Читать книгу Royals: His Hidden Secret: Revealed: A Prince and A Pregnancy / Date with a Surgeon Prince / The Secret King - Kelly Hunter - Страница 17

RAFAEL brought the car to a smooth halt beside the tiny village parkland. Simone stifled a sigh. They’d spent the last two days on the road and the last two nights sleeping in farmhouse pensions, and, if Simone’s Spanish sign reading served her correctly, they had just entered the territory of Maracey. Rather than push on to the vineyard estate, though, Rafael had stopped for a break.

In a moment the angelic-looking man occupying the driver’s seat would turn towards her and ask her if she needed to stretch her legs or see to her toilette, or if she would like a drink or something to eat. He would look at her as if she were made of glass and she would glance down just to check that she wasn’t, at which point she would look back up at him as if he’d gone mad.

Because, clearly, he had.

‘Why have we stopped?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Again.’

‘Puppy pit stop,’ he said.

The puppy lay fast asleep at Simone’s feet.

Rafael got out of the car and scanned his surroundings before leaning back down again to study her intently. ‘Care for a walk? Drink? Something to eat?’

A kind woman would have said no, and that she was just fine thank you because she’d walked, drunk and eaten less than two hours ago. A kind woman would have reassured him that pregnancy was a perfectly natural state for a woman and did not require such solicitousness on his part. Only a terrible woman would send the man off in search of some exotic juice that he’d never be able to find in a small village shop.

‘I’m thinking kiwi-fruit juice,’ she said airily.

‘Kiwi-fruit juice.’

‘Oh, yes. You see, kiwi fruit is green and green is good for the baby. I’ve been reading up on these things.’

‘Right,’ he said distractedly. ‘Green.’

‘And chicken.’ Was it lunch time? Simone glanced at the dashboard clock. Close enough. ‘I’d like some fried chicken too.’

‘Right,’ he said again and off he went. Man on a mission.

‘Come on, Ruby,’ Simone told the puppy as she nudged her awake and scooped her up. ‘He wants us to walk.’

By the time Rafael returned some twenty minutes later, Simone and Ruby had done all the walking they intended to do and Simone had fished the picnic blanket from the car and spread it out beneath the dappled shade of an old oak tree. She’d just settled down on her back to partake of a tiny snooze when Rafael returned with lunch.

‘Are you ill?’ he said abruptly. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Fine,’ she said, sitting up and regarding him with no little exasperation, while Ruby greeted him ecstatically. ‘I’m feeling fine. Blooming marvellous.’

Rafe’s gaze sped to her stomach. Oh, yes. This baby business had messed with his mind, good and proper.

‘I couldn’t find any kiwi-fruit juice,’ he said and handed her a white polystyrene hot food container. Simone opened the lid, expecting chicken. She shut it again fast.

‘I had them pick it and prepare it for you,’ said Rafael.

She peeked again. ‘What is it?’

‘Boiled spinach.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s green,’ he said helpfully.

‘It certainly is.’ And it served her right. She eyed the larger plastic bag he carried hopefully. Ruby eyed it too. ‘Is there chicken?’

‘Yes.’ He studied her again, as if examining her for flaws. ‘Gabrielle said you weren’t eating properly.’

‘Gabrielle exaggerates.’

‘Or sleeping properly.’

That one was true. ‘Let’s just say that trying to figure out how and when to tell you about this baby was weighing on my mind. I know there are still a lot of decisions to be made about what we’re going to do from here on in, but at least that bit’s done.’

‘So you’ve been sleeping a little easier?’

‘A little.’ No thanks to him. Rafael had slept in a separate room these past two nights, and kept physical contact with her to a minimum during the day. Neither action was particularly to her liking. She set the spinach aside and leaned back on her elbows as Rafael settled on the blanket beside her—not too close—and unpacked the shopping bag. Fried chicken, plain water, napkins, a kilo or ten of snow peas, and two green apples.

She shifted uncomfortably, turning her stomach towards him as she tilted over onto her side and smoothed the blanket beneath her, before settling back down.

‘What is it?’ he said in instant alarm.

‘A stick digging into my backside.’

