The Forbidden Prince. Alison Roberts
as no more than reassurance that had really given him the sense of wildness about her. It wasn’t just the physical appearance that said she made her own choices or the fact that she was alone in a potentially dangerous place. It was that wariness of the touch, the hesitation in accepting contact from another human, that had been revealed by her body language when he’d offered to take her hand.
The trembling he’d felt when she’d finally accepted the offer.
Or perhaps it was the way she’d been doggedly following him even though it was clearly an enormous struggle. She’d been as white as a sheet when he’d turned to check on how she was doing. He could see that she was pushing herself beyond her limits but he could also see the determination that she wasn’t going to let it defeat her. Anger, almost, that she’d been beaten into submission. Like a wild creature that had been trapped?
Another hundred metres along this goat track of a path—past a rustic wooden sign with Praiano written on one side and Nocelle on the other—and Raoul could feel that the trembling in her hand had ebbed. The holding had all been on his part to begin with but now he could feel a return pressure from that small hand he was holding and it made him feel...good.
Protective. She hadn’t wanted him to touch her but she’d allowed it when she’d reached the end of her endurance.
She was trusting him and he wasn’t going to break that trust. He would look after this wild creature of a woman until he was absolutely sure she was okay.
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘It’ll wear off as soon as you don’t have that drop beside you.’
‘I know.’ It sounded like she was speaking through gritted teeth.
‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ he added. ‘Vertigo is like altitude sickness. It makes no difference how fit or strong you are. These things just happen.’
A tiny huff of sound suggested that Mika didn’t let things just happen to her and Raoul felt a flash of empathy. Imagine if it had happened to him. If he’d set out to discover the qualities in himself that would allow him to face his future with confidence and he’d been left helpless and totally dependent on the kindness of a stranger...
Oddly, he felt almost envious of Mika. Maybe it took something that dramatic to strip away every layer that life had cloaked you with. To face that kind of fear would certainly reveal any strengths or weaknesses. Maybe the kind of challenge he needed was something like Mika had just faced—something that you would never choose voluntarily.
But you couldn’t create one. Like the vertigo he’d told her about, it either happened or it didn’t.
He was facing an unexpected development, however—a small thing, compared to Mika’s challenge, but how on earth was he going to cope with losing that backpack? The clothing and toiletries didn’t matter but he’d lost his wallet, passport and phone. It would be easy enough to place a call from a public telephone to request help but, even if his grandmother said nothing, he would hear the subtext of ‘I told you so’. Going incognito to be a nobody in the real world was not something a prince should do. It wasn’t who he was.
Failure wasn’t an option. He just needed to come up with a new plan. Maybe he’d find inspiration by the time this walk was over.
The sigh he blocked after a few minutes of nothing remotely inspirational occurring seemed to transfer itself to Mika, as she pulled her hand from his.
‘I’m okay now.’
He’d been so lost in his thoughts that Raoul hadn’t noticed how the track had changed. They weren’t on a cliff edge any more. The path had widened and there were trees on either side.
A glance at Mika and the change he saw in her appearance was startling. She was still pale but the tension in her face and the panic in her eyes had gone. And, if that hadn’t made her look different enough, her mouthed curved into a grin that he could only describe as cheeky.
‘Stupid, huh?’
It was impossible not to grin back.
‘Not at all. Like I said, it can happen to anybody.’
‘It’s like a switch has been flicked off. Now that I can’t see the cliff, I’m fine.’ She ducked her head and when she looked up again there was something soft in her eyes. Something that made Raoul feel a flush of warmth like the tingle you got when you held cold hands out to a fire.
‘Thank you so much. I... I think you might have saved my life.’
‘It was my pleasure.’ The words were quiet but he meant every one of them. Oddly, he needed to clear his throat after he’d uttered them. ‘Let’s hope there are no more open parts to the track.’
‘I don’t think there are. We should get to the village of Nocelle soon and then it’s just a whole lot more steps down into Positano.’ Mika raised her eyebrows. ‘I wonder if the police station will still be open.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘So you can report the loss of your backpack. In case someone finds it.’
‘I think that’s highly unlikely. It didn’t look like the kind of cliff anyone would be climbing for fun.’
‘I can’t believe I did that. I feel awful.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Really...’
For a few moments they walked in silence. Dusk was really gathering now, and it was darker amongst the trees, so coming across a small herd of goats startled them both. The goats were even more startled and leapt off the track to scramble up through the forest, the sound of their bleating and bells astonishingly loud in the evening stillness.
‘Sorry, goats,’ Mika called, but she was laughing. She even had some colour in her cheeks when she turned towards Raoul. ‘I love Italy,’ she told him. ‘I might live here for ever.’
‘Oh? You’re not Italian, then?’
‘Huh? We’ve been talking English since we met. What makes you think I’m Italian?’
‘When I first heard you call for help, you spoke in Italian. And you’ve got a funny accent when you speak English.’
‘I do not.’ Mika sounded offended. ‘I can get by in Italian pretty well but English is my first language.’
‘So you are from England?’
‘No. I’m half-Maori, half-Scottish.’
‘You don’t sound Scottish.’
‘I’m not. I’m a Kiwi.’
Raoul shook his head. She was talking in riddles. Her smile suggested she was taking pity on him.
‘I come from New Zealand. Little country? At the bottom of the world?’
‘Oh...of course. I know it. I’ve seen the Lord of the Rings movies. It’s very beautiful.’
‘It is. What about you, Rafe?’
‘What about me?’ He was suddenly wary.
‘Rafe isn’t your real name, is it?’
The wariness kicked up a notch. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘You sounded like you were going to say something else when you introduced yourself, that’s all. Do you have a weird name or something?’ That cheeky grin flashed again. ‘Is Rafe short for Raphael?’
Relief that he hadn’t been unexpectedly recognised made him chuckle. ‘Um...something like that.’
‘Rafe it is, then. Are you Italian?’
‘No.’
‘How come you speak English with a funny accent, then?’
He had to laugh again. ‘I’m European. I speak several languages. My accent is never perfect.’
‘It’s