Читать книгу Royals: His Hidden Secret - Kelly Hunter, C.J. Miller - Страница 15

MORNING came too soon for Simone.

‘No,’ she murmured when Rafael shifted restlessly beside her. A half-asleep protest as she opened her eyes and realised the advent of the day. She closed her eyes tightly and rolled onto her stomach as she reached for the pillow to fill the space Rafael had just vacated. ‘No.’

‘Shower,’ he said huskily. ‘Care to join me?’

‘No.’ And then with one eye cautiously open…‘Maybe.’

His smile was lazy. His eyes were bold. ‘Suit yourself.’

He left and closed the bathroom door behind him. The shower came on. The sheets came off. Simone had never been one to linger in bed when a challenge had been issued. She recalled with a tiny smile the firm hardness of every bit of Rafael’s lean and luscious body.

Challenge had most certainly been issued.

She almost chickened out as she stood on one side of the glass shower door with Rafael and a cascade of steaming water on the other. And then the door slid open and a hand reached for her and dragged her inside and that was the end of that.

‘You’re very decisive,’ she murmured. ‘It’s irritatingly appealing.’

He smiled a devil’s smile as he pinned her against the cubicle wall. ‘I know. Come with me today. To Sydney. I’ll get someone else to drive your hire car back.’

She wanted to. Badly. But caution had arrived with the day. Bedding Rafael had solved none of the issues hovering between them. Okay, maybe it had solved one, but the rest remained in place.

‘The meeting with Etienne won’t take long,’ he said next. ‘You could come along, and then afterwards I’ll show you Sydney.’

She slid from his grasp, stalling for time, as she stood beneath the spray. ‘Will you show me where you got your tattoo?’

His eyes grew shadowed. ‘No.’

‘Turn around,’ she ordered next, and pushed and prodded until she had Rafael where she wanted him, with his head flung back and his arms raised, hands resting on the tiles as water ran in rivulets down his back, over the words and the picture she’d striven so hard to forget.

‘I hate you for this,’ she murmured, tracing the darkened words that flowed across his back with the tips of her fingers, before finally pressing her mouth to the ink that graced his shoulder blade. ‘I love you for it too.’

Pleasure and pain. More pleasure than pain as he turned and thrust his hand into her hair and kissed her hard. They wouldn’t make it out of the shower before he took her again, she knew that much already.

She wouldn’t make it through the day without sacrificing her heart. She knew that too.

‘Show me your Sydney, then,’ she murmured as the last of her resistance to this man was crushed beneath the feel of his hands on her. ‘I’ll give you this day.’

They made it to Sydney with half an hour to spare before Rafael’s meeting with Etienne. By the time they’d parked the car underground and Rafael had caught her and kissed her as she got out of the car, and they’d made it to the lifts and into the foyer of the hotel, and found the washrooms and freshened their appearances, they only had five minutes to spare.

Being five minutes early to a meeting with a reigning monarch who wanted to offer you a plum commission wasn’t such a bad thing, she assured Rafael laughingly, before asking him yet again if he thought she would be in the way.

‘I’ve never met the man before, Simone. He’s known you since childhood. You won’t be in the way.’

Etienne had chosen to meet Rafael for lunch in the restaurant attached to the hotel. He stood as they approached him. A big, spare-framed man, immaculately attired in a dark suit and shirt. A man with a handsome face and a brilliant blue gaze that fixed on Rafael and never wavered.

Simone stopped abruptly, sucker punched into immobility.

Comprehension dawned.

Etienne’s knowledge of Rafael’s achievements. Gabrielle’s insistence that Etienne stay away. Not from the vineyard, but from Rafael. ‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head. ‘No.’

Rafael had stopped too, his eyes on her, puzzled and questioning. ‘Simone? What is it?’

‘Rafe—’

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t…I can’t…’ She shook her head, trying to clear it. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t…’

‘Shouldn’t what?’ His words echoed her unspoken ones.

‘Let’s just forget this meeting and go,’ she implored him.

‘Go where?’

‘Anywhere!’ Anywhere but towards Etienne de Morsay, who was currently heading towards them. ‘Rafael, please. I’m…I’m feeling unwell. Please, let’s just go.’

Rafe slid his hand beneath her elbow and frowned. ‘How unwell?’

The lies were making her sick to her stomach. Her distress must have shown on her face.

‘Okay,’ he said hurriedly. ‘A room. We’ll get you a room where you can lie down. Let me make our apologies to de Morsay.’

‘No!’

‘No to what?’

