She wasn’t ready to face the media yet and the thought of cameras aimed at Matty was unbearable. ‘But you will come back?’
‘Of course I’ll come back.’
‘Thank you,’ she said simply and, as Pete moved up the hill to deflect the dozen or so men and women walking purposefully towards them, she crossed the little bridge over the creek and carried Matty away. Hoping the media had been too far away to guess that she and Rafael had been together.
The Chinese camp was just behind them. Yan, the camp guide, was a personal friend.
‘Can I take Matty through the Joss house?’ she demanded and Yan stepped aside. The inside of the Joss house was a sacred place, out of bounds for anyone but worshippers.
‘Go,’ he said without asking questions, his eyes flicking to the group of men and women clustering about Rafael. Shouting questions. Lifting cameras high and taking photographs over people’s heads.
She went. But before Yan closed the gate behind her she turned with Matty in her arms to take a last glimpse of Rafael.
Royalty.
She wanted no part of it.
She had a part of it. He was in her arms right now, tense and frightened and to be protected at all costs.
Her Matty. Her son.
The only person standing between Matty and the media—between Matty and the world—was Rafael.
A de Boutaine.
Her world was upside down.
‘Let’s go underground for a while,’ she whispered to Matty as she fled out through the back entrance.
‘I don’t think I want to go underground,’ Matty said and Kelly thought, neither do I.
She’d had five years of being underground.
Maybe it was time to emerge.
Maybe she had no choice.
THEY explored the goldfields until Matty’s legs gave out. He was cheerful, interested and polite. They ate their dinner early—a damper they’d made together and a thick Irish stew. Kelly settled him into her big bed and his eyelids drooped.
Fatigue was sapping his courage. He was half a world away from his people.
‘I want Uncle Rafael,’ he murmured.
‘He’ll come,’ Kelly said. ‘But he said he might not be able to return until late. I’ll have him come in here and say goodnight the minute he arrives.’
‘Do you promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘I miss Aunt Laura,’ he said fretfully. ‘I miss Ellen and Marguerite. I want to go home.’
Her heart twisted. Home. Home was where the heart was.
Her home was right here. Her home was with this small boy, who was so alone.
The Crown Prince of Alp de Ciel.
‘Let me read you a story,’ she said, and she found an ancient book she’d loved when she had been his age, a book she’d held on to just in case, just in case…
The Poky Little Puppy.
The book was battered and dog-eared. It had been given to her by her grandmother when she had been just Matty’s age. She’d loved it.
So did Matty. He relaxed, snuggling into his pillows. She so wanted to lift him into her arms, to cuddle him to sleep, but she knew he wasn’t ready for that. She was a stranger even if she was his mother.
She had to get to know him slowly.
Could he stay on the diggings with her?
‘My Aunt Laura will like this story,’ Matty murmured sleepily. ‘Can you read it to Uncle Rafael when he comes?’
‘I…yes.’
He had his own people. His own family.
Where did she fit in?
She didn’t know.
He came at nine p.m., after she’d almost given up on him. She’d expected a call from security at the gate, but instead there was a soft knock on the door.
She opened it and there he was.
But it wasn’t the Rafael she’d seen before. This was… This was…
His Royal Highness, Prince Rafael, Prince Regent of Alp de Ciel. He was wearing full dress regalia. A deep blue-black suit, immaculately cut. A slash of gold across his chest. Rows of medals and insignia at his breast and a dress sword at his side.
She took an instinctive step back. Kass…
‘Gorgeous, aren’t I?’ he said and any resemblance to Kass flew out of the window. Kass, laughing at himself? No way.
‘I…yes. Very pretty,’ she managed and he grinned.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Where’s the rest of the royal entourage?’
‘I gave them the slip,’ Rafael said. ‘You have no idea how much trouble I had getting back here.’
‘Maybe jeans and a windcheater might be more appropriate for creeping round after dark.’
‘Yes, but I wouldn’t have had my sword for coping with bogeymen.’ He grimaced down at his gorgeous self. ‘Don’t worry, Kelly. I hate this as much as you do. Politics demanded that I bring it, however, and politics demand that I talk to you now. Can I come in?’
She stood wordlessly aside as he walked in, hauled his jacket off, unbuttoned the top three buttons of his stiffly starched shirt and set his sword by the door.
Royalty off duty.
‘So you thought you might change into dress uniform… why?’ she asked faintly as he opened the fire box on the stove and held his hands out for warmth.
‘Press conference and hastily organised civil reception,’ he said briefly. ‘With your mayor. You can’t imagine how excited everyone is.’
‘Um…why?’
‘Alp de Ciel is known for its gold-mining,’ he said blandly. ‘We’ve heard that this is the best theme park in the world for showcasing historical events. What could be more natural than the Prince Regent of Alp de Ciel—needing a little breathing-space from the demands of his royal duties—doing a little exploring?’
‘They
