Royals: His Hidden Secret

‘This was your idea, remember?’ added Simone.

‘What the hell was I thinking?’ said Gabrielle. ‘Oh, yeah. I remember now. I was trying to help the two of you arrive at some sort of truce before my wedding. Silly me.’

Simone felt a stab of contrition. It joined the lust and mingled surprisingly well. Probably the latent Catholic in her. ‘I’m sorry, dear heart. I will behave.’

Inigo reappeared, bearing champagne in an ice bucket in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. ‘Do I hear the satisfied silence that comes of having made a swift decision?’ he asked hopefully as he set the wines on the table.

‘Not quite,’ said Gabrielle. ‘But we’ve narrowed it down to three.’

‘Which ones?’

Gabrielle told him.

Inigo beamed. Inigo preened. ‘You won’t be disappointed. Mind you, the thought of how long it’s going to take you to pick a favourite from that selection fills me with terror,’ he said, presenting the champagne to Simone for approval, and, at her nod, popping the cork and deftly filling three glasses in rapid succession.

‘Take the rest of the bottle through to the kitchen, please, Inigo,’ said Simone. ‘Tell the chef it’s his for the tasting and that we’d like his thoughts on what sort of canapés he thinks might best accompany it.’

‘Are you serious?’ Inigo glanced towards Rafael as if for confirmation. ‘Is she serious?’

Rafael nodded. ‘She likes to delegate from on high.’

‘Well, that’s one interpretation,’ said Simone sweetly. How could she be expected to behave in the face of Rafael’s constant baiting? ‘I like to think of it as letting the experts do their job.’ She picked up the ice bucket and handed it to Inigo. ‘Kitchen,’ she said.

‘Kitchen,’ murmured Inigo. ‘I’m on my way. I’m seeing the princess’s master plan unfold and I’m loving it. I’ll just pour a glass for myself as well as one for the chef and wax lyrical over the bouquet for a moment or two before suggesting that we call his apprentice and my offsider in to work tonight so that we can concentrate more fully on the weighty issue of planning a menu around such wines. Then I’ll go and get the whites you requested. Right after I uncork the red for you.’ Which he did. ‘There we go. Breathe, little cry baby, breathe. I have a hunch I’ll be seeing you later.’ Humming cheerfully, Inigo made his exit.

‘Congratulations,’ murmured Rafael. ‘You’ve made a conquest.’

‘Haven’t we all,’ countered Simone with the tilt of an eyebrow.

‘Simone,’ said Gabrielle sternly, ‘don’t tease. I can’t be held responsible for the consequences if you do. Rafe’s not twelve any more. He’s unlikely to put a frog in your shoe in reply.’

‘Pity,’ said Simone with wistful sigh. ‘I like frogs.’

As a child she’d built homes for them in the shady nooks in the gardens of Caverness, and Rafael knew it. The frogs he’d put in her shoes had been gifts for her, not retaliation for her teasing, and she knew it. ‘To frogs,’ she said, and reached for the champagne.

‘To the children of Caverness,’ said Gabrielle, picking up another glass of the gently bubbling liquid. ‘May they never weep again.’

‘Lovely,’ said Simone approvingly. ‘Although possibly a little optimistic.’

‘Just how much wine have you two already had?’ asked Rafael.

‘He had to go and spoil it,’ said Gabrielle, eyeing her brother darkly.

‘No sense of occasion at all,’ agreed Simone, sipping her champagne. ‘Oh, this is good. Rafael, try some.’ She wasn’t inebriated. She didn’t think for one minute that a glass of champagne, even if it was a superb vintage, would change Rafael’s opinion of her. She just wanted Rafe to be able to relax around her, just a little, so that she could relax, so that maybe, just maybe, they could get through this evening without bloodshed.

Rafael’s lips tightened as he reached for the only glass of champagne still left on the table. Half of it went in one long swallow. The man was obviously thirsty and royally out of sorts. Maybe she’d been a bit hasty in sending the rest of the bottle to the kitchen.

‘It’s Luc’s favourite vintage,’ she told him. ‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s superb,’ he said curtly. ‘Not that you need my opinion.’

‘Just checking,’ she said. ‘I do that a lot. Occupational hazard.’

‘And what exactly is it that you do these days, princess? Besides delegate, that is.’

