The Forbidden Prince (6 page)

Had Mika had loving grandparents to fill such an appalling void? A small army of kind nannies, tutors and so many others, like cooks and gardeners, who would go out of their way every day to make a small, orphaned prince feel special?

‘What happened? Who looked after you?'

‘The police were called. I got put in the hands of the social welfare people and they found a foster home.'

‘Did the police find your mother?'

‘Oh...eventually. She turned up dead about ten years later. Drug overdose. Maybe she thought she was doing me a favour by shutting me out of her life.'

‘What about your father?'

‘Don't have one. My mother never told me anything about him other than that he was Scottish. A backpacker she'd met in a bar somewhere. I have no way of tracing him. No idea of where I came from, really.'

‘I'm sorry...'

‘Don't be. It has a good side. I'm as free as a bird. Or a dolphin, maybe. I can't imagine living away from the sea. I had to do that in a couple of foster homes and I hated the cities.'

Raoul was silent for a long moment. He could trace his family back to the twelfth century when their islands had become a principality. He knew every drop of his bloodline and almost every square mile of the place that was where he came from and where he would always belong.

How lost would someone feel not to have that kind of foundation? Did he really envy the freedom she'd had in comparison to how precisely his own life was mapped out?

Was that what Mika was looking for—a place where she felt she belonged? A life that offered the safety of a real home? How much heartache had been covered by that casual reference to ‘a couple of foster homes'? How often had she been passed from home to home? Abandoned again and again?

The sun was low now and Mika's nut-brown skin seemed to have taken on a golden glow as Raoul's silent questions led him to turn his head towards her. Her bikini was white—small scraps of fabric that left very little to the imagination.

It wasn't his imagination that was his undoing, though.

Mika had her hands shading her eyes from the glare of the setting sun so she didn't see him looking at her. She might be tiny, Raoul decided, but she was most definitely perfectly formed. And
real
... It would probably never occur to Mika to make her breasts larger or wear killer heels to make herself look taller and sexier. He couldn't imagine her plastering her face with make-up, either. She didn't need it, with those amazing eyes of hers.

She was...gorgeous.

He'd come to the conclusion that Mika was an extraordinary person within a short time of knowing her and learning about her rough start in life somehow didn't surprise him.

What did surprise him—and not in a good way—was the strength of the attraction he was feeling towards her right now. Had either of them really been aware of how close to each other they were sitting? He would only have to relax his arm a little for their shoulders to touch. He could feel the warmth of her skin just thinking about it.

His hands tightened on the edge of the pontoon as he realised how much he
wanted
to touch Mika. He pressed his lips together to try and stifle the urge to kiss her.

Given the uncanny way they could communicate with no more than a glance, it was unfortunate that Mika chose that moment to lower her hands and turn her head.

For too long, she held his gaze. Too long, because Raoul knew that she was aware of him physically, too. That the attraction might well be mutual.

It couldn't happen. Not when, in a matter of a few short weeks, he had to step back into his real life and prepare to marry the woman he'd been promised to for almost as long as he could remember. The engagement was about to become official, which had to put an end to any sexual adventures, and surely he'd had enough over the years, anyway?

He'd never known anybody like Mika, though, had he?

Maybe being homeless and poor wasn't going to be the ultimate challenge that would tell him whether he could be the ruler his people deserved. Perhaps
this
was going to be the biggest test. Could he put aside his personal desires in order to do what he knew was the right thing to do?

It would be shameful if he couldn't.

The tumble of his thoughts took no longer than the shared glance. It was Mika who broke the eye contact, and she did it so abruptly, Raoul was left wondering if he'd imagined what he thought he'd seen. Or had she been shocked by what
she'd
seen?

‘Hot chips,' she said.

‘What?'
The randomness of the words cleared his mind with a jolt.

‘Bernie—the guy who runs the bar on the beach. He's English and I think he was in a band that did quite well back in the seventies. He makes the best hot chips I've ever tasted. Everyone comes here for his fish and chips, and I've just realised that I'm absolutely
starving
.' Her grin held all the cheek he was coming to expect from Mika. ‘I seem to remember you saying something about it being your turn to buy dinner?'

