‘That sounds bitter.’
‘It’s not meant to be.’ She took a deep breath and turned to face out to sea. ‘I know I’m not socially disadvantaged any more,’ she said. ‘But I also know where I don’t fit. I tried to take a big step from my background and failed. I know where my boundaries are.’
‘So if someone asked you to take a huge step...?’ Why had he asked that? But he had. It was somehow out there—hanging.
‘Like what?’ She looked at him curiously. ‘Like Don offering me this job? That was pretty crazy.’
‘I don’t know. Something adventurous. Something fun. All jobs don’t have crevices waiting for you to fall into.’
‘No,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘They don’t. But it behoves a woman to look for crevices. It behoves a woman to be careful.’
And she turned and leaped lightly to the next rock.
He stood watching her for a moment, thinking of crevices.
Thinking of the royal family of Marétal.
Thinking that Claire Tremaine would think—like him—that royal life might well be one huge crevice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE SEALS WERE AMAZING—once you got over the smell. Claire had been there often enough not to be blown away by the aroma, but she watched Raoul’s reaction and grinned.
It was a rocky inlet, far too dangerous to swim in or beach a boat, but the seals loved it. The rocks were covered by a mass of seals, mostly pups, basking in the weak afternoon sunlight or bobbing in the sea. A couple of massive bull seals were sitting at either end of the cove, watching over the nursery with brooding power.
‘Those guys fight a lot,’ she told Raoul. ‘They think they’re great, but when they’re busy fighting I’ve seen younger males pop in and take advantage. Power doesn’t always outweigh brains.’
‘You’ve noticed that?’ He shook his head and went back to screwing up his nose at the stink. ‘You’d have thought these guys would have sorted a sewerage system.’
‘Maybe they don’t have a sense of smell. Trust an ex-soldier to go all sensitive on me. Next time we’ll pack some air freshener. But come and see.’
This was her favourite place on the island. Her favourite thing to do. The young seals were being joyous, tumbling in and out of the water, practising their diving, sleek and beautiful under the translucent sea and bouncing and boisterous on the rocks. The best vantage place was further round—a rocky outcrop where she could see straight down into the depths. She wanted to take Raoul’s hand and tug him to where she intended to stand, but she managed to hold herself back.
She had no right to tug him anywhere, she thought. He was being sensible and she must be, too.
She thought suddenly of the young bull seals, charging in when their elders were fighting, taking their fill of the females and then leaving. That was what men did, she reminded herself.
But not Raoul. Raoul was different?
Or not different. Just...kind? Not leading her anywhere he didn’t intend to follow?
So she didn’t take his hand. She headed up to the outcrop herself and willed him to follow. As, of course, he did.
Despite his sense, he was a young bull at heart, she told herself, but she couldn’t quite believe it. He was so like her. He was a soldier, a kid with no parents, a man with courage and with strength.
Maybe she could turn and touch his face...
‘What’s happening?’ Raoul asked sharply, and she hauled her attention from thinking about Raoul to the surface of the water.
All the seals were suddenly gone. The water, filled moments ago with tumbling pups, was suddenly clear.
And as they stared a crimson smear bloomed up to the surface. A silver-grey mass swirled underneath and then was gone.
Even the seals out on the rocks stilled. The world seemed to hold its breath.
‘Shark,’ Raoul said, and his hand slid into hers.
Shark.
She watched the crimson stain spread on the water. She thought of the seal pup, its life over almost before it had begun.
She thought of Raoul in the water two days ago and shuddered.
‘You don’t swim while you’re alone here?’ Raoul asked, almost casually, and she shook her head.
‘No.’
‘I mean...not on this whole island?’
‘Only...only when I’m pulling dumb sailors out of trouble.’
‘Have you seen this happen before?’ His tone was still casual.
‘I...yes.’ Of course she had. Seal breeding areas were a natural feeding ground for sharks.
‘The island’s not very big. So there are sharks...everywhere?’
‘Obviously not where you fell in,’ she retorted, trying to make her tone light.
‘But you knew...?’
‘No biggie. My lasagne will be cooked. You want to go back and have dinner?’
‘Half my kingdom,’ he said, and now he’d forgotten to be casual. His voice was thick with passion. ‘It’s yours. My life... You swam into these waters to give me that.’
‘Seeing as you’ve already spent more than half your kingdom, drinking Don’s wine and smashing your friend’s boat, that’s not much of an offer.’
‘Whatever it is, I mean it. Claire...’
‘No biggie,’ she said again. ‘Leave it, Raoul. I might even have done the same for Felicity.
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Well, I might have swum slower,’ she admitted. ‘I might not have minded if her toes had been a bit nibbled. But, yeah, I’m pretty certain I would have had to do it for Felicity. Not that I’d have enjoyed it.’
‘Like you enjoyed rescuing me?’