‘Do you need a pillow?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Simone yanked her T-shirt up to her midriff, grabbed Rafe’s hand, and placed it palm down on her stomach. Maybe if he felt for himself, he wouldn’t be so worried about this baby’s current position in the world. ‘You can’t feel any movement yet,’ she told him. ‘It’s too early for that, but this baby is well protected and healthy, Rafael, and so am I.’ She stared up into those vivid blue eyes and offered him a smile. ‘Can you feel it?’

‘Feel what?’ All Rafael could feel was skin, warm and silky. All he wanted was more. His body responded instantly, brutally focused on the one woman he had absolutely no notion of how to handle. What did she want from him?

And what dared he give?

‘My body,’ she said, as if he needed the reminder that his hand now caressed it. ‘It’s rounder. Fuller.’

He couldn’t feel a difference.

‘Lower,’ she murmured and covered his hand with hers and slid his hand lower and lower still so that their fingers disappeared beneath the waistband of her loose cotton trousers. Her fingers slid away, leaving only his in place, and her gaze met his dark and knowing. ‘Can you feel it now?’

He couldn’t. He was too busy trying to stem the insatiable need erupting inside him.

‘Lower,’ she whispered and arched her lower body up into his hand. She smiled. It was not the smile of a Madonna with child.

Rafael cursed and snatched his hand away fast, and put some distance between them along with whatever objects came to hand. The chicken. A thousand snow peas. A roly-poly puppy.

‘Oh, look,’ she said, staring across the park towards a small hotel. ‘A pension.’

‘No,’ he said gruffly.

‘You don’t want me?’

He did want her. Insanely. ‘Are pregnant women always this forward?’

‘Are fathers-to-be always this batty?’ she countered. ‘You got me pregnant the regular way, Rafael. I’m really not the fragile virgin Madonna type.’

‘I noticed.’

‘I’m so pleased,’ she said, eyeing him darkly. ‘And just for future reference, my sexual appetite hasn’t dimmed with early pregnancy. If anything, it seems to have increased.’ She sat up and eyed the basket of fried chicken. ‘I just don’t know what comes over me at times. Chicken wing?’

‘No.’ If his voice sounded a little hoarse there was good reason for it. Denying one’s deepest instincts took effort.

‘Oh, good,’ she said, and picked up the wing and bit into it with every appearance of profound enjoyment.

Simone let the angelic man with the fire of retribution in his eyes be after that, and concentrated on eating a balanced meal. The chicken wing. A little of the spinach. The snow peas were sweet and crunchy, and a much nicer green. She ate a handful of those and settled back to quiz Rafe about his status in this land as he finished his meal.

‘What exactly is it that Etienne expects of you?’ she asked him.

‘My presence at certain state functions. My presence, on occasion, at politically sensitive meetings.’

‘And how does Etienne introduce you?’

‘As his son.’

‘Does he ask for your input?’

‘Yes.’

‘And do you give it?’

‘Sometimes.’

Simone studied Rafael solemnly. Etienne asked a lot from his newfound son.

‘Does he give you time to relax?’

‘Overseeing the restoration of the vineyard is relaxing.’

‘You’ve taken that on too? As well as running your own vineyard from afar?’

‘I’ve put a manager in place at Angels Landing.’ The grimness of Rafael’s features told her just how much it had pained him to do so. More than any of the other projects surrounding him, Angels Landing was his dream, and he’d worked hard for it. It didn’t seem right that he’d had to give it up to make room for other people’s agendas.

‘Is this manager any good?’

‘Maintenance-wise, he’s very thorough. Vision-wise, he still needs guidance, but Harrison’s overseeing that at the moment. Harrison says he’s doing all right.’

‘Good.’ Simone nodded and made a mental note of Rafael’s reliance on Harrison’s judgement. She made another note to ask Harrison to visit them in Maracey as soon as practicable. Rafael needed people he could trust around him. The list of people who’d earned such trust would not be a long one. ‘Does Etienne reside at the vineyard estate?’

‘No. He’s based at a castle in the capital. There are rooms in the castle set aside for my use should I wish to stay there, apparently, but I prefer the vineyard. Whether I stay in Maracey at all is an issue currently up for debate amongst Etienne’s senior statesmen.’ Rafael’s expression hardened. ‘It seems not everyone is happy to see me.’

