‘No. Maracey takes the safety of its royal family very seriously, that’s all,’ he told her. ‘It’s in the princess manual fine print.’
‘What else is in the princess manual fine print?’ asked Simone warily.
‘Security cameras in every room, armoured cars, food tasters…’
‘What?’
Rafael grinned. Simone took one look at him and thumped him on the arm.
‘Okay, I may have been kidding about the food tasters,’ he conceded.
‘You’d better be kidding about the security cameras in every room as well.’
‘How about I just tell you where they aren’t?’
‘How about you just
show
me where they aren’t?’
Rafael grinned again and lit Simone’s night. No doubt about it, she and the baby had been thrust upon him. But sometimes, with a smile or with a glance, she got the feeling that, thrust upon him or not, Rafael liked having her around.
With a passion.
A woman could build on that. A woman could hope.
‘Rosa’s prepared a bed for Ruby downstairs,’ said Rafael. ‘The head gardener seems quite taken with her. Says he’ll check on her through the night and let her outside when need be.’
‘Let’s hope no one shoots her,’ said Simone with a final glance at the men on the ramparts before stepping back inside.
‘The guards all know she’s here,’ said Rafael. ‘I’m more fearful for the head gardener’s flowers,’ said Rafael. They headed for the master suite in companionable silence. Once there, Simone eyed the ceilings and corners for security cameras.
‘There’s none in here,’ murmured Rafael, watching her from the doorway.
Just as well.
Simone’s belongings had been brought to the suite earlier and packed neatly away. She’d dressed for dinner in here, cluttering up the room as she went. Her handbag on the floor beside a dresser. A scarf flung over the back of a chair. It helped, she thought, that Rafael had not made the room his. It helped that they were both strangers to this space. She slid him a glance.
His stillness telegraphed volumes. He had not moved from his position beside the door, but he watched her every move. Gauging it. Waiting for her next move, if only she dared make it.
‘I watched you tonight,’ she said conversationally.
‘I noticed.’ He didn’t smile, and that was a pity. ‘What was the verdict?’
‘That you would make a good ruler of Maracey one day. Should you choose to be. That we would make a politically powerful combination. Should we choose that path. And that, prince or not, you can still warm me with nothing more than a glance and a smile.’ She reached for her hairpins and began to take down her hair. ‘Should you choose to.’
She slipped off her shoes and slid them beneath the bed. ‘I know I forced my company upon you here in this bedroom. I did it because I wanted to strengthen your position here, not weaken it by appearing to have been
thrust upon you. I did it because I realised some time ago that one night in your bed simply wasn’t enough for me. I want more. I want this relationship to be real.’
She looked around the sumptuous bedroom with its fabulous furnishings and the lake-sized bathroom branching off from it with its spectacular sunken spa. ‘Okay, as real as it can be with you deciding whether you want to be a prince of the realm and me wondering what else is in the princess manual fine print that I’m really not ready for.’
‘The security bothers you?’ he asked quietly.
‘A little. It points to a potential lack of privacy that could bother me a lot.’
‘I’ll do everything I can to ensure that the privacy versus protection balance works for you.’
‘For us,’ she corrected gently. ‘And thank you. I do however realise that it’s part of the royal family package and might not be something either of us have a lot of control over. But that’s really not the point I was trying to make.’
‘It’s not?’
‘No. I just got sidetracked by that one for a moment. I’m pretty sure I was trying to make a different point altogether. It was about our expectations of one another here in this bedroom.’
Clarity was a must.
Confidence was vital.
There could be no weakness in her approach to sharing Rafael’s bed. She wanted to. Very much. But he had to want it too. ‘I want to make love with you again, Rafael. I would like it to be an ongoing arrangement. The thing is, my feelings aren’t the only feelings that need to be considered. Yours do too so I’m asking you
plainly.’ The last hairpin came out. She placed them on the dresser and shook out her hair. ‘What would you have from me here in this bedroom?’
‘What would you give?’ he asked huskily.
She gave his question the thought it deserved. ‘Anything.’
