In the Royal's Bed

There was a loaded pause. They were still holding hands. It was as if the urgency of their conversation required physical contact as well as verbal.

‘Fine,’ he said at last. ‘Okay, then. But it is blackmail.’

‘On both our sides,’ she said gently. ‘We’re forced into this.’

‘The palace doesn’t need us both.’

‘No,’ she said wearily. ‘But as it’s both or neither then we might as well get on with it. And Matty… Matty needs someone. I’m hoping it might be me, but for now he needs you. I’ll fight for that too, Rafael. I’ll fight for what my son needs.’

It caught him. Something in her voice made him pause. He tugged sharply at her hands, forcing her to look up at him.

‘Kelly, it’s not really a life sentence,’ he said.

‘You know it is.’

‘It might even be fun.’

‘Says the man who wants to flee to Manhattan.’

‘We could make it fun.’

‘Like how?’

His mouth twisted. ‘Don’t ask me.’ He glanced at his wrist-watch and grimaced. ‘I need to go. Any minute now the dinner will end and there’ll be questions as to why I’m not in the royal bed.’

‘Matty will miss you when he wakes.’

‘Remind him you’re his mother,’ he said softly. Then, at the look on her face, he said more urgently, ‘It’s the truth. You are his mother. You love him already and his love will come.’

‘I don’t think…’

‘No, don’t think,’ he said urgently. ‘That’s the way of madness. One day at a time. Starting now. We can do this.’ And then, before she knew what he was about, he’d caught her chin with his fingers and forced her face up to meet his. His mouth lowered on hers in a swift, demanding kiss.

It shocked them both. She could feel it, like a stab of white-hot heat coming from nowhere. It lasted seconds, hardly even that, and then it was over but, as he released her, her hands flew to her lips and she gazed up at him in bewilderment.

Where had that come from? Why on earth…?

He was looking as bewildered as she was. As if some force other than his had propelled the kiss. As if he, too, didn’t understand what had just happened.

‘I guess it’s a pact,’ he said at last as he stepped back and she gazed at him in stupefaction. ‘A kiss to seal a bargain.’

‘A handshake would have done,’ she whispered.

‘Nah,’ he said and suddenly he grinned and it was like the sun had come out. He was suddenly like a kid in mischief. ‘Where’s the fun in a handshake? A kiss is much more satisfactory. Don’t look like that, Your Highness. I meant no disrespect.’

‘I didn’t think…’

‘It’s just as well you don’t think,’ he said. ‘As the mother of the Crown Prince, you could probably have my head skewered and served on a platter for breakfast for doing what I just did. So let’s just forget the kiss. Good though it was.’ He lifted his dress sword and slid it into its scabbard. His smile faded.

‘So, like it or not, we have a deal. We’re in this together, Kellyn Marie. I won’t see you now until we leave. Can you be ready to return with me on Tuesday? Yes? Unless you want to be overrun with media before then, I shouldn’t return here, and now I’m outed I’ll have to do the full diplomatic round. Tell Matty I love him, and tell him he has a mother in a million.’

‘Even if she’s a blackmailing cow.’

‘She’s not so bad for a blackmailing cow,’ he said and grinned. ‘I’ve seen worse things come out of cheese.’

What the hell had he done?

Rafael walked out through the darkened historical village and thought he must have gone completely mad.

He’d just agreed to stay in Alp de Ciel until Matty was twenty-five.

He didn’t have to. He could promise and then leave anyway once Matty was safely back in the country.

He couldn’t. He thought back to Kelly’s face by the firelight. She trusted him.

He was trustworthy. Hell!

He’d kissed her.

Why had he done that?

It was just that she was so damned kissable. She was such a juxtaposition of sweet, meek and… dragon, he thought ruefully. Life had slapped her around and that was what she looked like, that was how she sounded, but underneath there was a fierce and determined sprite.

What had Kass been thinking to treat her so appallingly?

She’d just blackmailed him into moving his life to Alp de Ciel.

His mother would be delighted.

But Anna…

Whoops.

He needed to talk to Anna before she learned of things via the media, he thought. Kelly might come across as a bit of a dragon but that was nothing to how Anna came across when she was angry.

Would Anna relocate to Alp de Ciel?

Ha.

Too hard. It was all just too hard.

