had searched the world for her. She’d been turned into the wicked princess, reviled by all.
To have photographers here now…
‘Not yet,’ Rafael said. ‘At least I hope not. I hope it’s just that they’ve tracked me down. They’ll assume Matty’s at home in Alp de Ciel.’
‘What have you told them? Do they know you’re letting me have access to Matty?’
‘I’ve told them nothing,’ he said, looking grim. ‘But it’s not going to last.’
‘What’s going on?’ Pete demanded, bewildered.
‘It’s private,’ Kelly said urgently, but she knew Pete’s brain was forming questions more quickly than his mouth could ask them.
‘They’ll find us soon,’ she whispered.
‘Yes, but I’ll buy time.’ Rafael shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Matty,’ he said. Matty had straightened from his panning and was looking bewildered. ‘It’s the press,’ he said, as if that explained all, and Kelly could see that the words were meaningful to her little son. He’d been hounded by the media in the past, then. ‘I need to go.’
‘Will I come with you?’ Matty drew himself up and Kelly had a flash of recognition. This was a prince in training. His shoulders came back and he met Rafael’s look directly. ‘Do they wish to talk to me?’
‘They might eventually,’ Rafael conceded. ‘But your job here is to protect your mother. If it’s okay,’ he said to Kelly, ‘I’ll leave—I’ll give them some sort of interview and try to deflect them—and come back when the park is closed. Matty, is that okay with you?’
‘Y-yes,’ Matty said but his bottom lip trembled again. He really was a very little boy.
‘We’ll have fun,’ Kelly said, stooping to look directly into his eyes. ‘Matty, we can go down a gold-mine. We can play tenpin bowling with old wooden skittles. Do you know how to bowl?’
‘Y-yes.’
‘We can learn how to make damper—it’s a lovely type of bread that’s really Australian. Then we can go back to my little house and sit by the fire and read books. Before you know it, your Uncle Rafael will be back.’
‘I want my Aunt Laura,’ Matty quavered, and Kelly couldn’t help herself. She gathered him to her and hugged. His little body was stiff and unyielding.
‘They’re coming this way,’ Pete said urgently and Rafael looked up the hill and swore.
‘Damn, I…’
‘Just go,’ Kelly said, holding Matty tight. ‘Please.’ 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.
CHAPTER THREE
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.
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