Stepping into the Prince's World (10 page)

It wouldn't.

So that was the end of that.

But at the back of his mind was a harsh, unbendable wish. The end? It couldn't be. It mustn't be because he wanted her.

So soon?

And there was another problem. With the threat of a plane arriving at any minute emotions seemed to have become condensed. He was so unsure where this was going. He felt as if his armour had been cracked, and it scared him, but the more he saw of Claire, the more he was prepared to risk.

Too much was happening, too fast. The responsibilities he faced back in Marétal were enormous. The adjustment he was facing made him feel ill. He didn't need emotions messing with what was ahead of him.

He didn't need Claire.

So if a plane arrived today he might well never see her again. A prince from Marétal and an Australian lawyer? How many chances would they have to meet?

Never.

He thought suddenly of his grandmother's demand that he bring a woman to the Royal Anniversary Ball.

Claire?

Polite society would have her for breakfast, he thought. His grandmother alone would be appalled.

Impossible. The whole situation was crazy.

The house was empty, echoing. He found himself straining for the sound of a far-off engine, a plane, the signal of the end of something that had barely started.

Surely it didn't have to end yet.

He abandoned the house and headed down to the cove where Claire had swum to save him. The water was calm today, but the beach was littered with debris from the storm and from the battered
Rosebud
. The yacht was now little more than matchsticks. He searched the beach, looking for anything he could salvage for Tom, but he was doing it more to distract himself rather than because Tom would want anything. Tom was free, off climbing his mountains.

Two weeks ago Raoul had said goodbye and had been consumed with regret. He'd wanted that kind of freedom.

He couldn't have it. And now he couldn't have even a friendship with Claire.

Unless he didn't treat her as Cinderella.

His thoughts were flying tangentially, and all the while he was distracted by the thought that a plane could arrive at any minute. Finally he climbed along the side of the cove, where the waves from the open sea crashed against the cliffs and he couldn't see the sky from the south. If he couldn't see the plane it didn't exist, he told himself, and he almost smiled. It was a game he'd played when he was a child, when he'd been forced to sit through interminable royal events. He'd worked out how to look interested and still disappear inside his head, dreaming of where he'd rather be.

He had no choice as to where he'd be.

Did he have a choice in who he'd be with?

Claire...

She was a beautiful woman and she made him feel as he'd never felt before. Yes, it was too soon to think about the future, but his head wasn't giving him any leeway. He wanted her.

She was an intelligent, courageous woman who was street-smart. She was a woman who spoke Italian and French, and he had no doubt she was fluent. The phrase he'd flung at her in the water had been gasped, yet she'd understood it without hesitation.

Marétal's official language was French, but natives spoke a mix of Italian and French with some of their own words.

Claire was smart. She'd pick it up.

She didn't want to be Cinderella. Who would?

And he... What did
he
want?

Besides Claire.

He forced himself to think sideways, to think of the life he wanted as a royal.

He wanted to make a difference.

Claire would never want a job that involved tiara-wearing and nothing else. Well, neither did he. If he had to go home—and he did—then he needed to make something of it.

With Claire?

Don't think down that route,
he told himself.
Don't even think about hoping.

But the ball... He had no doubt his grandmother would still insist it go ahead. He also knew that if he didn't organise a partner his grandmother would attempt to do it for him, and the thought was suddenly so claustrophobic it almost choked him.

Claire was still front and centre. He thought of her as she could be. Someone not royal from birth but truly royal as she deserved to be. Why
shouldn't
the woman who'd saved his life be his partner at the ball? Even if nothing came of it, it would be a night of fantasy. A night he'd never forget.

She'd never agree. Why would she?

She needed a job to do. She needed to be needed.

Something colourful caught his eye, caught on a pile of seaweed. He stooped and picked it up.

It was a tiny plastic building brick figure. It was a miniature construction worker, complete with a hard hat and a spanner in his hand.

He'd noticed it on the shelf above Tom's bunk, taped fast to stop it falling. He'd commented on it on their first day's sailing and Tom had grinned, a bit embarrassed.

‘That's Herbert. I've had Herbert since I was six years old. He's my good luck talisman. Where I go, he goes.'

He'd noticed him when he'd gone aboard again five days ago and thought of Tom, gone to climb mountains without Herbert.

He had Tom's good luck talisman.

And imperceptibly, ridiculously, his spirits lifted. ‘Sorry, Tom,' he told his absent friend. ‘Take care on those mountains, because Herbert's about to work for
me
.'