Pete was on the gate, obviously waiting for him to leave. Rafael tugged a note from his wallet to leave him something for his pains, but Pete shook his head at the offering as if he was personally offended.

‘I don’t want your money.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Rafael said, surprised.

‘I just don’t want you mucking our Kelly about,’ Pete said strongly. ‘She’s had a rough trot, our Kell.’

‘You could help by not telling anyone I was here tonight. And not telling anyone Kelly has a strange little boy staying with her.’

‘You think I’d do that?’

‘No,’ Rafael said with a faint smile.

‘You really are a prince?’ the old man demanded, and Rafael nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘And the wee one…’

‘He’s Kelly’s son,’ Rafael said, for there was no use dissembling here. ‘The Crown Prince of Alp de Ciel.’

Pete gave a long, low whistle. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. Our Kelly, royalty. We always knew there was something…’ But then he returned to what had obviously been gnawing at him. ‘She’s upset. Anyone can see she’s upset.’

‘It’s been a harrowing day for her.’

‘You’ll be taking her back to…where…Alp de Wotsit?’

‘She’s agreed to go, yes.’

‘Then I’ll say something to you now, boy,’ the old man growled and, dress sword or not, Rafael found himself backed against the wall with the old man’s gnarled finger poking him in the midriff. ‘You take care of her. She’s gone through the mill, that one. Oh, we’re not supposed to know, but there’s not many of the staff here don’t know that she lost her kiddy. We thought maybe he’d died. She’s wanted to be anonymous, she hasn’t wanted to talk about it, and we’ve respected that. We’d keep her secret for as long as she wants. But this place is almost family. She might not have a mum and dad but she has all of us and if she’s mistreated we’ll…we’ll…’

‘Send the dragoons?’ Rafael asked faintly, and the old man relented a little and gave a crooked smile.

‘Yeah, well, the troops we have here may only be make-believe but we can surely make a fuss. So watch it. Watch her.’

‘She’ll be okay.’

‘You guarantee it, sir?’

Now there was an ask. What was he letting himself into? As Prince Regent he was responsible for the well-being of the Crown Prince. Now he was being asked to make guarantees about Kelly.

But Pete was waiting, and behind the belligerence was anxiety. He was genuinely fond of her, Rafael thought. He was genuinely anxious.

So once again he promised. ‘I guarantee she’ll be okay.’

‘You’ll watch over her.’

And stay permanently in Alp de Ciel? With or without Anna? With or without his business?

Anna would kill him. To make such a decision without talking it through with her… But the decision was made.

‘I’ll watch over her,’ he said weakly, and thought, Anna without Fifth Avenue? Without pastrami on rye? His business without Anna?

‘I’ll watch over her,’ he promised again and he was allowed to leave.

But the pressure of Pete’s finger in his chest stayed with him. Pressure… Hell!

* * *

He’d kissed her.

How had that happened? Why? Kelly watched Rafael disappear down the main street towards the exit, then started to get ready for bed. She undressed by the fire, thinking that she didn’t want to get undressed in her bedroom yet. Matty was too much a stranger. Her little boy…

It was set. She was going back to Alp de Ciel to take her place as mother of the Crown Prince.

Rafael had kissed her.

She raised a finger to her lips. They still felt bruised, which was crazy. He hadn’t kissed her hard enough to bruise.

But she could still feel where he’d kissed her.

She tugged her nightgown on, then sank into the rocker by the stove, flipped open the fire door and watched the flames. To leave here…

The thought was terrifying.

She had to leave on Tuesday.

There was no choice. She’d known that the moment she’d set eyes on Matty. No matter what she had to do, now she’d seen her son again she would move heaven and earth rather than endure further separation.

Rafael had kissed her.

‘And that was stupid,’ she told herself fiercely. ‘That’s enough of that. You’ve let no man touch you since Kass and you’d be crazy to break that rule now. And with a de Boutaine? No and no and no.’

On impulse she crossed to her desk and booted her computer. Her nineteenth-century cottage boasted wireless Internet—hooray. She typed in Rafael’s name and waited.

There was too much to take in. It was mostly about his work, his toys, awards he’d won, speeches he’d given. He ran some youth apprentice training scheme—very worthy.

She was becoming cynical in her old age, she thought ruefully, and then decided she’d had enough of reading about him.