Simone was fast making a spectacle of herself. Rafael looked to be fast losing patience. Etienne was fast approaching. Maturity fled as she reverted to childhood and tugged urgently on Rafael’s arm. ‘Run,’ she said pleadingly. ‘Rafael, run.’

And then Etienne was holding out his hand and Rafael was taking it, shaking it, as blue eyes met blue and Simone watched in white-knuckled silence. And then Rafael was making their apologies and saying that she was unwell and two sets of concerned blue eyes were upon her and Simone looked from one to the other and prayed to the gods that this was all just a dream and knew that it was not.

‘Here,’ said Rafael gently and herded her towards a chair. ‘Sit for a little, while I see to a room.’

Rafael run, her mind screamed at him. ‘Yes,’ she said threadily, and then in a stronger voice as her mind began to function. ‘Yes, but I already have a room booked somewhere.’ She fumbled in her handbag for the details. ‘I just need to get there.’ She just needed to get Rafael there. Anywhere but here.

‘I have a suite here,’ Etienne was saying. ‘It’s closer. Please, it’s at your disposal.’

‘You’re very…’ She would choke on the word kind if she uttered it. Where had this man been during Rafael’s childhood? Where the hell had he been when Josien was whipping the light out of her son in punishment for imaginary wrongs? ‘I can’t…’

‘A glass of water, then,’ said Etienne and almost as soon as he said the words one was being pressed into her hand. She grasped it and drank deeply. Rafael’s eyes warmed and his lips tilted upwards. ‘Hoyden,’ he murmured as he brushed her temple with his lips. ‘Feeling a little better?’

She set the glass down on the table. ‘Yes.’ No. But she would recover and shield Rafael as best she could from this man. She had to.

She turned to the reigning king of Maracey. ‘My apologies, Your Highness. And my belated greetings.’

Etienne waved her apology away with a flick of his hand and offered up a charming smile and she winced inside because she knew that smile, she knew it well, and had never once made the connection. Until now.

‘You used to call me Etienne, young Simone,’ he said. ‘Would that you do so again.’

‘Thank you, Your Highness.’ But she would rot in hell before she would claim any kind of friendship with this man. She stood on wobbly legs.

‘My suite, I think,’ said Etienne.

‘No,’ she said. ‘The dizziness has passed. I’m okay.’

‘Are you sure?’ Rafael was in front of her now, blocking out Etienne’s image. Remaking it.

‘Oh, Rafael.’ Her heart wept for the lies that surrounded him. How long had Gabrielle known? Did Luc know? Harrison had to know. Didn’t he?

‘We won’t stay long,’ he murmured. ‘Sit for a few minutes and make sure you’re really feeling okay, and then we’ll go.’

Simone summoned a smile and called on years of social conditioning to get her through these next few minutes. ‘Of course.’

Etienne saw them seated at his table, calling immediately for more water, and some fruits and an array of food to nibble on. ‘To lift your energy levels,’ he said. ‘My late wife often took dizzy spells early in her pregnancies. Food always helped.’

‘I’m not pregnant,’ said Simone, glancing at Rafe from between her lashes to see how he had reacted to Etienne’s statement. ‘And your wife. Mariette. I was sorry to hear that she’d passed away. She was a remarkable woman.’

‘Yes, she was. Alas, she never carried a child to term. It was not to be,’ said Etienne.

‘A pity.’ Simone lifted her chin and stared at the monarch. She thought she knew where Etienne was heading with this conversation. Why he was being so frank about his so-called ‘childless’ state. But he would have to go through her to get there. ‘Rafael mentioned that you’re looking to restore a vineyard,’ she said smoothly.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘A passing interest, is it?’

‘A long-awaited project,’ Etienne countered politely. ‘It’s been on my mind for years.’

‘A pity you never managed to get to it years ago,’ she said sweetly. ‘Sometimes it’s just too late.’

‘Time will tell.’ Etienne turned to Rafael. ‘Of course, I don’t expect anyone to take on such a project, sight unseen. I’m hoping to persuade you to come and view the vineyard for yourself.’

‘And what of Rafael’s own vineyard commitments?’ snapped Simone. ‘Do you expect him just to drop them, so as to accommodate your every whim?’

‘Simone,’ murmured Rafael, shooting her a sharp glance, accompanied by the slight shake of his head.

‘You have many champions, señor,’ murmured Etienne.

‘So it seems.’ Not that Rafael had the foggiest notion as to why Simone had seen fit to leap to his defence. He didn’t need it. He could see no reason for her antagonism towards her father’s old friend. ‘But Simone is correct in that regard. Any project I undertook for you would have to fit in around my own schedule.’

