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So she hid her bitter disappointment that there had been no breakthrough in Rafe’s emotions. Was she deluded enough to think he’d started to care for her, just because her own feelings had started to change? Hadn’t he told her right from the start that he didn’t do love? Now she knew more about him, she could see why. She could understand his trust issues and the reason why he’d never settled down. His childhood sounded grim and the cushion of his parents’ wealth had probably made it worse. If he’d been abandoned by his mother and left to fend for himself in some grimy tenement block, the authorities would have stepped in and acted. But in the protected air-conditioned world of the luxury hotel suite, nobody would have even known.
And then there had been another betrayal—an even greater one, by Sharla. Wouldn’t a child of his own help him get over that terrible loss?
She looked into his grey eyes. He had vowed to be faithful and she believed him. He wouldn’t do what Luc had done and lose his heart to someone else. During his own childhood, he’d seen the devastation that infidelity could wreak and he wouldn’t want to replicate that. He’d never had a chance to create a family unit of his own and yet that was what he yearned for above all else. This powerful man with so much wealth at his disposal wanted nothing more than a baby.
And so did she.
His baby.
Why shouldn’t an arranged marriage work? Some people considered romantic love to be an unrealistic ideal and maybe they were right. The marriage of her own parents had been arranged, and theirs had been a long and happy union. Why couldn’t she have that with Rafe—and all the things which went with it? The companionship and the sex, and the feeling safe. Better no love than pretend love, surely? And sometimes love could grow...
She looked at him. ‘But what would I do—as your wife?’
His grey eyes gleamed. ‘You can do what the hell you want, Sophie. Just think about what you achieved on Poonbarra.’
‘You mean I progressed from being unable to recognise a tin-opener to making a pie which apparently you described to Andy as “ordinary”?’
He laughed. ‘He wasn’t supposed to tell you that. I just don’t like pie. But you’re capable of anything you want to be.’
And it was that which swung it for Sophie. It was the same feeling which had come over her when she’d looked up at the stars, on that ocean-going yacht travelling out to Australia. That same sense of wonder and, yes...hope. It was the most empowering thing anyone had ever said to her and she could hear the ring of sincerity in his voice.
‘Then yes, I’ll marry you,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘And have a family with you and be faithful and true to you. Because I think you’re right. I think we are compatible in many ways.’
He looked down into her face. ‘We will make a good life together, Sophie,’ he said. ‘I promise you that.’
The effect of his smile made her emotions dip and wobble. And too much emotion was dangerous. She needed to remember that. This was only going to work if she kept it real. So she sucked in a deep breath and gave a cool smile. ‘Yes, we will,’ she said.
‘Now, isn’t it customary to seal an engagement with a kiss?’ He pulled her into his arms, his mouth hovering close to hers. ‘And then to buy a ring worthy of a princess?’
She brushed an admonitory finger over his lips, even though her body had begun to prickle with anticipation. ‘Not quite so fast. The ring we can deal with but there’s a protocol to marrying someone like me. Before we do anything, you’re going to have to come to Isolaverde and ask my brother for his permission.’
CHAPTER TEN
SOPHIE’S HEART WAS racing as they were summoned into the throne room of the Isolaverdian palace. She could hear her high heels clipping over the polished marble floor, past all the beautiful oil paintings of her ancestors towards the dais at the far end.
It felt like forever since she’d last been here and the significance of the magnificent setting was never lost on her. It was where her brother had been crowned after the sudden death of their father and where their grief-stricken mother had sat, keeping vigil over the late King’s coffin.
As she heard the heavy clang of the double doors slamming shut behind them, Sophie thought about everything she’d seen and done since she’d last seen her brother. California and an ocean crossing. The heat and dust of the Australian Outback, the silent snow of the Cotswolds and then the high-octane holiday glitter of New York. And now she was back on her island home, feeling a bit like a stranger on her home territory with the man beside her about to ask the King for her hand in marriage.
As they took their seats she wondered if Rafe was dazzled by the twin thrones before them—where diamonds, rubies and emeralds as big as gulls’ eggs glittered in the winter sunshine. One throne sat empty—waiting for the wife her brother seemed so reluctant to find, for it was rumoured he had a mistress who was preventing him from fulfilling his destiny. Not for the first time, Sophie acknowledged the inequality of one rule for royal men and a different one for women. Myron had been allowed to have as much sex as he wanted, while she’d been supposed to save her virginity until her wedding night. How unfair was that? She moistened her lips with her tongue as she stared at the imposing figure of her brother, his dark face stern, his legs crossed with the carelessness of a man born to rule, as he leaned back against his throne.
‘I understand that you have provided both sanctuary and protection for my sister,’ said the King, without preamble. ‘For which I owe you a great debt as well as my thanks, and for which you will be rewarded accordingly. The Princess has behaved in a way wh
ich was undoubtedly headstrong, but she is home now and everything is as it should be. Whether your desire is for land or capital, I shall endeavour to grant you your wish, Carter.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Within reason, of course.’
Rafe smiled back. ‘I’m very honoured to receive Your Majesty’s offer,’ he said diplomatically. ‘But it was no hardship to give your sister my protection and, indeed, she fended for herself most admirably for many months. Months during which my men assured me she was the best cook they’ve ever had on the station.’
A glitter of irritation iced the King’s blue eyes. ‘I have no desire to imagine the Princess in a position of such servitude. Let us discuss how best you will be recompensed instead.’
‘But, Your Majesty,’ said Rafe silkily, ‘I have no need or desire for any financial reward. I have no desire to accept payment for what was my pleasure.’
Nervously Sophie resisted the invitation to chew the inside of her mouth. Didn’t Rafe realise that refusing Myron’s offer was the last thing he should do if he wanted to keep him onside? That it was bad form to refuse the King anything?
Nothing was said for a moment as both men engaged in a silent battle of wills.
‘As you wish,’ said Myron eventually, unable to hide another flicker of irritation when it became clear Rafe had no intention of backing down. ‘But on the other matter you brought to my attention when you first arrived, I’m afraid I cannot be quite so reasonable. You say you wish to marry my sister?’ He raised his eyebrows before shaking his head. ‘I’m afraid this will not be possible, for reasons I’m sure I don’t need to spell out for you.’
Rafe nodded and then, very deliberately, reached out and put his hand over Sophie’s. Had he done that to hide the sudden trembling of her fingers from her brother? she wondered.
