‘What’s wrong with the economy?’ Her father had never spoken to her of it, presumably because it had been unnecessary. In her brief weeks as Queen, no one had mentioned the economy at all.
‘People have been lulled by complacency. It’s time you shook them awake.’ Rafe tilted his head, and his eyes narrowed a fraction. He remained a mystery in so many ways. Right now she couldn’t read him at all. ‘But enough. This weekend’s about getting away from all that. We have the good wine. The good company. What we need is the good food.’
He took a wooden board from a hook, set it in front of her with a knife and a bowl of mushrooms in what seemed to be a deft change of subject. ‘I’ve brushed off the detritus. Chop these into slices and we’ll eat soon.’
It was as if he’d deflected her question. Part of her felt dismissed, although another part didn’t want to contemplate right now what it took to run the country. She wanted to simply take a breath.Be.Time enough for the business of ruling Lauritania a bit later. It was only a few days.
‘What are we having?’ she asked, slicing through the mushrooms.
‘Not the cordon bleu of the palace. Something more rustic.’
‘I’ll let you in on a secret,’ she said, taking another sip of her wine before chopping more mushrooms. ‘That’s the type of food I wish I could cook.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘What did finishing school teach you if not how to feed yourself? It seems like the sort of basic skill a person should learn.’
‘Apart from flower arranging and correct placement of cutlery, I’m an expert on theatrical dishes like bombe Alaska or crêpes Suzette. Of course, if I want to eat anything other than extravagant desserts for the rest of my life, I’m doomed.’
‘Never with me. I’ll save you from starvation,’ he said with the flourish of a spatula and a grin that lit a glow inside her. Reminding her of the breathtaking man she’d craved with something of an obsession. He was handsome all the time, devastating when he smiled.
She put her hand to her chest. ‘My hero. In a palace with a kitchen full of chefs, you’re the one who’ll poach me an egg if I want it.’
He tossed some butter into a pan and it sizzled as he seared some sort of meat. Once that was done, she handed him a bowl of finely sliced mushrooms and he added them into the pan with an onion he’d already chopped.
‘I’m afraid my heroic status is a myth. I’ve never mastered egg poaching. Veal with mushroom cream sauce is more my style.’ Her mouth watered at the mere thought of that meal, and an appetite she’d forgotten resurfaced with a low grumble in her stomach. Lise took another sip of wine as Rafe drizzled some of his own into the pan and tossed the mushrooms with a practised skill.
‘Impressive,’ she said. And he was, in all ways. Commanding the kitchen, no doubt as he commanded the boardroom. And she realised she’d never really seen him in anything much other than business clothes. Not like this, in jeans with a casual shirt, cooking in a kitchen and looking...human. It was something of a shock to her system. She placed her now empty glass on the countertop and Rafe poured some more wine into it.
‘I could teach you.’
‘I think I’ll just watch.’ And she needed to watch him. This relaxed man, at ease with himself and in charge of everything around him, was a risk. She’d made commitments to herself. Nowhere in those was allowing him to slide under her skin.
He plated up the meal with a tidy twist of pasta and sprinkle of fresh herbs. Took both plates to an antique table, which carried the scars of many a meal prepared and eaten on its surface. In the centre sat a small cut-glass vase overflowing with wildflowers. A candle, which he lit. It looked cosy, romantic.
Dangerous.
‘This is...’Lovely.‘Unnecessary.’
‘We’re having a simple meal, Lise, that’s all.’
But there was nothing simple about this. The soft light. The warm room cocooning them. It was as if they were the only two people in the world. A world where they were not Queen and King of a whole country, but simply Lise and Rafe, rulers of the mountains. A tempting fantasy she had to ignore. TheywereQueen and King, and that reality would never change. She reached up and removed the beautiful grass and flower garland from her head as she sat, placing it on the table next to her.
Rafe raised an eyebrow, fixed her with a heated gaze. ‘Shame, you looked beautiful.’
She tried to ignore the delicious thrill that ran through her at his words.
‘One does not wear one’s crown to a private dinner,’ she said, in her most queenly tone, before taking a mouthful of food to avoid the moment. The rich flavour of mushrooms burst against her tongue. Lise caught a moan in the back of her throat. Rafe’s gaze turned incendiary.
‘You approve?’
She nodded, washed the mouthful down with another sip of wine. When had she last enjoyed anything she’d eaten? When had any food tasted more than dust on her tongue?
‘We make a good team,’ he said.
‘How so?’
‘Your mushroom-cutting skills are superlative.’
She laughed. ‘Who’d have thought that was a skill I needed to learn?’ She leaned back in her chair, relishing the food on her plate, the sharp edges of life softened by the wine in her ever-topped-up glass. After she finished, he cleared away and rinsed their plates. Wouldn’t let her help. Motioned to the couch that sat squashed and low in front of the flickering fire. He took another board with a slab of cheese and placed it on the hearth.