The Forbidden Prince. Alison Roberts

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       CHAPTER TWO

      IT WAS ONE of the things that Mika loved about Italian villages—that she could rock up to a place like this, in shorts and a singlet top, probably looking as weary and in need of a shower as she felt, and still be welcomed with a smile and gestures that suggested they had been waiting for her arrival.

      The change when Raoul entered the restaurant behind her was subtle but unmistakable. Instead of a welcome guest, Mika suddenly felt like a...a princess?

      ‘This way, sir, please; this is the best seat in the house. And you’re lucky. You get to catch the last of this magnificent sunset.’

      The whole wall of the restaurant was glass and the building seemed to be perched on the side of the mountain. It was the same view they’d had from the top of the Footpath of the Gods, only now the Mediterranean was on fire with red and gold light, and the islands way up the coast were dark, mysterious humps. It was a similar drop over a cliff right beside them, too, with no more than a low, railed fence outside the window and a roof or two of houses well below on the steep slope.

      The slight quirk of Rafe’s eyebrow along with the expression in those dark eyes was remarkably eloquent. He wanted to know if she was okay to be sitting, overlooking the drop. He would be more than happy to forgo the view if she wasn’t and he would request a change without embarrassing her by referring to her recent disability in public.

      It made Mika feel even more like a princess.

      No. It made her feel the same way that taking hold of his hand on the track had made her feel.

      Protected.

      Safe.

      She had to clear her throat to get rid of an odd lumpy sensation before she spoke.

      ‘This is gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Perfect.’

      The white linen tablecloth was more of a worry than the view, in fact. Along with the silver cutlery, and the way their host flicked open a huge napkin and let it drape over her bare legs told Mika that this was nothing like the café she currently worked in. Was it going to be horrendously expensive? She remembered those nice boots Rafe was wearing. How well he spoke English when his accent advertised that it wasn’t his first language. How the maître d’ had instantly recognised somebody that deserved respect. Mika suspected that Rafe had come from a far more privileged background than hers. He was probably quite used to eating in restaurants that had linen tablecloths and silver cutlery.

      Thank goodness she’d been paid yesterday.

      ‘I will bring you the menu,’ the maître d’ said, reaching out to light the candle on their table. ‘For drinks, also? We have a wide selection of the finest wines.’

      It was Mika’s turn to raise an eyebrow in Rafe’s direction. At least, that was what she intended to do, but as soon as her gaze met his she completely forgot and found herself smiling instead. Was he as amused by this as she was? Here they were, looking like scruffy tourists, and they were being offered a selection of the finest wines.

      ‘A glass of your house red, perhaps,’ Rafe said.

      ‘I’ll have a beer, please,’ Mika added. ‘A really cold lager.’

      With a nod, their waiter turned away. Mika glanced back at Rafe and this time her eyebrows did rise. He looked as though he was assessing something important. Something to do with herself? His face looked quite serious as he turned his head.

      ‘Excuse me,’ he called. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Can you bring me a beer, too, please?’

      It was a bit silly to feel so pleased about a simple change of drinks but it was as if Rafe was sealing their friendship in some way. Telling her that he liked her choice and was prepared to follow it.

      She liked him, she decided. It was a bit disconcerting that merely his presence could alter an atmosphere in a room, as if he had an aura of some invisible power, but she didn’t feel threatened by him in any way. Quite the opposite—and that was probably as disconcerting as how ridiculously good-looking that glow from the sunset through the window was making him seem.

      Nobody was that perfect.

      To cover the tumble of thoughts she had no intention of exploring, Mika opened her bag to take out her camera.

      ‘I’ve got to get a photo of this sunset,’ she told Rafe. ‘How stunning is that?’

      ‘It’s amazing,’ he agreed. ‘I bet we could see as far as Capri in the day time.’

      Mika wished she’d read more of the instruction booklet for her camera last night. She had to hope the settings were appropriate for the level of contrast out there.

      ‘Nice camera,’ Rafe said when she’d finished snapping.

      ‘I know.’ Mika sighed happily. ‘It’s a Nikon D4. Sixteen-point-two megapixels. It’s my new baby,’ she added quietly. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this.’ The first step to a new career. A new life.

      ‘You’re keen on photography?’

      ‘Mmm.’ Mika was scrolling through the photos she’d just taken. The dream of becoming a travel writer and supplying great photos to accompany her stories was too new and private to share. ‘Look...’ She tilted the screen of the camera towards Rafe. ‘These are the ones I took of the monastery on the way up the mountain.’

      He leaned forward and reached out to hold the other side of the camera as she kept scrolling.

      ‘These are great. I just stopped long enough to look at the view but you’ve captured so much more. That close-up of the stonework in the arch... And that hand-painted sign: Convento San Domenico,’ he read aloud. ‘Sentiero Degli Dei.’

      ‘Ah...you’ve walked our famous path.’ The waiter delivered tall, frosty glasses filled with amber liquid. ‘Sentiero Degli Dei—Footpath of the Gods. It is beautiful, isn’t it?’