‘Is that so?’ Simone smiled tightly. She wondered if those statesmen knew how used to rejection this man was and how fiercely he’d learned to fight for the things he considered his. Heaven help them if he decided he wanted Maracey.

‘You’ll be staying with me at the vineyard,’ said Rafael next. ‘I’ve asked the staff to prepare a suite for you. Hopefully sleep will come even easier to you once you’re settled there.’

‘No.’

‘Pardon?’

Simone sighed heavily. She’d tried showing him what she wanted from him, but to no avail. It was time to spell it out for him using words he could understand. The ‘fragile virgin Madonna’ treatment had to stop. She was not fragile, and she was certainly no virgin. She quite liked being thought of as a Madonna, but that was probably just the pregnancy talking. ‘No. No separate suite, no separate bed. And no treating me like a stranger. I have a different proposal for you.’

‘If you want me to marry you, I’ll marry you,’ he said curtly.

He would too. Simone sighed. For an intelligent man, he seemed exceptionally good at missing the point. ‘Put your obligatory proposal and your narrow-eyed looks away,’ she said evenly. ‘I don’t want to marry you. Marriage requires love and intimacy. Trust. And you and I…We don’t have any of those things.’ Yet. ‘No, my proposal is designed to see us through our stay at Maracey, that’s all.’ And perhaps foster a few of those things that they didn’t yet have.

‘What did you have in mind?’ he asked warily.

‘A far less complicated merger,’ she said carefully. ‘You give me something that I want, and I’ll give you something that you want.’

‘What would you have of me?’

‘A little of your time during each day.’ She speared him with a glance. ‘And your bed every night. I find I like it there.’

He absorbed her blunt words with considerable aplomb. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree, put his hand to his neck and rubbed. ‘Well…’ he said slowly. ‘Some of that sounds manageable.’ His gaze didn’t leave hers. ‘What would you give me in return?’

‘I know social politics, Rafael. I know the ruthless games of big business. I know them very well. I can be of use to you when it comes to Maracey and its nervous statesmen if you let me. I can watch your back on the rare occasion that you’re not standing against the wall.’

He said nothing.

She didn’t bother with telling him that she would do this for him whether he wanted her to or not and that she’d do it because she loved him. He wouldn’t believe her. Eventually, though, he would have to believe in her love for him. The evidence would have it no other way. Then all she had to do was make him fall in love with her and everything would fall into place. This baby. This lifestyle, whatever it was…

Rome wasn’t built in a day, she reminded herself by way of encouragement, and set about laying another brick. ‘I didn’t come all this way with you to be treated like a porcelain princess, Rafael. I swear I’ll go nuts if you continue to treat me like one.’

‘My mistake.’ He smiled slightly, a tiny glimpse of sunshine on a cloudy day. ‘What sort of princess would you like to be?’

She favoured him with a gentle smile. ‘Yours.’

They arrived at the fortress just after four in the afternoon. The sun still burned high in the sky, but later it would disappear behind the hillside and shadows would creep over the valley. This was a place of sunrises, not sunsets. Of shimmering beginnings that stole slowly across the landscape before bathing a body in light.

Rafael hoped Simone would like it here. They’d discussed no long-term plans beyond her accompanying him to Maracey, the main reason for that being that he didn’t currently know what the future would hold or whether he wanted to stay in Maracey permanently and become heir to the throne. Now Simone’s thoughts and feelings would have to be added to the already complex mix.

At least she was here. That was the main thing. Here at his begging; he remembered that too. Not loving him, not wanting to marry him. Wanting only his bed.

Heaven help them both.

Rafael drove up to the outer entry gates, great wooden-beamed and steel-braced squares. They opened silently, electronically driven, and closed just as silently behind them. The inner walls had ramparts and walk-ways atop them. Rafael knew for a fact that when Etienne was in residence those walkways would come into use. Simone’s eyes widened.

Okay, so there were one or two drawbacks to palatial living. But a person could forgive a lot when they woke to views over a valley that only soaring eagles shared.

‘It’s bleaker than I remembered,’ she murmured.