‘I did. And it is.'

‘Race you back, then...'

It was a huge relief to sink into the chill of the seawater. As good as a cold shower, in fact.

He could do this, Raoul decided. He could enjoy the company of the first genuine friend he'd ever made without ruining that friendship with sex. That way, Mika wouldn't end up being hurt, and it could be possible that the friendship might never be completely lost. Sure, Mika would get a shock when she found out who he really was, but by then maybe she would know him well enough to understand and forgive the deception.

This feeling of connection to another person was too special to lose.

Raoul had a distinct feeling that he might never experience it again.

CHAPTER FOUR

H
AD
SHE
IMAGINED
IT
?

That buzz of physical awareness she'd seen in Rafe's eyes when they'd been sitting side by side on the pontoon, in the glow of a sunset, the other night...

Maybe it had just been a product of a combination of things. The gorgeous sunset, how relaxed a swim in the sea could make you feel after a long, hard day at work, and the fact that they were both as close to naked as public decency allowed. If—for a moment in time—Rafe had fancied her, he had done nothing to confirm any interest since.

And Mika would have noticed the slightest indication because she'd been so nervous about it. Emotionally, she'd run as hard and fast as she could when she thought she'd seen it. She'd tried to wash away the confused jumble of feelings by swimming hard enough to beat Rafe back to the shore, and had kept the conversation deliberately impersonal as they'd eaten the fish and chips that Rafe had declared the best he'd ever tasted after she'd snapped a few photos of the fading sunset and their surroundings. One of Rafe, too, that he hadn't even seen her taking.

He'd been standing watching that sunset—one hand shading his eyes, the other holding the damp towel he had insisted she used first. His hair had been still wet and drops were landing on his shoulders to trickle onto that bare chest. There'd been something poignant in the way he was staring out to sea and even through the lens of her camera the beauty of this man had been enough to give Mika that curious sensation in her belly again—the thump and the electric tingles of physical attraction.

The action had been instinctive. Something had told her that there could well be a time she'd want to remember this day and this man who'd stirred these feelings she thought she'd lost for ever. It was an action that had taken only a split second and was as private as the reasons she had taken it.

It had been only a momentary blip in the impersonal atmosphere that Mika had been determined to foster as a safety buffer zone, and the tactic had worked so well that it had cemented what seemed to have become a pattern. They did their long shifts at the café, went for a swim after work, ate a meal that they took turns paying for and, by the time they got home after dark, they were both so tired that sleep was essential before another early rise.

Had the tactic worked
too
well?

A couple of days later, Mika realised that her nervousness had evaporated. That she had to conclude that she
had
imagined any desire on Rafe's part.

And, if she was really honest, there was a part of her that was...what?...disappointed?

Frustrated, even?

If things had been different—if
she
was different—that moment on the pontoon could have played out in a very different way.

She would have seen that look in Rafe's eyes and fallen into it instead of running away. They would have held that eye contact as they'd slowly closed the distance between them and then...then she would have felt Rafe's lips against her own...

The way she had so many times in those unguarded moments of the last few nights when she'd been slipping into sleep and could hear the sound of Rafe's breathing only a few feet away. The intensity of her body's reaction to the fantasy kiss had been enough to make her think that she'd never wanted anything as much as she wanted Rafe to kiss her.

But it wasn't going to happen, was it? Oh, he still seemed to be enjoying her company. He still smiled just as readily. But there was something different about the way he looked at her. Or
didn't
look at her. Yes, that was it. There was a wariness that hadn't been there before. That connection that she felt when her gaze met his was missing...because he never held her gaze long enough for it to kick in.

Because he was avoiding it?

Had he seen her fear?

Mika's thoughts seemed to be a series of questions that were becoming increasingly unsettling.

Would she react the same way if she had another chance?

Did she
want
another chance?

