The Forbidden Prince (12 page)

Escaping the crowds of the
piazzetta
and the streets of boutique shops that were luxurious enough to attract the kind of customers that the paparazzi loved to follow was a huge relief but, for a long time, their walk was silent and a little sombre.

Maybe it was the magic of the quiet, residential streets with their pretty gardens and wafting scents of lemon trees and lavender. Or maybe the increasing peacefulness had something to do with the summery sounds and sights of bees busy in the flowers and butterflies drifting past. By the time they had reached their destination, it felt like they had left the unpleasantness of James, the theft and the crowds of tourists far behind. There were so few people at the villa right now that, for long stretches of time, they could wander in peace and admire the beautiful, old house and its breath-taking views.

Mika was enchanted by everything.

‘I wish I'd known we were coming here. The brochure doesn't tell me nearly enough—just that it was built by a Swedish physician, Alex Munthe, who came to Capri in 1885.'

‘You'll have plenty of time to do some research later.'

‘Mmm... Oh I love this quote...' Mika's eyes were shining. ‘He said, “My house must be open to the sun, to the wind and the voice of the sea, just like a Greek temple, and light, light, light everywhere”. Isn't that just how it makes you feel?'

It was impossible not to smile back. Not to be drawn into the joy Mika was sharing.

‘We've got it all today, haven't we? The sun and the wind. I can't hear the sea yet, though.'

‘You can see it from almost every window. And, if you can see it, you can hear it. In here...' Mika touched Raoul's chest, laying her hand over his heart. ‘It's a song. The most beautiful music ever...'

He put his hand over hers, dipping his head so that his forehead rested on her hair. He knew exactly what she meant and the connection between them had never felt so strong.

Maybe they'd both been born with dolphin blood in their veins...

He could smell the scent of the shampoo she used, something lemony and fresh. And, more than that, he could smell a scent that was unique to Mika. Something sweet but with a hint of spice. Something he knew he would never smell on anyone else.

Something he would never, ever forget.

They got lost wandering from room to room when they were finally ready to explore outside.

One room was the biggest yet.

‘It's like a ballroom,' Mika breathed. Her gaze snagged his. ‘Let's pretend...'

‘Pretend what?'

‘That this is our house. That there's a small orchestra just over there and they're playing music, just for us...' Her eyes shone. ‘I'm wearing a dress...a really pretty, swirly dress... Dance with me, Rafe...'

She held up her arms like a child asking to be cuddled and there was no way he could refuse the request. And then he started moving. It was obvious Mika had never had the kind of formal dance instruction that he'd had but she was so easy to lead and so astonishingly light on her feet. Even without music, this was a dance he would remember. And maybe they did have music...that song that came from the voice of the sea...

It was Mika who stopped the dance. She pulled away, holding only his hand as she took one more look around them.

‘Imagine
really
living somewhere like this,' she whispered. ‘How unreal would that be?'

Raoul didn't have to imagine. Many elements of this wonderful old house were very similar to the palace he would soon be returning to, like the intricately tiled floors, Grecian columns and works of art that could grace any museum. His home had a ballroom much larger than this, with an area that could seat an entire orchestra. That the idea of living in such opulence was a fairy-tale for Mika drove home the realisation that he'd been avoiding for so long.

She didn't belong in any part of his world. Even wearing a pretty dress was the stuff of make-believe and that was only a tiny piece of the jigsaw that made up the lives of the people in that world.

The thought was unbearably sad. How could he leave her behind when he couldn't imagine not having her in his life now?

But how could he
not
leave her behind?

Raoul's love for his country and his grandparents was bone-deep. His destiny was already written and it included a marriage that would bring two small kingdoms together and make them both stronger, which would be of great benefit to the people he was about to take responsibility for. He couldn't walk away from any of that. He didn't want to walk away from it but...

But doing so was going to hurt them both.

He could cope. He had to. But to hurt Mika so much?

He wasn't sure he
could
do that.

A few days or weeks were nothing in the timeframe of a lifetime. How could snatching this gift of something so perfect have become such a dilemma?

He'd felt his heart crack once before when she'd touched it in an unexpected way and it felt as though that crack was widening with every gasp of astonishment or pleasure that escaped Mika as they kept exploring.

Hand in hand, they walked along the paved pathway beneath vine-covered pergolas supported by columns with splashes of vibrant colour from the flowers in perfectly manicured gardens on either side.

Their path led them past a granite sphinx that Mika had to touch, and that was the moment that Raoul felt that crack in his heart start to bleed.

