A Royal Proposal. Barbara Hannay

a jolt to her senses. To make matters worse, he reached for her hand.

      Ridiculous tingles shot over her skin.

      ‘Did your shopping expedition go well?’

      ‘Yes, thanks. Monique—was very helpful.’ Although Charlie was miserably aware that tongues would be wagging at Belle Robe.

      ‘Something very strange has happened to Olivia Belaire, the Prince’s fiancée. I think she must be unwell. She looked very pale.’

      ‘Can you believe she wanted to pay for the clothes with cash? And then she didn’t have enough.’

      At some stage this evening she would have to confess to Rafe that she’d needed to use his money as well, but she was sure she should leave it until after the dinner.

      Rafe must have noticed her distress. He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘I think you need jewellery to set that dress off. Sapphires perhaps?’

      Charlie gulped, touched a hand to her bare throat. Before she could answer, Rafe was summoning Jacques, his right-hand man—or perhaps his valet, Charlie wasn’t sure—telling him to bring the single-strand Ceylon sapphires.

      ‘Don’t look so worried,’ Rafe told her as the man hurried away. His smile was a little puzzled. ‘I’ve never met a woman who didn’t like shopping or jewellery.’

      Charlie shrugged. ‘If you transplant an ordinary Aussie girl into a fairy-tale European kingdom, you’ve got to expect a few surprises.’

      Rafe’s eyes gleamed as he smiled. This time he lifted her hand to his lips. ‘Touché,’ he murmured.

      To Charlie’s dismay, he left a scorch mark where his lips touched her hand.

      * * *

      The sapphires were promptly delivered and they were perfect to complement the simple lines of her sky-blue dress—a single strand of deep blue oval stones surrounded by delicate clusters of tiny white diamonds and set in white gold.

      ‘Allow me,’ Rafe said, lifting the necklace and securing it around Charlie’s neck.

      The skin around his eyes crinkled this time when he smiled. ‘Perfect,’ he said softly. ‘Oh, and there are matching earrings. You might like to wear them as well. Take a look in the mirror.’

      Charlie was a little stunned by her reflection. Who was this elegant creature?

      But her cheeks were flushed pink and her fingers fumbled as she tried to fit the earrings to her lobes. Crikey, she had to calm down or she’d drop a royal sapphire and have the Prince of Montaigne down on his knees, searching for it in the thick carpet.

      At last the earrings were secure.

      ‘You look like a princess,’ Rafe told her.

      Yes, it was amazing what expensive clothes and jewellery could do for a girl. Charlie drew a deep breath. Tonight she would have to pretend that she was a princess-to-be. Princess Charlie or, rather, Charlotte.

      What a laugh.

      Any urge to laugh soon died when Rafe took her hand again. She was super-aware of his warm, naked palm pressed against hers, of his long fingers interlaced with hers, as he led her down the formal staircase to greet their guests.

      She kept her smile carefully in place and concentrated hard on remembering everyone’s names as she was introduced, but the task would have been a jolly sight easier if her pretend fiancé hadn’t kept touching her. For Rafe, it meant nothing to place a hand at her elbow, on her shoulder, at the small of her back. For Charlie, it was intensely, breath-robbingly distracting.

      * * *

      The castle’s dining room was a long rectangular space decorated with rich red wallpaper as a background for impressive paintings and gold-framed mirrors. An enormous picture window with a spectacular view of the valley took up most of the far wall. The table was exquisitely set with candles and flowers, gleaming silver and shining glassware, and everything was arranged so perfectly that Charlie could imagine a ruler had been used to align the place settings.

      Throughout the delicious four-course meal, Rafe conversed diplomatically with his important guests, but his eyes constantly sought Charlie out. Many times he sent her a smouldering smile across the table.

      She knew his smiles weren’t genuinely flirtatious. He was playing the role of an affectionate fiancé for the sake of their guests. So, of course, she tried to remain cool and collected, to pay studious attention to the conversations all around her. Actually, she had no choice but to pay very careful attention, because everyone spoke rather rapidly in French and she could only just keep up with them. And she tried hard to not let Rafe’s sexy smiles affect her too deeply.

      Unfortunately, her body had a mind of its own, firing off heat flashes whenever her gaze met Rafe’s across the table. It didn’t help that she was terribly worried about the conversation she must have with him as soon as his guests had departed.

      * * *

      It was late when everyone finally left. Much to Charlie’s amazement, the men had withdrawn to linger over coffee and cognac—she thought that kind of antiquated custom had gone out with the ark.

      ‘This is when the men settle their important business,’ one of the wives told her as their coffee was served. ‘They’re all so worried about this Leroy Mining Company.’

      ‘While we just want to gossip,’ said another woman, an attractive brunette.

      Seeing their expectant smiles, Charlie was suddenly nervous again. Were these businessmen’s wives expecting her to supply them with gossip? What would Olivia have done in her shoes? She hadn’t a clue.

      She didn’t even know if these women had known Olivia.

      ‘I’m all ears,’ Charlie said, managing an extra-bright smile, despite the roiling tension in her stomach.

      For a moment the women looked baffled. Clearly, this wasn’t the response they’d expected. They were hoping for news from her, but just when things were about to get very awkward one of the women laughed, as if Charlie had actually cracked a wonderful joke, and then the others joined in.

      After that, knowing it was her duty as hostess to lead the conversation, Charlie asked them if they were coming to the ball on the night after next and it seemed that all of them were. From then on, she was fielding questions about which band would be playing on the night of the ball and whether Princess Maria or Countess von Belden had been invited.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve been visiting my mother In Saint-Tropez and I’ve left all those arrangements to Rafael.’

      * * *

      Somehow, she got through the interrogation without too many sticky moments. She wondered if Rafe had ensured that the guests were first-timers who hadn’t met her sister. Even so, the night was an ordeal. She was battling jet lag and she was almost dropping with exhaustion. This ‘princess’ gig was so much harder than it looked from the outside.

      She was sure Rafe must be tired, too, but after the guests left he still came to her room, as he’d warned her he must, for his expected ‘nightly visit’.

      ‘Thank heavens that’s over,’ he said, taking off his coat and carelessly draping it on the end of a sofa, then flopping into the deep cushions and loosening his tie and the buttons at his throat.

      Charlie hadn’t meant to stare as he performed this small act, but everything about the man was so utterly eye-catching. She found herself mesmerised by the jutting of his jaw as he loosened his collar, by the sudden exposure of his tanned throat, and even the way he sat with his elbows hooked over the back of the sofa, his long legs sprawled casually.

      Everything about this Prince was super-attractive and manly.

      Rafe caught her watching him. She looked away quickly, cheeks flaming, and then tried to make herself comfortable as she sat on the opposite sofa. But it was