A Royal Vow of Convenience

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Sure. Why not?’

  Sophie opened her mouth to say she wasn’t sure her opinion was up to much at the moment, then quickly shut it again. Because wasn’t this another sign that Myron was being more inclusive—something she had told him she wanted? It wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t firing on all cylinders, she thought as she went to her room and crammed on a light straw hat over her ponytailed hair. It wasn’t anybody’s fault except for...

  She stared into the mirror, aware of the new definition of her cheekbones and the shadowed hollows of her eyes. She had to stop thinking this way. She couldn’t blame Rafe. She really couldn’t, because he’d been honest with her from the start. If there was any blame to be apportioned, she should heap it all on herself because she had been the one who had been unable to settle for what he was offering. She was the one who’d wanted more than he was capable of giving. He’d ruled out love from the start but she had demanded it—a bit like someone walking into a fish restaurant and demanding to know why there was no steak on the menu.

  And it wasn’t as if she were without choices. She might have yet another failed love affair behind her, but things had changed. She was getting stronger by the day. Sometimes she even managed a whole fifteen minutes before Rafe’s shuttered features would swim into her mind and she’d be reminded of everything she’d lost. No, not lost, she reminded herself fiercely. She hadn’t lost something. She had walked away from something which would ultimately damage her and bring her pain—a one-sided marriage with a man incapable of love. She had been strong, not weak—and one day she would be grateful for that strength.

  Just not today.

  Myron had agreed to expand her royal role and to give her more responsibility. Just as he had agreed that if she wanted to go abroad and forge a career for herself, she would have his blessing. Because after Rafe had gone and she’d cried the last of those bitter tears, Sophie had realised she needed to take control of her own life and that running away to sail a boat over the Pacific wasn’t the answer this time. She needed to stop letting herself be moved around by these powerful men, like a token on a gaming table. So she had gone to Myron and told him she was planning to enrol on a cookery course in Paris in late spring.

  And Myron had just nodded his head and agreed!

  Maybe independence had always been that simple, she mused as she climbed behind the wheel of her car, which had been brought round to the front of the palace by one of the servants. Maybe all she’d needed to do was to have stood up for what she wanted from the start. Trouble was that she hadn’t really known what she wanted until she met Rafe, and now she was going to have to learn to want other things. Different things. Things which were nothing to do with him.

  Reminding herself of his impenetrable eyes, she headed off on the coastal road towards the eastern side of the island. The sky was a shimmering bowl of palest blue, contrasting with the much deeper blue of the Mediterranean which glittered far below. The roadsides were thick with early spring flowers and the distinctive and unique yellow and white bloom known as the Isolaverdian Star shone out from the grassy verges as far as the eye could see. Sophie glanced into her rear mirror, the bodyguard’s car further away than usual, thinking they were giving her a lot of leeway today.

  Assimenios was the most picturesque spot on an island not exactly short of picturesque spots—a private beach of pure white sand, which was used only by the royal family and their guests. Crystal waters lapped against the sheltered bay and it was as stunning as any Caribbean getaway. She parked her car and began to scramble down the sandy incline, reminded of childhood holidays when she, Myron and Mary-Belle would play beneath the wide beach umbrellas.

  The beach should have been deserted but as her canvas shoes sank into the soft sand she looked up and saw a yacht in the water, lazily swinging to her anchor in the gentle breeze. Her expert eye ran approvingly over the boat’s beautiful curved lines and even from here she could see the glint of sunlight on varnished wooden decks. Her eyes narrowed, because on the beach a short distance away from the boat stood a man. And not just any man.

  She knew straight away it was Rafe. She didn’t need to see the broad shoulders or powerful physique or the black hair glinting in the sunlight; it was much more visceral than that. Every pore of her body screamed out to her in shocked and delighted recognition, but she fought back the latter feeling, resisting the desire to kick off her shoes and go running towards him with her arms spread wide.

  Because they were over and she didn’t know why he was here—appearing in front of her and taunting her like this. Had he constructed some kind of elaborate charade with her brother to be allowed to come here? He must have done. She told herself that the anger which followed this surprising realisation was healthy. That it would help her stay focussed and she needed that. Because they were over. They needed to be over.

  So why was he here, making her heart squeeze with pain all over again?

  The Sophie of a year ago might have turned away, got back into her car and driven at speed to the palace. Because no matter what Rafe’s sudden new influence with her brother was, he would be unable to access the Princess if she refused point-blank to see him. But that would be running away and she was through with that.

  So she took off her shoes and began to walk across the silver sand towards him, her heart pounding out a powerful rhythm in her chest as she got closer and closer.

  ‘Hello, Rafe,’ she said, when she was near enough for him to hear.

  ‘Hello, Sophie.’

  Rafe’s breathing was shallow as she stopped right in front of him but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring out to sea as if she preferred to look at the yacht bobbing in the lapping water rather than look at him. ‘Whose boat is that?’

  ‘Yours. I bought it for you.’

  She turned then and he could see fury spitting from her blue eyes. ‘You bought me a boat? What’s this—the billionaire’s equivalent of a bunch of flowers to say you’re sorry?’