The look Simone sent de Morsay was darkly triumphant and in no way friendly. Etienne swallowed it down whole, with a rueful smile. First Gabrielle, and now Simone. What was it about Etienne de Morsay that upset them so? Rafael had seen Simone’s formidable social skills in play at the wedding. She wasn’t using them now.

‘Rafael, I’d like to leave,’ she said. ‘Now.’

‘In a minute.’ Rafael turned to Etienne. ‘I have no reputation as a winemaker within your part of the world. Frankly, I’m still building a reputation in my part of the world. I’m curious about how you came to hear of me.’

‘I’ve always known about you, Rafael.’

‘No,’ said Simone, white-faced as she pushed to her feet and confronted Etienne. ‘You can’t do this.’

‘Needs must,’ said Etienne quietly, rising from his chair and executing a slight bow. Anyone looking on would have thought it nothing more than a courtly gesture. Rafael didn’t know what to think, but he stood as well.

‘Whose needs?’ Had Simone been a cat she would have spat at him. ‘Yours?’

‘The monarchy demands it.’

‘I care nothing for your monarchy.’

‘So I see. Some days I don’t care much for it either.’ The older man’s shoulders sagged and he seemed to age at least ten years. He turned towards Rafael, every weary movement a silent apology. ‘I had hoped to do this differently,’ he murmured. ‘But every other avenue was closed to me. I want you to know that.’

‘Speak your piece,’ said Rafael. He had a bad feeling about this. Simone’s open hostility. Gabrielle’s alarm when he’d mentioned Etienne de Morsay. De Morsay’s vivid blue eyes drilling holes in Rafael. There was something familiar about him. Something Rafael struggled to place.

He watched in silence as the older man drew himself upright. Finally, he spoke.

‘My name is Etienne de Morsay. Husband to Mariette Sulemon of the Ardennes—lately deceased. Son of Francisco de Morsay—also deceased. Grandson of Pieter. Great grandson of Alain. I am reigning monarch of the territory of Maracey, bordered by Spain, and you, Rafael Francisco Pieter Alexander, are my son.’

Rafael stared at him. Hard. Those eyes. That big, sparse frame. Heaven help him, that face. He saw an echo of that face, that frame, and those eyes every morning when he looked in the mirror. He shook his head. No.

‘Yes,’ said Etienne.

‘No. Harrison Alexander is my father.’

‘No,’ said Etienne gently.

Rafael took the blow in silence. Such a deep and destructive blow. Did Harrison know? Did Gabrielle? The knife inside him tightened. Gabrielle had known. And Simone…Simone had known too. Anger took hold, brutal and burning as he turned towards her and saw knowledge in her eyes. ‘You knew.’ His voice shook. His pain roared. ‘You knew.’

‘No.’ She looked to be on the verge of tears. He was so sick of women and their tears and their duplicity.

‘You knew. That’s why my company suddenly became acceptable after all these years of silence. That’s why you deigned to spend time in my bed. You thought I was a goddamn prince!’

‘No! Rafael, I swear—’

‘You wanted to leave,’ he said harshly. ‘So leave.’

Simone stared at him, dark stricken eyes in an unnaturally pale face as she reached out a hand towards him. ‘That’s not how it was.’

‘Don’t,’ he said sharply. If she touched him, he would break. ‘Don’t touch me. Just go.’

‘You’re a fool, Rafael Alexander Pieter whoever the hell you are,’ she said raggedly as she dropped her hand and reached for her handbag instead. She drew herself up with a glittering gaze that accompanied both him and de Morsay. ‘Both of you, fools.’

He watched her stalk away, beautiful in her anger, the emptiness left by her departure fuelling his.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ said the man beside him.

‘Who the hell asked you?’ Anger found a new target, the right target, this time. ‘Who are you to tell me what I should do?’ Anger ruled him. Despair rode him. ‘Let me tell you something, you right royal bastard. You’re no father of mine. I don’t care what you can prove by blood. I don’t know you. I don’t care about you. And I have no intention of ever being your son.’

Simone’s luggage was gone from the car by the time the valet brought it around to the front of the hotel. She’d collected it not ten minutes ago, the hotel employee told Rafe. She’d had the doorman call for a taxi. She had seemed to be in something of a hurry. The young valet eyed Rafael anxiously, as if sensing something of the roiling emotions beneath the contained façade.

The young valet paled and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and asked Rafe if he’d done the right thing.

‘That’s fine. No problem,’ muttered Rafael before retrieving the keys and heading for his car. He knew the name of the hotel Simone was booked into. He knew what time her flight would leave the following day. He could have found her. Talked to her. Gone to her.

He didn’t.