Ooh, he was asking for trouble. She didn’t care how big and beautiful he was. ‘Oh, nothing much,’ she said airily. ‘I spend a bit of time pottering around the gardens of Caverness. I oversee the running and maintenance of the chateau. I run the European marketing arm of the Duvalier winemaking dynasty. That sort of thing.’

‘Don’t forget all the hiring and firing,’ injected Gabrielle. ‘You do that too.’

Simone shook her head. ‘Luc usually does all that.’

‘But you were the one to suggest that Josien find work elsewhere,’ said Gabrielle quietly.

‘Oh.’ She took a deep breath. ‘That. So I was.’

Rafael’s sudden stillness unnerved her. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her more.

‘You fired Josien?’ Rafe’s voice was mild. Too mild. ‘You?’

‘Yes.’ Simone tried hard not to quail beneath the onslaught of that searching blue gaze. She’d fired his mother from a position Josien had held for almost thirty years, but not without good reason. Rafe hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen for himself how untenable Gabrielle’s position as Luc’s wife would have been had Josien stayed in residence as housekeeper to Caverness. ‘Me.’

‘Why?’

Now there was a question in need of a careful answer. Never mind that Rafe had been baiting her and she him ever since he’d stepped into the room. Never mind that he’d been estranged from Josien for years. Criticising a man’s mother was never a sensible thing to do. ‘Because I wanted her gone from Caverness.’

‘Why?’

‘Can we please not have this conversation?’ she said.

‘Too late,’ he said. ‘We’re already having it. Why did you fire Josien?’

‘Because it was time she left Caverness,’ she said curtly, and cursed him for pushing her for answers she didn’t want to give. ‘Because I refused to sit back and watch her poison the happiness Gabrielle and Luc had found.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Because I could.’

Rafael drained the rest of his champagne. He looked as if he were swallowing the bitterest of pills rather than vintage champagne. ‘Good,’ he said gruffly.

‘Pardon?’ squeaked Simone.

‘I’d have done the same,’ he said.

He…‘What?’

‘You heard.’

‘Well, yes, but…’ Had he really just given his approval? ‘Was that a compliment?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said with a twist of his lips. ‘It could have been. It was hellishly hard to say aloud.’

‘I think it might have been,’ she said, and with a swift and challenging smile, ‘Does this mean we’re friends?’

‘No, it means we have a common foe and I’m impressed by your ruthlessness.’

Was that the shadow of a smile in his eyes? Hard to tell, but she thought it might be. ‘I had a good teacher,’ she said with a shrug. ‘He taught me how to protect the people I love. I was a little slow on the uptake, but I got there eventually.’

‘Josien’s not coming to the wedding, by the way,’ said Gabrielle with a lightness that didn’t quite mask her disappointment. ‘She says she’s not yet recovered enough from her pneumonia to attempt the travel.’

‘But surely you expected as much?’ said Simone. ‘I thought you held the wedding here so as to keep her away?’

‘Well, yes, that was one of the reasons for holding it here,’ acknowledged Gabrielle. ‘But not the only one. I’m having second thoughts.’

‘Don’t,’ said Rafael, and the hardness was back in his eyes. He loved hard, did Rafael. Simone didn’t need to be reminded that he hated hard too.

‘Maybe you’ll pay her a quick visit on the way back from your honeymoon,’ said Simone gently. ‘Maybe given time and happiness of her own she’ll come to accept who and what you are.’

‘Didn’t the person who showed you how to protect the ones you love teach you not to believe in fairy tales?’ murmured Rafael.

‘Yes, but it never stuck,’ said Simone. ‘Unlike him, I believe in forgiveness and redemption. I believe that with a little effort from both parties, a failed relationship can be rebuilt. Maybe not to what people hope for, but something. Something worthwhile.’

‘Optimist,’ he said.

‘Coward.’

‘Oh, boy,’ said Gabrielle as the maître d’bustled back into the room.

‘More wine,’ said Inigo cheerfully. ‘Lots and lots of wine.’ He glanced at Rafael’s empty champagne flute. ‘Who’s a thirsty boy, then?’ And in a whispered undertone to Simone, ‘The chef wishes to propose to you. When’s a good time?’

‘Maybe later,’ said Simone as Inigo opened the three white wines and organised glassware.

‘I’d stay,’ said Inigo flashing her a wide white smile, ‘but I know you need no guidance when it comes to tasting wine and I have to return to the kitchen and guard my champagne.’ He pointed towards a little brass bell on the sideboard. ‘Tinkle when you’re done.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Gabrielle hurriedly. ‘I need to have a word with the chef about a duck dish for the menu.’