  ‘In a way. But also because she’s the loveliest boat I’ve ever seen and one I thought a sailor of your calibre might enjoy. I cleared it with your brother—’

  ‘I managed to work that out all by myself and I don’t give a damn about my brother,’ she hissed from between clenched teeth. ‘I want to know what you’re doing here. Turning up like this out of the blue—appearing on a private family beach without any warning!’

  It was the most difficult question he had ever been asked and Rafe knew that he had to get the answer right or risk everything. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her and let his lips demonstrate just how much he’d missed her. But that would be cheating. Even if she allowed him to kiss her, which—judging by the look on her face—he doubted. She needed to hear his words and he needed to speak them. But even so, a lifetime of conditioning was hard to break. ‘I’m here because I miss you,’ he said. ‘Because I’ve been a fool. A stubborn, unimaginative fool.’

  Angrily, she shook her head. ‘I don’t have to listen to this...rubbish,’ she hissed. ‘You made your decision, so stick with it! I’m getting my life back together and I don’t need you.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ he questioned. ‘Then you are very lucky, Sophie, because I sure as hell need you. Nothing is the same without you. I have a whole world at my feet. I can go anywhere I want. Manhattan, Poonbarra, even England—but I don’t want to go anywhere which doesn’t have you.’

  ‘Tough. Go away, Rafe,’ she said tiredly. ‘And take your meaningless words with you.’

  ‘If that’s what you really want, then I will go.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘But before I do, I need you to listen to what I have to say. Will you at least do that for me?’

  He could sense her struggle as she turned her face away from him to look out at the water again.

  ‘Hurry up, then,’ she said abruptly. ‘Because I want to go.’

>   He drew in a deep breath. ‘I never really believed in love. I wasn’t even sure it existed—’

  ‘I remember,’ she interrupted acidly. ‘You’d seen it masquerading as lust, or greed.’

  ‘Yes, I had. I’d seen nothing but chaos in its wake,’ he continued. ‘And that made me determined to control my own life and destiny. That’s why I steered clear of any emotional entanglements and it had always worked just fine. And then I met you.’

  ‘Don’t.’ He could see her jaw working now. ‘Don’t tell me things you don’t mean.’

  ‘I won’t. Because what’s in it for me to make this admission, unless to admit that I’m fighting like mad to try to get you back, Sophie? To tell you that you appeal to me on every level which matters? You didn’t just break through the glass ceiling of my life—you smashed your way in, without even seeming to try. Somehow you made me confide in you. Made me realise that talking about painful stuff was the only way of letting it go. You gave me your body in the most beautiful way I could have imagined. You made the hard-bitten workers at Poonbarra fall completely under your spell, because despite everything this princess has the common touch. I fought it as hard as I knew how and I’m through with fighting because I love you, Sophie.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said.

  ‘You can’t choose who you love,’ he continued doggedly. ‘But if you could, I would still choose you. Even if you tell me you never want to see me again, I will never regret loving you, Sophie. Because somehow you’ve made me come alive. You’ve made me experience joy—only the flipside of that is the pain of missing you.’

  He saw in her eyes the gleam of unshed tears, and a sudden unbearable thought occurred to him. Maybe he really had blown it with his arrogance and his fear. He felt the raw aching of his heart and then she started to speak.

  ‘All my life I’ve been put on a pedestal, like some kind of marble statue,’ she said. ‘And when you made love to me, you made me feel like a real woman. Only then I realised that you’ve imposed all these rules and guidelines about what I’m allowed to do and what I’m allowed to say. I’m not allowed to love you, but presumably I was going to be allowed to love our children. Only love isn’t something you can limit, or siphon off. It’s supposed to grow, Rafe. We’re supposed to spread as much of it around as we possibly can.’

  ‘Then spread some over me,’ he said softly, but still she shook her head.

  ‘What if I’m frigid?’ she demanded. ‘If that night we had sex at the palace is the way it’s going to be from now on?’

  ‘You think that?’

  ‘It’s your opinion I’m asking, Rafe.’

  ‘I thought you must be uptight about being in the palace and so I decided to back off—to give you the space you needed.’

  Her voice trembled. ‘I thought you’d gone off me.’

  ‘Gone off you? Are you out of your mind? We were having a communication breakdown, which wasn’t exactly helped by palace protocol.’

  He met her gaze and wondered if she could read the longing in his. She still hadn’t touched him and he thought there was still some defiance in her attitude.

  ‘I’m going to Paris next month. I’m taking a professional pastry course to capitalise on all the cooking I did at Poonbarra.’

  ‘Then I can come to Paris and work from there.’

  ‘Maybe I want the chance to spread my wings and live on my own for a while.’

  ‘Then I’ll wait until you’re ready to fly back to me.’

  ‘You’re so sure I would?’

  ‘That’s a risk I’m prepared to take.’

  She looked at him. ‘Do you think you have the answer to everything, Rafe Carter?’

  ‘I hope so,’ he said, his voice suddenly serious. ‘Because I feel like I’m fighting for my life here. All I’m asking for is one more chance, Sophie. A chance to make it right. A chance to show you just how much you mean to me.’

