A Royal Proposal. Barbara Hannay
Читать онлайн книгу.
sweetness of her soft lips. Wanted to kiss her slowly and comprehensively, right there, on the sofa, by the warmth of the fire. Wanted to feel the softness of her skin, feel the eagerness of her response. Rafe imagined that Charlie’s uninhibited response would be rather splendid.
‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, eyeing him cautiously.
Rafe came to his senses. ‘Yes.’ He spoke brusquely, annoyed by his lapse. ‘I usually have breakfast at seven-thirty, but you will be tired from the jet lag, so sleep as long as you wish. There’s a phone by your bed, so just call for a maid when you wake. Have coffee, breakfast, whatever you want, brought here to your room. Take your time.’
‘Thank you.’
Stepping forward, he kissed her politely on both cheeks. ‘Bonne nuit,’ he said softly, and then turned and left her without looking back.
* * *
Don’t do it, Rafe told himself as he walked away. Don’t mess with this girl. You know you’ll only end up hurting her.
Problem was, the habits Rafe had developed during his years of freedom were strong. He’d grown used to having almost any girl he fancied, usually without any strings attached.
Now he was surrounded by restrictions and almost every breath he took had a string attached. The press was watching him. Chancellor Pontier was watching him. For all he knew, the whole country was watching him. His enemies were waiting for him to stuff up, while his people were waiting for him to step up to the mark.
At times the weight of expectation and responsibility pressed so heavily Rafe could barely breathe. Even Charlie, despite her willingness to help him, was just another responsibility.
For her sake, he had to remember that.
* * *
Charlie checked her phone before she went to bed, but there was no message from her father. She pressed the remote to darken the window and climbed into bed. The sheets were smooth and silky, they smelled of lavender and were trimmed with exquisite lace and embroidery. The pillow was soft but firm.
Nevertheless, she lay awake for ages, worrying about Isla. Did no news mean good news? Or was her father too busy to bother with texting? Were he and Skye and Isla already in the air on their way to Boston?
How was Isla?
She remembered the lecture she’d given Rafe about positive thinking. She should follow her own advice. She had to believe that all would be well. Isla’s tiny heart would survive the long plane flight and the highly skilled doctors in Boston would make her well. The money Rafe had so generously handed over would be put to good use and this whole crazy venture would be worthwhile.
The money...
This was another thing for Charlie to worry about. How on earth could she afford the clothes she needed to carry off the role of Prince Rafael’s fiancée? Why on earth hadn’t she foreseen this problem?
Anxiously she tossed and turned, playing with the notion of coming clean, of telling Rafe about Isla and explaining what she’d done with his money. But there were problems with this revelation.
First, there was a chance that Rafe might not believe her and they could end up having a row about it. It was an unlikely outcome, Charlie admitted. Rafe appeared to be quite generous and reasonable.
But Charlie certainly didn’t want to take advantage of his good nature. The thing was, she’d struck a deal with him and now she had to keep up her end of the bargain. To ask for more money on top of his ample payment would feel totally shabby.
Besides, if she tried to tell Rafe about her baby sister’s condition and the impending surgery, she would almost certainly offload all her fears and then blubber all over him.
This was the last thing Prince Rafael of Montaigne needed. He hadn’t brought her here to listen to her problems.
He had enough problems of his own.
Once she’d thought things through to this point, Charlie felt calmer. Lying in the darkness, she watched the flickering firelight and she thought about the lovely evening she and Rafe had spent together. She remembered the moment before he’d left when he stood there in the firelight, looking at her. So tall and dark and sexy, with an expression in his eyes that had set her heart thumping.
So intense he’d looked. For a giddy moment, she’d thought he was going to kiss her. Properly. Passionately. Her heart had carried on like a crazy thing, thrashing about like a landed fish.
Such a ridiculous reaction. Perhaps she could blame the jet lag. Tomorrow she’d feel much more like her old self.
WHEN CHARLIE WOKE the next morning, she took a moment to get her bearings. She couldn’t remember another time she’d ever woken to such sumptuous surroundings.
She reached for the remote and pressed the button, and—hey, presto! Bright sunlight streamed into her room.
She wondered how late she’d slept and snatched up her phone to check the time. It was nine o’clock, and there were four new messages on her phone.
Three messages were from her father. One told her that he and Skye and Isla were leaving for Boston. Another gave her their flight’s departure and arrival times. A third message asked where she was.
Charlie didn’t answer this specifically.
Have a safe flight, she wrote. Sending my love to you and to Skye and Isla. All’s well here. C xxx.
She’d crossed so many time zones, she didn’t even try to calculate where they might be by now. It was just good to know Isla was on her way and, at this point, all was well. Charlie sent up a prayer.
Keep Isla safe. Hang in there, sweetheart.
The last text message was from Rafe.
Good morning. I hope you’ve slept well. My secretary, Mathilde, would like to meet with you at eleven. Is this suitable?
Quickly she typed back that this would be fine.
Great, wrote Rafe. Any problems, give me a call.
Charlie wondered where he was. Then her tummy rumbled. She needed breakfast. Rather nervously, she lifted the phone beside the bed.
Immediately a woman’s voice at the other end said, ‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle Olivia.’
‘Oh,’ said Charlie. ‘Bonjour.’ In her best French she asked, ‘Could I please have some coffee in my room?’
‘Certainly, mademoiselle. Would you also like breakfast? An omelette perhaps?’
‘An omelette would be lovely. Merci.’
‘It will be with you very soon, Mademoiselle Olivia.’
‘Thank you.’
This done, Charlie heaved a huge sigh of relief. Her first hurdle might have been a rather low bar in the scheme of things, but at least she’d cleared it without mishap.
* * *
A much higher hurdle came later, after the secretary Mathilde had given Charlie her engagement itinerary. She was expected to start clothes shopping this very day.
Not only did Charlie need a warmer overcoat, a new outfit was required for dinner this evening, another to wear for a daytime engagement the next day and a special gown for a gala event to be held in the castle in two evenings’ time.
Charlie almost whimpered when she saw the list. She knew Rafe never dreamed that she would be paying for these clothes out of her own money, but she felt she had no other option. The problem was, her bank account wouldn’t stretch to four expensive items of clothing, all fit for a princess. She would be lucky if she could afford one of these outfits, which meant she had no alternative but to get