Of course. She’d been here before as a child. ‘It’s not bleak inside,’ he assured her and she slid him an assessing glance as he parked the car by the entrance portico and cut the engine.

‘You like it here,’ she accused mildly. ‘The isolation, the fortress, the burning sun.’

‘Maybe. I may have become somewhat addicted to watching the sun rise from that balcony right there,’ he said, and pointed up to the patio jutting out from his bedroom.

Simone opened the car door and Ruby tumbled out. Simone followed more gracefully and looked up at the balcony before turning to regard the valley spread out before them. ‘I can see why,’ she said softly.

‘Staff-wise, there’s a head housekeeper who lives in and also cooks for whoever’s in residence. There’s day cleaning staff—three of them come every day and there are others on call. There’s a head groundsman who also lives on the estate. He has staff as well. There’s also a security contingent present,’ he told her as the double entrance doors opened and the stern and angular Rosa stepped out to greet them. ‘That’s Rosa, Head Housekeeper. She speaks French, English, Spanish and the local dialect here, and she despairs of my lack of ceremony. Her day staff like her and she has a knack for getting good work out of them. She’s proudly Maracenian and can be a bit haughty at times.’ He stopped his assessment of Rosa at that. Simone was used to dealing with Josien, he reminded himself. Compared to Josien, Rosa was a sweetheart.

Rosa nodded and ushered them inside, out of the heat of the day. Rosa suggested refreshments in fifteen minutes, or as soon as they’d washed away their travels. Simone enthusiastically agreed.

Rosa attempted to show Simone to her suite.

Simone smiled and proceeded to tell the housekeeper to keep the suite they’d prepared for her prepared by all means—for if she ever kicked Rafael out of his bed he would need somewhere to sleep—but that for now Simone was letting him sleep in his own room with her and Ruby the fat puppy.

Rosa’s stern features registered surprise, quickly followed by a flash of what might have been approval. Simone held the other woman’s gaze and lifted an imperious eyebrow. Rosa bowed her head, but not before Rafael saw the smile hovering about the housekeeper’s lips. It was approval.

Ruby chose that moment to be a puddly puppy and anoint the glossy marble floor.

Rosa winced. Simone sighed.

‘All right, point taken,’ said Simone. ‘The puppy can sleep wherever it is fat puppies sleep around here. But I’m standing firm on my own sleeping arrangements. No guest suite.’ She looked towards Rafe. ‘I sleep with him.’

Rafael relaxed in spite of himself and allowed himself a smile.

Both women stopped their discussion and stared. Rosa in astonishment, Simone in wry acknowledgement.

‘Did you see that?’ whispered Rosa. ‘Like sunshine.’

‘You should have seen him as a child, back when responsibility didn’t have quite the hold on him that it does now,’ murmured Simone. ‘His smile could warm a whole day.’

But Rafael’s smile had dimmed at the reminder of the responsibilities that he did now carry. ‘Simone’s pregnant,’ he told the housekeeper bluntly. ‘Can you adjust your menus accordingly?’

‘Not that this pregnancy’s been playing on his mind or anything,’ added Simone. ‘Much.’

The housekeeper eyed Simone’s still svelte form. ‘But of course we can alter the menus. There are foods she must have and foods she can’t.’

‘Easy on the can’t,’ murmured Simone. ‘The minute you say I can’t have something I tend to want it more.’

Rosa nodded sagely. ‘Come to see me in the kitchen and we shall discuss preferences.’ Rosa leaned closer to Simone. ‘El úngel, there, he has no preferences or favourites. I have a food budget that allows for the finest of ingredients and all he tells me is that he eats anything. Everything! Where’s the challenge in that?’

‘Inexcusable,’ murmured Simone with a shake of her head. She was, after all, French. ‘As for your impending fatherhood,’ she added and speared him with a very direct glance, ‘you really shouldn’t go blurting it out like that. Does Etienne know?’

Er…

She read the answer on his face. ‘While I am confident of Rosa’s discretion, Rafael, there’s gossip, and then there’s gossip. May I borrow your phone?’

Wordlessly he handed it to her and watched as she scrolled through his contacts list until she found the number she wanted.