She clicked on Google Images.

The first one that appeared was at a gala charity event in New York. There was Rafael, looking impossibly handsome in a magnificently cut, deep black dinner suit and a classy white silk scarf.

And on his arm was a stunner—a woman whose legs almost seemed to reach her armpits. She was a magnificent, classy blonde and she was clinging to Rafael’s arm and smiling possessively at him as he smiled at the camera.

The caption read ‘Rafael de Boutaine and his partner, Anna Louise St Clair.’

‘Well, there you go, then,’ she muttered to herself. ‘He has a partner.’

He’d said he wasn’t married or engaged.

He had a partner.

For someone completely disinterested, there was no way of explaining the sudden lurch of loss she felt in the pit of her stomach.

‘It’s only that he’d suit my purpose better if he’s a real bachelor,’ she told herself. ‘He’d get more media attention.’

And then she looked again at Anna and thought, Nope, gaining media attention was never going to be a problem for these two. The pair would be the ruling couple of Alp de Ciel.

‘Which is what you want,’ she said fiercely, slamming down the lid of her computer. ‘How dumb are you to ask if he’s married or engaged?’ she demanded of herself as she headed for bed. ‘How quaint. It’s just as well I’m a historian because that’s what I feel like.’ She stopped herself from tossing a pillow at the wall just in time. For Matty was sleeping. Her Matty. Who this was all about.

‘So it’ll suit our purpose,’ she told her sleeping son, lowering her voice to a whisper. ‘It’s just that he kissed me, Matty. How crazy’s that? And I let him. I must be going out of my mind.’

CHAPTER FOUR

WAS there ever any doubt she’d go with him? Whether Rafael had a partner or not was immaterial. Matty belonged in Alp de Ciel. Matty was her son.

She was going.

So over the next few days Kelly packed her gear, said goodbye to the place that had protected her for the last five years and prepared to be a princess again.

She still was the Princess Kellyn, she thought ruefully. Kass had never bothered with divorce. In truth, it had suited Kass to remain married. He had the heir he needed so what purpose marriage? He’d been able to play around with as many women as he’d wanted.

While Kelly hadn’t worn a wedding ring for five years, Kass had worn his to the end. He’d married her as a snub to his father. His continuing marriage had been a snub to any eligible woman in the Principality who might have been presumptuous enough to think of joining him on the throne.

So, regardless of Kass’s motives, Kelly was now returning as the widow of the old Crown Prince and the mother of the new one. Somehow she had to make a life for herself in a country she loathed. She had no idea how she was going to do it, but she had no choice.

At least her departure was managed without media hype. Whatever the staff of the park knew of her past or of her intentions now, they were saying nothing to the outside world, giving her a few blessed days to come to terms with what she must do.

Rafael couldn’t come near them. He rang when he could but the media attention meant that he had to stay well away. So Kelly had a few short days to think about what life might have been if Matty wasn’t a prince.

It would have been magic.

For Matty was absorbed into the life of the park as seamlessly as if he’d been born there. For the first twenty-four hours he was homesick for Rafael, but the park kids—the children of the staff here—were friendly and eager to show him everything. There were things going on everywhere and by the time they were ready to leave he was simply part of the park pack.

She so wished he could stay like this. He was mischievous, inquisitive, alert and interested. Once he was reassured that Rafael hadn’t deserted him, that there was a definite end to his stay, he was totally relaxed, and Kelly thought, If only he could stay, if only…

But it was impossible. No one had yet twigged that the Crown Prince was missing from Alp de Ciel. As soon as they did, it’d be only a matter of days before he was found and he’d never be let alone again.

So they had to go. She felt sick at the thought and even Matty was crestfallen on Tuesday as they prepared to leave.

‘Uncle Rafael will cheer us up,’ Matty said, holding her hand as they walked together for the last time from her cottage down to the park entrance. ‘Don’t be sad, Mama. He’ll make you happy again.’

Terrific. Although Kelly was fighting really hard to blink back tears, she had no desire to have Rafael to buoy her spirits. In truth, the fact that she’d be travelling with Rafael was a downside—he made her feel disconcerted and vulnerable.

And she’d miss this place so much… She was so close to breaking it was all she could do to walk those last few steps from the park gates to the waiting limousine. To where Rafael was waiting, holding the door wide for her.

