The Forbidden Prince. Alison Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ the touch of Rafe’s foot against hers under the table accidental? No. Judging by the gleam of mirth in his eyes, he was sharing a private understanding that the experience was not what the waiter might be assuming. It had been the lightest of touches...how come she could feel it all the way up her leg? Into an almost forgotten spot deep in her belly, even.

      Mika put her camera down to pick up the menu that had come with the drinks. ‘At least I got some good photos before it hit me. And I have my notes.’

      ‘You took notes? What kind of notes?’

      Oh, help... Mika had spotted the prices beside some of the dishes, like the pesce del giorno. Had they sent out their own boat to select the best fish the Mediterranean had to offer?

      ‘Um, oh, interesting things. Like, there’s a bit of confusion over whether that’s a monastery or a convent. The church, Santa Maria a Castro, was there first. It was donated to the Dominican Friars in 1599 and they were the ones who built the convent. And...um...’ She turned a page in the menu, distracted by the rumbling in her stomach. ‘What are you going to have to eat?’

      ‘Do you like pizza?’

      ‘Of course.’ Mika bit her lip. Did he really want to eat street food when there was so much more on offer? Or was he choosing the least expensive option because she had revealed too much when she’d said she’d waited a long time to get her flash camera? Had he guessed that she’d had to put so much effort into saving up for it? She could feel herself prickling defensively. She didn’t need looking after financially. She didn’t need looking after at all, in fact. Today had been an anomaly and it wasn’t going to happen again.

      ‘It goes with beer,’ Rafe said smoothly. ‘And they’re usually so big I don’t think I could eat one on my own.’ He shrugged. ‘I just thought that maybe we could share. How about this one? It’s got wild mushrooms, asparagus, caramelised onion and scamorza. Do you know what scamorza is?’

      ‘It’s a cheese. Similar to mozzarella.’

      ‘Sounds delicious.’

      It did. And suddenly it was what Mika wanted to eat more than anything else on the menu. That the shared meal would be so affordable was merely a bonus.

      Were they being watched by the staff? That might explain why—despite other tables being occupied—Rafe only had to glance up to have the waiter coming to take their order. But Mika couldn’t help the feeling that this man was used to having control of his life. That he was one of that golden breed of people for whom things happened easily.

      He had a problem now, though, didn’t he?

      He’d lost everything, she reminded herself.

      And it was her fault.

      * * *

      Raoul could feel himself relaxing.

      There’d been a moment when he’d thought the game was up because the maître d’ had recognised him when he’d followed Mika into this small restaurant, but it seemed that it had simply been deference to his being Mika’s male companion—an outdated assumption that he was in charge?

      Whatever. It wasn’t lost on Raoul that being in Mika’s company, with people assuming they were a couple, was actually a layer of going incognito that he could never achieve on his own. Not that he would ever use someone like that, but it was an unexpected bonus. Like her company. Not only was she so easy to talk to, but every new snippet he was learning about her was adding to an impression that he was with a rather extraordinary person.

      He didn’t even have to say anything to communicate with her. Just a glance from those dark eyes, that seemed too big for the small face that framed them, had been enough to answer his concern that she might not want to sit beside a window that looked out over the kind of drop that had triggered her vertigo. The deliberate nudge of her foot had rewarded him with another glance and that one had cemented a bond. They were the only people in the world who knew about Mika’s unfortunate experience up on that mountain track and it was going to stay that way. As far as anyone else was concerned, the journey would be memorable for ever because of the extraordinary view or the accomplishment of a not inconsiderable physical challenge.

      How often did you find somebody that you could communicate with like that?

      He’d seen it—between people like his grandparents, for instance—but they’d been together for decades and adored each other.

      He and Mika were complete strangers.

      Although, that strangeness was wearing off with every passing minute as he got to know more about her.

      He’d glimpsed a dream by the way she handled that camera and a note in her voice when she’d told him that owning it had been a long time coming. Was she planning a new career as a photographer, perhaps? He already knew how determined she was by the way she’d handled her desperation at being in the clutches of vertigo, so he was quite confident that she would find a way to achieve any dreams she had.

      Weirdly, it made him feel proud of her...

      He’d also seen her pride. He’d deliberately searched for the least expensive item on the menu because it was obvious that Mika didn’t have unlimited funds. He’d picked up on that, when she’d said she had waited a long time to own that precious camera, as easily as he’d been able to absorb communication from a glance. And he’d seen the way she’d reacted. It had reminded him of that curious little creature he’d come across for the first time when he’d been at his English boarding school—a hedgehog that curled itself into a ball to protect itself so that all you could see were prickles.

      But Mika had relaxed again now. And she could eat... There was real pleasure to be found in the company of a female who actually tackled food like a boy. There was no picking at a low-calorie salad for Mika. She was attacking her big slices of pizza with so much enthusiasm, she had a big streak of tomato sauce on one cheek.

      This was so different from anything he’d ever experienced. The only note of familiarity was the offer of the best table the restaurant had to offer—and another table would have been found, of course, for the discreet security personnel who were never far away. Photographers would have been shut outside for the moment but his female companion would have excused herself possibly more than once, to make sure she was ready for them later, to touch up her make-up and check that there were no stains on the figure-hugging evening gown she was wearing.

      Imagining any of those elegant women he’d dined with in the past with food on her face made it virtually impossible to hide a smile. Raoul also had to resist the urge to reach out and wipe it clean with his napkin. Or maybe just his thumb. He could imagine how the prickles would appear again if he did, though. He already knew Mika quite well enough to know that she would not appreciate being treated like a child.

      ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’

      ‘So good.’ Mika eyed the remaining slices of the pizza but reached for her beer first. She frowned at Raoul when she put her glass down. ‘What’s funny?’

      The smile had escaped. ‘You’ve got a moustache.’

      ‘Oh...’ With the back of her hand, Mika erased the foam above her lip. The gesture captured the streak of tomato sauce as well. ‘Better?’

      ‘Mmm.’ But Raoul was still smiling. He’d never sat a table СКАЧАТЬ