‘Your Highness? It’s Simone Duvalier. Yes, we’ve just arrived at your magnificent estate. Yes, such a beautiful drive and so relaxing. We stopped so many times along the way to take in the views.’ Simone had dug a notepad from her handbag and was busy scribbling on it while his phone balanced precariously between cheek and lightly tanned shoulder. She held the note up for his and Rosa’s viewing pleasure. It said, ‘Dinner for three at eight?’

Rosa nodded vigorously.

Rafael shrugged indifferently. While he admired Etienne as a ruler, His Royal Highness had considerable shortcomings as a father. Etienne was trying, Rafael did give him that. But the father-son relationship that Etienne had been so intent on securing had far more to do with matters of state than it had to do with affection. Etienne would be thrilled by the notion of a new generation of little royal children who would, of course, be expected to fulfil their duty to Maracey and secure the royal line. Whether Etienne would ever be a grandfather to those children was open to speculation.

Children, he realised with a start. Not child. He wasn’t thinking of just one, and that was the danger of having Simone by his side. He wanted this child, their child, with an intensity that left him breathless. He wanted more.

Simone, by her actions and demands, was making it crystal clear that she had no intention of being a burden to him. She was not disguising her strengths or the assets she could bring to his table. She was here to see if they could make a relationship between them work. A practical woman.

A remarkable one.

For the first time in ten weeks, Rafael felt a ray of hope touch him and find purchase in his soul. As if somehow, with Simone at his side, there might be a way of making all these newfound responsibilities mesh together.

‘Etienne, would you like to join us here for dinner?’ he heard her ask. ‘Say, dinner to be served at eight? I’m pregnant, Rafe’s the father, and we’re celebrating.’

Rosa snorted. Simone grinned, and Rafael crossed his arms in front of him, eyebrow raised at her deliberately breezy delivery of such news. But he felt like smiling.

‘You would?’ she said next. ‘Wonderful. But of course. Adios. Bon soir. Bye.’

Snapping the phone shut, Simone handed it back to him with a smile he knew of old. ‘That ought to keep his senior statesmen spinning for a while. Rosa, you may now tell the world.’

Rosa smiled broadly. ‘As the mademoiselle commands.’

Simone smiled back, every inch the wanton, wilful and very astute princess. ‘You know what?’ she said as she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and looked curiously around the foyer. ‘I think I’m going to like it here.’

Etienne arrived at exactly a quarter to eight that evening, and bearing two small gifts. A slim, leather-bound edition of poems that he handed to Rafael and a posy of violets that he bestowed on Simone.

Rafael looked at the violets and something turned inside him and clicked. He’d collected violets for Josien as a boy, searching valiantly for the first blooms of the season, those tiny fragrant petals that hid between fat green leaves. They’d always made Josien go quiet when he gave them to her. They always made her turn away.

Had Etienne given his mother violets once too? Had Josien once been deeply in love with the young prince Etienne?

‘Love poems,’ said Simone approvingly as she glanced at the book in Rafe’s hands. ‘Even Tennyson. Now there’s a man who could have almost been French, such was his understanding of the heart.’

‘There’s a marriage proposal in there somewhere,’ said Etienne. ‘Should anyone ever need one.’

‘Is there?’ Simone bestowed a charming smile on Etienne. A smile Rafael had learned a long time ago to be wary of. Etienne would learn Simone’s ways soon enough. Etienne was a master at reading people, but for now Rafe stood back and prepared to enjoy the show as Simone and Etienne established the lay of the land when it came to poets and proposals.

‘It’s a modern world, Your Highness, with modern ways,’ said Simone lightly. ‘And while I can understand your interest in Rafael’s intentions towards me, and mine towards him, let me be perfectly clear about something. I will have no interference or outside pressure brought to bear on our relationship.’

With a great deal of innate grace, Simone slid the book from Rafe’s unprotesting hand and set it on the side table before turning back and bestowing yet another smile on Etienne, only this time she’d swapped charm for steel. ‘I’m sure you of all people understand the need for any decision on marriage to be ours rather than one of necessities of State.’