‘And here I thought your decision-making abilities had deserted you,’ said Simone dryly.

‘They’re back,’ said Gabrielle emphatically. ‘But feel free to choose a white wine in my absence. Just don’t…’ she seemed at a loss for words ‘…fight, okay? Play nice.’ Shooting her brother a dark glare, Gabrielle followed Inigo from the room.

Silence followed their departure, and hot on the heels of that silence came the prickling awareness that she was alone with a man she’d once lost her heart to, and that most of her bravado had left the room with Gabrielle.

‘Shall we attempt conversation?’ she said, finally meeting his fathomless blue gaze. ‘Or shall we just drink?’

Wordlessly he picked up a bottle of wine and poured for them both. Good answer.

She sipped and tasted, giving the wine her utmost attention. So did Rafael.

While the silence grew.

‘Too light?’ she said finally.

‘Yes,’ he said, and poured the next.

This one had more body and a delicate fruity finish. ‘Nice,’ she murmured. Rafael said nothing, just moved on to the next.

They sipped. They tasted. As far as Simone was concerned, this was another very fine wine. A little more robust than the second one. A peppery low note in there somewhere. Smooth clean finish. But the second wine had her vote.

‘Which one, princess?’

‘I quite like it when you call me princess,’ she said reflectively. ‘It feels a lot like an endearment and a challenge all rolled into one.’ She sipped her wine and risked a glance in his direction. ‘I thought you should know.’

‘Which wine?’ he repeated tightly. No princesses present.

‘The second one.’

He nodded and set the bottle aside. Whether he agreed with her choice was open to speculation. Maybe he simply wanted to get the wine choosing over with so he could leave. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

He reached for the red wine and poured for them both. Angels Tears. Evocative name. Beautifully coloured wine. She sipped, and sipped again. It was divine. ‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured. ‘Luc’s going to love this.’

‘And you?’ Rafael had yet to touch his own glass. His eyes were on her, searching for her reaction to his wine. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Do you care?’

He looked away, towards the fireplace with the flowers. ‘No.’

No. Heaviness descended, and with it regret for what could have been and wasn’t. It didn’t have to be like this. It really didn’t. ‘It’s brilliant,’ she said quietly. ‘But then, so are you. You always were.’

He flinched as if she’d hit him.

Simone bowed her head and cupped her hands around her wine goblet.

‘Tell Gabrielle I had to leave.’ Rafe’s voice sounded strained and husky, as if he’d already shouted himself hoarse. ‘Tell her I’m sorry, and that everything will be okay on her wedding day.’

‘I will.’ She gazed at the dark and shimmering liquid in the goblet. The image blurred. More tears were coming. Her tears.

‘Simone?’ he said next, and she closed her eyes and let the pain of her name on his lips slice through her because with it came pleasure and take it she would.

‘Rafael.’

‘I’m glad you liked the wine.’

She waited until his footsteps had receded before she finally let her tears fall. ‘Me too.’

Chapter Three

‘YOU do know that you’re being an ass?’

Rafe looked up from the paperwork on his desk and regarded his sister through narrowed eyes with grim humour. She’d been circling around the topic of his treatment of Simone now for at least half an hour, waiting for an opening that he hadn’t given her. This wasn’t the tack he would have advised her to take with him, but he figured she’d find that out soon enough. ‘How so?’

‘The way you’re making Simone feel unwelcome.’

‘She is unwelcome.’

‘She’s my bridesmaid. She’s the sister of the groom. And pretty soon she’s going to be family.’

Rafe scowled. He really didn’t need the reminder.

‘Tell me, Rafe, what are you going to do come Christmas time when we’re all together? Or when you’re invited to the christening?’

‘What christening?’ His gaze flew to his sister’s stomach. His own stomach lurched unevenly. Caverness was hard on its children. All of its children. He hoped to hell that with this child, things would be different. ‘You’re not…?’

‘Not yet,’ she murmured. ‘But some day I plan to be, many times over, and I want you in my children’s lives.’

Oh, dear Lord, now they were multiplying. ‘Couldn’t we have this discussion after you have them?’

Gabrielle eyed him sternly. ‘My point is that you and Simone are two of the three most important people in my life. Can’t you at least try to be in the same room as her for more than five minutes?’

