Читать книгу A Royal Proposal - Barbara Hannay - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

‘SO, ARE YOU going to give me a performance appraisal?’

Charlie and Rafe were back in the plane and taking off for Europe when she posed this question.

She’d tried her hardest to be cool and sophisticated in Faysal’s home and she needed to know if her efforts had been satisfactory. After all, there wasn’t much time to lift her act before they arrived in Montaigne.

She was watching Rafe intently, waiting for his answer, and she didn’t miss his frown, although he very quickly hid it behind a smooth smile.

‘You were perfect,’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’ She’d tried really hard to lose her accent, but she suspected that he wasn’t being totally honest. ‘I need to hear the truth, Rafe. I don’t want to let you down.’

Which was a noble way of saying that she didn’t want to face the embarrassment of being caught out.

‘You were fine,’ he said with a hint of impatience.

Charlie wasn’t sure that ‘fine’ was good enough, but she didn’t want to pester him and become annoying. She consoled herself that Rafe would have told her if she’d made a major blunder.

‘So there’s nothing you need to warn me about before I arrive in your country?’ she tried one more time.

Rafe smiled. ‘No, just be yourself, Charlie. It would be different if you really were my fiancée, but for now, I think you’ll do well just as you are.’

‘Right.’ Charlie wished the mention of Rafe’s ‘real’ fiancée didn’t bother her so much.

‘Just try to look as if you’re enjoying yourself,’ he said.

She couldn’t help smiling. ‘That shouldn’t be too hard.’

It was true. Everything about this trip so far had been wonderfully exciting. If Charlie hadn’t been so worried about poor little Isla, she would have looked on this as the adventure of a lifetime.

* * *

As soon as they reached their cruising height, Rafe opened his laptop again. Apparently, he was studying everything he could about mining, so that he could outwit the Leroy Mining Company who wanted to wreck his Alps.

For most of the flight Charlie watched movies. Her head still buzzed with a host of questions—questions about Rafe, about his family and his country, and what he expected of her—but he was clearly preoccupied. And, as he’d made it quite clear, she didn’t have the responsibility of a ‘real’ job.

That belonged to Olivia.

Her sister.

Charlie felt a deep pang at the thought of the girl who was her mirror image. Her sister. They shared the same mother. Had shared the same womb. The same DNA.

How could her father have kept this secret from her? Learning about it now, Charlie felt hurt. Deeply hurt, as if she’d been denied something precious. The other half of herself.

She wondered how on earth the decision had been made. Obviously her parents had decided to split and take a child each. But how had they made that choice?

Tossed a coin? Drawn straws?

Charlie wouldn’t dwell on the fact that her mother had rejected her and chosen Olivia. It could warp her mind if she let that sink in too deeply. The important thing to remember was that she loved her father very much. She’d had a wonderful childhood and they’d shared many adventures, and they had a great relationship. She couldn’t imagine her life without her sweet, dreamy dad.

But she also couldn’t deny that her feelings about Olivia were incredibly complicated. On one level she longed to meet her sister and get to know her, but on another level she was stupidly jealous that Olivia was going to marry this deadly handsome Prince.

When Rafe found her.

* * *

They arrived in Grenoble mid-afternoon, descending through thick clouds into a world of whiteness. Snow blanketed every rooftop and field and Charlie was so excited she could hardly drag herself from the window when the flight attendant delivered her coat and scarf.

‘Do you have boots?’ Rafe asked, eyeing Charlie’s flimsy shoes. ‘You might need them.’

‘They’re packed away in my suitcase.’

‘Hmm.’ He came closer and fingered the fabric of her coat.

Charlie could tell by his frown that the coat was inadequate.

‘This should be OK to get you from here to my car,’ he said. ‘But you’ll have to get something thicker and warmer for Montaigne.’

‘Yes, I dare say.’ The new coat would probably need to be a good deal more glamorous, too, Charlie thought, as she noted the elegant cut of Rafe’s thick overcoat. In other words, she would have to spend a big chunk of her meagre savings on a coat that she’d only need for a couple of weeks. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask Rafe for more money.

Despite Rafe’s warning, Charlie wasn’t prepared for the blast of frigid air that hit her as she stepped out of the plane. The cold seemed to bite straight through her coat and penetrate to her very bones.

‘Are you OK?’ Rafe asked, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘Charlie, you’re shivering. Here, take my coat.’

‘No, it’s all right. We’re almost there.’

Welcome warmth enveloped them as they left the tarmac and the airport’s doors slid open for them. But now there was something else to worry about.

‘Are there likely to be paparazzi here?’ she asked.