‘Well said,’ added Rafe, bringing Etienne’s appraising gaze around to rest on him. There were some things Rafael was willing to do for Maracey. And some things he would not. Don’t push me. He held Etienne’s gaze. I’m here and I’m playing your stately games the way you want them played, but I guarantee you will not like the results when you push me.

Noted, was Etienne’s silent rejoinder as he turned back towards Simone, warier now, and well he should be. ‘My son is a constant surprise to me.’

‘Really?’ Simone’s expression softened as she looked at Rafael. ‘How sad. But then, had you acknowledged him as a child, he wouldn’t be the man he is today. And that would be a shame.’

‘You never knew your mother, did you?’ asked Etienne. ‘Such a beautiful woman and remarkably astute. Fiercely loyal to your father, of course. Every bit his equal and absolutely fearless in his defence. A valuable ally. A dangerous enemy. You remind me of her.’

‘Thank you.’ Simone’s polite smile didn’t waver. Rafael stepped closer to her, instinctively wanting to shield her from Etienne’s remarks, no matter how innocuous they seemed on the surface. The children of Caverness protected their own and talk of mothers was not encouraged. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘You should,’ said Etienne. ‘I do hope we’re not going to become enemies, mademoiselle.’

‘So do I, Your Highness.’ Simone favoured him with the sweetest of smiles. ‘You used to call me Simone once.’

‘You used to call me Etienne.’

‘Shall we attempt it?’ she said. ‘For the sake of peace, prosperity, and the debt you owe your son and his unborn child?’

‘That’s quite a card you have to play,’ said Etienne after a thoughtful pause.

‘I know,’ said Simone. ‘Brilliant, isn’t it? And I intend to keep playing it. Someone has to look out for Rafael’s best interests. He’s far too fond of putting other people’s wants and needs ahead of his own. Not that he would ever admit it.’ Another smile, impish this time and directed solely at Rafael. ‘Is there a parapet we can go and stand on while we take our refreshments before dinner? I have this longing to be outside with the breeze on my skin and the sun at my back while I watch dusk fall over the valley below us. This is such a beautiful place, and it’s such a glorious evening.’

It was, thought Rafael. It really was.

Harmony had been discussed, obtained, and now it ruled.

Diplomacy, Duvalier style.

Dinner went well. The food was excellent, the service unobtrusively stately, and the company extremely pleasant once the pesky issue of boundaries had been established. Etienne was a diplomat born and Simone had her own skills in that area, and together they worked on Rafael, drawing him out, drawing a smile every now and then, or a wickedly incisive take on issues Etienne had been dealing with. Rafe deliberately challenged Etienne at times, forcing the different point of view to be explored and defended. Usually, he did so without disclosing exactly where his views lay.

No wonder Etienne’s elder statesmen were in a panic, thought Simone wryly. If they were smart they were beginning to realise Rafael’s intelligence and the strength of his will. If they were smarter still they would be beginning to see that he had no intention of ever being their puppet. Did Etienne himself know the full potential of this son he’d finally claimed?

Watching and listening to them, Simone realised that he did. Etienne knew full well just how strong and smart a leader Rafael had the potential to be. Their relationship was a strange mixture of the formality of strangers coupled with a determination on Etienne’s part to chip away at Rafael’s barriers and an equally determined Rafael who kept taking Etienne’s chisels away.

A father-son relationship between these two would take time, but they might get there eventually. Rafe’s defences were down, never mind how expertly he hid that fact. Simone knew him too well. She knew the signs. Rafe had had one too many surprises. His life had undergone one too many changes and he hadn’t regrouped yet.

A clever father would take advantage of this temporary doorway into the real Rafael.

A woman who loved him would take advantage of it too.

Simone walked with Rafael and Etienne to the door. She’d wondered about farewelling Etienne early and giving them this time alone, but Rafael must have sensed her intention and with a tiny shake of his head had indicated that there was no need.

Would a woman in love put her own need to be of use to her man ahead of her desire to see a father and son reconciled?

Damn right she would.

Etienne opened the front door and stepped outside and suddenly an entourage of dark-suited bodyguards appeared as if from nowhere. More dark-suited men patrolled the inner fortress wall. More dark-clothed men stood in the shadows of the outer fortress wall. Those ones hadn’t moved at all.

