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 hotel Simone was booked into. He knew what time her flight would leave the following day. He could have found her. Talked to her. Gone to her.
He didn’t.
For all that Simone had known—or guessed—Etienne’s connection to him, she wasn’t guilty of the subterfuge that had created this mess. Josien was. Josien, who’d hated him every day of her miserable life and he finally knew why. Bastard son of a prince who’d abandoned her.
Bastard boy with his father’s eyes and his father’s
colouring and God knew what else he’d inherited from the man. Arrogance and ambition that Josien had done her utmost to beat out of him. His burning need for independence. His fierce and cold intelligence. Had all that come from Etienne de Morsay too?
Who knew?
Josien would know, but Josien was dead to him. More so now than ever.
Gabrielle had known. Somehow, Gabrielle had known, and hadn’t seen fit to tell him. The pain of that betrayal cut deep.
And then there was Simone…Rafael closed his eyes to block out the image of Simone’s first frantic attempts to prevent his meeting with de Morsay. Those final whispered words before the older man had walked up to them. Run, she’d whispered, and catapulted him straight back to their childhood.
Rafael, run.
Simone
hadn’t
known of his true relationship with Etienne de Morsay beforehand. Oh, she’d guessed soon enough. The minute she’d seen them together in the same room her formidable brain had probably started connecting the dots. But she hadn’t put it together before then.
De Morsay was right. When it came to Simone’s part in all of this, he’d been a fool.
He almost turned the car around then. He almost went back for her, such was his need to talk with her and take comfort from her and try and make all the jagged shards of his life fit together the way he wanted them to fit.
He didn’t.
Maybe if he’d been a little more trusting he might have turned back.
He didn’t.
Harrison stood waiting for him on the verandah of Rafael’s house when Rafael finally pulled the car up beside it, several hours later. One look at the older man’s worn face and weary eyes and the heart Rafael had been holding together with a piece of string finally shattered.
He left the car and headed for the door, ignoring Harrison at first as he attempted instead to push the house key into its lock. It wouldn’t go in. His hand shook too much and it wouldn’t go in.
‘You knew.’ He still couldn’t look at the older man. He looked at his hands instead and fisted them tight. ‘You knew I wasn’t yours.’
‘Yes, I knew.’ Harrison’s voice came low and strained. ‘You were born seven months after my wedding day, Rafael. A perfectly healthy, full-term baby boy. I didn’t know who had sired you, but I did know that you couldn’t have been mine. I didn’t care.’
‘How could you not
care
?’
‘You were an innocent child, Rafael. What would you have had me do? Turn you away?’
‘I wasn’t yours.’
‘And I loved you anyway, and always, as if you were mine. A heart can do that, you know. Love beyond measure something that doesn’t belong to you.’
Rafael’s throat closed up tight.
‘When Josien left and took you and Gabrielle with her, she broke my heart,’ said Harrison in that quiet melodic way of his that Rafael had always loved. ‘When she refused to allow me access to you on the grounds that I wasn’t your father, she broke it twice over.’
‘Gabrielle…’ Rafael finally found his voice and pushed it past the constriction in his throat. ‘Is Gabrielle…?’
‘Gabrielle’s mine,’ said Harrison. ‘But to fight for her
I would have had to abandon you, separate your sister from you, and I couldn’t do it.’
Rafael put his cheek to the smooth, worn weatherboard and closed his burning eyes.
‘The day you turned up on my doorstep was one of the happiest days of my life,’ said Harrison quietly. ‘The day Gabrielle arrived was the other.’
Rafael put his hands to the wall, his eyes still tightly closed. He wanted the boards to be cold to the touch. Why weren’t they cold? Grown men did not sink to the floor and weep.
‘Two hours ago I got a phone call from a man who claimed to be your father, and a king, and heaven knows what else. I don’t know what caused him to walk away from Josien and from you all those years ago, but I do know that where you were concerned it was his loss. And my gain.’
Harrison moved closer. A large, warm hand came to rest tentatively on Rafael’s shoulder.
‘This man, this king, he wishes to meet with you again. He argued strongly for my support in the matter. He spoke of matters of state, and inheritance and regret. I told him I would speak with my son and that we would get back to him with an answer.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ whispered Rafael. A cry from the heart while his soul silently wept.
‘That makes two of us,’ said Harrison. ‘But know this, Rafael. No matter what revelations lie ahead, I will think of you as mine and I will always stand by you. Always.’
