She couldn’t leave, you couldn’t stay. You can see how crucial she is to the running of the Duvalier winemaking empire.’

‘I see it,’ he said gruffly.

‘I want to thank you. For showing Simone around the vineyard. For supporting her in her role as bridesmaid today. I knew you could do it.’

‘Save it, angel,’ he muttered. ‘The night’s still young.’

‘I trust you,’ she said and pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘Get to know her again, Rafe. For your own sake. She’s a remarkable woman.’

That was what he was afraid of.

As far as Simone’s extremely well-trained eye could see, everything was unfolding according to plan. The food was magnificent, they had ambrosia for wine, the setting was superb and the execution was flawless. Luc looked relaxed, Gabrielle divine, the guests appeared genuinely happy, and the formalities had been delivered in a mixture of languages and with a great deal of laid-back humour.

Harrison spoke fluent French, Dutch, German and passable Spanish and would prove a valuable addition to the future social events Simone had already started planning in her head.

Not your average Australian cattle farmer.

‘Stop working,’ said a dark, commanding voice as a tall glass of something that looked miraculously a lot like plain old iced water appeared in front of her. ‘Relax for a moment. I’m getting exhausted just watching you. And here, take this. Inigo said to give it to you.’

Inigo was a fiend who’d clearly surrendered to the dark side.

But she took the glass from Rafe’s outstretched hand and positioned him between her and the guests while she slaked her thirst for something without alcohol or bubbles in a most unladylike fashion.

She looked up on returning the glass to him to find that Rafe’s vivid blue eyes had darkened and his body had grown still.

‘I’m wondering which one’s real,’ he murmured. ‘The wanton sensualist or the poised and confident hostess?’

‘They both get a run every now and then,’ she said. ‘Which do you prefer?’

‘Well, that would depend on where you were. And who you were with.’

‘And were I alone with you in some dark secluded corner? Which would you choose then?’

‘You know which one I’d choose, princess.’

‘Actually, I don’t.’ She ignored the princess tag. For now. ‘When I kissed you the other day you definitely didn’t want wanton. You didn’t want any part of it.’

He regarded her in brooding silence. ‘I want to thank you for the build-up you gave the Alexander family tonight,’ he said finally. ‘I hardly recognised myself.’

Simone smiled. She’d embellished a little, but facts were facts. Rafael Alexander was a man to watch, both in business and for the sheer pleasure it afforded people to do so. ‘It might take a while to secure Gabrielle’s position as mistress of Caverness, but she’s made a good start and you and Harrison have helped in no small measure by being charming, successful and socially adept. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that you look like a fallen angel either.’

He smiled crookedly. ‘Fallen?’

‘Definitely. You don’t have good boy written all over you, Rafael, and you know it.’

‘Actually, I have “never look back” written all over me,’ he murmured.

‘Trust me,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t forgotten.’

‘Dance with me,’ he said.

‘That would require touching. And you know that’s not a good idea.’

‘Do it anyway,’ he murmured. ‘I can be good.’

She did it anyway, and settled tentatively into his arms. Her body thought it belonged there, but Simone begged to differ. They had an audience she’d been working all night and it wouldn’t do to ruin all her good work now. So they danced the way friendly acquaintances danced, and she avoided Rafe’s gaze and stamped down hard on her desire for more.

Gabrielle beamed at them. Luc shot Simone a warning glance. Careful, that glance said. Remember what became of this before.

She hadn’t forgotten. Not the pleasure or the pain.

For now she concentrated on the little things. The feel of her hand resting lightly in Rafael’s, his hand warm and slightly callused to the touch. His other hand at her back, assured, and taking no liberties. They had an audience to play and his sister’s position in society to secure. Rafael knew this as well as she did and the truce held. Only as the dance ended did Rafe reveal the tiniest hint of battle readiness. His fingers brushed the inside of her wrist as he released her. One tiny discreet caress and her senses flamed to life.

Damn he was good when he was being bad.

The bride and groom left at midnight and Rafe—along with everybody else—saw them to the door and into the car Harrison had arranged for them. Harrison would take them to Angels Landing and then he would head on to his own home. Rafe had taken a room at the guest house for the night in order to give the newlyweds their privacy. All that was left for him to do now was bid farewell to the rest of the guests as they departed and then he too could leave, secure in the knowledge of a wedding relatively well handled.

He stayed by the door, seeing people out. Simone did the same, her graceful, charming presence a direct threat to his sanity and his strength of will. Finally, there was no one else left to say goodnight to apart from a handful of guests who’d moved to the bar and were keeping Inigo busy. Rafael figured them for gone, one way or another.