  Her lips pressed in on themselves but he could sense she was softening.

  ‘If you ever, ever hurt me—’

  ‘I won’t ever hurt you again,’ he vowed. ‘I will love and cherish you for the rest of my days. Just so long as you...’ His words tailed off, but he knew that he had to say them. Because they were equals. Because his love for her was fierce and strong, but that didn’t make him any less vulnerable. And because there was no shame attached in admitting that to the woman you loved. He swallowed. ‘Promise never to hurt me either.’

  ‘Oh, Rafe.’ And now the unshed tears were spilling down her face and she brushed them away as she shook her head from side to side. ‘I will never do that,’ she whispered. ‘Never.’

  His own eyes were pricking as he framed her face in his hands and a swell of emotion so powerful came over him that the world seemed to tilt on its axis. For a moment there was nothing but stillness as their gazes met.

  His voice was full of tenderness. ‘Do you want to sail your yacht off into the sunset?’

  She smiled as she lifted her face to his. ‘It’s a long time until sundown. I think I’d rather kiss you instead.’

  EPILOGUE

  A GHOSTLY WAIL shattered the night calm and Sophie rolled over lazily to curl her naked body comfortably against Rafe.

  ‘That’s a curlew,’ she murmured sleepily, her breath warm against his chest.

  ‘Congratulations.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Soon you’ll be eligible for membership of the Australian Ornithological Society.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ she protested. ‘I know lots about the indigenous birdlife. I can easily recognise a bowerbird.’

  He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Only because their colouring is as blue as your beautiful eyes.’

  ‘Oh, Rafe,’ she whispered as she wriggled luxuriously against him. ‘I do love you.’

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ he said steadily, though he could do nothing about the sudden lump which had risen in his throat. ‘Because I love you too.’

  He pulled her closer, reflecting on the last three eventful years. It had been an interesting road they’d travelled together before Princess Sophie of Isolaverde had finally consented to become his wife. She’d meant what she said about doing a cookery course in Paris, but Rafe had quickly established a branch of Carter Communications in the Eighth Arrondissement and they had set up home nearby.

  Sophie had graduated from the famous patisserie school with honours and soon afterwards they had married in the Isolaverdian cathedral in a ceremony which included royalty, magnates and film stars. But the glittering congregation might as well not have existed, because all Rafe had been able to see was his beautiful bride, wearing the ruby and diamond necklace which had belonged to her mother and which he had presented to her the day before their wedding, to the accompaniment of her tear-filled eyes and trembling lips. Rafe had been planning to pay any price to get it back from Prince Luc, but the Mardovian royal had insisted on gifting it to them.

  ‘It is yours,’ he’d said gruffly. ‘For it was always intended for Sophie.’

  But there were no hard feelings between Sophie and the man to whom she had once been betrothed—and Luc and his wife Lisa were both guests at the royal wedding. So was Amber, with Conall. Nick, Molly and Oliver. Chase had defied logic and schedules and somehow managed to get himself there from the depths of the Amazonian rainforest and Gianluca was there, too. Even Bernadette had accepted an invitation and Ambrose surprised them all by spending most of the evening dancing with the Irish housekeeper.

  And when Rafe had laughingly enquired whether there was some kind of romantic attachment brewing, Bernadette had silenced him with a stern look. ‘There is not!’ she’d declared. ‘Sure and all he wants to talk about is his gout!’

  After the wedding, Rafe had asked Sophie where she wanted to live, telling her that they could go anyw
here she wanted—but her answer hadn’t really surprised him. For although they visited Europe and America from time to time, their main base was in Poonbarra, where the skies were huge and the air was clean. It was the only place she’d ever really felt free, she told him. And he felt the same. It was their place, now shared with their firstborn—a beautiful bouncing baby boy they named Myron Ambrose Carter.

  But before she’d become pregnant, Sophie had experimented with everything she’d learned in Paris and added a few twists of her own—which was how Princess Pastries had come about. Her second cookbook had just been published to great international acclaim and had become an instant bestseller, with all the profits going to an Isolaverdian children’s charity. Despite a lot of pressure from the major networks, Sophie had refused all offers to do her own television show. Why would she want to do anything which took her away from her family? she’d asked Rafe quietly.

  Why, indeed?

  Rafe stroked the hair which lay so silkily against his skin. Family. And love. It was that simple. He sighed. How could something so simple be this good?

  ‘What time is it?’ Sophie murmured, her arms tightening around him.

  The dawn had not yet streaked the sky and it would be several hours before the wild and beautiful Australian bush sprang into new life. But for now they had the night and they had each other.

  Always.

  ‘Time to kiss me,’ he said throatily.

  And in the darkness, she raised her face to his.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Sharon Kendrick:

  DI SIONE’S VIRGIN MISTRESS

  CROWNED FOR THE PRINCE’S HEIR

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S DEFIANT ACQUISITION

  THE SHEIKH’S CHRISTMAS CONQUEST

  CLAIMED FOR MAKAROV’S BABY

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from MARRIED FOR THE SHEIKH’S DUTY by Tara Pammi.

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