They stood like that for a very long time before Rafael finally gathered the courage to speak of other things that had happened during the day.
‘I hurt a woman today, Papa. I hurt a woman whose only crime was to care for me and to try and protect me.’
Harrison took the keys from him. Harrison opened the door to the house. ‘Well…hell, son.’ Harrison’s words came delivered with a thread of dusty humour, drier than drought. ‘No one ever said loving you was easy.’
H
AVING
Gabrielle and Luc back from their honeymoon and staying at Caverness while they made plans to restore the nearby Hammerschmidt house and vineyard brought both pleasure and sorrow to Simone. The pleasure lay in enjoying their company and in watching the love that flowed between them. The sorrow came when Gabrielle would speak to her of Rafael and what was happening in his fastchanging world.
Rafael had gone to Maracey, Gabrielle had told her. Rafael and Harrison both, at Etienne de Morsay’s invitation, although Harrison had since returned to Australia. How it had all come about, Gabrielle never said, but apparently Etienne was making no secret of the fact that Rafael was his son and that, henceforth, Rafael would be an integral part of Etienne’s life.
How the world did turn.
Simone arrived early at the village café Gabrielle had chosen for their mid-morning distribution meeting, and quickly ordered mineral water and a slice of fresh-baked baguette, no butter, no accompaniments, just the bread. Gabrielle arrived moments later and
added more bread and water to the order, along with a decaf skinny latte, no sugar and no cocoa on top.
‘Seriously,’ said Simone after the waiter had retreated with their order. ‘Why have one?’
‘Habit,’ said Gabrielle with a grin. ‘This pregnancy business is no fun at all when it comes to what you can and can’t eat. No soft cheese, no wine, no coffee, minimal tea, easy on the chocolate. There’s nothing left on my favourites list at all.’
‘I hear spinach is good,’ said Simone and chuckled when Gabrielle levelled her with a glance.
‘I noticed you took no wine at dinner last night,’ said Gabrielle, thumping her work folder on the table and making the cutlery jump.
‘Headache,’ said Simone briefly.
‘Or the night before.’
‘Two headaches,’ said Simone. ‘Two headaches and an unexpected yen for a teetotal life. Don’t tell my distributors.’
‘I hear you’re handing over more of your distribution work to your second in command, not to mention the stuff you’re handing on to me,’ said Gabrielle next.
‘If you didn’t want the work you shouldn’t have asked for it,’ said Simone, grateful for the sunglasses that hid her eyes from Gaby’s searching gaze.
‘I want it,’ said Gabrielle simply. ‘What does intrigue me these days is that you don’t. You spend every spare moment walking in your gardens or working in them. Luc’s worried about you, Simone, and so am I. If having a pair of newly-weds around you at Caverness is a problem for you, I want you to
say
something.’
‘It’s not a problem.’ Simone smiled and reached out
her hand. Gabrielle covered it with hers instantly. ‘I love having you at Caverness. And I love seeing you and Luc so happy.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gabrielle with a warm smile. ‘Although it does leave me with this theory that I shared with Luc last night about the possible reason for your current life choices. He thought it a little far-fetched.’ Gabrielle shook her head. ‘Men.’
The food arrived. Two glasses of water, the joyless coffee, and two half slices of bare bread.
‘I rest my case,’ murmured Gabrielle. ‘You’ve lost weight. You’re not eating the things you usually enjoy…’
‘I’m dieting,’ murmured Simone.
‘Well, you shouldn’t be,’ said Gabrielle bluntly. ‘Not in your condition.’
Simone picked up her water and sipped.
Gabrielle sat back, clearly frustrated. ‘You’re going to make me ask who the father is, aren’t you?’
‘Not at all,’ Simone murmured.
‘So you’ll tell me without prompting?’
‘No.’
‘I hate this,’ said Gabrielle. ‘I hate being right, and knowing I’m right, and knowing you don’t trust me enough to confide in me.’
‘All right.’ Simone took a deep breath and set her glass gently on the table. ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Finally.’ Gabrielle did not look smug. She looked concerned. ‘Have you seen a doctor?’
‘Yes.’
‘And everything is okay?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how far along are you?’
‘Ten weeks.’
Gabrielle sighed heavily. ‘God, I hate being right.’
No more than Simone hated being proved reckless, and thoughtless and stupid. She’d thought her low-dose pills would protect her. They hadn’t.
‘You have to tell him,’ said Gabrielle next.