‘Five minutes is a long time,’ he said. Especially when a man was torn between wanting to strip a woman down to her skin and bury himself inside her, or, conversely, strip her to her skin, tie her to a bedpost and flay her for causing him such pain. Either way, getting her naked seemed to be a priority. ‘I’ve been working my way up from three.’

‘Can’t you just—?’

‘No,’ he interrupted, in a low, controlled voice that nonetheless carried with it a warning she would do well to heed. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why not? Why not invite her over and show her the vineyard? She’d love to see what we’ve done here. I know she would. But whenever I say come over, she says no.’

‘Smart woman.’

‘Yes, she is. Also beautiful, generous, kind, and the only woman you’ve ever truly loved,’ finished Gabrielle cuttingly. ‘Which is why you’re being an ass.’

‘Isn’t this where you came in?’

‘Yes.’ Gabrielle regarded him darkly. ‘But it wouldn’t have had to be a circular argument if you’d shown some sense. You told me I was stuck in the past when I said I wanted to return to France. You said I was mad to go and visit Josien. Well, maybe I was mad to think that Josien would want to see me, but I tried, and I’ve moved on, and now I’m marrying the man I love beyond measure, and Simone, my beloved childhood friend, is back in my life. I’m not the one stuck in the past, Rafael. I’m not the one who’s too scared to look back because there’s too much pain there that I haven’t dealt with yet.’ Her eyes begged his forgiveness. Her words cut him to the bone. ‘You are.’

When Rafael worked, he worked hard. When Rafael brooded he worked harder. He’d taken to the fields after his words with Gabrielle. Taken the Toyota and a trailer and an axe so he could cut down a dead and dangerously leaning tree. It would drop down on a border fence regardless of where he placed his cut so he’d brought the fence cutters too, and wire and materials for rebuilding the fence later. He might get around to putting the fence back up today.

He might not.

Why the hell would someone want to look back on a childhood like his? On a mother who’d ruled with an iron rod, or a leather horsewhip or whatever else had come to hand. A mother whose moods had see-sawed faster than light. Remote one minute, a banshee the next, but never ever loving towards her children. Gabrielle she’d tolerated, on occasion. Her feelings for her son had been crystal clear and brutally unwavering.

She hated him.

Rafael smiled grimly. Over the years, the feeling had become entirely mutual.

The slam of his axe bit deep into the tree’s heartwood. The axe was small. The tree was huge. It would take a while to bring it down.

Good.

He needed the exercise and he sure as hell needed the release. And as for being too scared to revisit his time with Simone…

Thwack went the axe into the wood. He wrenched it free and swung again. This time when it lodged into the wood he left it there. He returned to the ute, reached in the window for his phone and dialled the guest house. When Sarah answered he got her to put the call through to Simone’s room.

‘I’m felling a tree,’ he said when she answered. ‘Then I’m repairing a fence. And then I’m showing you around the vineyard. I will be filthy. I will be hard to communicate with. I will be at the Angels Landing cellar door at four.’

There was a pause. A very lengthy pause.

Then, ‘I’ll be there,’ Simone said dryly, and hung up.

Gabrielle laughed when Simone relayed the gist of the conversation to her. She belly laughed when Simone relayed the conversation word for word.

‘Stop it,’ Simone ordered. ‘Did I laugh at you when you were worried about seeing Luc again? No. I gave you sympathy.’

‘You have my sympathy,’ said Gabrielle earnestly, right before the laughter started up again. ‘He’s such an ass. Do you have a plan?’

‘Working on it.’ Simone settled back against the bed head. ‘The only way Rafael seems to think he can deal with me is if he calls all the shots. I’ve been very patient with him, Gabrielle. Extremely patient. But you do realise it has to stop.’

‘Oh, I do.’ Gabrielle tried for solemnity, she really did. But moments later she was lying on her back on the end of the bed as mirth took hold of her again.

‘Stop that.’ Simone poked at her with her foot. ‘I need you coherent. I need a plan.’

Gabrielle wiped at her eyes as her laughter subsided. Eventually, she sat back up. ‘Well, it’s about time,’ she said. ‘Does it involve seduction? Puppies? Pheromones?’

‘No. That would be a threatening move on my part and his defences would go up. We don’t want that.’

‘No, we most certainly don’t.’ Gabrielle drummed her fingers on the bedspread. ‘Why don’t you play the damsel in distress and have him come to your rescue?’

‘Because he wouldn’t,’ said Simone dryly. ‘No, for that to work properly I’d have to legitimately be in distress, and I hate that role.’