Part of her seemed to. Otherwise, she wouldn't have had a quiet word with Marco yesterday to ask if Rafe could have the same day off as she had this week. She wouldn't have told him about her plan to explore the valley of the ancient mills in Amalfi and slipped in that casual invitation for him to join her if he had nothing else he wanted to do with his day off.

They wouldn't be here now, standing in the central square of Amalfi beside the cathedral stairs, gazing at the narrow, cobbled streets and trying to decide which one would take them uphill to where they would find the entrance to the valley.

A woman walking a small dog glanced at Rafe and paused. Smiling, she asked if they needed any help.

‘Please,' Rafe answered. ‘We're looking for the way to the Valley of the Mills.'

‘Ah...the
Valle dei Mulini
... Go up the main street here, which leads into
Via Pietro Capuano
...'

Mika was listening to the directions but she was also watching the body language in front of her. Did Rafe know the effect he had on women? Of course he did, she decided. How could he not know?

He could have anyone he chose, couldn't he?

Was it no more than a fantasy that he might choose
her
?

The answer to that was simple. Of course it was. He saw her as a friend, nothing more. And maybe this was the best thing that could have happened for her—the reason why fate had made him appear in her life. She could play with the possibility of something physical developing in her mind, and perhaps that was the step she needed to take so that she would be ready when someone came into her life that she was attracted to—someone who wanted to be with
her
.

Someone other than Rafe...

‘Did you get all that?' The woman and her dog were walking away. Rafe's glance was unreadable.

‘Yep. Let's go.' Oddly, the excitement of this adventure had faded a little for Mika.

‘We go past the paper museum. You want to go there, don't you?'

‘Mmm...' Mika was slightly ahead of Rafe now. ‘It won't be open yet, though. I'll go on the way back. You don't have to do the museum, though, if they're not your thing.'

They walked in silence until they'd passed the museum and reached a set of steps going uphill. Rafe went ahead of Mika as they climbed the steps and, by the time they'd walked on for a few more minutes, the silence had become awkward.

‘Can we stop for a second? I'd like to take a photo of that lemon grove.'

Rafe stopped. He turned and, for the first time in days, Mika found her gaze properly caught.

‘Would you rather be doing this by yourself?'

‘What? No...of course not.'

‘But you want to go to the museum by yourself?'

‘No... I...' Mika retrieved the snatch of conversation from her memory. She'd been feeling out of sorts when she'd thrown that comment in. Aware that the next man in her life was not going to be Rafe... ‘It's just that some people don't like museums, you know? I don't want to bore you.'

He was still holding her gaze.

‘You would never bore me, Mika.'

Oh, help
...that connection was still there, wasn't it?

And that look. She could fall into that, if she let herself.

Maybe she couldn't
help
herself falling...

‘Same.' Mika felt her heart skip a beat. ‘You're...good company, Rafe.' She had to break the eye contact because she felt suddenly, inexplicably, shy. She pulled her camera out of its case. ‘It's...um...really nice to have a friend to do things like this with.'

‘But you'd do it on your own if I wasn't here, wouldn't you?'

‘I'd have to.' Mika focused on the terraced rows of lemon trees, the fruit glowing goldlike giant gems against the glossy, green foliage. ‘But it's better when you have company. Makes it feel... I don't know...more real?'

‘Mmm...' Rafe's nod was thoughtful. ‘I get that. They say a problem shared is halved. Maybe a pleasure shared is doubled.'

She kept the camera in her hand as they carried on. There was so much pleasure to be found in this walk. They entered the valley into woodlands where the bird calls were the only sound to break the cool silence and the forest floor was a wash of pink from wild cyclamens. The ruins of the ancient paper mills were tall, mossy, concrete structures with haphazard holes where windows had once been, perched beside the river as it tumbled over huge boulders. The drama of one of the waterfalls they passed was enough to make them pause and sit beneath one of the massive old trees for a few minutes.

So much pleasure...and it was definitely doubled by having Rafe's company. More than doubled...

Mika could have simply sat here and soaked it in but she needed more than photographs to record the journey. She pulled her notebook from the pack Rafe had been carrying for her.

‘What are you writing?'