She gave him a long, assessing look and she grinned. ‘I did,’ she admitted. ‘There are aspects of rescuing you that I enjoyed very much indeed. But I’m putting them on the back burner. You’ve decreed we be sensible, and sensible we shall be. Home to lasagne, soldier, and then bed. Alone.’
* * *
They ate lasagne and Raoul’s truly excellent tarte tatin. They watched National Velvet and The Sting. They were excellent movies. They had trouble paying them the attention they deserved, but they had staying power.
At some time during one of the movies they edged together on the settee. There was only one blanket, and the snacks had to be within reach of both of them. It was only sensible to stay close.
The movies came to an end and they followed them with a nature documentary. Birds in Africa. Raoul thought he should abandon the television and head to his separate bed, but he didn’t want to break the moment, and it seemed neither did Claire.
So they both pretended the birds were riveting. She was leaning against his shoulder, nestled against him. His chin was on her curls. She fitted into the curve of his arm.
She felt...right.
And he had to tell her.
Somehow he’d found himself with someone who must surely be the most wonderful woman in the world. Though that was a crazy thought, he decided. There must be other wonderful women.
But he’d met many women. His grandmother had pushed many at him, many had launched themselves at him, and he’d even pursued some himself.
None came near this woman. None made him feel like this.
But he’d been acting on a lie. Oh, he’d told no lies, but this relationship was moving fast, moving hard, moving to places he’d never been before and it was based on trust.
Claire thought he was a soldier. Claire thought he was a kid with no parents.
That much was true.
Claire thought his background wasn’t so different from hers, and he’d let her think that.
He sat with Claire nestled against him and let things drift. He was savouring the feel of her, the silence, the peace of this place. He knew what
was waiting for him in the outside world. The palace would be frantic. There’d be a worldwide hunt. The media would go nuts when he reappeared.
He’d like to hurl the SOS stones from the plateau and stay here forever, holding this woman in his arms. But his responsibilities were unavoidable. He’d walked from the barracks and climbed on board Rosebud because he’d felt overwhelmed by the responsibilities facing him, and those responsibilities hadn’t disappeared.
His country needed him.
And Claire?
She had him confused. The armour he’d so carefully constructed didn’t seem to be working against her.
He was a loner. He had to walk away from her—a plane might arrive tomorrow—but when he left he didn’t want her to think these few days had been a lie.
She needed honesty.
He touched her cheek and she stirred and smiled—a smile that was so intimate it almost tore his heart.
He knew he made her smile. She made him smile.
‘Claire...?’
‘Mmm...’
All he wanted was to take her into his arms, make love to her and block out the outside world. Put it off. Take every moment of this time and let Claire find out when finally she must.
But must was now if she was ever to trust him.
‘Claire,’ he said softly, and traced her cheek with his forefinger. ‘Let me tell you who I really am.’
* * *
Royal.
The word was drumming a savage beat all through her body.
Royal.
She should have known.
How could she have known? She couldn’t possibly. It wasn’t as if he’d come out of the surf wearing a crown or something.
She choked on a sound that might have been laughter but wasn’t. Raoul’s hold on her tightened, but he didn’t say anything. After telling her he was simply holding her, waiting for her to take it in.
And Raoul holding her was part of the dream, too.
This whole thing had been a dream.
Hauling a soldier out of the water, the deadly peril, the lifesaving stuff, being carried up to the house, her shoulder being righted, the care, the comfort and then the kiss. The beginnings of love? That was what it had felt like, she acknowledged, but of course it had been an illusion. A two-day fantasy that had culminated in the greatest fantasy of all.
A prince!
She felt very close to hysterics and her thoughts were all over the place. It was frogs who were supposed to turn into princes. Not gorgeous half-drowned soldiers who were perfect just the way they were.
‘I never should have kissed you,’ she managed, because she had to say something. Somehow she had to move forward from this moment.
‘Because...?’
‘Because then you’d still be a frog. And I liked my frog.’ She took a deep breath and pushed herself up. She sat and looked at him in the firelight. He gazed calmly back—her soldier, the man she’d felt seeping into her heart, the man she’d thought was within her orbit.
‘If we’re talking fairytales...’
‘Cinderella’s another one,’ she said. ‘And I never understood that story. She got to change rags for tiaras, but everyone would always know there were rags underneath.’
‘You’re not in rags. And tiaras aren’t compulsory.’
And suddenly the conversation had changed. It was all about them. It was all about a future neither had even dared to consider until this moment. A nebulous, embryonic future which suddenly seemed terrifying.
‘I shouldn’t believe you,’ she said at last. ‘Why do I believe you?’
‘Because in telling you I risk losing you,’ he said.
He wasn’t moving. He was leaning back on Marigold’s sumptuous cushions, watching her, giving her the space she didn’t want but desperately needed.
‘And the last thing in the world I want to do is lose you.’
‘You never had me.’
‘No,’ he told her. ‘But, Claire...I’m starting to think that what we have might be...possible...’
And she snorted. How did she feel? Humiliated, she thought. And lost. As if she’d lost something she’d never had.