Such small, clever hands. Such a light, reverent touch—as if she was still dancing.

That made sense. She was dancing her way through her life like some kind of magical creature.

He knew what it was like to be touched by those hands. How it made him feel like he was the best man he could ever be. He'd learned so much about himself in the last few weeks and it was too bound up in how he felt about Mika for the fragments ever to be separated.

When he left Mika behind, was he also going to leave behind the part of himself she'd helped him discover?

They came to a circular viewing point with an uninterrupted panorama of the Bay of Naples.

‘You can see for ever,' Mika said in awe. ‘I bet you can see
Les Iles Dauphins
if you look hard enough.'

Raoul stood behind Mika because he could see perfectly well over the top of her head. She leaned back against him and he put his arms around her, his breath escaping in a long sigh.

He would certainly be leaving a part of himself with Mika. A large part of his heart. But he had to believe he wouldn't lose what she had taught him. He'd learned things that were ingrained in his soul now. Things about love. Things about life. They would serve him well in the future and he would be a king that his people would be proud of.

Gazing out to the sea and the islands he knew were out there gave Raoul a pang of homesickness and, in that instant, he knew he was finally ready.

It was time he stepped back into his life.

And that meant that any reprieve was over. It was time to tell Mika the truth.

He tried to find a way to begin as they walked back to meet their boat but the words turned themselves over and over in his head and, whenever he caught Mika's gaze, they became an incomprehensible jumble.

It would be better to do it when they got back to her room, he decided. That way he could at least slip away and give her privacy to deal with the shock. How awful would it be for both of them to have to face heartbreak in public?

And it was
so
public. The crowds seemed to have swelled so much it was difficult to navigate through them to get to the train and down to the marina. Whatever celebrities had come to Capri today had certainly caused a stir. There were paparazzi everywhere, and James wasn't the only one on their return trip to Positano. He was still snapping photos. Raoul pulled the brim of the baseball cap he had been using as a sunhat further down his forehead and pushed his dark glasses further up his nose. It was probably Mika that the sleaze was trying to get a picture of but it was making him extremely uncomfortable.

Was this the kind of guy that would step in to fill the gap in her life when he had gone?

The dilemma was doing his head in.

On the one side was his duty that he could never walk away from.

On the other was his love for Mika and the overwhelming desire to be the man he was when he was with her.

There had to be a way through this that wouldn't destroy them.

And maybe there was...

Crazy thoughts were coming out of the turmoil in his head and his heart. He wasn't married yet. He wasn't even formally engaged, although the whole world was expecting the announcement. Would Francesca still
want
to marry him if she knew that his heart was with someone else?

His grandparents adored each other. Wouldn't they be prepared to allow him the same happiness of being married to the one he loved?

He needed more time to think.

Positano seemed to be as popular as Capri for tourists today and, oddly, the
Pane Quotidiano
seemed to be the most popular café. From the end of the street, it looked as if there was a crowd of people queuing to get in.

‘What's going on?' Mika sounded worried. ‘Maybe we should see if Marco needs extra help. They'll never be coping with that kind of crowd.'

As they got closer, the hairs on the back of Raoul's neck started to rise. He could see the cameras and he knew exactly who all these people were. A glance over his shoulder and he could see James a step or two behind them, and that was when he knew the game was up.

It was too late to try and escape. Mika was holding his hand—obliviously leading him further and further into enemy territory. He could feel her grip tighten as she realised that something unusual was going on. It was normal enough to see Marco waving his arms in the air as he spoke, but for Gianni to be out on the street as well, holding a newspaper? Other staff were filling the doorway, too, watching what was going on—Alain, the barista, and probably all the waitresses working today.

They were easily close enough to hear Marco now.

‘He's
not
here. And how many times do I have to tell you that you're barking up the wrong tree? Go away—you're scaring off my customers.'

And then he spotted Mika.

‘She'll tell you.
She
knows... He's her boyfriend, for heaven's sake.'

They moved as a pack, shifting their attention, lifting their cameras. Raoul could feel Mika's whole body stiffen as she froze. He could see the fear in her eyes as she looked up at him.

‘
Prince Raoul
...
'
a dozen or more voices shouted in the instant the flashes started exploding around them. ‘Look
this
way...'

CHAPTER NINE

N
ONE
OF
THIS
made any sense.

Blinded by the bright flashes going off right in her face, Mika clung to Rafe's hand. He was pulling her away but her legs wouldn't co-operate. The roaring sound around them was starting to coalesce into recognisable words but it still didn't make any sense.