Maybe...

He dusted the sand from Herbert and tucked him carefully into his pocket.

‘Come on, then, Herbert,' he told him. ‘I'll send you on to Tom when you've done your job here. But now
I
have need of you. Let's see what happens if we offer a lady a job.'

* * *

‘A job.'

Claire had walked her legs off. She'd been tired, her arm had ached, and finally she'd turned back. She'd known she had to face him some time. She might as well get it over with.

She'd found Raoul in the kitchen, flipping corn hotcakes. He had smiled at her as if nothing had changed. He'd asked politely about her walk and then watched in satisfaction as she'd eaten his hotcakes. Okay, she was discombobulated, but a woman could be discombobulated
and
hungry.

And then he'd said he wanted to offer her a job.

She stared at him, all six feet of gorgeous Prince, and felt herself cringe. What was he saying?

‘I don't think royal mistress has ever been one of my career choices,' she said carefully.

‘Who said anything about you being a royal mistress?'

‘I kissed you. I know it's dumb, but now it makes me feel smutty.'

‘You could never be smutty.'

He reached over the table to touch her face but she flinched.

‘Don't.'

‘Touching's out of order?'

‘Until I get my head around this, yes.

‘Claire, you're my friend. You're the woman who saved my life. You're also the woman who attracts me in a way I don't understand yet.'

‘You lied.'

‘I didn't lie,' he said evenly. ‘But neither did I tell you the truth. Why would I? It would have made a difference. If we'd lain exhausted on the sand after you helped me out of the water and I'd said,
By the way, I'm a prince,
wouldn't it have changed...everything?'

‘Yes.' She might as well be honest.

‘Well, maybe that was what my dumb attempt to sail in dangerous weather conditions was all about. For the last fifteen years I've been in the army. Working in a tight-knit unit with men and women focused on a common mission. I've been one of many. But the moment I return to Marétal—the moment I step out of army uniform—things will change. As they would have changed if I'd told you.'

‘I thought you were like
me
.'

‘How could I be like you? You're beautiful.'

She flushed. ‘Don't, Raoul.' She closed her eyes and he could see her trying to tear her thoughts away from the personal. ‘The SOS...' she said. ‘Your grandparents...'

‘They're the ruling monarchs. The King and Queen.'

‘So the heir to the throne is missing, presumed drowned?'

‘Probably presumed kidnapped,' he said grimly. ‘There have been threats. We haven't taken them too seriously—my country seems too small to attract terrorist interest—but now I'm missing they'll be being taken very seriously indeed. I can't imagine the resources being thrown into searching for me.'

‘But they won't think of here.'

‘They won't think I'm dumb enough to take out a boat without letting anyone know, and Tom doesn't know his boat is missing. I'll have a lot of humble pie to eat when I get home.'

‘So you're hoping a plane will come today?'

‘Yes,' he said gently, and made an involuntary move of his hand towards hers. And then he pulled back again. ‘I have to hope that—if just to stop the anguish of my grandparents and the money being spent on searching for me. But when I'm rescued... Claire, I'm asking if you'll come with me.'

‘To this job?'

‘Yes. Can I tell you about it?'

‘Oh, for heaven's sake...' She got up and filled the kettle, then took a long time to organise cups for coffee. ‘I must have been banged on the head. This isn't real.'

‘It
is
real. Claire, I can't leave you here. This place is unsafe. You have no radio transmission, and as far as I can see it could take weeks to get technicians here to fix the system.'

‘I can order a smaller unit...'

‘Which will come by the next supply boat—which might or might not arrive depending on the weather. And you'll still be alone. If you slipped on the rocks... If you swam...'

‘I won't swim. Are you crazy? The water's just above freezing.'

‘You're quibbling. It's not safe for you to be here and you know it. Don should know it. If you don't tell him then I will.'

‘Okay.' She turned to face him, tucking her hands behind her back like an errant child facing a stern teacher. ‘I shouldn't have come here,' she conceded. ‘Like you, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision and I accept it's not safe. So, yes, I'll lock up and go to Hobart—but that's as far as I'm going. You head back to your royal fantasy. And I'll...'

‘You'll what? Look for a job? I'm offering you one.'

‘Raoul...'

‘I won't let this go,' he said, steadily and surely. ‘Claire, this thing between us...I've never felt anything like it and I can't walk away. But I've scared you silly. Plus, it's too soon. We've been thrown together in extraordinary circumstances. If you were Sleeping Beauty I'd see you for the first time, fall in love with you on the spot and carry you away to my castle for happy-ever-after. But that story's always worried me. After the initial rush of passion, what if she turns out to have a fetish for watching infomercial television? Or women's wrestling? What if she insists on a life devoted to macramé?'