‘Anything?’ He made the word a caress, full of dark needs and wicked promise.
‘Anything you asked for.’ She knew this man. She knew his soul. Fierce but not cruel. Wild but not destructive. Intensely protective of those few things that he loved beyond measure. She wasn’t one of them, she knew that. But she did not doubt that whatever he demanded of her, he would keep her safe. ‘So ask.’
His eyes grew dark. She was trying to make this simple for him. Whatever he wanted, be it separate sides of the bed or an arrangement with a little more fire to it, all he had to do was ask. She didn’t think asking a man to state what he wanted was too torturous a question.
Then again, this
was
Rafael.
‘Come here,’ he murmured.
She went to him. Stood in front of him, not touching him, not yet. ‘What else would you have?’
His smile came slow and sure. He liked this game. Damned if he didn’t. ‘Put your hands on me,’ he said next.
‘Where?’
‘Anywhere.’
‘I want them on skin,’ she murmured.
He shed his shirt and stared at her in silent challenge, all washboard hard and hungry male as the balance of power shifted and shifted again.
Choices, choices.
She placed her hand on the plane of his stomach.
He shuddered beneath her touch and his eyes grew heavy-lidded.
‘More,’ he murmured.
She put her other hand on his arm, just above his elbow, and slid it up to his shoulder. Plenty of hills and valleys worthy of exploration there. ‘What else would you have?’ she murmured.
‘More.’
‘Could you be a little more specific?’ She raked her nails lightly down his chest. Rafe’s breath left his body with a hiss.
‘Lose the clothes, Simone, forget the game, and stand naked before me.’
He asked a lot, this man, but she did it because he needed her to and because she would demand no less from him before this night was through. ‘What now?’ She shivered, just a little, in the cool night air. Her nipples tightened and she lifted her chin to show that she was not afraid, no matter what he asked of her.
He smiled at that, slow and wicked. ‘Cold?’
Not any more.
‘Come closer.’ Another order and one she obeyed. She was rewarded with a kiss, deep and drugging. ‘Tell me when to stop,’ he muttered. ‘The baby…’
‘The baby is fine,’ she whispered, and arched into his hands as he grazed the curve of her neck with his teeth. ‘And hell will freeze over before I ever tell you to stop.’
He needed this, thought Rafael. The protection Simone afforded him so effortlessly. The passion she offered so willingly. And the trust she placed in him. ‘It’s not a fair bargain,’ he murmured and he nipped at her shoulder blade and trailed his fingers down her spine. ‘This proposal of yours, I see nothing in it for you.’
‘That’s because you’re not looking through my eyes,’ she murmured, and slanted him a glance as she undid his belt and the button on his trousers. ‘I see plenty in this for me. Just…’ Simone found him and caressed him, a slow slide of her palm against straining hardness and heated skin. His heartbeat tripled. ‘Plenty.’
Rafael took her mouth again, an erotic tangle of lips and of tongues. The bed was here somewhere, he needed a bed, needed to be careful of this woman with his child in her womb. The need to protect warred with his need to possess. He could not predict which need would triumph.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her on her back before sinking down beside her. He ran his hand down her body, from shoulder to stomach and back to a tightly budded breast. Rafe bent his head and suckled hard. Simone gasped and bucked beneath his ministrations.
‘Sensitive?’ he whispered as her fingers came up to cradle his head.
‘You have no idea.’
‘More?’
‘Yes,’ she muttered and cried out her pleasure when he took to her other breast with a gentle scrape of teeth and tongue. Her hands were not gentle in his hair as she writhed beneath him. ‘God, yes.’
To protect or to possess? Which would it be? Simone parted her legs willingly, wantonly, as he trailed kisses down her ribcage and over her gently rounded stomach.
‘Would you like me to say your name?’ she offered raggedly.
Possession won.