‘
Why?'

‘Crown Prince of
Les Iles Dauphins...
'

‘Washing
dishes...
?'

‘Who's the girl, Prince Raoul?'

‘Does your fiancée know?'

That did it. Like having a bucket of icy water thrown over her head. The word settled into Mika's consciousness and ricocheted around, inside her skull, like a bullet.

Fiancée...fiancée...fiancée...

She ripped her hand from Rafe's grip.

Rafe? Oh, yeah...he'd stumbled over the name when he'd introduced himself, hadn't he? Up there on the Footpath of the Gods, when he'd rescued her. Some instinct had suggested that maybe he didn't want her to know his real name. Who he really was.

But...a
prince
...?

With a
fiancée...?

She was free of his touch now. The pack of paparazzi was moving in from all sides but Mika was small.

And as hard as nails. It was easy to launch herself at a gap between two of these men, squeeze through and then start running. She didn't realise she was holding her breath until she'd almost reached the end of the street and had to stop, doubled over as her lungs screamed for some oxygen.

Turning her head, she could see that Rafe was coming after her—getting away from the crowd that had now attracted a police presence—but he'd been ambushed by someone further up the street. A slim figure wearing tight, black jeans and a tee shirt...

James?

Her world had turned upside down and Mika had to find safety. Her lungs burning, she started running again and didn't stop until she got to the boarding house and into her room, where she could slam the door behind her and push the bolt into its slot to lock it.

Now what?

Should she throw herself onto her bed and hide her face in her pillow?

The bed that she had been sharing with the man she loved so much...who wasn't the man she'd thought he was...

Should she sink onto the couch and put her face in her hands?

The couch that she'd offered to someone whom she had believed had lost everything and had no money and no place to sleep.

Oh...there was humiliation to be discovered amongst this shock.

If it was true...

But how
could
it be true?

Why would a prince pretend to be nobody? To take on an unskilled, underpaid, physically hard job and work amongst people like herself?

Why would he have chosen to
be
with someone like herself—in the most intimate way it was possible to be with someone?

Instead of choosing either the bed or the couch, Mika stayed exactly where she was, standing in the middle of her small, dingy room. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and, instead of hiding her face, she stared at the blank wall.

His last job had been as a helicopter pilot.

She'd thought that was as unlikely as him being an astronaut or a brain surgeon.

A huff of something like laughter escaped her throat.

Why hadn't
‘prince'
been at the top of that list?

And he hadn't really chosen to be with her, had he?

He'd been determined not to be. Now she could see that hesitation on his part, when she'd believed he had been about to kiss her for the first time in the valley of the mills, in a whole new light.

She'd forced him into it.

She'd
begged
him to make love to her.

Shame was a step down from humiliation. Who knew?

No wonder he hadn't wanted her to ask too many questions. He'd known all along that there was no possibility of any future for them. He'd wanted to have this time
just for them
...

Just for him, more likely. A final fling before he got married.

A bit of...
rough
?

The rattle of her door handle, swiftly followed by a sharp rap on the door, made Mika flinch.

The sound of Rafe's voice sent a spear of pain in its wake.

‘Mika?' Her name was a command. ‘Let me in.
Now
...'

* * *

Things had hit the fan in an astonishingly spectacular way.

The last way Raoul would have chosen.

It would have been bad enough that his identity had been revealed before he'd had the chance to tell Mika the truth but never in a million years could he have imagined how much worse it could actually be.

Clutched in his hand was a copy of the newspaper that James had shoved in his face when he'd stepped out in front of him.

The front page of a national evening paper that had the provocative headline
Prince in Hiding
and a huge photograph.

A photograph he had no idea had been taken and could have only been taken by one person.

Mika.

He remembered the moment. Standing there on the flagged terrace in front of Bernie's bar in Praiano, watching that glorious sunset. After that swim with Mika, sitting on the pontoon and feeling that first, heady realisation that he'd found someone with whom he had an extraordinary kind of connection. He was staring out to sea, with one hand shading his eyes and clearly deeply in thought. With no sunglasses on and his beard still in the early days of its growth, it was no wonder that someone had recognised him.

How much had James been paid for that picture?

How much of a percentage had he offered Mika?

He'd been so smug.

‘Say thanks to your girlfriend for me. Here—have this as a memento...'

He'd shaken off the rest of the paparazzi but it wouldn't take them long to run them down. His cover was blown and Mika's life was about to turn into a circus.

But maybe she deserved it...

Raoul banged his fist on the door again.