Rafe slanted her a smile. ‘There shouldn’t be. I’ve tried to keep my movements undercover.’

Just the same, Charlie turned up the collar on her coat and tried to look relaxed when heads turned their way. She kept a fixed little smile in place as she walked with Rafe to the chauffeur waiting with a sleek black, unmarked car. All was well. So far.

* * *

Grenoble lay at the very foot of the Alps, so it wasn’t long before the car was climbing the mountainous slopes. Snowflakes drifted all around them, and Charlie watched through the car windows in delight.

‘It doesn’t snow in Sydney,’ she told Rafe. ‘I’ve seen snow in the Blue Mountains and on the tops of the peaks in Nepal, but we were there in summer. I’ve never seen it like this. With snow simply everywhere.’

It was only then that she caught Rafe’s warning frown and his quick glance to the chauffeur sitting just in front of him.

Oh, help.

Charlie flinched. What an idiot she was. Of course, this chauffeur would talk to the rest of Rafe’s staff about the strange change in their master’s fiancée. Damn. She’d only just arrived and already she’d made a huge blunder.

Her face was burning as she pressed her lips tightly together. She was such a fool. Turning away sharply, she held her eyes wide open to try to hold back any hint of tears.

Until now, she hadn’t doubted that she could do this, but with this first silly gaffe the enormity of her task almost overwhelmed her. There would be so many chances to make mistakes—with servants, with government officials, with Rafe’s friends, shopkeepers...

Rafe reached for her hand and she jumped, but his touch was gentle.

‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

‘But—’ Charlie nodded meaningfully towards the back of the chauffeur’s head.

‘It’s OK,’ Rafe said quietly, still holding her hand. ‘I’ll speak to him.’ After a bit, he added, ‘You’ll probably prefer not to have a personal maid.’

Heavens no. Charlie supposed Olivia might have had a maid, but she was bound to make way too many slip-ups under that level of vigilant attention. ‘I don’t think a maid will be necessary,’ she said carefully.

Rafe nodded.

Deeply grateful, Charlie managed a weak smile. ‘I’ll get the hang of this,’ she promised.

‘Of course you will.’

His hand was warm on hers.

Already, she was beginning to like Rafe. Too much.

* * *

The early twilight was growing darker by the minute. Below them, the lights of Grenoble twinkled prettily, and as the road wound ever upwards, night pressed in. They passed clusters of steep-roofed chalets that glowed with welcoming warmth, but for most of the journey the Alps loomed dark and slightly ominous, the car’s headlights catching huge rocky outcrops topped with snow.

Charlie wondered how long it would take to reach Montaigne, but she refrained from asking Rafe and once again exposing her ignorance. It wasn’t easy for a natural chatterbox to remain silent, but discretion was her new watchword.

From time to time, Rafe talked to her about matters that he needed to attend to over the next few days. Meetings, luncheons, more meetings, dinners.

‘You’ll be busy,’ Charlie said, and she wondered what she would do while Rafe was buzzing around attending to his princely duties.

‘You’ll probably need to attend some of these functions,’ he said. ‘Especially the dinners, but I’ll try to keep your duties light. You’ll have plenty of time for shopping.’

Shopping. Oh, dear.

It was about an hour and a half later that they reached Montaigne perched high in an Alpine valley. The capital city was incredibly pretty, bathed in the clear moonlight, with lights shining from a thousand windows. The valley looked like a bowl of sparkling, golden flakes.

‘Home,’ said Rafe simply.

‘It’s very beautiful,’ Charlie told him.

He nodded and smiled. ‘You must be so tired. It’s been a long journey.’

They were pulling up at the front steps of a fairy-tale castle. Charlie forgot her tiredness. She was far too excited.

* * *

‘Bonsoir, Your Highness. Bonsoir, mademoiselle.’

A dignified fellow in a top hat and a braided greatcoat opened the car door for them. Another man collected their luggage.

Rafe ushered Charlie up a short flight of snow-spotted steps and through the huge open front doors. A woman aged around fifty and dressed in a neat navy-blue skirt and jacket greeted them with a smile.

‘Good evening, Chloe.’ Rafe addressed her quickly in French, as she greeted them and took their coats. ‘Mademoiselle Olivia is very tired, so we’ll retire early this evening, but we’d like some coffee and perhaps a little soup?’

‘Yes, I’ll have it sent up straight away, Your Highness.’

‘That would be very good, thank you.’

Charlie managed with difficulty to refrain from staring about her like an awestruck Aussie tourist, but Rafe’s castle was amazingly beautiful. There were white marble floors and enormous flower arrangements, huge gold-framed mirrors, chandeliers, and a grand marble staircase carpeted in deep royal blue.