‘I'm adding to the research I did online. Putting the things I notice in as well. Like how gorgeous that carpet of flowers was under the trees. I won't have room to include every photo I take.'

‘Include in what?'

‘My article.'

‘You're a
writer
? You never told me that.'

‘That's because I'm not. Yet...' That very uncharacteristic shyness resurfaced. Mika didn't tell people her dreams. Was that because she didn't have anyone in her life that she wanted to share them with?

‘I want to be a travel writer,' she said quietly. ‘I'd like to earn my living by doing things like this all the time, instead of working in cafés.'

Rafe looked impressed. But then he frowned. ‘You want to spend your whole life travelling? Never settling down anywhere?'

‘Oh, I'll settle somewhere. I just don't know where yet. I know it will be near the sea because of my dolphin blood.' Mika smiled, hoping to make light of revealing something so personal. ‘And I think it will be somewhere warm, because that way you can spend more time in the sea, but there's a lot of places in the world that fill those requirements—especially round here.' She closed her notebook and slipped it back into the pack. ‘I'm killing two birds with one stone, here. When I find the place I want to be for ever, I think I'll know who I really am.'

* * *

Did everyone wonder who they really were at some point in their lives, or was this another extraordinary bond that Raoul had just found with Mika?

He wanted to tell her everything at that point. Who he was and why he was here. He could share his problems and maybe they would be halved.

Except they wouldn't be, would they? Okay, he could imagine that Mika would understand the need to reveal the strongest, most basic, layers of his personality so that he would know he had a foundation that would serve him well for the rest of his life—because wasn't she doing pretty much the same thing? She was searching for a layer he didn't need but one that was even more fundamental—a place where she felt she belonged.

But, if he did tell her the truth, she would realise he didn't belong here, in her world, like this. She might feel that the dream she had shared with him was insignificant in comparison to his future and she might show her prickles again—the way she had, inexplicably, in suggesting that she could go to the paper museum by herself.

And, if the prickles came out, the pleasure of this day would be dimmed and it was too good to spoil. The serenity of the dappled light in this forest had the echoes of a long and proud history in the ruins of the ancient mills but the bubbling river was timeless. A link to the future and a reminder that nothing stayed the same. Life moved on and changed...

He could accept that with a new sense of peacefulness in this moment and it felt really good.

Being with Mika felt really good, too. Maybe it wasn't just their surroundings that made him feel so much closer to embracing his future. There was strength to be found simply in her company and in the way she faced life and made the most of every moment.

The sensation of feeling so close to another person's soul—as if his own could reach out and take the hand of hers—was a new thing for Raoul. As if he needed to see if it was real, he turned his head, to find Mika looking up at him. Her eyes were very serious but her mouth had the hint of a curve to it, as if she knew how deep his thoughts had been and that he was happy with where they'd taken him.

The need to connect on more than this weird, telepathic level was so strong Raoul could feel his head drifting. Tipping in slow motion until lowering it a little would be all that was needed to kiss Mika.

Did she know how overpowering the pull was? She didn't break the lock of his gaze and he could see a reflection of his own wonderment at how close it was possible to feel to someone else. And then her lips parted and he saw the very tip of her tongue touch her lower lip.

The shaft of desire was painful.

If ever there was a moment to test himself to see whether he could resist this overwhelming temptation, this was it.

Surely a kiss couldn't be such a big deal?

But it wouldn't stop there, would it?

If he wanted it
this
much, even a touch could be dangerous. What if it ignited something so powerful, he lost control of his best intentions? Exposed a weakness that could make him doubt himself even more?

He had to find out if he had the strength it would take to resist this. Closing his eyes helped because it was a shutter against how it made him feel to be holding Mika's gaze.

Forcing himself to move helped even more because he could get to his feet and walk away to put some distance between them. But the effort was draining and a good part of the peace he'd found ebbed as well. When they got home, he decided, he would have to find the concierge and ask about the availability of another room to rent. How could he sleep so close to her without having to fight that particular battle again and again? How many times could he fight it and not weaken to the point of giving in?