The Mills & Boon Stars Collection

He nodded, but now his gaze was thoughtful as it rested on her. ‘Sure.’

Somehow Sophie got through the remainder of the evening. At midnight the French windows were opened and everyone moved onto the terrace as bells peeled out all over the island to celebrate the coming of the new year. It was always an emotional time but tonight it seemed even more poignant as Sophie thought about what lay ahead. She could feel the prick of tears as the sky exploded in a spectacular display of fireworks—silver, gold, cobalt and pink flowering against an indigo backdrop—all reflected in the dark gleaming waters of the Mediterranean. She heard the collective gasps of the ball-goers echoing around the vast terrace as the fireworks whirred and whistled in the air, but somehow she didn’t feel part of it.

And then the evening became nothing more than an endurance of clock-watching. All she wanted was for Myron to retire, because nobody was allowed to move until after the King had taken his leave. At last the King whispered into the ear of a stunning redhead before sweeping with his entourage from the room and, a few moments later, Sophie saw the woman follow him.

Sophie’s heart was thumping as she made her way to the eastern side of the palace. The Ruby Drawing Room was one of her favourite places in the palace, its décor overseen by her late mother, whose favourite colour and gemstone it had been. Hers, too. The walls and floor were in restful shades of darkest pink and only the ornate ceiling was gold—its intricate mouldings picked out with dazzling precision. It was a room which made her feel emotional for all kinds of reasons and therefore probably not the best choice for the kind of talk she and Rafe needed to have, but it was quiet and far away from the hustle and bustle of the ball.

She walked in and saw that Rafe was already there, tall and magnificent as he stood beside the marble fireplace, his grey eyes watchful as she pushed the door shut.

‘So what’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff?’ he questioned.

She drew in a deep breath, her heart pounding with nerves. ‘I’ve brought you here to tell you I can’t marry you, Rafe.’

She searched his face for a trace of emotion. Something which might hint that her words had surprised him, even if they hadn’t actually wounded him. But no. There was nothing. Those dark features remained impenetrable. And somehow that made her decision easier. It reinforced that she was doing the right thing—because he could turn it on and off like a tap, couldn’t he? The man he’d been in New York seemed to have vanished. He seemed more of a stranger even than the day she’d first met him. ‘I wanted to tell you tonight...’ she stared into his eyes ‘...so we can stop the announcement being made.’

Not a trace of emotion showed on his face as he shot out the single word. ‘Why?’ And then his face darkened. ‘Surely one episode of disappointing sex isn’t enough to make you have cold feet?’

‘It’s a contributory factor, yes.’

He slanted her another unfathomable look. ‘You want me to lock the door and make you come? Will that make you feel better?’

Sophie could feel her cheeks growing hot. ‘No, of course not. It’s about much more than that.’

‘Like what?’

She bit her lip. She could do the easy thing of telling him she’d changed her mind and didn’t want marriage after all. She could even pretend that she’d been sucked back into palace life and had decided that she liked it too much to ever leave. Except she suspected he was intuitive enough to know that wasn’t the case—and besides, why on earth did she think any such option would be easy? None of this was ever going to be easy.

‘Because we want different things.’

His brow darkened. ‘I thought we’d already thrashed this out and decided that ultimately we wanted the same things. A family life together. Wasn’t that what we both agreed, Sophie?’

And Sophie knew then that nothing would do except for the truth, no matter what the cost to her own pride. She kept her voice very low. ‘I can’t marry you, Rafe, because I’ve fallen in love with you. And I can see from your face how much that horrifies you.’

‘Because love was never part of the deal,’ he ground out.

‘I realise that.’ She licked her lips. ‘Do you really think I want to feel this way? Because I don’t—but I needed to be honest with you. I lied to you in the past about stuff and I think you realised I had reasons for keeping the truth hidden. But I don’t ever want to do that again. And since our relationship is supposed to be based on truth then you need to hear it. And the truth is that I’ve fallen in love with you, Rafe. I’ve tried my best to stop myself but there doesn’t seem to be a thing I can do about it.’

She stared straight into his face, willing him to say something, but she was met only with silence.

‘Only something tells me that love won’t work in a marriage which was only ever supposed to be practical,’ she continued unsteadily. ‘I thought... I thought I could do practical, but I was wrong. I’m not going to opt for second best. Call me stupid or unrealistic, but I’d rather hold out for love—even if that never happens.’