‘Were the security guards here when we arrived?’ Simone asked Rafael as they watched Etienne and his entourage get under way and peel out of the fortress with military precision. She hadn’t noticed any guards roaming the grounds earlier, but there were certainly still plenty in place now that Etienne had gone.

‘Some were,’ murmured Rafael. ‘I spoke to the head of security here earlier. He arranged for more.’

‘Because Etienne was visiting?’

‘Because there’s more to secure now that you’re here.’

Simone instinctively put her hand to her stomach. ‘Is there a threat I should know about?’

‘No. Maracey takes the safety of its royal family very seriously, that’s all,’ he told her. ‘It’s in the princess manual fine print.’

‘What else is in the princess manual fine print?’ asked Simone warily.

‘Security cameras in every room, armoured cars, food tasters…’

‘What?’

Rafael grinned. Simone took one look at him and thumped him on the arm.

‘Okay, I may have been kidding about the food tasters,’ he conceded.

‘You’d better be kidding about the security cameras in every room as well.’

‘How about I just tell you where they aren’t?’

‘How about you just show me where they aren’t?’

Rafael grinned again and lit Simone’s night. No doubt about it, she and the baby had been thrust upon him. But sometimes, with a smile or with a glance, she got the feeling that, thrust upon him or not, Rafael liked having her around.

With a passion.

A woman could build on that. A woman could hope.

‘Rosa’s prepared a bed for Ruby downstairs,’ said Rafael. ‘The head gardener seems quite taken with her. Says he’ll check on her through the night and let her outside when need be.’

‘Let’s hope no one shoots her,’ said Simone with a final glance at the men on the ramparts before stepping back inside.

‘The guards all know she’s here,’ said Rafael. ‘I’m more fearful for the head gardener’s flowers,’ said Rafael. They headed for the master suite in companionable silence. Once there, Simone eyed the ceilings and corners for security cameras.

‘There’s none in here,’ murmured Rafael, watching her from the doorway.

Just as well.

Simone’s belongings had been brought to the suite earlier and packed neatly away. She’d dressed for dinner in here, cluttering up the room as she went. Her handbag on the floor beside a dresser. A scarf flung over the back of a chair. It helped, she thought, that Rafael had not made the room his. It helped that they were both strangers to this space. She slid him a glance.

His stillness telegraphed volumes. He had not moved from his position beside the door, but he watched her every move. Gauging it. Waiting for her next move, if only she dared make it.

‘I watched you tonight,’ she said conversationally.

‘I noticed.’ He didn’t smile, and that was a pity. ‘What was the verdict?’

‘That you would make a good ruler of Maracey one day. Should you choose to be. That we would make a politically powerful combination. Should we choose that path. And that, prince or not, you can still warm me with nothing more than a glance and a smile.’ She reached for her hairpins and began to take down her hair. ‘Should you choose to.’

She slipped off her shoes and slid them beneath the bed. ‘I know I forced my company upon you here in this bedroom. I did it because I wanted to strengthen your position here, not weaken it by appearing to have been thrust upon you. I did it because I realised some time ago that one night in your bed simply wasn’t enough for me. I want more. I want this relationship to be real.’

She looked around the sumptuous bedroom with its fabulous furnishings and the lake-sized bathroom branching off from it with its spectacular sunken spa. ‘Okay, as real as it can be with you deciding whether you want to be a prince of the realm and me wondering what else is in the princess manual fine print that I’m really not ready for.’

‘The security bothers you?’ he asked quietly.

‘A little. It points to a potential lack of privacy that could bother me a lot.’

‘I’ll do everything I can to ensure that the privacy versus protection balance works for you.’

‘For us,’ she corrected gently. ‘And thank you. I do however realise that it’s part of the royal family package and might not be something either of us have a lot of control over. But that’s really not the point I was trying to make.’

‘It’s not?’

‘No. I just got sidetracked by that one for a moment. I’m pretty sure I was trying to make a different point altogether. It was about our expectations of one another here in this bedroom.’

Clarity was a must.

Confidence was vital.