For all that Simone had known—or guessed—Etienne’s connection to him, she wasn’t guilty of the subterfuge that had created this mess. Josien was. Josien, who’d hated him every day of her miserable life and he finally knew why. Bastard son of a prince who’d abandoned her.

Bastard boy with his father’s eyes and his father’s colouring and God knew what else he’d inherited from the man. Arrogance and ambition that Josien had done her utmost to beat out of him. His burning need for independence. His fierce and cold intelligence. Had all that come from Etienne de Morsay too?

Who knew?

Josien would know, but Josien was dead to him. More so now than ever.

Gabrielle had known. Somehow, Gabrielle had known, and hadn’t seen fit to tell him. The pain of that betrayal cut deep.

And then there was Simone…Rafael closed his eyes to block out the image of Simone’s first frantic attempts to prevent his meeting with de Morsay. Those final whispered words before the older man had walked up to them. Run, she’d whispered, and catapulted him straight back to their childhood. Rafael, run.

Simone hadn’t known of his true relationship with Etienne de Morsay beforehand. Oh, she’d guessed soon enough. The minute she’d seen them together in the same room her formidable brain had probably started connecting the dots. But she hadn’t put it together before then.

De Morsay was right. When it came to Simone’s part in all of this, he’d been a fool.

He almost turned the car around then. He almost went back for her, such was his need to talk with her and take comfort from her and try and make all the jagged shards of his life fit together the way he wanted them to fit.

He didn’t.

Maybe if he’d been a little more trusting he might have turned back.

He didn’t.

Harrison stood waiting for him on the verandah of Rafael’s house when Rafael finally pulled the car up beside it, several hours later. One look at the older man’s worn face and weary eyes and the heart Rafael had been holding together with a piece of string finally shattered.

He left the car and headed for the door, ignoring Harrison at first as he attempted instead to push the house key into its lock. It wouldn’t go in. His hand shook too much and it wouldn’t go in.

‘You knew.’ He still couldn’t look at the older man. He looked at his hands instead and fisted them tight. ‘You knew I wasn’t yours.’

‘Yes, I knew.’ Harrison’s voice came low and strained. ‘You were born seven months after my wedding day, Rafael. A perfectly healthy, full-term baby boy. I didn’t know who had sired you, but I did know that you couldn’t have been mine. I didn’t care.’

‘How could you not care?’

‘You were an innocent child, Rafael. What would you have had me do? Turn you away?’

‘I wasn’t yours.’

‘And I loved you anyway, and always, as if you were mine. A heart can do that, you know. Love beyond measure something that doesn’t belong to you.’

Rafael’s throat closed up tight.

‘When Josien left and took you and Gabrielle with her, she broke my heart,’ said Harrison in that quiet melodic way of his that Rafael had always loved. ‘When she refused to allow me access to you on the grounds that I wasn’t your father, she broke it twice over.’

‘Gabrielle…’ Rafael finally found his voice and pushed it past the constriction in his throat. ‘Is Gabrielle…?’

‘Gabrielle’s mine,’ said Harrison. ‘But to fight for her I would have had to abandon you, separate your sister from you, and I couldn’t do it.’

Rafael put his cheek to the smooth, worn weatherboard and closed his burning eyes.

‘The day you turned up on my doorstep was one of the happiest days of my life,’ said Harrison quietly. ‘The day Gabrielle arrived was the other.’

Rafael put his hands to the wall, his eyes still tightly closed. He wanted the boards to be cold to the touch. Why weren’t they cold? Grown men did not sink to the floor and weep.

‘Two hours ago I got a phone call from a man who claimed to be your father, and a king, and heaven knows what else. I don’t know what caused him to walk away from Josien and from you all those years ago, but I do know that where you were concerned it was his loss. And my gain.’

Harrison moved closer. A large, warm hand came to rest tentatively on Rafael’s shoulder.

‘This man, this king, he wishes to meet with you again. He argued strongly for my support in the matter. He spoke of matters of state, and inheritance and regret. I told him I would speak with my son and that we would get back to him with an answer.’

‘I don’t know what to do,’ whispered Rafael. A cry from the heart while his soul silently wept.

‘That makes two of us,’ said Harrison. ‘But know this, Rafael. No matter what revelations lie ahead, I will think of you as mine and I will always stand by you. Always.’

They stood like that for a very long time before Rafael finally gathered the courage to speak of other things that had happened during the day.

‘I hurt a woman today, Papa. I hurt a woman whose only crime was to care for me and to try and protect me.’

Harrison took the keys from him. Harrison opened the door to the house. ‘Well…hell, son.’ Harrison’s words came delivered with a thread of dusty humour, drier than drought. ‘No one ever said loving you was easy.’