O
NE
week slipped by and then another as Simone settled into the rhythms of Maracey, its politics and its people. During the day Rafael belonged to Maracey and to Etienne, or that was the way it seemed. He did what Etienne asked of him and attended all manner of meetings, emerging from them preoccupied and remote, with his defences so solidly in place there was no getting round them. Only at night when reckless, insatiable passion ruled them both did Rafael become truly hers, taking everything she offered, and giving everything a woman could ever want in return.
Tenderness.
And surrender.
Passion.
And possession.
Whether love grew in such conditions, Simone could not say. Rafael never spoke of love and he never spoke of their future. She didn’t know how long their stay in Maracey would last or whether Rafael intended to take on the role of Etienne’s heir apparent. He was being groomed for it, that much was certain.
So many questions in need of answers.
Such a fragile thing, Rafael’s trust in her.
Simone was three months pregnant now and her morning queasiness had become more pronounced. Rafe had taken to waking before her in the mornings and padding downstairs to the kitchen to collect whatever Rosa happened to be trialling that day that might, at a pinch, stay in her stomach for more than a minute. Fatty foods would not. Nor eggs, toast, fruit, yoghurt, cereal, croissants or baguettes. Day-old flatbread would. Salted crispbread would too, washed down with unsweetened tea. Once she’d lined her stomach with food the morning sickness would pass. Until she was up and about though, Rafael hovered.
It helped immensely that he chose to do so in a pair of long cotton pyjama bottoms and nothing else. She loved watching him pace around as he lingered over his own breakfast, with one eye on getting ready to go do business and one on her. She loved that she could admire the craftsmanship on his back now without wincing.
Admittedly, that didn’t stop her from suggesting a few minor improvements to the wording.
‘You know, I
think
,’ she said with a wave of her salted crispbread as he wandered past the bed for the umpteenth time, ‘that with a tiny bit of finessing, a master artist could make that tattoo read “Honey, I’m Back”.’
‘No.’ He continued on his way to wherever it was he was going. But his lips twitched and that was all the encouragement she needed.
‘“Wrong Way Go Back?”’ she suggested next. ‘Just in case you ever need to double as a roadside stop sign?’
He gave her a look that would have turned bacon crispy—had there actually been any bacon on her plate.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It’d never work for women
drivers. They’d like as not drive off a cliff while looking at you. What about a nice solid square and no words at all. “Back in Black”. Get it?’
His lips twitched. Possibly in humour. Possibly in pain. ‘Eat your cracker,’ he said.
She nibbled the salty bits off it thoughtfully. ‘I’ve got it,’ she said. ‘“The Love Shack.”’
‘The wording stays as is,’ he said firmly. ‘Get used to it.’
She
was
used to it. It was the pain beneath the words that she objected to, and she still didn’t have the faintest idea how to make it go away. It was always there, in the emotional distance he demanded of others, in the way he kept his feelings to himself. ‘I bet you can’t wait for me to start suggesting names for this baby,’ she said sagely.
‘God help us,’ he muttered.
‘Well, she
could
. But you do realise she’s going to push for one of those archangel names. Not that it isn’t already a family theme. How about Michael?’
‘Michael is good.’
‘Uriel?’
The look he sent her indicated possibly not.
‘Metatron! Now there’s a goodie.’
‘No,’ he said sternly.
But he went to his meeting that day with a smile on his face.
Rafael lived to get through each day as best he could. He did what Etienne wanted and attended his meetings and sat through endless negotiations that had ramifications far beyond what he was used to thinking about. His respect for Etienne grew with each passing day. His feeling of entrapment grew with each passing day as
well. Only the nights gave him solace. Only in Simone’s arms did Rafael find freedom of a sort, and even that was weighted against the guilt of having forced Simone to accompany him to Maracey and into a lifestyle she did not want and made no comment on although he could see for himself the unhappiness in her eyes at times.
She was over three months pregnant now, and Rafael could detect the tiny changes in Simone’s body almost as well as she could. He knew when morning sickness plagued her. He knew those rare days when it didn’t. He loved those mornings when she lounged in bed and watched him dress, every inch the pampered and teasing princess.
This wasn’t one of those mornings.