Despite her nervousness, she planned to drink in every moment that she spent here, and one day she would tell her grandchildren about it. But she wasn’t sure she could ever get used to hearing Rafe addressed as ‘Your Highness’. Thank heavens she was only mademoiselle.

‘I’ll show you to your room,’ Rafe told her.

To her surprise, they didn’t proceed up the staircase. A lift had been fitted into the castle.

‘My grandfather had this lift installed for my grandmother,’ Rafe told her. ‘Grandmère had a problem with her knees as she got older.’

‘It must make life a lot easier for everyone else, too,’ said Charlie.

‘Yes. Here we are on the second floor. Your room is on the right.’

Charlie’s room was, in fact, an entire suite, with a huge bedroom, bathroom and sitting room. And although the castle seemed to be heated, there was even a fireplace, where flames burned a bright welcome, and off the bedroom a small study, complete with a desk, a telephone and an assortment of stationery ready for her use.

The whole area was carpeted in a pretty rose pink with cream and silver accessories, and there were at least three bowls of pink roses. Charlie’s suitcase had already been placed at the foot of the bed and it looked rather shabby and out of place.

‘This is rather old-fashioned compared with your flat in Sydney,’ Rafe said.

‘But it’s gorgeous,’ protested Charlie, who couldn’t believe he would even try to make a comparison. ‘Oh, and look at the view!’ She hurried over to the high, arched window set deep in the stone wall with a sill wide enough for sitting and dreaming.

Below, the lights of Montaigne glowed warm and bright in the snowy setting.

‘I can’t believe this.’ She was grinning as she turned back to Rafe. ‘It’s so incredibly picture perfect.’

‘There’s a remote control here beside the bed.’ Rafe picked it up and demonstrated. ‘It makes the glass opaque for when you want to sleep.’

‘How amazing.’ Charlie watched in awe as the glass grew dark and then, at another flick of the switch, became clear again. ‘It’s magic. Like being in a fairy tale. Aren’t you lucky to actually live here?’

His smile was careful. ‘Even fairy tales have their dark and dangerous moments.’

‘Well, yes, I guess.’ Charlie wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. ‘I suppose there are always wicked witches and wolves and evil spells.’ And in Rafe’s case, a wicked Chancellor and evil miners who wanted to wreck his country. ‘But at least fairy tales give you a happy ending.’

‘Unless you’re the wolf,’ suggested Rafe.

Charlie frowned at him. ‘You’re very pessimistic all of a sudden.’

‘I am. You’re right. I apologise.’ But Rafe still looked sad as he stood there watching her.

Charlie wondered if he was thinking about his father who had died so recently. Or perhaps he was thinking about Olivia, wishing his real fiancée were here in his castle, preparing for their marriage. Instead he was left with an improvised substitute who would soon leave again.

Or were there other things worrying him? He’d mentioned the mining threat, but he probably had a great many other issues to deal with. Affairs of state.

She was pondering this when he smiled suddenly. ‘I must say I’m not surprised that you believe in happy endings, Charlie.’

She thought instantly of Isla. ‘It’s terribly important to think positively. Why not believe? It’s better than giving up.’

He dismissed this with a shrug. ‘But it’s a bit like asking me if I believe in fairies. Happy endings are all very well in theory, but I find that real life is mostly about compromise.’

Compromise?

Charlie stared at him in dismay. She’d never liked the idea of compromise. It seemed like such a cop-out. She never wanted to give up on important hopes and dreams and to settle for second best.

She wanted to protest, to set Rafe straight, but there was something very earnest in his expression that silenced her.

She thought about his current situation. He’d been forced to arrange a hasty, convenient marriage to save his country, instead of waiting till he found the woman he loved. That was certainly a huge compromise for both Rafe and for Olivia.

When Rafe looked ahead to the future, he could probably foresee many times when he would be required to set aside his own needs and desires and to put duty to his country first.

It was a chastening thought. Charlie supposed she’d been pretty foolish to come sailing in here, all starry-eyed, and immediately suggest that living in a castle was an automatic ticket to a fairy-tale life. She was about to apologise when there was a knock at the door.

A young man had arrived with their supper.

‘Thanks, Guillaume,’ Rafe said as the fellow set a tray on the low table in front of the fire. To Charlie, he said, ‘I thought we’d be more comfortable eating in here tonight.’ When Guillaume had left, he added, ‘You don’t mind if I join you?’