‘Tell who?’
‘Don’t give me that.’ Gabrielle shot her an icy reprimand. ‘My brother. Rafael. Used to give you head starts in running races and the occasional frog. CEO of Angels Landing Wines. Son of Josien. Son of Harrison. Son of Etienne. Heir to the throne of bloody Maracey. Oh, and father of your unborn child.’
‘It’s not Rafe’s fault that he ended up son of Etienne and heir to Maracey,’ Simone felt compelled to utter in his defence. ‘That one came as a complete surprise.’
‘And yet, strangely, I still want to strangle him,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Has he contacted you since the wedding?’
‘No.’ Simone looked away as her heart constricted. ‘I don’t expect him to. We shared one night, Gabrielle. It meant nothing to him.’
‘Well, it produced something,’ said Gabrielle curtly. ‘You have to tell him.’
‘Don’t you think he’s had enough responsibilities thrust upon him for the time being?’
‘I don’t care what responsibilities he’s had thrust upon him,’ snapped Gabrielle. ‘
This
responsibility is one he brought upon himself! For heaven’s sake, Simone. Do you
want
this child to grow up without ever knowing its father? Do you
want
this baby’s childhood to echo Rafael’s?’
‘I
love
this baby,’ said Simone fiercely. ‘And he will
never
have a childhood like Rafael’s.’
Gabrielle slumped back into her seat, tears streaming
from her eyes. ‘Bloody hormones,’ she said shakily, wiping them away.
‘It’s not the hormones.’
‘You’re right. It’s my overprotective friend and my foolish brother who are making me weep.’ Gabrielle picked up her coffee with both hands and sipped. ‘Would you like my opinion? As your friend and as Rafael’s sister?’
Simone nodded.
Gabrielle looked troubled. ‘Okay, here it is. I appreciate that Rafael has a lot on his plate right now. I appreciate that
you
appreciate that, but there’s no way around this, Simone, and it’s not going to get any easier. You have to tell him.’
‘I will.’ Simone’s hand shook as she reached for her bread. ‘Soon.’ As soon as she’d gathered the courage for it. ‘But not just yet.’
Etienne’s vineyard estate was a forbidding stone fortress, built in the Spanish style. Older than Caverness, it cut across the hillside and stood sentry over the valley below. Rafael hadn’t wanted to feel comfortable here. He hadn’t wanted the beauty of the land and the stark splendour of the fortress to get to him, but the undeniable fact was that it had.
He liked this place.
Etienne had wanted him to stay at the palace in the capital, but Rafael had resisted taking up residence there. The vineyard Etienne was paying him to oversee the restoration of was here. He didn’t need to stay at the palace. He didn’t want to stay there.
The papers had been full of pictures of him and Etienne from the moment he’d set foot in Maracey. The
resemblance had been unmistakable. A simple palace announcement had taken care of the rest.
Maracey, please meet Rafael Alexander de Morsay, son of Etienne.
The press had gone wild.
Sinner or saint. It depended which paper you read. Apparently, he had the face for either and the background for both.
Rafael smiled grimly. He’d been here for a month and he’d thrown himself into the work of restoring Etienne’s vines. Occasionally, Etienne would request the pleasure of his company at a state dinner or function. Increasingly, he sat in on political negotiations as part of Etienne’s facilitation team. Rafael had come to enjoy those negotiations more and more. When the days were eighteen hours long and fraught with complex world issues there was no time to think about the things he’d said to Simone Duvalier.
And the things he hadn’t.
Harrison had urged him to visit Caverness and speak with Simone in person. Harrison had urged that if returning to Caverness was the problem then perhaps Rafe could arrange to meet Simone in Paris instead. He’d urged Rafe to phone her, at the very least.
Rafael had picked up the phone and punched in the number for Caverness a hundred times over, but fear had stilled his hand. What could he offer Simone? Another night?
It wouldn’t be enough for him.
Time shoehorned in between his commitments and hers?
His current commitments now spanned two countries and a small territory. Simone’s covered all of
Europe. Maybe if both parties were willing to juggle their schedules a little they might be able to manage a week here and there.
It still wouldn’t be enough for him, but it’d be a start.
And then he would think back to those last raw words he’d thrown at her before she’d walked out of the Sydney restaurant and knew himself a fool for thinking that Simone would ever want any kind of relationship with him at all after all he’d said and done.
She wouldn’t.