Which left him and Simone. She stood on the step, with darkness at her back and soft yellow light from the restaurant illuminating her exquisite face and turning her gown into a glowing, golden sheath.

‘It’s not over, you know,’ she said quietly, and whether she spoke of the reception, their relationship or the truce he’d agreed to was anyone’s guess, but she was right on all counts.

‘I know,’ he said gruffly. Would she resist if he reached for her and drew her into the shadow of the night? Would she offer him her mouth? He tried to block the memory of that mouth and the things it could do. Such a clever, busy mouth.

Simone’s gaze turned dark and knowing and he knew before she spoke that she was about to acknowledge the beast that hungered inside him and invite it out to play, and she shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.

‘You should go back inside,’ he murmured.

‘You mean before I do something stupid?’

‘Yes.’

She moved towards him swiftly, right up until the part where she set her lips to his and nipped at his lower lip with her teeth. That bit happened excruciatingly slowly.

It took a second, or maybe a minute, before he could trust himself to breathe. He could feel his control slipping, slipping through his fingers, and the harder he tried to hold onto it, the faster it disappeared.

‘Go. Now.’ His words cut at her and drove her to step away from him, as they were meant to.

‘I won’t offer again,’ she said in the language of their youth.

A single snarling thought reared up from the dark places inside him, but he kept it to himself as she turned away and headed back inside.

She wouldn’t need to.

Simone farewelled the guests at the bar, collected her evening bag, and, with the last remnants of her poise, made her way to the kitchen to thank the chef and the wait staff for their services. She had every intention of slipping out the kitchen’s back door alone after that, but the chef had other ideas, stolidly insisting that a pair of his waiters walk her across the garden to her guest room.

‘My room is two hundred metres away,’ she protested laughingly. ‘I’m hardly going to get lost.’

‘It’s dark,’ said the gallant chef. ‘You need an escort and if not my waiters then one of them can go and find Rafael. He can walk you across.’

‘Have you and Inigo been plotting?’ she said suspiciously.

‘Inigo doesn’t plot,’ said the chef, with a jowly grin. ‘He orchestrates. And here he is now, with your escort in tow. Never misses a beat.’

‘Inigo says I should walk you across to your room,’ said Rafael when he reached her.

‘It’s very dark,’ said Inigo.

‘And very late,’ added the chef. ‘You never know what you might find in the garden at this time of night. Territorial wombats…’

‘Ten-foot wallabies,’ said Inigo.

‘Spider webs!’ said the chef as if this would clinch the deal. ‘We couldn’t possibly send you on your way to the guest house alone.’

‘Inconceivable,’ said Inigo. ‘Don’t you read Agatha Christie? Fortunately, Rafael was just leaving. And might I just add, doesn’t he look divine this evening?’

Rafael winced. Simone couldn’t help the smile that crossed her lips or the encouragement of Inigo that sprang from them. ‘Yes, indeed. Very handsome.’

‘The breadth of shoulder,’ said Inigo, warming to his subject. ‘That face!’

‘Any time you’re ready,’ murmured Rafael.

‘Wait!’ said Inigo, scanning the chef’s collection of kitchen-shelf dessert liqueurs and reaching for the Frangelico. He handed it to Rafael. ‘Nightcap.’

‘Nice touch,’ said the chef. ‘Although I’d have given him the Cognac.’

‘There’s the nicest secluded garden nook, about halfway to the house,’ said Inigo. ‘Perfect for—’

‘Move,’ said Rafael and Simone hastily complied and headed for the door.

A chorus of farewells followed their departure, the kitchen door closed behind them, and night air wrapped around them, cool and dewy after the warmth of the day.

‘You don’t have to—’

‘Stop,’ he said sharply. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

Simone stopped. Searched for conversation that would assure him that she’d not embarrass him with yet another unwanted advance. ‘Have you been in contact with Etienne de Morsay again?’

‘Yes. I put him off. Gabrielle was adamant about not wanting him to come here.’

‘Really? Did she say why?’

‘No.’ Rafael ran an impatient hand through his hair. ‘Not exactly. Nothing that made sense, at any rate. I’m meeting him in Sydney tomorrow. Hopefully, I’ll get some answers then.’

Simone chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. ‘Did you ask Luc about him?’

‘No.’

‘You should have.’

‘He was a little preoccupied, Simone.’

‘Though he still had time to make wine, eat a manly breakfast and muster cattle before heading out to get married.’

‘Exactly.’

Simone hitched up her gown a fraction to keep it off the grass. Bridesmaid gowns weren’t really designed for grass.

‘Princess,’ he murmured.

