‘You’ve found one of my favourite places here,’ he said, pointing to the valley. ‘The church is where generations of my family were married...and buried. I started my schooling in the village.’
‘And now you rule all you survey.’
The corner of his mouth curled to a wry grin. ‘This is my true home. I always believed I ruled here. The invincibility of youth.’
She stared out over the landscape. Not looking at him because his presence was a palpable thing that slipped under her skin, filling her with the pulse of desire. She craved to lean into Rafe’s warmth and strength, absorb some into herself.
‘It’s somehow easier to think, up here,’ she said. She breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in weeks. It was as if here, away from the capital, her knotted thoughts unspooled.
‘And what are you thinking about?’
She might not be able to sink into his arms but surely she could share some of her fears? For all his faults and scheming, he had never failed to make her feel...worthy. One of the few people who ever did, and in a way she had truly believed. Lise sat up, plucked a long blade of grass from before her and wound it round her finger.
‘How can I rule a country when I was never shown the way? My purposes were only decorative. This role requires more than simply smiling and waving or cutting ribbons.’ She cast the now crushed strand of grass away and hugged her knees to her chest. Of course, she wasn’t simply planning to rule the country, but to move it towards a future without her or a royal family. Never again would someone be forced to take on a role they didn’t aspire to simply because of a quirk of birth. To be forced to marry...
‘Don’t say that.’ Rafe’s voice was strong and sure. ‘You may not have been trained as Queen, butyou’vetrained. To push through pain and fear to win. Don’t forget your skiing. You were slated to make the European championships. It shows a strength and commitment to succeed that others didn’t display. You have a determination inside yourself. No one can take it away from you.’
‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘Was competition easy?’
She shook her head. It was gruelling and exhilarating and terrifying, but never easy.
‘There’s your answer.’
She turned to him and looked at his hands, his strong, capable fingers weaving the final touches to a wreath of grasses and wildflowers.
‘What’s that?’
‘I used to have to make garlands for the cows in our autumn village festival, celebrating their descent from the mountains for winter.’
‘You’re making a cow crown?’
He chuckled and the warm, throaty sound rippled right through her.
‘If I’m King of these mountains,ruling all I survey, then I need a queen.’ Rafe held the wreath up to her cradled in his palms, then reached out and placed it gently on her head. ‘And now, I have her.’
Something inside, a hard veneer that she’d shellacked over her heart, softened and cracked a little. The well of emotion, dangerously like hope, threatening to spill over inside her. ‘It’s so much lighter than the real thing.’
Rafe cocked his head, his gaze intent and assessing. ‘You wear both crowns well, Lise. Never forget.’
Over his shoulder, a star winked on in the sky. She hadn’t realised how quickly the sun was sinking below the horizon. This moment full of magic, she didn’t want it to end. Just the two of them sitting here. Rafe and Lise. King and Queen of the mountains. In the fading light the breeze picked up and cut through her. She shivered.
‘Come.’ He stood up and held his hand out to her. She slipped her cool hand into his, engulfed by the heat of his palm as he helped her to her feet. How easy this was, to go to him. Hold hands and walk together towards the house as a real couple might. ‘It’s getting late and, even though the path is well worn, being out in the mountains at night can be treacherous. I also have dinner to make.’
Rafe released her hand as they entered the house. She immediately missed its warmth, the sense of comfort he provided. He kicked off his shoes at the door then moved to the rustic kitchen, with its copper pots and knots of herbs and garlic hanging from the ceiling. Rafe eased a cork from a bottle of wine. Poured a glass and slid it across the counter to her. Poured one for himself and raised it as if in a toast.
‘Here’s to a simple life. Good food, good wine, good company.’
She turned and toasted too then took a sip of the crisp, fragrant white. ‘Well, we have one here. The wine’s superb.’
He bowed. ‘My latest acquisition.’
‘But it’s made by the oldest winery in the country.’ They were world renowned and had won international awards. The business had been run by the family for close to a century. ‘Why would they sell?’
Rafe crossed his arms, his biceps bulging in a distracting way as he did.
‘They were crippled by red tape, lack of government assistance and cheap imports. There’s been no care taken for the businesses that made our country great. They’re being lost to overseas interests. I’ve been fighting to stop that happening. Maybe we can change the decline together? Reinvigorate the economy.’