‘I don't know what macramé is,' she said faintly.

‘Exactly. And therein lies the brilliance of my plan.'

‘The job?'

‘The job,' he agreed. ‘Claire, I have a problem. I've upset my grandparents enormously. In three weeks there's a ball to celebrate their fifty years on the throne. I imagine that right now it's been cancelled, but as soon as I turn up alive my grandmother will resurrect it. She's indomitable.'

He paused. Claire handed him a mug of coffee. He took a sip and grimaced, as they both did when they tasted this coffee. There was nothing like caterers' blend to make you rethink your caffeine addiction. But even the truly awful coffee wasn't enough to distract him from what seemed such a nebulous plan.

‘And...?' she prodded.

She really shouldn't talk to him of the future, she thought. He was a royal prince. He had nothing to do with her.

Except she'd kissed him and she'd wanted him. Her body still did want him, regardless of what her mind was telling her. Was desire an excuse for keeping on talking?

‘I'm expected to have a partner for the ball,' he said in a goaded voice, and she decided she needed to stop wanting straight away.

‘So you're going to ask me?' she managed. ‘Cinderella.'

‘I told you—I don't buy into Cinderella.'

‘And I don't buy into balls. Or royalty. Or—on a basic level—being surrounded by people who think they've been born better than me.'

‘I would
never
think that.'

‘You don't need to. It's bred into your genes. You look down your aristocratic nose...'

‘That's insulting,' he said, suddenly exasperated. ‘Can you get off your high horse and listen to a perfectly good job offer?'

She thought about it, or tried to think about it, and then decided the only way to think about anything was not to look at Raoul.
Prince
Raoul, she reminded herself savagely, and she plonked her cup hard on the table, spilling about a quarter of the contents, and stared into what remained.

‘Shoot.'

‘Shoot?'

‘Go ahead. Tell me about your job so I can refuse and get on with my life.'

‘Claire...'

‘Talk,' she ordered. ‘I'm listening, but not for very long.'

CHAPTER EIGHT

B
UT
IN
THE
end she did listen.

In the end it sounded almost reasonable.

‘A couple of years ago one of the Australian soldiers I was on an exercise with told me about his son,' he told her. ‘The boy was faced with a lengthy jail term for being immature, gullible and in the wrong place at the wrong time. It seems the legal assistance service you worked for helped him escape conviction and gave him another chance. To my shame I'd forgotten it until you mentioned it, but I know we don't have such a service at home—legal help for those who can't afford lawyers. Claire, if I'm to return as more than a figurehead I'd like to institute a few reforms—reforms long overdue. I've never had the authority to make those changes, but maybe it's time for a line in the sand.'

‘A line...?'

‘You'd be the beginning of my line,' he told her.

She dared a glance at him and discovered he was smiling. She went back to her coffee fast. ‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean you would accompany me back to Marétal. You'd be greeted by my grandparents as the woman who saved the life of the heir to the throne. And I'll say I've offered you a job—investigating the need for such a service in our country.'

He held up his hand to prevent her instinctive protest.

‘Claire, hear me out. My idea is that you'd spend a month talking to our public services, talking to the people high up in the judicial system, assessing whether our system is similar enough to the Australian system for something like legal assistance to work. Given you'll have access via me to whoever you want to speak to, a month should be sufficient to give you an overview. And then you'd go home.'

She did raise her eyes then. She stared up at him in astonishment. ‘I'd go home?' she managed.

‘Once you've spoken to my people I'd ask—through diplomatic channels—that you have the same access to yours. Then I'd ask that you put forward a proposal for Marétal. It might be six months' work to put together such a proposal, but that six months...' He hesitated. ‘Claire, we could use it. We could just...see.'

‘See what?' She was having trouble speaking.

‘See where we are at the end of six months,' he told her. ‘See if we feel the same as we do now. See whether this relationship has legs.'

‘Legs...' she muttered, and managed a sort of smile. ‘Slang in how many languages?'

‘How many do
you
know?' He shrugged. ‘Claire, you're smart, you're strong, you have solid legal training and you know enough about the needs of low-income earners to be empathic. You're what our country needs.'

‘Others could do the job.'

‘I want you.'

And there it was, out in the open, staring at them like a two-headed monster.

I want you.

She could say the same.