‘Practical,’ she corrected smoothly.

‘It suits you,’ he said reluctantly. ‘The gown. The colour. Whatever you’ve done with your hair.’

‘Was that a compliment?’

‘Yes.’ Rafael glared at her.

Simone glared back. ‘Thank you.’

This time, he looked away. ‘I never really realised before tonight, exactly how much I asked you to give up for me,’ he said after they’d walked in silence for a while.

‘You mean my position in European society?’ Simone judged the risks involved with continuing with this line of conversation. The risk of further quarrelling was high. The chance of her and Rafael resolving their issues was low. She went ahead and plunged into the heart of things anyway. ‘I’d have given it up in a heartbeat for you, Rafael. But I had my father and Luc to consider as well, and in the end I couldn’t abandon them. They needed me.’

‘More than I needed you?’

She’d wanted this, Simone reminded herself grimly. This clearing of the air, never mind that the mirror he held up to her actions revealed her in an ugly light.

‘You needed to escape the chains that bound you to Caverness. You burned to make your own way in life, and you have. What had I to offer you, Rafael? Tell me that? An unbreakable link to a place you never wanted to return to and not one single skill that would come in useful outside of the niche that had been created for me.’

‘You underestimate yourself.’

‘Maybe I did. And maybe I realise that now. But I was eighteen, Rafael, and I was scared. You were my heart. Caverness was my home. And my duty lay with the House of Duvalier. I could not have all three. Right or wrong, I chose to stay. You chose to leave.’

‘I had to leave,’ he said curtly.

‘I know that,’ she said. ‘Josien…I know how she treated you…I knew you only stayed as long as you did in order to protect Gabrielle from her rages. I always knew you’d leave. I’ve never blamed you for that.’

‘I blamed you,’ he said. ‘Hell, I blamed you for everything. It got me through the early days of being alone.’

‘Happy to help,’ she said faintly.

His lips twisted. ‘I don’t know where I’m going with this, Simone. I don’t know what I want from you. Anger. Absolution. Affection. I’ve got no idea.’

That made two of them. ‘You know what I thought when Gabrielle told me the wedding would be held in Australia and that you were to be Luc’s best man?’ she said tentatively. ‘I thought that finally, finally, I might be able to make my apologies and move on. I wanted to let go of the thought of you.’ They’d reached her tiny courtyard. ‘I wanted to stop measuring every man I met against you.’

‘And have you?’ he asked quietly as he leaned against the wall, nightcap in one hand and watchfulness in his eyes.

‘Well, I certainly have a new measure of man in place.’ Unfortunately, it was still firmly based on him. ‘Whether it serves me any better than the old one remains to be seen.’ Simone fished the key to the sliding door from her evening bag and went about unlocking it and sliding the door wide open. Surrendering her shoes at the door, Simone slipped inside, not daring to turn and see if Rafael had followed her.

She switched on the dining-room lamp, belatedly remembering that she’d left the room in a shambles and that the dining table had been awash with morsels of food meant to tempt Gabrielle into eating something before the ceremony. It wasn’t awash with food any more. Someone, probably the magnificent Sarah, had whisked it all away and tidied up in the process. ‘How do you think Sarah, Inigo, and the chef would feel about relocating to France?’ she asked, only half in jest.

‘I think Deidre who owns the guest house would shoot you.’ Rafael had ventured inside after all. Heaven help them both.

‘Just checking.’ Simone’s mouth suddenly felt very dry as Rafael set the Frangelico down on the counter and headed for the refrigerator. He found the jug of water and poured some into a tall glass. He poured one for her too. It sat there on the counter, untouched, a decision she did not want to make for fear that she would get it wrong. Princess or wanton? She could be either, and sometimes both, but Rafael did not want the wanton. No. For all his mockery, it was the princess he responded to. The princess who’d earned his compliments, and so it was that the princess stood before him now, trying desperately to appear composed and in control of her wayward emotions.

‘Are you heading off in the morning?’ he said.

‘Yes. Yes, to Sydney for a day before I fly out.’ She hadn’t wanted to linger. Not with Gabrielle and Luc gone and this so very clearly Rafael’s territory.

‘Whereabouts in Sydney?’

‘The Four Seasons.’

He nodded. ‘Will you be able to find it okay?’

‘The car has GPS.’

He nodded again. Conversation stalled. It was time to let go. Time to start dreaming of a life without an angel in it, avenging or otherwise.

Simone stepped woodenly towards him and held out her hand. She would weep once he’d gone but right now she gave him what he wanted and played the princess as she said goodbye. ‘Good luck with Etienne tomorrow.’

