Royals: His Hidden Secret: Revealed: A Prince and A Pregnancy / Date with a Surgeon Prince / The Secret King. Kelly Hunter
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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