This morning Simone had shadows in her eyes as well as beneath them and he shifted restlessly beneath her solemn gaze.
‘Rafael?’ she said. ‘May I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’ He needed a suit for the day, dozens of which had miraculously appeared in the walk-in closet. He chose a grey one.
‘Where are we going with this?’
‘With what?’
‘This relationship. Yours and mine.’
His hand stilled. He forced himself to breathe. ‘I don’t know.’
‘We could discuss it?’ she offered tentatively. ‘Where we might go from here?’
‘What’s to discuss?’ said Rafe as panic speared through him along with bone-jarring fear at the thought of having to watch her walk away from him yet again. Not yet. Not now. His need over hers and even as he thought it, even as he acknowledged his weakness and
the depth of his need for this woman, he knew that he could not hold Simone here much longer if she truly wanted to leave. ‘Do you want to leave me?’
‘No.’ She was by his side, taking his arm and turning him towards her. ‘Rafael, no! I just want to know what your feelings are for this place and this lifestyle and for me. You never say,’ she said in a small voice. ‘You never say what
you
want.’
‘I want to do right by you.’ With all that he was. ‘And the baby. I want you to be happy.’ He gathered up his courage and bared his soul. ‘With me.’
Simone’s eyes filled with tears and she whirled away as quickly as she’d arrived. ‘I hate her,’ she said fiercely.
‘Hate who?’
‘Your mother.’
‘I’m not overly fond of her myself,’ murmured Rafael. He didn’t quite see the connection between his statement of wants and Simone’s statement of hate. ‘So what?’
‘So I need to think that one day you might trust me again. To stand by you. Not to hurt you. And I don’t know if you ever will, because of your mother and the things she’s done.’ Simone crossed her arms around her body and hugged tight. ‘And because of me and the things I’ve done and the situation we’re in. And I need you to trust me, Rafael. This relationship won’t work properly until you do.’
‘Simone…’ He didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m trying.’
She bowed her head. He couldn’t see her tears, but her voice was thick with them. ‘I know.’
Simone didn’t see much of Rafael in the days that followed. For him it was meeting upon meeting, each one more important than the last. Each night saw him weary.
Not weary of lovemaking, but weary of spirit and wary of everyone. Including her.
How much longer could he go on without letting anyone in?
She’d suggested they ask Harrison to visit Maracey and stay with them a while. She’d suggested they ask Luc and Gabrielle to visit them as well. Rafael needed people around him who he could trust and if not her then someone else. Negotiations on exactly what Rafael’s role here in Maracey would involve were coming to a close. The stakes were high. The power Rafe wielded was already considerable.
Whether he
wanted
to wield it was anyone’s guess.
Simone had taken to spending some of each lonely day in the old vineyard with Ruby the inquisitive puppy, a gardener’s wheelbarrow, secateurs and gloves. The gardens immediately surrounding the fortress were fully formed and immaculately maintained, but here amongst the vines there was work still to be done and vision to be applied. Some of that vision, Simone had decided, would be hers.
The row of vines she worked her way along today had come from Caverness some thirty years ago. Her father had sent them and Etienne had planted them. Simone smirked as she straightened from her pruning and glanced down the row. Not that he’d planted them straight.
Still, they were a connection with her home, and one that she would see revived. She missed Caverness, there was no denying it. She missed the duties she’d borne within the Duvalier champagne empire and the people she’d worked with. She missed Lucien and Gabrielle and her favourite café. She missed being able to move freely through the outside world. To go where she
pleased, whenever she pleased, and by whatever method of transport she pleased.
If Maracey had an outside world, she hadn’t found it yet.
If there was freedom to be had here, she hadn’t found that either. The high, cloister-like hedging around the terraced vines mirrored her sense of imprisonment but at least there was sky up above and a view down the valley that could make a spirit soar.
Rafael didn’t even get that much, these days.
