PRINCE RAOUL DE POITIER was standing in front of his bathroom mirror. A gilt-framed mirror that reflected just how completely the circumstances of his life had returned to normal. How different was this to the shared facilities of that boarding house, with the vastness of the private room, its generous showering and bathing facilities, countless soft, fluffy towels and a selection of skin products any pharmacy would be proud to display?
The aftershave he’d just splashed on his face still stung even though the beard was long gone. How long would it take for his skin to stop feeling oddly raw and exposed?
His heart still felt raw, too.
Unbelievably heavy.
And he didn’t like the man he was staring at in the mirror.
His journey of self-discovery had been a disaster. He’d learned something that he wasn’t sure he could live with.
That he was a man who could take someone’s heart and then crush it for the greater good of others.
Had he really believed—in his heart—that Mika had sold that picture and betrayed his identity? That she knew she’d fallen in love with a prince?
Of course she hadn’t. She had fallen in love with the man she believed him to be. An ordinary bloke by the name of Rafe.
He’d let his mind overrule his heart in that instant. Allowed himself to feel betrayed and then angry because that was the easiest escape route as the reprieve of an ordinary life had exploded around him.
He’d left Mika believing that he’d simply used her.
That he hadn’t really loved her.
And she deserved so much more than that.
But what could he do?
His duty.
As he had been doing ever since he’d been whisked back to Les Iles Dauphins, away from the media circus in Positano. The look of shock on the faces of his grandparents when he’d walked into the palace with his long hair and beard, wearing his shorts and the ‘I heart Positano’ tee shirt had told him just how far past acceptable boundaries he had wandered. The days that followed had been a matter of damage control and, thanks to a quick-thinking team of media experts and the unwavering support of his grandparents, what could have been a complete scandal had been turned around to make him some kind of hero.
A man of the people who, thanks to a courageous action, now knew exactly what it was like to be an ordinary person. He was someone who understood them and whom they could trust to rule them with compassion and wisdom.
But Raoul would never feel like a hero.
He had a million images of Mika imprinted on his mind and in his heart, but the only one he could hold in his hand was the one taken in that dreadful moment they’d been spotted at Pane Quotidiano. She had been wearing that white singlet top that was his favourite, because it showed off her gorgeous brown skin and revealed the tattoo that was a symbol of the sea that meant so much to her.
Dolphin blood...
The voice of the sea...
The way he could dance with her with only the music in their hearts to follow...
The mosaic tiles of his bathroom floor were not unlike the surface they had danced on in that old villa.
The house that Mika had thought a palace.
That she’d wanted to pretend to be living in. With him...
Dear Lord...he’d never known how much it was possible to miss someone.
Or maybe he had and that was why this was so difficult. It took him back to being that scared five-year-old, standing so stoically during the final farewell to his parents.
Doing his duty, even then, because he knew what was expected of him by so many people.
And today, he was about to take his next step into doing what was expected of him. Francesca was due to arrive later. It was time to propose. To make the engagement official. His mother’s ring was in a velvet case on his dressing table, waiting for him to slip it into his pocket. There would be a celebratory lunch and many, many photographs to go with the press release. There would also be the first of what would probably be many, many meetings to arrange their wedding—a train of events that there would be no possibility of stopping once it had begun.
The sensation of a ticking clock had never been so strong. He had to do something before it was too late. Something that would, at least, give Mika the comfort of knowing that he cared.
That he was truly sorry.
One of his personal assistants had his suit ready for him when he left the bathroom suite that adjoined his bedroom.
‘Their Royal Highnesses are taking breakfast in their suite,’ he was informed. ‘They would like you to join them.’
‘Of course.’ Raoul donned the crisp, white shirt and held out his wrists to have the cufflinks inserted. His favourite ones, which were gold, embossed with the image of a leaping dolphin.
His heart grew even heavier. It was like a very personal punishment that the symbol of his homeland was going to remind him of Mika every day for the rest of his life.
‘Pierre?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘I have a task for you this morning. I want you to source a camera. A Nikon D4—or something better if there’s a new model available.’
‘Certainly.’
Pierre was his most trusted assistant. Raoul would have described him almost as a friend, except that he now knew what real friendship felt like.
What true love felt like...
Pierre held out his jacket so that he could slip his arms inside the silk lining. ‘Are you becoming interested in taking up photography?’
‘No. It’s a gift. I want you to buy a range of lenses to go with it, too. And any other accessories that are recommended. And I want everything in a case. Gift-wrapped.’
‘No problem. Would you like me to arrange delivery, as well?’
‘Not yet. I need to think about that. It will need discretion.’
Pierre didn’t bat an eyelash. ‘Just let me know, then, Sir. I’m sure something can be arranged.’
* * *
The palace of Les Iles Dauphins was on a headland that gave it sweeping views of the Mediterranean and the suite of rooms that was his grandparents’ private domain had a terrace with the best view of all because you could see the royal beach—a tiny, private bay that could only be reached via the stone staircase from the palace gardens.
