The Forbidden Prince. Alison Roberts
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I’m working. I’m doing my OE.’
‘Oh-ee?’ The word was unfamiliar.
‘Overseas Experience. It’s a rite of passage for young New Zealanders.’
‘Oh...and is it something you have to do alone?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘But you are doing it alone?’
‘Yep.’ Her tone suggested she wouldn’t welcome any further questions about her personal life. ‘Oh, look—civilisation.’
Sure enough, they had reached the outskirts of the mountain village. There was no real reason to stay with Mika any longer. She had completely recovered and she was safe. But Raoul was enjoying her company now and he had to admit he was curious. Mika was a world away from her homeland and she was alone.
Why?
They walked in silence for a while as they entered the village of Nocelle. Raoul’s eye was caught by big terracotta pots with red geraniums beneath a wooden sign hanging from a wrought-iron bar advertising this to be the Santa Croce ristorante and bar. Extending an invitation was automatic.
‘Can I buy you a coffee or something to eat? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving after that hike. We could get a bus down to Positano if it’s too dark to use the steps later.’
The invitation had been impulsive—a polite thing for a gentleman to do. It was only after he’d voiced it that Raoul realised how much he actually wanted Mika to agree.
He wanted to offer her food, not just because he was reluctant to give up her company—he wanted to look after her for a little while longer. To recapture that heart-warming sensation of winning the trust of somebody who needed his help although they would have preferred not to accept it.
It was just to make absolutely sure she was okay, of course. Nothing more. Hooking up with any young woman on this trip was an absolute no-no and, besides, he’d never be physically attracted to somebody like Mika. She was a tomboy, possibly the complete opposite to any woman he’d ever invited into his life or his bed—those picture-perfect blondes that knew how to pose for an unexpected photograph. Maybe that explained the fascination.
She was looking almost as wary as she had when he’d offered his hand to help her along the track and suddenly—to his horror—Raoul realised it might be better if she declined the invitation. He could feel the smile on his face freeze as he discreetly tried to pat the pocket on his shorts. He might have enough loose change to cover a bus fare for them both but it was highly unlikely that he could pay for a meal.
He was still smiling but Mika seemed to be reading his mind. A furrow appeared on her forehead.
‘Your wallet was in your backpack, wasn’t it? You don’t have any money, do you?’
‘Ah...’
‘What about your passport? And do you even have a place to stay?’
‘Um...’ The echo of the ‘I told you so’ vibe that he would very much prefer to avoid made him straighten his spine. ‘I’ll find somewhere.’
He found himself nodding. A short, decisive movement. Maybe this unfortunate occurrence was actually a blessing in disguise. Exactly the kind of challenge he needed to find out what he was made of. Whether he could cope with a bit of genuine adversity.
‘Do you have any friends around here?’
The nod morphed into a subtle shake, more of a head tilt, as the question unexpectedly captured Raoul on a deeper level. He’d never lacked for people desperate to be his friends but experience had taught him that it was all too often due to his position in life rather than any genuine personal connection. He was probably as wary of making friends as Mika was about letting someone offer her assistance. Of letting someone touch her. It was impossible to know, in fact, whether he had any real friends at all because he’d never been in this position before.
Being ordinary.
Meeting someone who was judging him on who he really was—as a man and not as a prince.
‘Doesn’t matter. You’ve got one now.’ Mika’s face lit up with that impish grin but it faded quickly to a much more serious expression. ‘You saved my life, mate.’ There was still a gleam in her eyes that didn’t match her sombre expression. ‘I’m afraid I can’t subscribe to the Chinese tradition of becoming your slave for life to repay the debt but...’ Her face scrunched into lines that suggested serious thought. ‘But I can buy you dinner.’ The grin flashed again. ‘I might even splash out on a cold beer.’
Raoul couldn’t take his eyes off Mika. Witnessing the confidence that was returning now that her frightening experience was over was like seeing a butterfly emerge from its chrysalis. The way her expressions changed so quickly, and the lilt of her voice with that unusual accent was enchanting, but perhaps the most extraordinary thing was the effect that smile had on him.
He wanted to see it again. To make her laugh, even...
And she’d declared herself to be his friend. Without having the faintest idea who he really was.
Oddly, that made him feel humble. It gave him a bit of lump in his throat, if he were honest.
‘Come on, Raphael.’ The pocket rocket that was his newest friend was already heading down the cobbled street towards the arched entrance to the restaurant. ‘We’ll eat and then we’ll figure out what you’re going to do. If you’re starving, it’s impossible to think about anything but food, don’t you think?’
‘Mmm...’ But the lopsided grin—almost a wink—that had accompanied her use of what she thought was his real name made Raoul smile inwardly.
It was a rare experience indeed for him to be teased. He had no siblings, and apparently it hadn’t been the done thing for others to tease a prince, even in childhood.
He liked it, he decided.
He liked Mika, too.
IT WAS ONE of the things that Mika loved about Italian villages—that she could rock up to a place like this, in shorts and a singlet top, probably looking as weary and in need of a shower as she felt, and still be welcomed with a smile and gestures that suggested they had been waiting for her arrival.
The change when Raoul entered the restaurant behind her was subtle but unmistakable. Instead of a welcome guest, Mika suddenly felt like a...a princess?
‘This way, sir, please; this is the best seat in the house. And you’re lucky. You get to catch the last of this magnificent sunset.’
The whole wall of the restaurant was glass and the building seemed to be perched on the side of the mountain. It was the same view they’d had from the top of the Footpath of the Gods, only now the Mediterranean was on fire with red and gold light, and the islands way up the coast were dark, mysterious humps. It was a similar drop over a cliff right beside them, too, with no more than a low, railed fence outside the window and a roof or two of houses well below on the steep slope.
The slight quirk of Rafe’s eyebrow along with the expression in those dark eyes was remarkably eloquent. He wanted to know if she was okay to be sitting, overlooking the drop. He would be more than happy to forgo the view if she wasn’t and he would request a change without embarrassing her by referring to her recent disability in public.
It made Mika feel even more like a princess.
No. It made her feel the same way that taking hold of his hand on the track had made her feel.
Protected.
Safe.
She had to clear her throat to get rid of an odd lumpy sensation before she spoke.
‘This