‘No, of course not.’ After all, it was what the servants would expect of an engaged couple.

They sat on sofas facing each other. The coffee smelled wonderful, as did the chicken soup, and the setting was incredibly cosy. Charlie looked at the flickering flames, the bowls of steaming soup and the crusty bread rolls.

The scene was almost homely, hardly like being in a royal castle at all, and for Charlie there was an extra sprinkle of enchantment, no doubt provided by the hunky man who, having shed his overcoat, looked relaxed again now in his jeans and dark green sweater.

Rafe’s comments about compromise were sobering though, and no doubt they were the check she needed. Royals might not be dogged by the money worries that had plagued her for most of her life, but their money came with serious responsibilities.

Was that why Olivia ran away?

* * *

When they finished their soup, Rafe called for a nightcap, which was promptly delivered, and as he and Charlie sipped the rich, smooth cognac he watched the play of firelight on Charlie’s curly hair, on her soft cheeks and lips. It was only with great difficulty that he managed to restrain himself from joining her on her sofa.

But man, he was tempted. There was a sweetness about Charlie that—

No, he wasn’t going to make comparisons with her sister. He couldn’t waste time or energy berating himself for the error of judgement that had landed him with Olivia Belaire. Regret served no useful purpose.

‘Tomorrow, when you’re ready, my secretary, Mathilde, will bring you a list of your engagements,’ he said, steering his thoughts strictly towards business. ‘Including your shopping and hair appointments.’

Charlie looked worried. ‘But I won’t have appointments for shopping, will I?’

‘Yes. The stores find it helpful to plan ahead. They can make sure that the right staff is available to give you the very best assistance.’

‘I see.’ Charlie still looked worried. ‘Will your secretary also give me a list of the sorts of clothes I need?’

‘No, Monique at Belle Robe will look after that. If you show Monique your list of engagements, she’ll be able to advise you on dresses, shoes, handbags or whatever.’

‘I—I see.’

Was it his imagination, or had Charlie grown pale?

Why? Surely all women loved shopping? Her sister had enthusiastically embraced the shopping expeditions he’d paid for. Unfortunately, Olivia had also taken all those clothes with her when she left. They would have fitted Charlie perfectly.

‘You’ll have to try to enjoy the experience,’ he said.

‘Yes, of course. I’ll try to behave like Olivia. I suppose she loved shopping.’

‘Yes, she had quite a talent for it.’

Charlie lifted a thumbnail to her mouth as if she wanted to chew it. Then she must have realised her mistake and quickly dropped her hand to her lap with her fist tightly curled. ‘So I need to be enthusiastic,’ she said. ‘I can do that.’

‘And don’t worry about the expense.’

To his dismay, Charlie looked more worried than ever. ‘What’s the matter, Charlie?’

She flashed him a quick, rather brave little smile. ‘No problem, really. It’s just that I’m so used to living on a budget and it’s hard to throw off the habits of a lifetime.’

Rafe couldn’t remember ever dating a girl who was cautious with money. This was a novel experience. ‘These clothes won’t have price tags,’ he reassured her. ‘So you needn’t know the cost. And remember they’re just costumes. They’re your uniform, if you like, an important part of the job.’

‘Of course.’

‘And you don’t have to worry about jewellery either,’ he said next. ‘There’s a huge collection here in the castle vault. All my mother’s and grandmother’s things.’

‘How—how lovely.’

‘I imagine that sapphires and diamonds will suit you best.’

Charlie fingered one of her simple, pearl stud earrings, and Rafe suppressed yet another urge to join her on the couch, to trace the sweet pink curve of her earlobe, preferably with his lips. Then he would kiss her smooth neck—

He sat up straighter, cleared his throat. ‘And you’ll have a driver to take you everywhere.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a maid as well? A female companion?’

Charlie shook her head. ‘If I had another girl hanging out with me, I’d be sure to chatter and give myself away.’

He smiled, knowing that this was true. Charlie was so honest and open, but he wished she weren’t still looking so worried. He felt much better when she was smiling. He’d been growing rather used to her smiles.

He hoped his next suggestion wouldn’t make her even more worried. ‘I was hoping you might be able to visit a children’s hospital,’ he said carefully. ‘It would be very helpful for your image.’

The change in Charlie was instantaneous. Her shoulders visibly relaxed and she uncrossed her legs and, yes, she actually smiled. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’d love that. I love kids. That’s a great idea.’

The sudden reversal was puzzling until Rafe remembered that his men had reported Charlie visiting a hospital in Sydney just before she’d made her final decision to accompany him to Montaigne.

