LITMIR.BIZ

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rich and savoury with a to-die-for golden, cheesy bread crust. It was so good she couldn’t talk at first, apart from raving, but after a bit she encouraged Rafe to tell her more about Montaigne.

      She was keen to learn more about its history and its traditions, about the mining threat and his plans for his country’s future. So he told her succinctly and entertainingly about the country’s history and the jewellery-making craftspeople and the famous Alpine skiers. As he talked she could feel how genuinely he loved this small principality and its people.

      Charlie decided there was something very attractive about a man whose vision extended beyond his own personal ambitions. Not that she should dwell on Prince Rafael of Montaigne’s attractions.

      She was halfway through the soup, when she asked, in a burst of curiosity, ‘What’s it like to be you, Rafe? To be a prince? Does it do your head in sometimes?’

      He frowned. ‘My head in?’

      ‘Does it ever feel unreal?’

      He seemed to find this rather amusing. ‘Mostly, it feels all too real.’

      ‘But you must have met a lot of famous people. I guess you must have an awesome Christmas card list.’

      This time Rafe laughed out loud, a burst of genuine mirth. ‘Yes, I suppose it is an awesome list,’ he said eventually.

      ‘Will you add me?’ Charlie couldn’t resist asking. ‘After all this is over?’

      Any amusement in his face died. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘If you’d like a Christmas card, I’d be happy to add you to my list, Charlie.’

      The thought of being back in Australia and finding Prince Rafael’s card in the mail wasn’t as cheering as it should have been.

      Charlie promptly changed the subject. ‘Do you ever wish you could just be plain old Rafe St Romain?’

      He wasn’t smiling now. ‘Many, many times. But hardly anyone can have exactly what they want, can they?’

      ‘I—I guess not.’

      ‘That’s why life’s a compromise.’

      ‘Yeah,’ said Charlie softly. But today she really needed a fairy tale for Isla. ‘I suppose your parents drummed that into you?’

      He gave this a little thought before he answered. ‘It was my granny, actually. She was a crusty old thing, prone to giving lectures. Her favourite lesson was about the need to put duty before personal happiness. I must admit, I ignored her advice for as long as I could.’

      ‘How long was that? Until your father died?’

      His eyes widened. ‘You’re very perceptive, aren’t you?’

      Charlie dropped her gaze. ‘Sorry, I have a bad habit of asking nosy questions.’

      But Rafe shook this aside. ‘You’re quite right,’ he said. ‘I spent far too long living the high life. It’s my deepest regret that my father died not knowing if I’d give up the nonsense and step up to the mark as his heir.’

      His jaw was stiff as he said this, his mouth tight, as if he was only just holding himself together. An unexpected welling of emotion prompted Charlie to reach out, to give his hand a comforting squeeze.

      Rafe responded with a sad little smile that brought tears to her eyes.

      ‘Anyway,’ he said quickly. ‘I don’t think Granny was ever very happy herself, and she was forever warning me that I couldn’t expect to be as carefree and contented as my parents were.’

      ‘Well, at least you must be reassured to know that your parents were happy.’

      ‘Yes.’ This time Rafe’s smile wasn’t quite as sad. ‘My mother was from Russia. She was the daughter of a count. Her name was Tanya and she was very beautiful. My father worshipped her.’

      ‘Wow.’

      Charlie thought how sad it was that Rafe, by contrast, was arranging to marry for convenience, to save his country, tying himself into a contract with a girl he didn’t seem to particularly admire.

      If her sister ever came out of hiding.

      To Charlie this seemed like a compromise of the very worst kind.

      ‘By the way,’ he said suddenly, changing their mood with a sudden warm smile, ‘you should finish this meal with one of Cosme’s chocolate eclairs. That’s a happy ending you can always rely on.’

      ‘Oh,’ Charlie moaned. ‘I don’t think I have room.’

      ‘We can ask for a tiny bite-size one. I promise, they’re worth it.’

      * * *

      Charlie checked her phone again as they were getting back into the car. Rafe had noticed her checking it twice, very quickly, during the meal.

      ‘When do you expect to hear something?’ he asked.

      She looked at him, her blue eyes wide, almost fearful.

      ‘You’re obviously waiting for a phone call,’ he said.

      She nodded sadly. ‘But it won’t come for ages yet. It’s only just starting.’

      Rafe had turned on the ignition and was about to drive off, but now he waited. Charlie had been relaxed and animated during lunch, but now she was tense and pale. ‘What has just started, Charlie?’

      She opened her mouth, as if she was going to tell him, and then, annoyingly, shut it again.

      Rafe sat very still, but with poorly contained patience. ‘What?’ he asked again, but she didn’t reply.

      He watched her trembling chin, knew she was struggling not to cry, and couldn’t believe how the sight of her distress bothered him as much as it frustrated him. He almost demanded there and then that she tell him about it.

      He certainly would have done so, if they weren’t in a car on a narrow street with curious pedestrians on either side. Instead, with grim resignation, he put his foot down on the accelerator and the car roared off.

      * * *

      When Rafe pulled up at the castle steps a valet was waiting to open Charlie’s door and to park the car. Charlie wondered if ancient dungeons had been turned into underground car parks and she might have asked Rafe about this, but the question died when he linked his arm with hers and kept a firm hold on her as they went up the steps and inside the huge front doors.

      ‘We’ll have coffee in Olivia’s room,’ he told the waiting Chloe.

      Charlie had expected to be alone now. She wanted to focus on Isla, to send positive thoughts while she waited for news. Just in time, she remembered not to show that she minded Rafe’s company. No matter how tense she was, she couldn’t let him down in front of the watchful eyes of his staff. She was supposed to be his loving fiancée, after all.

      She waited until they were in the lift. ‘You don’t need to come to my room, Rafe.’

      His eyes were cool grey stones. ‘But I choose to.’

      He said this with such compellingly regal authority Charlie knew it was pointless to argue. She supposed she should be grateful for his company. Try as she might to send positive thoughts, she would probably end up sitting alone, unhelpfully imagining all kinds of gruesomeness as a surgeon’s scalpel sliced through poor Isla’s tiny chest.

      Upstairs once again, she and Rafe sat opposite each other on the sofas. It was a scene that was beginning to feel very familiar, with the fire flickering, the huge window offering them its snowy view of the city and a coffee pot and their mugs sitting on the low table between them.

      ‘Shall I pour?’ Charlie asked.

      Rafe nodded gravely. ‘Thank you.’

      The coffee was hot and strong. Charlie took two sips then set her mug down.

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