On a beautiful morning like this, the only thing that could disturb the clear blue of the calm water was the way the bay’s permanent residents greeted a new day. The joyful leaping of the small pod of dolphins that claimed this well-protected bay as their home base was such a pleasure to watch, it was no wonder that this was the preferred spot for Prince Henri II and his wife, Gisele, to take their breakfast.
There was something about the scene on the terrace that made Raoul pause for a moment before he joined them. His grandparents, as always, were sitting close together on both sides of a corner. At this particular moment, they weren’t eating or admiring the view, they were looking at each other. Smiling.
The heavy lump that was Raoul’s heart this morning twisted a little in his chest. He loved these people—his family—so much. And he loved that they still loved each other, after so many decades of being together. Remembering that they were both well into their eighties now was a poignant reminder that their time was limited, and as Raoul moved close enough to bestow his customary kiss on the soft skin of his grandmother’s cheek he made a silent vow to make the rest of that time as perfect as possible.
They had given him so much.
‘Good morning, Mamé... Papé.’ The childish names for his grandparents had never been relinquished in private. ‘It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’
‘Help yourself, darling.’ Gisele waved at the covered platters on the serving table behind them. ‘I ordered your favourite cheese and mushroom omelette.’
‘Can I get you something? More coffee?’
‘Some orange juice for Henri, perhaps. He hasn’t taken all his pills yet.’
His grandfather made a grumbling sound that suggested he didn’t need to be nagged but he winked at Raoul.
‘Big day for you, today,’ he said. ‘What time does the beautiful Francesca arrive?’
‘Late this morning.’
‘There’s a formal luncheon,’ Gisele added. ‘And photographs this afternoon. It’s in your diary, Henri.’
Raoul put the plate with its fluffy omelette and pretty roasted tomatoes in front of him at the table. He picked up his fork but then put it down again. He really wasn’t hungry. He sipped his coffee, instead, and watched as his grandmother arranged the morning medication for his grandfather, handing over each pill and watching carefully as it was taken. It was impossible not to notice the tremor in his grandfather’s hand and the way Gisele put each tablet into his palm with enough care that it wouldn’t be dropped.
‘Is there something wrong with the omelette, Raoul?’
‘No, Mamé. It’s perfect. I’m just not very hungry.’
‘But you’re losing weight. You haven’t been like yourself ever since you got home. I’m worried about you, darling...’
His grandfather reached out to pat her hand. ‘The thought of marriage makes any man a little nervous.’ He smiled at Raoul. ‘Don’t worry, lad. It gets better.’
But Gisele looked anxious. ‘It is a big step. And so close to your coronation. Is it too soon? We haven’t finalised the date. Francesca’s grandmother is one of my oldest friends and I’m sure we could arrange for it to be delayed...’
Raoul saw the glance his grandparents exchanged. A delay wasn’t something they wanted and he could understand why. These two had been together since before Henri had become the ruling Prince of Les Iles Dauphins. He had always had the loving support of his wife by his side.
They wanted the same thing for him, didn’t they?
That support was something that came naturally when you loved someone. Mika could have given him that. As he would have given her...
Would delaying his marriage change how he felt?
No. It would make things worse because he’d have more time to imagine a very different future. With Mika as his princess. Sitting out here, one day in the future, having breakfast and watching dolphins play...
‘What’s the secret?’ The question came unexpectedly. ‘For a happy marriage?’
‘Respect,’ his grandfather said.
‘Love,’ His grandmother smiled.
‘Were you both in love when you married?’
‘In love?’ His grandfather grunted. ‘Stuff and nonsense.’
But Gisele’s eyes twinkled. ‘Oh, yes, we were. You couldn’t keep your hands off me, Henri.’
A huff of surprised laughter escaped Raoul. ‘Too much information, Mamé.’ His laughter faded. ‘You chose each other, though, didn’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your marriage wasn’t arranged.’
‘That’s true,’ Gisele murmured. ‘I was his mother’s secretary. It was all a bit of a scandal, really.’
‘But everybody forgave you, didn’t they? Because they knew how much in love you were?’
‘Oh... Raoul...’ Gisele’s words were no more than a sigh.
A coffee cup rattled loudly as Henri tried to put it down on its saucer. ‘Are you saying you don’t want your marriage to go ahead?’
The coffee had spilled onto the tablecloth. His grandfather was suddenly looking older. Almost grey. Unwell...?
Raoul backed off from whatever he might have been about to say. ‘Francesca is beautiful. She’s already a princess. She’s an ideal choice.’
‘But not your choice.’ His grandmother’s faded blue eyes looked suspiciously bright. ‘You’re not in love with her...’
‘In love.’ Henri’s words were dismissive. ‘Stuff and nonsense. It’s no more than lust.’ The old Prince was rubbing his chest with one hand. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet, leaning on the table as he did so.
‘Are you all right, Papé?’ Raoul was alarmed. ‘You don’t have a pain in your chest, do you?’
‘I’m fine. I’ll see you...and Francesca...at luncheon.’
Raoul caught his grandmother’s gaze.