He was watching her with sympathy, she thought as she dashed her hand across her eyes with a fierce anger that was surely irrational. The last thing she needed was sympathy, but it shouldn’t make her angry.

‘Hey,’ he said as Matty reached him. He stooped down and hugged Matty hard and that had Kelly blinking all over again. Then he straightened and looked at Kelly. He was dressed formally—not in his dumb dress uniform but in a smart grey lounge suit. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly.

‘I’m fine.’ She gulped a couple of times and turned to help Pete, who was putting her luggage into the trunk. ‘Where’s… where’s your retinue?’

‘Retinue?’

‘Reporters. Cameramen.’

‘Thankfully my presence doesn’t warrant the type of paparazzi outriders Princess Di was burdened with,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’d imagine there’ll be photographers at the airport but that’s okay—we’ll be in the door, on the plane and out of here before they realize we have Matty.’ He hesitated as she hugged Pete goodbye. ‘Kelly, you’re sure you’re okay?’

‘I’m okay,’ she said, feeling sick. She dived past him into the car and slid across the vast leather interior of the limousine until she was as far away from his side as it was possible to be. Matty was on the opposite seat, but as Rafael climbed in after her he sidled across to Rafael and sat hard against him.

Rafael tugged him close, which had Kelly unsettled all over again. Her son was being hugged by Rafael. Whatever decisions she’d made about the man, she still couldn’t entirely trust him. He was too damned good-looking. He was a prince. He was a de Boutaine!

She crossed her arms and didn’t say anything. He was hugging her son. Her son! How could she catch up on five long years?

‘So you’ve decided to go casual,’ he said politely as the chauffeur drove the big car out on to the road.

‘What…what do you mean?’

‘It’s the first time I’ve seen you in civvies.’

‘You mean not in historical dress.’

‘Mmm.’

‘Is something wrong with what I’m wearing?’

‘You’ll be landing in Alp de Ciel like that?’ he asked gently. ‘Or do you intend to keep something separate from your luggage to change into?’

‘Why should I?’

‘I would have thought…’

‘Thought what?’

‘Maybe a little more formality?’

‘I’m fine like I am,’ she said, keeping her arms folded defensively across her breasts and glaring straight ahead.

In truth she was making a statement. She’d stared at her wardrobe last night for almost an hour before she’d decided what to wear.

For the last four years Kelly had worn almost exclusively historical costumes. However, there had been times when she’d been out doing research, when she had given presentations about the park, when she had attended awards dinners, when she’d had to wear normal clothes. Then she’d worn a standard business suit. Sensible.

Once upon a time she’d loved clothes. She’d ached for them. When she was a child her parents had frowned on what they called frivolity. She’d been repressed to the point of cruelty, forced to wear her school uniform when it had been entirely inappropriate, given a meagre allowance that had been inadequate to buy anything but the basic necessities.

She remembered the dress she’d bought with her first pay cheque. It was a sliver of scarlet, an almost indecently short crimson cocktail dress. She’d loved it.

She’d worn it to dinner the first night she’d met Kass.

Yeah, well, so much for fancy clothes. Like horses, clothes were something she didn’t let herself think about. Now she was wearing ancient jeans, an oversized, shapeless sweater that reached almost to her knees and her leather work boots. She’d tugged her hair into a knot with an elastic band. She was wearing no make-up.

Yes, it was a statement and she didn’t care who heard it.

‘Mama packed most of her clothes into boxes and sent them to storage,’ Matty offered from the other seat.

Rafael frowned. ‘I told you to pack them up for shipping.’

‘It’s no use shipping historical costumes overseas,’ Kelly said. ‘I’m bringing what I need.’

‘So did you send anything to the shipping company I told you about?’

‘No.’

‘So let me see,’ Rafael said faintly. ‘You’re moving to Alp de Ciel permanently. And you’ve got…one suitcase?’

‘It’s summer there right now. If it’s cold later on I may have to buy a couple of things. I assume there are still shops.’

‘There are shops,’ he said, eyeing her sweater with a certain amount of trepidation. ‘But there’ll be media meeting us off the plane. Do you have…a frock or something?’

‘A frock,’ she said, and her lips twitched at his obvious discomfort. ‘I don’t believe I do have a frock.’