‘After two days?’ she managed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘It’s true. If I hadn’t told you then you’d be still lying in my arms, and that’s all I want. But I had to tell you some time. Claire, does it have to make a difference?’
‘A difference to what?’ Although she knew.
‘A difference to me seeing you again, off the island. A difference to taking this friendship further.’
‘You’re kidding me, right? A kid from Kunamungle? A baby with no known father? A kid brought up on the wrong side of the tracks—and even though Kunamungle’s small, believe me, there is a wrong side of the tracks? A woman who couldn’t even get accepted in a legal firm? A lawyer with no background, no money, no aspirations, and now with the stigma of fraud hanging over her head? You’re telling me you’re heir to the throne of Marétal and asking if it makes a difference to a possible friendship? Yes, Your Highness...’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Yes, Your Highness, it does make a difference.’
‘Why?’ he said evenly. ‘Claire, nothing has changed. I still feel—’
‘It doesn’t matter how you feel,’ she snapped. ‘Haven’t I always known that? It doesn’t matter how you feel or what you want or what you hope for. It’s what you are that matters.’
* * *
The night was too long. The house was too big. Their bedrooms were too far apart and Raoul knew he had to leave her be. Claire had retired to a place he couldn’t reach, and after breakfast the next morning—another silent breakfast—she headed off for a long walk with Rocky.
‘If a plane comes I’ll come back,’ she told him. ‘Otherwise I could be some time.’
‘Like Oates of the Antarctic, heading out into the snow for the last time?’
‘Hardly,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not about to die in the snow because of one prince.’
And she stomped off towards the cliffs.
He was left thinking that he really wanted to go with her. But he had deceived her. The least he could do was give her space. This would probably be their last day together. Surely a plane would come soon. Followed by a chopper to take him off the island. Followed by the rest of his life.
It was his last day with Claire and she’d left.
He couldn’t blame her. Swapping roles, he might have walked himself, he thought. And then he really thought about it. If he’d been a soldier and only a soldier, and she’d been heiress to a throne, how would he have reacted?
He wouldn’t have walked. He’d have run.
Even if it had been Claire?
Maybe.
He didn’t do ties, and royalty would have terrified him too.
Maybe Claire was right, he conceded. Cinderella was a sexist fantasy. Put a woman in a beautiful gown, give her a tiara and a palace and expect her to live happily ever after? It wouldn’t work for him—although the gown and tiara analogy had to change—so why would it work for Claire?
It wouldn’t.
So that was the end of that.
But at the back of his mind was a harsh, unbendable wish. The end? It couldn’t be. It mustn’t be because he wanted her.
So soon?
And there was another problem. With the threat of a plane arriving at any minute emotions seemed to have become condensed. He was so unsure where this was going. He felt as if his armour had been cracked, and it scared him, but the more he saw of Claire, the more he was prepared to risk.
Too much was happening, too fast. The responsibilities he faced back in Marétal were enormous. The adjustment he was facing made him feel ill. He didn�
�t need emotions messing with what was ahead of him.
He didn’t need Claire.
So if a plane arrived today he might well never see her again. A prince from Marétal and an Australian lawyer? How many chances would they have to meet?
Never.
He thought suddenly of his grandmother’s demand that he bring a woman to the Royal Anniversary Ball.
Claire?
Polite society would have her for breakfast, he thought. His grandmother alone would be appalled.
Impossible. The whole situation was crazy.
The house was empty, echoing. He found himself straining for the sound of a far-off engine, a plane, the signal of the end of something that had barely started.
Surely it didn’t have to end yet.
He abandoned the house and headed down to the cove where Claire had swum to save him. The water was calm today, but the beach was littered with debris from the storm and from the battered Rosebud. The yacht was now little more than matchsticks. He searched the beach, looking for anything he could salvage for Tom, but he was doing it more to distract himself rather than because Tom would want anything. Tom was free, off climbing his mountains.
Two weeks ago Raoul had said goodbye and had been consumed with regret. He’d wanted that kind of freedom.
He couldn’t have it. And now he couldn’t have even a friendship with Claire.
Unless he didn’t treat her as Cinderella.
His thoughts were flying tangentially, and all the while he was distracted by the thought that a plane could arrive at any minute. Finally he climbed along the side of the cove, where the waves from the open sea crashed against the cliffs and he couldn’t see the sky from the south. If he couldn’t see the plane it didn’t exist, he told himself, and he almost smiled. It was a game he’d played when he was a child, when he’d been forced to sit through interminable royal events. He’d worked out how to look interested and still disappear inside his head, dreaming of where he’d rather be.
He had no choice as to where he’d be.
Did he have a choice in who he’d be with?
Claire...
She was a beautiful woman and she made him feel as he’d never felt before. Yes, it was too soon to think about the future, but his head wasn’t giving him any leeway. He wanted her.
Stepping into the Prince's World Page 10