What was her interest in hospitals? He hadn’t asked his men to follow up on this, but now he recalled the upsetting phone call from her father and wondered if that was the connection. He would have liked to question Charlie about it. But if she’d wanted to tell him, she would have done so by now, and there were limits to how far he could reasonably expect to pry into her private affairs.

After all, their relationship was strictly business.

Charlie yawned then, widely and noisily, and Rafe was instantly on his feet. ‘It’s time I left you. You need to sleep.’

‘I am pretty stuffed,’ she admitted with a wan smile.

They both stood. Beside them, the fire glowed and danced.

‘Goodnight, Charlie.’

‘Goodnight, Rafe.’

Her eyes were incredibly blue, their expression curious, and he supposed she was wondering if he planned to kiss her.

He certainly wanted to kiss her. Wanted to rather desperately. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her soft lips. Wanted to kiss her slowly and comprehensively, right there, on the sofa, by the warmth of the fire. Wanted to feel the softness of her skin, feel the eagerness of her response. Rafe imagined that Charlie’s uninhibited response would be rather splendid.

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, eyeing him cautiously.

Rafe came to his senses. ‘Yes.’ He spoke brusquely, annoyed by his lapse. ‘I usually have breakfast at seven-thirty, but you will be tired from the jet lag, so sleep as long as you wish. There’s a phone by your bed, so just call for a maid when you wake. Have coffee, breakfast, whatever you want, brought here to your room. Take your time.’

‘Thank you.’

Stepping forward, he kissed her politely on both cheeks. ‘Bonne nuit,’ he said softly, and then turned and left her without looking back.

* * *

Don’t do it, Rafe told himself as he walked away. Don’t mess with this girl. You know you’ll only end up hurting her.

Problem was, the habits Rafe had developed during his years of freedom were strong. He’d grown used to having almost any girl he fancied, usually without any strings attached.

Now he was surrounded by restrictions and almost every breath he took had a string attached. The press was watching him. Chancellor Pontier was watching him. For all he knew, the whole country was watching him. His enemies were waiting for him to stuff up, while his people were waiting for him to step up to the mark.

At times the weight of expectation and responsibility pressed so heavily Rafe could barely breathe. Even Charlie, despite her willingness to help him, was just another responsibility.

For her sake, he had to remember that.

* * *

Charlie checked her phone before she went to bed, but there was no message from her father. She pressed the remote to darken the window and climbed into bed. The sheets were smooth and silky, they smelled of lavender and were trimmed with exquisite lace and embroidery. The pillow was soft but firm.

Nevertheless, she lay awake for ages, worrying about Isla. Did no news mean good news? Or was her father too busy to bother with texting? Were he and Skye and Isla already in the air on their way to Boston?

How was Isla?

She remembered the lecture she’d given Rafe about positive thinking. She should follow her own advice. She had to believe that all would be well. Isla’s tiny heart would survive the long plane flight and the highly skilled doctors in Boston would make her well. The money Rafe had so generously handed over would be put to good use and this whole crazy venture would be worthwhile.

The money...

This was another thing for Charlie to worry about. How on earth could she afford the clothes she needed to carry off the role of Prince Rafael’s fiancée? Why on earth hadn’t she foreseen this problem?

Anxiously she tossed and turned, playing with the notion of coming clean, of telling Rafe about Isla and explaining what she’d done with his money. But there were problems with this revelation.

First, there was a chance that Rafe might not believe her and they could end up having a row about it. It was an unlikely outcome, Charlie admitted. Rafe appeared to be quite generous and reasonable.

But Charlie certainly didn’t want to take advantage of his good nature. The thing was, she’d struck a deal with him and now she had to keep up her end of the bargain. To ask for more money on top of his ample payment would feel totally shabby.

Besides, if she tried to tell Rafe about her baby sister’s condition and the impending surgery, she would almost certainly offload all her fears and then blubber all over him.

This was the last thing Prince Rafael of Montaigne needed. He hadn’t brought her here to listen to her problems.

He had enough problems of his own.

Once she’d thought things through to this point, Charlie felt calmer. Lying in the darkness, she watched the flickering firelight and she thought about the lovely evening she and Rafe had spent together. She remembered the moment before he’d left when he stood there in the firelight, looking at her. So tall and dark and sexy, with an expression in his eyes that had set her heart thumping.

So intense he’d looked. For a giddy moment, she’d thought he was going to kiss her. Properly. Passionately. Her heart had carried on like a crazy thing, thrashing about like a landed fish.

Such a ridiculous reaction. Perhaps she could blame the jet lag. Tomorrow she’d feel much more like her old self.