‘You know what I mean. Something respectable.’

‘This is respectable.’

‘For bumming round the stables maybe. Not for meeting your people.’

‘Whose people?’

‘You’re a princess.’

‘In name only,’ she retorted. ‘I thought we agreed. You’re the centre of media attention. You wear your braid and your dress sword and I’ll wear my sweater and jeans.’

‘It’s not very pretty,’ Matty said, disapproving.

‘I don’t need to be pretty.’

‘No, but you are,’ Matty said, sounding upset. ‘And you’re my mama.’

Oh, great. She hadn’t thought this one through. It was all very well planning to be plain Jane, speaking when spoken to, staying in the background, keeping herself small.

But Matty was obviously disappointed.

‘You can’t do that to the kid,’ Rafael said and she swallowed her vague guilt and thought, what was she asking? That Matty cope with a mama who didn’t dress like…like Rafael’s partner.

‘You’re saying my wearing jeans might damage Matty for life?’

‘No, I…’

‘Good then. I’m fine,’ she muttered. ‘This is me. This is who I am. Matty, I’m sorry if you don’t like it but I don’t want to be a princess. I’m your mama and I hope you like me anyway but I’m not going to wear a tiara. Not for anything.’

‘How about a frock?’ Rafael growled and she glowered.

‘Nope. Matty, you and your Uncle Rafael are royalty,’ she said bluntly. ‘I get to stay in the background and watch.’

‘You’ll watch?’ Rafael demanded, incredulous.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t think you might get bored?’ Rafael said.

‘No.’

‘What will you do, then?’ Matty asked while Rafael looked on with bemusement. He seemed to be having trouble figuring her out, which was fine as she was having trouble figuring him out. All she knew about him was that, in his own way, he was as dangerous to her peace of mind as Kass had been. He was a de Boutaine and he’d kissed her. That was enough for her to stay in sackcloth and ashes every time she was near him for the next hundred years. To do anything else…that was the crazy route.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ she said seriously, having in fact done little over the last three days but think about how she could sustain the life they were asking her to lead. ‘I’m intending to write books.’

‘Books,’ Rafael said blankly.

‘That’s the plan,’ she said happily. ‘Matty, I’m a historian and your castle is steeped in history. I can find myself a nice quiet attic and research to my heart’s content. But I’ll be there for you whenever you need me, Matty—if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll be perfectly happy writing my book.’

‘You can’t,’ Rafael said blankly.

‘Why not?’

‘I was hoping…’

‘Don’t hope,’ she said bluntly. ‘Alp de Ciel is your principality, not mine. Stop hoping for anything from me, other than loving Matty. For that’s all I’m going to do.’

* * *

They let her be.

They travelled first class on the aircraft—of course—which meant the seats were in pairs, cocoons that turned into beds. Rafael and Matty shared one pair. A Japanese businessman shared Kelly’s. She was courteously given the window seat, which meant that she was buffered from the pair across the aisle.

She hardly talked to them.

Rafael and Matty slept. She stared straight ahead, feeling sick.

Finally they landed. There were photographers, reporters, politicians, all waiting. They were stunned to see Matty.

Kelly hung back, trying to blend in as part of the luggage. She was afraid that Rafael would haul her forward and introduce her but he did no such thing. At the last minute, as the limousine was about to leave, he motioned for her to join them and she slid into the car before the photographers could register who she might be.

Now she was doing the defensive bit again, huddled in the far corner of the car, staring out at the countryside.

Remembering how she’d fallen in love with this country the first time she’d seen it.

She’d forgotten how breathtaking it was.

She’d forgotten how she’d fallen in love.

The four Alp countries had been severed from their larger neighbours centuries ago to form principalities for warring brothers, and each one of them was a magical place in its own right.

Alp de Ciel…Alps towering to the skies.

Even though it was late spring there was still snow on the highest peaks. The lowlands stretching from the coast to the mountains consisted of magnificent undulating pastures, rich and fertile. There were quaint villages, houses hewn from the local rock hugging the coastline, some of the houses seemingly carved from the cliffs themselves. There were harbours with fishing fleets that looked straight off picture postcards. Too small to involve itself in the world wars, too insignificant to be fought over, Alp de Ciel had remained almost unchanged for centuries.