She couldn't.

‘The ball...' she muttered, and he gave a slightly shame-faced grin.

‘That's the pay-off,' he told her. ‘A favour, if you like. Claire, I can't pretend there's nothing between us. There is. We both know it. If you come back to Marétal I won't deny there's an attraction.'

‘You think I'd move into your palace? Not in a pink fit.'

He grinned. ‘How did I know you'd say that? But my plan's more practical. We could find you a nice little apartment in the legal quarter of the city. You'd start work. There'll be a flare of publicity when we arrive, but it'll settle. It'll be suspected that we have a relationship, so there will be media interest, but it won't be over the top.' His grin turned a bit lop-sided. ‘I
have
had girlfriends before.'

She tried not to smile back. She tried really hard.

She failed.

‘Really?'

‘Really.' And then he did reach out and take her hand, and she knew she should pull back, but she couldn't. Not when it was Raoul.

‘And thus we come to the brilliance of my plan,' he told her, and she blinked.

‘Brilliance?'

‘I could escort you to the ball. My grandmother couldn't object because you're the woman who saved my life. She'll stop throwing society darlings at me for a while. She and my grandfather will have a wonderful ball, which they'll thoroughly enjoy, without my grandmother watching me every minute of the night to see who I'm dancing with. You'll get to wear a very beautiful dress—did I tell you I owe you at least a gown? And then you could go home.'

She stared at him blankly. ‘Home. To Australia. I don't get it.'

‘You should,' he said gently, and his hold on her hand tightened. ‘Claire, I think I'm falling for you,' he said. ‘But after this short time of course I can't be sure. To be honest, relationships have always scared me. I've been a loner all my life and I'm not sure I can stop being a loner. If you're feeling the least bit like I am you'll be feeling just as uncertain. Plus, the thought of royalty scares you. I'm not surprised—it still scares
me
. But this scheme gives us time. By the night of the ball you'll have had weeks in the country. Then there'll be the ball, which will be royalty at its most splendid. Afterwards you'll get on a plane and you'll spend a few paid months back in Australia investigating the intricacies of legal assistance on Marétal's behalf. And thinking about me—us.'

‘Thinking about you...us?'

‘That's my hope,' he said, and threw her one of those gorgeous grins that made her heart twist.

Oh, my...
Where were her thoughts? They were all over the place.
Think,
she told herself.
Stop sounding like a parrot and get real.

‘The whole idea's crazy,' she managed.

‘Tell me why.'

‘If you want to find out about our legal assistance scheme you should send one of your own people out here to see how it's done.'

‘I could,' he agreed. ‘But if I gave the job to any of my senior people they'd come with prejudices. They'd think they'd be doing the old school lawyers out of jobs, and the younger staff wouldn't have the clout to ask the right questions. Claire, you wouldn't be changing anything. All you'd be doing at the end of six months would be handing over a concept that our people could work with.'

Our people.
How had he suddenly transformed into a royal? she thought. Last night he'd been a soldier and her friend. Okay, being honest, he'd also—almost—been her embryo lover. Being honest with
herself
, if he'd taken her to bed she would have gone and gone willingly.

But today...

‘If I gave the job to any of my senior people...'

He was speaking as a prince. He
was
a prince. He was as far from her as the sun was from the earth.

He was holding her hand.

‘But why? Why me?' she demanded. ‘And why now? Surely this legal assistance scheme isn't a priority?'

‘It's not a priority,' he agreed. ‘But it is a real need, and it's my need, too. And I hope yours. Claire, it's not safe for you to stay on this island. You must see that. Soon we'll be taken off. When we do the eyes of the world will be on us. I'm sorry, but I can't stop that. In Australia I can't protect you from media hype. In my country I can—to an extent. The palace can call in favours. Yes, there'll be speculation, but we can live with that. The line is that I met you, I was impressed with your legal credentials...'

‘You don't know anything about my legal credentials.'

‘I do,' he told her. ‘How can I doubt that they're impeccable? Not only do I trust you, I can ensure the world will, too. Two minutes after we land in Hobart there'll be a legal suppression order thumped on the appalling Felicity and her friends. If one whisper of improper conduct comes out, your ex-firm will be faced with a libel suit so massive it'll make their eyes water. Claire, what I'm proposing is sensible, but it's not sense I'm talking. It's desire. This way you come back to my country. I won't be able to spend much time with you between now and the ball, but you'll see enough of me—and I'll see enough of you—to decide if we have the courage to take this thing forward.'

