A Royal Proposal. Barbara Hannay
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been prepared for the over-the-top opulence.
On the short journey from the airport to Sheikh Faysal Daood Taariq’s home, she saw a car painted in gold—and yes, Rafe assured her, it was real gold—and another studded with diamonds. And good grief, there was even, in one bright red sports car, a leopard!
A proper live, wild creature. Massive, with a glorious coat of spots and a silver lead around its neck. The leopard was sitting in a front passenger seat beside a handsome young man in white robes and dark sunglasses.
Gobsmacked, Charlie turned to Rafe. ‘That wasn’t really a leopard, was it?’
He grinned. ‘It was indeed.’
‘But it couldn’t be. How can they?’
Rafe shrugged. ‘Welcome to Dubai. Extravagance abounds here and dreadfully expensive exotic pets are all the rage.’
‘But surely—’ Charlie wanted to protest about the dangers. About animal rights, but she stopped herself just in time.
‘Listen, Charlie.’ They were in the back seat of a huge limousine and Rafe leaned a little closer, speaking quietly. ‘Try not to be too surprised by anything you see here.’ He waved his hand to the view beyond the car’s window, as they passed a grand palace at the end of an avenue lined on both sides with fountains and palm trees.
‘I can’t help being amazed,’ she said somewhat meekly. But she knew she had to try harder. ‘I guess Olivia’s used to all this,’ she said. ‘Her jaw wouldn’t be dropping every five minutes.’
Rafe nodded. ‘Exactly.’
In that moment, Charlie realised something else. ‘You’ve brought me here to your friend’s house as a test, haven’t you? It’s a kind of trial run for me?’
Rafe’s only answer was a smile, but Charlie knew she was right. Visiting his good friend, Faysal, was a kind of fast-track apprenticeship for her in her new role as Rafe’s fiancée. If she made any gross mistakes here, the errors would remain ‘in house’ so to speak.
But she wasn’t going to make mistakes. She could do this. In Sheikh Faysal’s home, she would ensure that she had perfect posture and perfect manners. She would remember to stand straight, sit with her knees together, and never cross her legs, always be polite and eat neatly, and—
And it would be exhausting to be a full-time princess.
But Charlie was determined to pass any test Rafe St Romain presented. Of course, she could hold her tongue and play the role she’d been assigned. After all, he was paying her very handsomely.
Now, with her thoughts sorted, she realised that their car was turning. Huge iron gates were rolling open to allow them entry to a gravelled drive and a tall, white, three-storeyed house decorated with arches.
The car stopped at a heavily embossed front door, which opened immediately to reveal a dark-haired, olive-skinned man almost as handsome as Rafe.
‘Rafe and Olivia!’ he cried, throwing wide his arms. ‘How lovely to see you both again. Welcome!’
* * *
Breakfast at Faysal’s was wonderful, as always, and to Rafe’s relief Charlie behaved admirably.
They dined on the terrace beside the swimming pool, where they were served Arabic coffee made from coffee beans ground with cardamom and saffron, as well as spicy chick peas and balabet, a dish of sweetened vermicelli mixed with eggs and spices. There were also delicious pancakes flavoured with cardamom and coloured with saffron and served with date syrup.
Charlie was on her best behaviour, and Rafe knew she was trying hard not to be too overly impressed by everything she saw and tasted. But he could also tell that she was enjoying the meal immensely, possibly even more than she’d enjoyed last evening’s meal on the plane.
Just the same, she managed not to gush over the food, and she only jumped once when Faysal called her Olivia.
She couldn’t quite hide her fascination with her surroundings, though. Her bright blue eyes widened with obvious delight at the fountains and the terraced gardens and the arcade decorated with exquisite blue and gold tiled mosaics. And Rafe thought she was just a little too impressed by Faysal, who was, as always, handsome and ultra-charming.
Nevertheless, the meeting went rather well, and Rafe was feeling relaxed when Charlie retired to the powder room.
As soon as she’d left, however, Faysal, who had dressed today in European trousers and a white polo shirt instead of his customary white robes, looked across the table to Rafe with a narrowed and sceptical dark gaze.
‘So,’ he said, his lips tilting with amusement. ‘Who the hell is that girl, Rafe?’
Inwardly groaning, Rafe feigned ignorance. ‘You know who she is. She’s my fiancée, Olivia. What game are you playing?’
‘That’s the very same question I want to ask you. You’re trying to pull a swift one over me, old boy.’ Faysal nodded to the corridor where Charlie had disappeared. ‘That girl is Olivia’s double, I’ll grant you that, but, unless she’s had a complete personality transplant, she is not the girl I met in Saint-Tropez and again at your engagement ball.’
Rafe sighed heavily as he remembered the extravagant ball he’d hosted. At the time he’d needed to make a big stir about his engagement and to show Chancellor Pontier how serious he was. He hoped there hadn’t been too many guests as astute as Faysal. ‘Is it really that obvious?’
Faysal’s smile was sympathetic as he nodded. ‘I’ll admit I observe women with a deeper interest than most.’
This was true, but still Rafe was afraid he had a problem.
‘Her name’s Charlie,’ he said. ‘Or rather, Charlotte. She’s Olivia’s twin sister. I tracked her down in Australia.’
‘Australia? So that was the accent.’
Rafe grimaced. ‘Is that what gave her away? Her accent?’
‘Not really.’ Faysal eyed Rafe with a level and serious gaze.
‘What, then?’ Rafe demanded impatiently.
‘Her sincerity.’
Hell.
Rafe knew exactly what Faysal meant. There was a genuineness about Charlie that had been totally absent in her sister. He gave a helpless shrug. ‘I can’t do much about that.’
‘No,’ Faysal observed quietly. Then he frowned. ‘So what happened to Olivia? She hasn’t been abducted, has she?’
‘No, I wouldn’t be sitting here passing the time of day with you if that was the case.’ Rafe shrugged. ‘She ran away.’
Faysal looked only mildly surprised. ‘She panicked, in other words.’
‘Yes, I think she must have.’
His friend gave a slow, thoughtful nod. ‘Getting engaged to that girl wasn’t your smartest move, my friend.’
‘I know.’ Rafe sighed again. ‘As you know, it was all about convenience. It was such a shock when my father died. So unexpected.’
‘The pressures of being an only child,’ Faysal mused. ‘If your mother had still been alive...’
Faysal didn’t finish the sentence, but Rafe knew exactly what he was implying. His mother had died three years ago, but if she’d still been alive she would have seen through Olivia Belaire in a heartbeat. And in no time at all, his mother would have produced a list of a dozen or more highly suitable young women for him to choose from.
These girls would have been from good schools and families. They would probably have all had university degrees and perfect deportment and grooming and impeccable manners and be interested in good works. The list of his mother’s requirements for a princess were numerous. She had never approved