He looked at her and something flickered behind his eyes. He ignored her hand. Put the tips of his fingers to her cheek and kissed her softly on the lips. ‘That’s for the princess who helped make my sister’s wedding day a memorable one.’

Her lips clung; she couldn’t help it. He meant too much to her, this man, and always had.

Rafael’s gaze sought hers, searing and tormented as his hand slid around to the back of her neck and he tilted her head, his lips hovering millimetres above her own. ‘Damn you,’ he whispered raggedly. ‘Damn you to hell, because this is for me.’

And then his lips crushed down on hers as he unleashed his passion and his fury, all of it, all at once, and dragged her with him to a place where a dark and sensual madness ruled them both.

He wanted her wanton and naked before him. He wanted to possess her until she convulsed around him and screamed out his name. Heaven help him, he wanted to break her, and remake her, and scar her soul the way she’d scarred his. ‘Say you want what only I can give you,’ he murmured as he backed her against the counter and his lips found hers again and then her cheek, and then the vulnerable spot behind her ear. ‘Say it.’

‘I do want it,’ she whispered, her hands inside his jacket, her fingers seeking the buttons on his vest, and then the shirt, and then her hands slid to his chest as she dragged her lips across his throat. ‘All of it.’ His jacket fell to the floor. He found the zipper of her dress and slid it south. Flesh, warm and fragrant. Softness and curves and a taste he’d never forgotten. Urgency, and madness as he finally got her naked and lifted her in his arms the better to take what he wanted and he wanted it all.

Flesh cleaved to flesh and lips upon lips as she gave and he took without care for the price.

A bed and some sheets and Simone in his arms, crying out his name as he buried himself deep inside her, one hand on the curve of her behind as he positioned her exactly where he wanted her and, with his heart pounding and his soul fighting to be free of its cage, began to move.

‘Slower,’ she whispered as her body responded instantly, hot and slick and tightening as she spoke. ‘It’s been too long for me. Rafael, please. You have to slow down or I won’t last a minute.’

He didn’t want her to. He wasn’t asking her to. ‘Say my name.’ He wanted her screaming, he wanted it now, and, calling on the ruthlessness that always lingered just below the surface, he sought her centre with his thumb and stroked. ‘Say it.’

She cried out as she came for him, a ragged word escaping her lips, a broken word, both curse and plea. She clawed at him to join her and he did, tumbling down after her, over her, as he gave himself up to unbearable pleasure and to hell with the pain that would come of it. Simone surfaced hard from the depths of pleasure, gasping as tiny aftershocks rocked her body. Pleasure flowed, desire consumed, and Rafael’s touch gentled as he rolled to one side, still cradling her tightly in his arms.

He gave her no words, there were no words for this.

But touch, he gave her that, and the thundering of his heart beneath her cheek, he gave her that too.

‘Are you protected?’ he said gruffly.

‘From pregnancy? Yes.’ From losing her heart to this man all over again? She feared not. Simone eased up onto one elbow the better to study him. Rafe’s eyes glittered in the dim light, so boldly blue and almost sated. His lips curved as she slid over him and settled on top of him more fully, her hands either side of his head as her hair fell across one shoulder to curtain them both. ‘I want to spend the night with you,’ she said as her lips brushed his jawline.

‘Yes.’

‘The whole night.’

‘Yes.’ He drew her down for another kiss. Not sated, that kiss told her. Not nearly.

Good.

She let his possession of her mouth inflame her. She let the feel of his body beneath hers consume her. The hard and rippling planes of his chest. She wanted to go slow this time, to record and to remember, and, wordlessly, he made the world turn slow as he rebuilt the flames of desire caress by deliberately slow caress.

Only when she was on the brink of ecstasy did he enter her and with unerring certainty drive her once more towards oblivion; that place where the world fell away and there was only one anchor and his name was Rafael. Rafael dozed in the aftermath of Simone’s lovemaking. He wanted to remain awake the better to remember every moment, but with his body urging him towards sleep and with Simone already embracing it, he knew he’d soon surrender to the pull of night. Rafe knew how to live in the moment. He knew how to seize it.

Keeping it was the hard part.

One hand above his head and his other around the only woman he’d ever loved with all that he was. The only woman he’d ever exposed his scarred but steadfast soul to.

It hadn’t been enough.

His love for her. His dreams of a future together if only she would believe in him, and be with him. His confidence in her love for him.

It hadn’t been enough.

Simone had stayed on at Caverness, Rafael had stormed away in anger and in grief, and, God, it hurt to look back. Don’t look back. Don’t ever look back.

He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.

There was nothing there he wanted to see.