‘Courage...'

‘It
would
take courage,' he told her.

His fingers were kneading hers gently, erotically, making her feel as if she wanted to stop talking this minute and head to the bedroom while there was still time. But of course she couldn't. Raoul was talking sense and she had to listen.

Sense? To fly to the other side of the world with a royal prince?
Her?
Claire Tremaine?

Her head was spinning. The only thing grounding her seemed to be Raoul's hold on her hand, and surely she shouldn't trust that.

‘It would take courage,' he said again, as if he'd realised her mind was having trouble hearing, much less taking anything in. ‘But what I'm suggesting takes the pressure off as far as I can figure how to do that. You'd stay in my country until the ball. You'd dance with me as my partner.'

He gave another of his lopsided grins and she wished he hadn't. It made her... Well, it made it a lot harder for her to take anything in.

‘It would be a favour to me,' he told her. ‘It would take the pressure from me. It would make my grandparents happy...'

‘That you're dancing with a nobody?'

‘They can hardly think you're a nobody when you saved my life.'

‘Don't you believe it.'

‘Claire, stop quibbling,' he said, firmly now. ‘Because straight after the ball you'll have a return ticket to Australia. Ostensibly to research a legal assistance system on our behalf. No—
really
to research a legal assistance system. That will give you time to come to terms with everything you've seen and with how you feel about me. It will give us both time. You can return to Australia with a job to do and we can both take stock of how we feel. No pressure. Your call.'

No pressure.

No pressure?

Her head felt as if it was caving in.

‘You don't know what you're asking,' she managed, and he took both her hands then, tugging her so she was looking straight at him. What had happened to their coffee? Obviously that was what happened when you used caterers' blend, she thought tangentially. You got distracted by...
a prince
.

‘I
do
know what I'm asking,' he told her. ‘And it's a shock. To you, though—not to me. Claire, I knew the moment you pulled me from the water that your life had changed. You don't save royal princes and then get marooned on deserted islands with them for days without media hype. You
will
get media hype, and I'm sorry. But there's also this thing between us—this thing which I'm not prepared to let go. With my plan...I'm trying to rewrite the
Cinderella
story. I'm trying to figure how to get through this with your dignity as top priority. This way you'll come to the palace, you'll meet my grandparents, you'll see things as they are. Then you'll come to the ball as an honoured guest. And, yes, I'll dance with you—a lot—but in real life the Prince has to dance with others, because feelings can't be hurt. And you'll dance with others, too, because men will be lining up. And at midnight...'

‘Where's my glass slipper?' she said shakily, and tried to smile.

He smiled back. ‘That's where the plot changes to what it should be. At the end of the ball I'll put you back into your carriage, which won't turn back into a pumpkin, your luggage will be waiting and you'll take your return ticket back to Australia. I won't come hunting for you. You're your own person, Claire. If you take this job then you have months of secure employment, doing work my country needs. And then you can work out if you have the courage to return.'

‘Why...why would I return?'

‘Because, fast as this is, and even though I've known you such a short time, I suspect I'll be waiting for you.'

‘But no promises?' she said, fast and breathlessly, and he nodded.

‘No promises from either of us,' he told her. ‘Both of us know that. But this is a chance...our only chance...to wait and see. If you have the courage, my Claire.'

‘I'm not your Claire.'

‘No,' he agreed. ‘You're
your
Claire and the decision is yours. Will you come home with me and give us a chance?'

And what was a woman to say to that?

How could she look into those eyes and say no?

She might have courage, but her knees felt as if they'd sagged under her—and she wasn't even standing.

‘Claire?' he said softly, and put a finger under her chin and raised her face so her gaze met his. ‘Will you come with me?'

‘Yes,' she whispered, because there was no other response. ‘Yes, I will.'

* * *

And then the world broke in.

At two that afternoon a small plane swooped low over the island.

After four months of isolation the pilots of such planes, like the captains of the supply boats, seemed to have become Claire's friends. They weren't really. They were people doing their job. She couldn't talk to them, and she didn't even know their names, but she usually walked outside and waved. Sometimes they flew low enough so she could see people waving back.

They'd just finished lunch, a mostly silent meal during which too much seemed to be happening in their heads for talk to be possible. Raoul had talked of practicalities and Claire had listened, but mostly her head was full of one huge question.

What had she agreed to do?

The sound of the plane was almost a relief. She glanced out of the window and hesitated. ‘If I go outside and wave they'll think I'm okay,' she told him. ‘They might not even see the SOS.'