Gabrielle started to grin. Simone stopped her with a glance. ‘He needs to stop seeing me as a threat, but I can’t be seen to be weak. He needs to see me as an ally.’

‘Alliance is good,’ said Gabrielle cautiously. ‘Who’s the common enemy?’

‘There’s the catch. Apart from Josien, who’s not here and to my way of thinking seems to be going some way towards improving her relationship with you and losing her enemy status into the bargain, we don’t have one.’

‘What about a common goal?’

‘Common goals are good, and I think we may have a common goal in wanting your wedding day to be a magical one. I wanted to ask you…’ Simone took the time to phrase her question with care. ‘Rafe doesn’t have a problem with you marrying into the Duvalier family, does he?’

‘No,’ said Gabrielle with a quick shake of her head. ‘Oh, Rafael knows as well as I do that there’ll be challenges ahead and that some people won’t approve of this union—but he’s not one of them. He knows I’m marrying the man I love, Simone. He knows Luc’s heart is true. Rafe may not be entirely comfortable with gaining you for a sister-in-law, but he’s given my marriage to Lucien his backing and his blessing. He may be an ass,’ said Gabrielle with a grimace, ‘but he’s my ass, and he only wants what’s best for me. I think you should take his invitation as a sign that he’s trying to make his peace with you. Whether he will or not is anyone’s guess. But he’s trying.’

Simone put her hands to her head and rubbed hard before finally smoothing her hands over her hair. She’d had a sleepless night and a jet-lagged day and she needed a strategy for dealing with Rafael that would keep her heart safe. So far, she’d come up empty.

‘He is very good with damsels in distress,’ said Gabrielle again. ‘It’s that overprotective streak that was honed to perfection during the childhood he tries hard to forget. You couldn’t just—’

‘No,’ said Simone abruptly. To call on Rafael’s vulnerability—the very protectiveness that had once made her love him so deeply—and play it for a weakness?

‘No, Gabrielle. I could not.’

By ten to four the tree was down, the fence was fixed and Rafe was heartily wishing that he’d brought the chainsaw along with him to finish the job. The axe was blunt, his shoulders ached, and the release that he’d sought in hard physical labour had so far eluded him. He was hot, he was bothered, and why the hell he’d let Gabrielle goad him into spending time alone with Simone was a mystery to him.

He wanted a cold shower and an even colder beer, and he wanted to forget he’d ever suggested showing Simone around the vineyard he’d brought back from ruin.

He wanted a woman, wanton and willing. One he could lose himself in for a time and walk away from unscathed.

Not Simone, sensual and fearless, who would call forth desires too deeply held.

Not Simone.

Cursing beneath his breath, he loaded up the ute and headed for the cellars. With any luck she’d be running late and he’d have time to wash down and cool off before she arrived. With a bit more luck she might have changed her mind about touring the vineyard with him altogether.

A silver-grey Audi sat in the car park beside the cellar door.

A dark-haired ingénue wearing a vivid pink strapless sundress leaned against it and watched his approach.

Guess not.

‘A tree?’ she said once he stood before her.

‘And a fence.’ He’d warned her that he would be filthy. He looked down at his T-shirt where tree sap and splinters vied for supremacy. Possibly not this filthy, but there was a tap and a sink inside and he had a spare T-shirt in the ute. He found the shirt and headed for the door. ‘Come on through.’

Simone followed him into the building, a gable-roofed corrugated-iron shed of muted greens and greys. It didn’t have the ancient appeal of the champagne storage caves of Caverness, but it suited the landscape well enough, and the scarred and mismatched wooden furnishings of the tasting room held a certain rustic charm.

‘Let me get rid of some of this dirt before I take you through to the vats,’ he said as he headed for the washbasin behind the bar.

‘Of course.’ So far, Rafael more than lived up to his promise of general dishevelment. He had the body for it though, long and leanly muscled, and a perfection of face guaranteed to cut through any amount of dirt. As far as Simone was concerned, the intensity of his brilliant blue gaze served only to clinch the deal. Dirt or no dirt, Rafael Alexander was a breathtakingly beautiful man.

He knew it. How could he not?

But his looks did not define him. There was more to him than that. A kindness of soul that warred with the fierceness of his emotions. A protective streak, honed razor-sharp by the circumstances of his childhood. A will to succeed that bordered on obsessive, and when he focused his attentions on something or someone…well, a woman didn’t easily forget such a time.