He'd been betrayed. And he was angry.

‘Open the door, Mika. You owe me an explanation.'

The door flew open a second later.

‘I owe
you
an explanation?'

Raoul unravelled the newspaper and held it in front of her.

‘
You
took this picture, didn't you?'

He'd never seen her look this shocked. Not even in those first few minutes of knowing her, when she'd been in fear of her life on the side of that cliff. Or when she'd been threatened by those men intent on rape.

‘How did
that
happen? Oh, my God...it was on my camera...'

For a heartbeat, he believed her. He
wanted
to believe her. But he could see the smirk on James' face as he'd asked him to pass on his thanks. And he knew how well a lot of women could act. They could make men believe whatever they wanted them to believe—especially when they had eyes like Mika. He'd believed everything she'd told him.

Had trusted her.

And she'd betrayed him. He caught hold of that anger again, like a shield.

‘The camera that got so conveniently stolen.' Raoul pushed his way into the room, forcing Mika to back up, slamming the door closed behind him with his foot. ‘It must have made a great cover, being jostled in that crowd on the train.'

‘What on earth are you talking about?'

‘You handed it over, didn't you? To your new friend.
James
. Did you decide that being a travel writer wasn't a fast enough way to get to fame and fortune? Did you realise you had a much quicker route right at your fingertips?'

‘You think I was
responsible
for this?'

‘He told you that you could make big money if you hung out with him for the day, didn't he?'

Raoul could imagine all too easily what had really been said in that conversation.

‘You think a movie star is a big deal? Boy, have I got a story—and photo—that you'd kill for...'

‘What is it?'

‘Hang on. Let's talk money first...'

Mika was looking stunned rather than shocked now. They hadn't lost the ability to communicate in the space of a single, sharp glance.

She was as angry as he was now.

‘Why the hell would I have done that? When I didn't have the slightest idea who you actually were?

‘Didn't you?
Really?
Not even when I told you where I came from?'

Raoul remembered that chill he'd felt when he'd told her the name of his homeland—the fear that she might have guessed the truth.

Had she just been waiting for an opportune moment to use that knowledge to change her life?

That was what was so much worse than everything hitting the fan.

He'd been taken for a fool.

He'd believed that Mika was in love with him for who he was as a man and not as a prince.

‘I don't believe this.
I'm
the one who should be angry here.
You're
the one who lied to me.' There was a flash of something stronger than anger in her eyes now. Something like despair. ‘And you said you never would...'

‘I didn't lie to you.' Anger was a great way to obliterate anything like misgivings. ‘I just didn't tell you who I was. I didn't
have
to, did I?'

‘I didn't give that photograph to James. Even if I
had
known who you were, I would never do something like that.'

‘I saw the way you looked at each other.' He'd seen it when she was back by his side on the boat and she'd turned to look at James. ‘I saw the way he smiled at you. It's obvious that the deal had been done. That the arrangements for a handover were in place.'

Mika gave an incredulous huff, stepping further away from him.

‘And you didn't want to go to the police, did you? I wonder why that was?'

He'd thought it was because she'd sensed his own reluctance, but now the new explanation was too obvious to ignore.

‘It's not the first time this has happened,' he snapped. ‘Tell me, is it easy for girls to pretend they're in love in order to get what they really want?'

Mika's face looked as if it had been carved out of stone and her voice was chillingly quiet.

‘Get out,' she said. ‘Get out of my life, Rafe. Or should that be
Raoul
?'

The chill of her voice and the stare he was receiving cut through the anger just enough for something else to surface.

A wash of something that felt ridiculously like...fear.

This was it, wasn't it? The last time he would ever see this woman.

And it made no difference what she'd done. He would still be leaving his heart behind.

A part of himself that he might never find again.

He did have to go, however. He could hear noises on the street below. He had to get out—probably via the fire escape—and then get himself out of sight. Summon whatever assistance he needed to get back to where he belonged. There was far too much more fallout to come from this and he had to front up and deal with it as soon as possible.

He owed his grandparents that much.

He owed his people that much.

Raoul turned. With a flick of his hand he threw the newspaper onto Mika's bed. The bed he'd been sharing with her. A symbol of just how much trouble he'd heaped on himself and those he loved.

Mika spoke as he let himself out of the room and the words followed him like an icy draft as he headed for the fire escape at the back of the old building.

‘It's happened to me before, too, you know. Men pretending to be in love with me in order to get what
they
want.'

The slam of the door behind him came a split second after her final words.

‘Never again.'