Simone pruned a wayward offshoot and tossed it towards the wheelbarrow. Much to Ruby’s delight, it missed. Simone was trying to teach Ruby to retrieve the ill-aimed vines and drop them into the wheelbarrow, but Ruby had proven remarkably resistant to the idea. All retrieved vines, sticks and other assorted garden oddments would be dropped at Simone’s feet in the hope that they would be thrown again and that was all there was to it.
Leaves rustled in the hedge behind her. Leaves did that occasionally, usually in response to a playful wind.
There was no wind.
Simone stared hard at the rambling hedge. It too was in need of a prune, albeit with a chainsaw rather than secateurs. Ruby took no notice of the hedge at all. Ruby the retriever had a likeable focus. Ruby retrieved.
Simone went back to her pruning.
‘Look.’ The whisper came to her on the wind, fairy light and childish. ‘It’s the princess.’
‘Princesses don’t prune grapes,’ murmured another youthful voice, although the timbre of this one was male.
‘Yes, they
do
.’
‘Anyway,’ said the boy voice, ‘Mama says she’s not
a princess until she marries the prince, and
he’s
not a proper prince until the king says so.’
‘It’s still
her
,’ said the little girl fairy.
Good point, thought Simone. No arguing with that. Excellent female logic. The girl fairy had potential.
‘Move over a bit.’ Leaves rustled. Ruby’s ears pricked but her gaze stayed firmly fixed on the cutting in Simone’s hand. Not exactly guard dog of the century, this one.
‘Shh! You’re making too much noise,’ scolded the little girl fairy. ‘She’ll see us.’
Another good point, thought Simone. But boys would be boys. The leaves parted. Two childish faces peered out. Dark-haired, dark curious eyes, sunkissed Spanish complexions.
Simone raised her eyebrow and peered back at them.
The boy grinned, and something in his smile reminded her of another boy, long ago, and another bright and sunny day.
‘Run, Melie, run. Race you to the gate,’ he whispered, and then the leaves closed and they were gone.
Run.
How many times had she heard those words in her childhood?
Race you.
To gates and hills and castle walls, and through the vines. Memories crashed over her, vibrant and alive, as she hurtled back in time to another group of mischievous children, playing in the shadows of castle walls. If they weren’t running from trouble there would be talk first, negotiation over head starts and what the losers would forfeit to the winner if they lost.
She’d always known that when Rafael started betting ridiculous cleaning chores like ‘scrub the portrait room
floor’ or ‘clean every window in the conservatory’, it meant that Gabrielle had fallen foul of her mother and had been given that very chore to do. Rafe had always lost those races and picked up the chores. One single silent glance from Rafe had ensured that Simone and Luc had lost those races too.
The children of Caverness protected their own.
Somewhere along the way they’d all grown up, but some habits were hard to kick.
Simone was doing all she could to help Rafael adjust to this new life in Maracey. She feared it wasn’t enough.
If he would only
trust
her a little more with his thoughts and his feelings.
But he didn’t.
Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them away. Damn pregnancy hormones turning her emotions upside down. Amused one moment and tearful the next. Was there no escaping them? But there was no escaping the despair that came over her when she thought of her love for Rafael and of his continued distance from her. Not physically, not any more, but mentally, in a hundred tiny telltale ways. Maybe another woman would have been thrilled by what he did offer by way of companionship but Simone knew what he could offer, and what he
had
offered her all those years ago, and this wasn’t it.
Maybe when the baby came things would improve. Maybe some of Rafael’s love for his child would spill over onto her.
It wouldn’t be enough.
‘Go away, despair,’ she muttered, helpless in its grasp and wanting it gone.
But just like Simone, it had nowhere to go.
Simone looked to the sky, she looked to the sun.
Such a fierce, relentless fire, this Spanish sun. The secateurs slipped from her fingers as the sun swayed and the earth moved beneath her feet. Ruby moved too and picked up the secateurs. This time she dropped them in the wheelbarrow.
‘Good girl,’ whispered Simone and leaned down to pat her. The earth tilted alarmingly once more. This didn’t feel right at all. The poky puppy smiled at her and tilted her head to one side and regarded Simone curiously. Just before everything went black.