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‘There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.’
Today, with the sun shining and the sky so blue, that felt like a promise rather than a warning. Rachel smiled back.
Half an hour later they were on a small sailing raft heading out into the shimmering blue-green waters of the Mediterranean Sea, with not a security officer or staff member in sight.
‘Where are we going now?’ Rachel asked as she tilted her face to the sun. ‘Do you have a destination?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. There is a small island out here—not much more than a speck of land, but it has a nice beach. I used to go here when I was younger.’
‘To get away from it all?’ Rachel teased, and Mateo gave a grimacing nod.
‘Actually, yes. When I was out here, I could forget I was a prince.’
‘Was that something you wanted to forget?’ Rachel asked softly. She was aware, not for the first time, of all she didn’t know. She didn’t know about Mateo’s family, really, only that he was the youngest of three brothers. One had died, and one had walked away. Both, she realised now, must have left scars.
‘Sometimes it was,’ Mateo answered after a moment, his narrowed gaze on the glinting sea. ‘I’d always get punished for trying to escape. Sent to my room with no dinner. I suppose I deserved it.’
‘Your parents must have been worried about you.’
‘I suppose.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
He shrugged. ‘As the third son, and a later surprise at that, I was a bit of an afterthought.’
Rachel frowned. ‘Were you neglected?’
‘No, not at all. In some ways, it was a blessing—I had so much more freedom than either Kosmos or Leo.’
‘Tell me about your brothers,’ she said. ‘I’ve never heard you speak of them before.’
‘I suppose I haven’t had much to say.’ He nodded towards the sea ahead of them, and the shape of an island now visible. ‘Let me get us to the shore.’
They spent the next few moments navigating the waters, and then mooring the boat in an inlet of a postage-stamp-sized island, no more than a strip of beach and a bit of scrub. With the sea stretching in every direction, Rachel couldn’t imagine a lonelier or lovelier spot.
‘I brought a picnic,’ Mateo told her as he reached for a wicker basket. ‘Or rather, I had the kitchen make one for me.’
‘Isn’t that how kings always do things?’ Rachel teased as she took his hand and he helped her out of the boat. She couldn’t remember when they’d last talked so much, or when she’d felt so happy. This was what she’d imagined, what she’d longed for—their friendship back, but something more as well.
They strolled hand in hand onto the beach, and Mateo spread out a blanket before opening the picnic basket and setting out a variety of tempting goodies—strawberries, smoked salmon, crusty bread, a ripe cheese, and, of course, champagne.
It was perfect, Rachel thought as he popped the cork on the bottle and poured them both glasses.
Everything was perfect.
* * *
Mateo hadn’t planned any of this. It was strange, but his own actions were taking him by surprise. It felt as if one moment he’d been sitting in his study, staring out at the blue sky, and the next he’d jumped into a boat and sailed for the blue yonder.
Not that he regretted what he’d done. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed, so free. He took a sip of champagne and closed his eyes, enjoying the sunlight on his face.
He realised he didn’t even mind talking to Rachel about things he tried never to think about, never mind discuss—his family, his brothers, the deep-seated desire he’d had not to be a prince—or even a king. Yet somehow it felt different out here, sipping champagne on the sand, the barriers gone or at least a little lowered, the whole world wide open.
‘When did your older brother die?’ Rachel asked quietly, her generous mouth curved downwards, her eyes as soft as a bed of pansies.
‘Ten years ago. A sailing accident.’
‘Sailing...’ Those soft eyes widened and she glanced instinctively at the little boat bobbing gently on the waves.