All she would want was his apology. He owed her that much at the very least, and he should have made it weeks ago, months ago, for the longer he left it, the harder it got.
I’m sorry for the things I said.
That was the start of it. That was the easy bit.
If there was a woman in my life I could trust, I think it would be you.
If.
Was that an apology? He didn’t know. He didn’t think so.
The sun beat down on his back through the thin cotton of his shirt. Sweat slicked his skin from the effort of having taken to row upon row of hard and stony soil with a pickaxe. The gardeners had tried to stop him doing any of the physical restoration work when he’d first hoisted a shovel. Apparently princes of the realm did not labour like dogs beneath the fierce Maracey sun—even bastard ones.
They’d learned soon enough to leave this bastard alone when he was driving out his demons.
His mobile buzzed from amongst the assortment of tools in the wheelbarrow. Downing pickaxe, Rafe
headed for it, his aching shoulders grateful for the reprieve, but as was the way of electronic devices, the buzzing had stopped by the time he reached it.
He wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone anyway.
Rafael reached for the water bottle he’d brought with him to the vines and opened it and quenched his thirst. Rosa the housekeeper would have a fit if she saw him. Apparently bastard princes didn’t fill up empty plastic water containers from the nearest tap, shove the bottle in the wheelbarrow, and drink it lukewarm as the impulse arose. Apparently they called the kitchen and left a request and someone brought a frosty glass of iced water out to him on a tray.
Rafe smirked briefly at the memory of Rosa explaining the procedure to him. He followed the memory with another long swig from the water bottle. He really wasn’t that kind of prince.
The phone beeped again, short and sharp, signalling the presence of a message. Rafe capped the water bottle and put it down, picked the phone up and retrieved the message.
‘Rafe, it’s Gabrielle,’ said the voice. ‘I’m going to ring you again in two minutes’ time and this time I expect you to answer your phone. I mean it, Rafael. You really shouldn’t antagonise a woman in my condition. It’s not good for the baby.’
Rafael grinned widely as he deleted the message. The phone rang again immediately. Same number. Impatient sister. This time he answered it. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ she said magnanimously. ‘Are you going to screen all your calls now you’re a prince of the realm, or is it just the ones coming in from Caverness?’
‘I’m well, thanks,’ he said dryly. ‘Kind of you to ask.’
‘You even speak like a prince,’ she muttered. ‘Get out. Get out now.’
‘When’s your baby due?’
‘In approximately seven months, two weeks and three days’ time. Not that I’m counting.’
‘I expect regular updates,’ he said as he stared out over the wild Maracey valley. Gabrielle had warned him that there would be children. He was happy for her.
‘How’s the vineyard restoration going?’ she said.
‘The vineyard’s a mess,’ he said, looking around it.
‘And the prince thing?’
‘An even bigger ask.’
Gabrielle sighed. ‘The thing is, when I look at you I can see why Etienne came for you. I
know
you can do the things he asks of you. So does Etienne, I suspect. The thing is, will you?’
‘Is this a rhetorical question?’
‘Possibly. But feel free to answer it anyway. I’m curious.’
‘I don’t know what I plan to do,’ he admitted. ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet.’
‘Are you happy there?’
He didn’t know the answer to that question either. ‘Sometimes.’
Gabrielle sighed again. ‘Will you come and visit me soon?’
‘Yes.’ Finally a question that didn’t require major contemplation.
‘At Caverness?’
Rafael hesitated.
‘Or if not Caverness, you could stay at Hammerschmidt. The vineyard restoration is coming together beautifully, and we’re aiming to have most of the
house restoration complete by the time the baby comes. Luc and I have decided to raise our family there. It’s different now, Rafael,’ said Gabrielle softly. ‘Champagne. The village. Even Caverness. Just come. Come now.’
‘Soon,’ he countered. He knew it was time. Ready or not, he had to see Simone again and deliver his apology. ‘How’s Simone?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Rafe…’ she said, and something in Gabrielle’s voice had every muscle in his body tensing. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. About Simone.’
‘Is she ill?’ he asked sharply.
‘No. Not exactly. Rafe…’ He could hear Gabrielle’s struggle to find the right words. She
really
didn’t want to deliver this news.
‘Just say it,’ he said.
‘I’m not the only one who’s expecting a baby around here, Rafael. Simone’s pregnant too.’
The view shimmered before clicking back into focus. Once. Twice. Like reality gone wrong. ‘Who’s the father?’
‘She doesn’t say.’