He nodded his head like a mathematics teacher who’d just been presented with a tricky equation and as Sophie waited, didn’t part of her hope her words might have struck a chord, even if it was just a little one? That there might be a platform from which to springboard her growing feelings. What if he told her that he was receptive to the idea of love—would that be enough for them to go on? Wouldn’t the tiniest crack in his armour mean that some of her love might be able to slip inside and warm him? She kept her eyes fixed on his face and watched as something in his expression changed. And it was as if the shutters had suddenly been lifted for there was no disguising the sudden hostility which gleamed so hard and silver from his eyes.

‘I told you emphatically that I didn’t do love,’ he said. ‘And you know why? Because it means nothing. Nothing. I’ve seen greed and lust and ambition, all masquerading as love. Did you really think that your words might bring about a fundamental change of heart, Sophie? That I was going to have a personality change just because you looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes and told me words I never wanted to hear?’

Sophie felt that little spark of hope crumble inside her, like a heap of dust onto which a heavy boot had just stamped. She wanted to break down. To sink to her knees and let the great slurry of dark emotions come sliding down onto her head. But she would not. She could not. She was going to walk away from this relationship with her heart shattered, but she would make sure that her dignity was kept intact.

‘No, Rafe,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t think that, although I’d be lying if I denied that’s what I was hoping for. I thought you might be open-minded enough to the idea that feelings can sometimes grow if you let them—but maybe you won’t let them. Or maybe you can’t.’ She met his stony gaze and nodded her head. ‘We need to tell the King so that no announcement of our engagement will be made. We need to end it, as of now. Well, not tonight, obviously. But first thing tomorrow.’

‘So I’m to go to your brother and tell him that my vow was worthless?’

‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ll tell him. I’ll make sure he knows that you didn’t break your precious word and that the fault was all mine. I should... I should never have agreed to it.’

‘Another marriage which has fallen by the wayside just before it reached the altar,’ he observed. ‘Are you really prepared to go through with the damage to your reputation, Sophie?’

‘Better a brief spell of shattered pride than a lifetime of disillusion,’ she flared back. ‘Of always having to hide my feelings for fear that you might mistake them for lust or greed or ambition.’ She swept the palm of her hand back over her chignon, checking that her appearance was pristine enough to face any servant she might encounter on the way back to her room, and then lifted her chin to direct one final look at him. ‘Your words can sometimes be cruel, Rafe—but I suppose I should be grateful for your candour. Because, for the moment at least—I’m finding it very easy not to love you.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

HE HAD EVERYTHING he wanted. Everything. So why wasn’t it enough?

Rafe paced the floor of his Manhattan apartment, where outside the glitter of skyscrapers meant you couldn’t really see the darkness of the night sky. A bit like him. He was functioning as normal. Closing deals and starting new ones. Working out and going to parties. Life had to go on in every sense. He knew that. He’d even taken a woman to the theatre last night.

He stopped his relentless pacing and gave a ragged sigh. She must have thought he was crazy. Successful and beautiful, she’d made it plain she’d like nothing more than to have him share her bed.

And just the thought had left him cold. Worse than cold. His skin had crawled at the thought of touching a woman. Any woman.

Except Sophie.

Damn her.

His pacing resumed. Why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about her, despite his conviction that this was the best thing for both of them? Because if he couldn’t give her what she really wanted then neither of them would be satisfied.

An image of her face swam into his mind. Her eyes as blue as a Queensland sky. Her dark hair threaded with sapphires or tumbling free over bare shoulders. The cool smile she’d given him as he’d left Isolaverde. He’d thought the flatness in her eyes had been for the benefit of her watching brother, who was clearly irritated by this latest turn of events. But then Rafe realised it was all for him. There had been no reproach in her gaze—just a quiet dignity, which had preoccupied him all the way home to America and continued to preoccupy him.

So what was he going to do about it?

His mouth tightened.

He had a problem. Wasn’t it about time he started seeking a solution?

* * *

Bright sunlight flooded into the breakfast room of the Isolaverdian palace and the King sat back and regarded his younger sister.

‘I wondered if you might take a run out to Assimenios Beach today,’ said Myron.

Sophie pushed away her half-eaten dish of grapefruit segments and forced a smile to her lips. The one which seemed to split her face in half but which she hoped Myron found convincing. He probably did. He wasn’t exactly the kind of man who spent his life analysing the facial expressions of women, especially not those of his sister. Why should he care if she was happy or not?

‘Any particular reason?’ she questioned.

‘Could be. I’m thinking of building a house there,’ said Myron. ‘And I’d like your input.’

‘Mine?’

‘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.’