A Royal Proposal. Barbara Hannay
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steadying breath. Not that it did her any good, for a moment later Rafe stepped out from a doorway across the hall and she completely forgot how to breathe.
He was dressed in a formal black military uniform with gold braid on his shoulders, a colourful row of medals and a diagonal red and gold sash across his broad chest. His dark hair, as black as a raven’s wing, gleamed in the light of overhead chandeliers and he looked so handsome and so splendidly royal that Charlie’s knees began to tremble.
Drop-dead gorgeous had just been redefined.
It didn’t help that Rafe had come to a complete standstill when he saw her, or that his smile was replaced by a look of total surprise.
The trembling in Charlie’s knees spread to the rest of her body and she might have stumbled if she hadn’t kept a death grip on the door handle. She wished that Rafe would say something—anything—but he simply stood there, staring at her with a bewildered smile.
After an ice age or two, she managed to speak. ‘Are you coming in?’
Rafe nodded and she stepped back to allow him to enter her room. ‘That’s an amazing uniform,’ she said, hoping to ease the obvious tension. ‘You look very—regal.’
‘And you look, literally, breathtaking, Charlie.’ He turned to her and gave a shaky smile as he let his burning gaze ride over her from head to toe and back again. ‘You’re going to steal the show tonight.’
She managed to smile. ‘You had your doubts about the sea foam.’
Rafe shook his head. ‘I knew you would choose well.’
‘I’m glad it’s OK, then.’
‘OK? C’est superbe. Magnifique!’
As Charlie closed the door Rafe stepped towards her, reaching for her hands. His grey eyes were shining so brightly they’d turned to silver. A knot in his throat moved as he swallowed. ‘My dear Charlie,’ he whispered, taking her hands in his and drawing her nearer. ‘I think I’ve made the most terrible mistake in bringing you here.’
Charlie’s throat was suddenly so painfully tight she could barely squeeze out a response.
‘Why is that?’ she managed at last.
Rafe’s mouth twisted, as if he was trying for a smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. ‘I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to let you go.’
Oh, Rafe.
She wanted to weep, to melt in his arms, to acknowledge the unmistakable emotions that eddied between them, to give in to the sizzling chemistry. But a warning voice in her head reminded her that she had to be sensible.
In less than an hour they were expected to host a royal ball that would be attended by all the local VIPs, including Rafe’s enemies. Being seen at such an occasion was the very reason she’d been brought to Montaigne. Decorum was required. Dignity, not passion.
She shook her head at him. ‘Don’t pay me compliments, sir. Not now. You’ll make me cry, and that will spoil my make-up, and I’m sure it cost you a small fortune.’
A rueful chuckle broke from him. ‘I’ve never met a girl so worried about money. But, OK, no more compliments.’
‘Good.’ Although Charlie feared that a dancing lesson with Rafe would be even more dangerous than his compliments.
‘I’ll have to kiss you instead,’ Rafe said next. ‘Perhaps there is no make-up here?’
Before she quite realised what was happening Rafe touched his fingers to her bare shoulder and, before she could gather her wits to stop him, he pressed his warm, sexy lips to the same patch of skin.
Charlie gasped as his lips brushed her in the gentlest of caresses. Her skin tingled and flamed. The blood in her veins rushed and zapped.
‘Or perhaps here?’ Rafe murmured as he pressed another kiss to Charlie’s neck and caused a starburst of heat, just above the pearls and diamonds.
‘What about here?’ he whispered, and Charlie had no choice but to cling to him, grabbing at the stiff cloth of his jacket, closing her eyes, as he kissed the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. And then gently nibbled at her earlobe.
She tried to tell herself that he was just being a playboy, and she might have believed this, if she hadn’t already seen that shimmer of a deeper emotion in his eyes.
And now she was only too painfully aware of the truth about her own feelings. She was in love with this man. Totally. Utterly. Deeply.
It didn’t make sense, she knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. From the moment she’d left Australia, this Prince had charmed every cell in her body. Right now, she was powerless.
‘You do crazy things to me, Charlie.’ Rafe’s arms tightened around her and his voice was hoarse and breathless as he whispered close to her ear. ‘You make me want to forget everything, throw off my responsibilities. You make me want to believe in your fairy tales.’
Oh, Rafe. Charlie’s throat ached with welling tears. What have we done?
And now, his grey eyes were fierce, burning with an intensity that was almost scary, as he ever so gently touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek. ‘I’ve never really believed in love till now. But my problem was that I’d never met the right girl. And now I have. Now I want to believe.’
Emotion and longing rioted through Charlie. She thought she might burst.
Rafe’s sad smile was breaking her heart. ‘Is it safe to kiss your lips?’ he whispered.
She knew she should step back, tell him no. If he kissed her mouth, heaven knew what else might happen.
But it was so hard to be sensible. To her dismay, she heard herself say, ‘I have a new lipstick for touch ups.’
Idiot.
It was all the invitation the Prince needed. Slipping his arms around Charlie’s waist, he gathered her closer, and now she could smell the expensive cloth of his jacket, the light cologne on his skin.
His lips found hers and her heart seemed to burst into flames. She tipped her head to access the dizzying pleasure, and worried, fleetingly, that her tiara might slip, but this worry and all others were shoved aside as Rafe’s lips worked their magic. His kiss was all-seeking and possessive, commanding every shred of her attention.
Happiness and hunger in equal parts rose through Charlie like a bubbling geyser. She no longer cared that she’d fallen under this Prince’s spell. She would happily hand him her heart on a platter.
With unforgivable ease, he had won her completely and, as his kiss deepened deliciously, a soft moan of deepest pleasure escaped her.
But the moan was cut short as the door burst open.
A woman’s voice yelled, ‘What the hell’s going on?’
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