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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

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