‘I’ll go,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll call the doctor.’ She paused to touch Raoul’s head as she passed. ‘It’ll be all right,’ she added. ‘Don’t worry...’
* * *
That Gisele chose to join him in what was supposed to have been a private meeting before lunch was more than a surprise to Raoul. How was he supposed to propose with an audience?
‘Is something wrong? Is it Grand-père?’
His grandmother took a seat beside Francesca, opposite him, on a matching small, overstuffed couch.
‘He’s resting,’ she said. ‘The doctor thinks it was his angina. He needs to use his spray more often.’ She turned to smile at Francesca. ‘How are you, my dear? I’ve just been having such a lovely chat to your grandmother.’
‘Oh?’ Francesca’s smile wavered.
Raoul frowned. This meeting had been going well. He and Francesca had a lot in common and, while things felt a little awkward still, they just needed more time to get to know each other better. He liked her and she seemed to like him.
They hadn’t got near discussing the really important business between them but it had been a good start.
‘You’ve done so well in your studies,’ Gisele continued. ‘I didn’t realise how close you were to graduating as a doctor.’
Francesca bit her lip. ‘I’ve arranged to take leave from my studies. I’m hoping I can finish them one day and, while I know I could never practise as a physician, I hope I can become involved with the health systems in both our countries.’
‘It’s your passion, isn’t it?’
Francesca looked down at her hands. She spoke quietly. ‘I’ve been brought up to understand my position in life and my duty—to both my family and my country. I would never do anything to harm the people I love.’
She raised her head to look at Raoul and he could see a determination that reminded him so much of Mika that he had to smile back. He could respect that.
‘But what about Carlos?’
Francesca turned her head with a gasp. ‘Oh...my grandmother swore she would never say anything...’
Raoul blinked. ‘Who’s Carlos?’
Gisele patted Francesca’s hand. ‘Another passion, I think.’
Francesca’s eyes filled with tears as she looked back at Raoul ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I would never have said anything. And it’s over now. It had to be...’
Raoul’s smile was gentle. ‘I understand. Believe me...’
‘Of course he does,’ Gisele said. ‘Now, I’m going to leave you two to have a talk. Just bear one thing in mind. Anything is possible.’ She was smiling as she got to her feet. ‘Just look at what Raoul managed to do in his time away. And how well it was handled. Everybody understands true love.’
The silence in the room grew louder as he and Francesca sat there, both more than a little stunned.
‘What did she mean?’ Francesca asked finally.
‘I think she knows more than I realised,’ Raoul admitted. ‘I... I met someone while I was away.’
‘You’re in love with her?’
Raoul swallowed. And then nodded. He cleared his throat. ‘And you’re in love with...with Carlos?’
The glow in her eyes was more than enough to confirm it.
‘But you were going to go ahead and do your duty and marry me?’
It was Francesca’s turn to nod.
He had been going to do the same thing but this changed everything, didn’t it?
If there was one thing that Raoul had learned from his escape from his real life, it was that he was, at heart, a good man. Someone who could love, nurture and protect. A man who could trust his instincts about what was right and wrong.
And this was wrong. Was that the message his grandmother had been trying to leave him with? That it was possible to follow his instincts? That anything could be managed and forgiven in the name of true love?
‘We both have a position in life that carries a huge responsibility,’ he said slowly. ‘A duty to do the best for all those that we are responsible for.’
‘Yes.’ Francesca’s head was bowed. ‘I’m only twenty-five,’ she whispered. ‘But I feel like a parent. One with many thousands of children.’
‘Have you flown anywhere recently?’
‘What?’ Her head jerked up. ‘Of course... I flew here. What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I don’t mean on a private jet. I meant on an ordinary commercial flight.’
‘Oh, yes. I’ve done that.’
‘Did you watch the safety briefing?’
Francesca’s eyes were wide and puzzled.
‘They tell you what to do if an oxygen mask appears,’ Raoul continued. ‘They tell you that you should put your own on before you help others.’ He took a deep breath. ‘We have a duty to many people, Francesca, but we also have a duty to ourselves. To make sure that we are in the best position to do our best for others.’
‘You mean...?’ Her words died but he could see the birth of hope in her eyes.
‘I mean that you should be with the person you love,’ Raoul said softly. ‘And so should I...’
* * *
The private helicopter with its royal insignia touched down in Positano late that afternoon. Carrying the heavy, beautifully wrapped parcel, Raoul and his bodyguards made their way as discreetly as possible to the Pane Quotidiano.
Marco was sitting at his usual table on the pavement. His jaw dropped when he saw the group approaching.
‘I’ve come to see Mika,’ Raoul told him. ‘I...have something for her.’
‘She’s...ah...she’s not here.’
Others had noticed his arrival. Bianca came outside.
‘She’s gone,’ she told Raoul.
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.’ Bianca shook her head. ‘She just vanished. Days ago. I went to her room when she didn’t show up one day but it’s empty. She’s gone...’ She touched Raoul’s arm. ‘You have to find her,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s important.’