There could be no weakness in her approach to sharing Rafael’s bed. She wanted to. Very much. But he had to want it too. ‘I want to make love with you again, Rafael. I would like it to be an ongoing arrangement. The thing is, my feelings aren’t the only feelings that need to be considered. Yours do too so I’m asking you plainly.’ The last hairpin came out. She placed them on the dresser and shook out her hair. ‘What would you have from me here in this bedroom?’

‘What would you give?’ he asked huskily.

She gave his question the thought it deserved. ‘Anything.’

‘Anything?’ He made the word a caress, full of dark needs and wicked promise.

‘Anything you asked for.’ She knew this man. She knew his soul. Fierce but not cruel. Wild but not destructive. Intensely protective of those few things that he loved beyond measure. She wasn’t one of them, she knew that. But she did not doubt that whatever he demanded of her, he would keep her safe. ‘So ask.’

His eyes grew dark. She was trying to make this simple for him. Whatever he wanted, be it separate sides of the bed or an arrangement with a little more fire to it, all he had to do was ask. She didn’t think asking a man to state what he wanted was too torturous a question.

Then again, this was Rafael.

‘Come here,’ he murmured.

She went to him. Stood in front of him, not touching him, not yet. ‘What else would you have?’

His smile came slow and sure. He liked this game. Damned if he didn’t. ‘Put your hands on me,’ he said next.

‘Where?’

‘Anywhere.’

‘I want them on skin,’ she murmured.

He shed his shirt and stared at her in silent challenge, all washboard hard and hungry male as the balance of power shifted and shifted again.

Choices, choices.

She placed her hand on the plane of his stomach. He shuddered beneath her touch and his eyes grew heavy-lidded.

‘More,’ he murmured.

She put her other hand on his arm, just above his elbow, and slid it up to his shoulder. Plenty of hills and valleys worthy of exploration there. ‘What else would you have?’ she murmured.

‘More.’

‘Could you be a little more specific?’ She raked her nails lightly down his chest. Rafe’s breath left his body with a hiss.

‘Lose the clothes, Simone, forget the game, and stand naked before me.’

He asked a lot, this man, but she did it because he needed her to and because she would demand no less from him before this night was through. ‘What now?’ She shivered, just a little, in the cool night air. Her nipples tightened and she lifted her chin to show that she was not afraid, no matter what he asked of her.

He smiled at that, slow and wicked. ‘Cold?’

Not any more.

‘Come closer.’ Another order and one she obeyed. She was rewarded with a kiss, deep and drugging. ‘Tell me when to stop,’ he muttered. ‘The baby…’

‘The baby is fine,’ she whispered, and arched into his hands as he grazed the curve of her neck with his teeth. ‘And hell will freeze over before I ever tell you to stop.’

He needed this, thought Rafael. The protection Simone afforded him so effortlessly. The passion she offered so willingly. And the trust she placed in him. ‘It’s not a fair bargain,’ he murmured and he nipped at her shoulder blade and trailed his fingers down her spine. ‘This proposal of yours, I see nothing in it for you.’

‘That’s because you’re not looking through my eyes,’ she murmured, and slanted him a glance as she undid his belt and the button on his trousers. ‘I see plenty in this for me. Just…’ Simone found him and caressed him, a slow slide of her palm against straining hardness and heated skin. His heartbeat tripled. ‘Plenty.’

Rafael took her mouth again, an erotic tangle of lips and of tongues. The bed was here somewhere, he needed a bed, needed to be careful of this woman with his child in her womb. The need to protect warred with his need to possess. He could not predict which need would triumph.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her on her back before sinking down beside her. He ran his hand down her body, from shoulder to stomach and back to a tightly budded breast. Rafe bent his head and suckled hard. Simone gasped and bucked beneath his ministrations.

‘Sensitive?’ he whispered as her fingers came up to cradle his head.

‘You have no idea.’

‘More?’

‘Yes,’ she muttered and cried out her pleasure when he took to her other breast with a gentle scrape of teeth and tongue. Her hands were not gentle in his hair as she writhed beneath him. ‘God, yes.’

To protect or to possess? Which would it be? Simone parted her legs willingly, wantonly, as he trailed kisses down her ribcage and over her gently rounded stomach.

‘Would you like me to say your name?’ she offered raggedly.

Possession won.