The Prince's Convenient Proposal
The stand-in fiancéeTo secure his country’s future, reformed playboy Prince Rafael of Montaigne needs a wife. A convenient marriage seems the ideal solution…until his fiancée disappears and Rafe must ask her identical twin sister, Charlie Morisset, to become his stand-in bride-to-be!Down-to-earth Charlie accepts Rafe’s convenient proposal—in exchange for the funds to save her baby’s sister’s life. Being swept in to a crazy royal whirlwind seems a small price to pay…until she’s finds herself falling for Rafe…a prince she knows she will have to walk away from…
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The stand-in fiancée
To secure his country’s future, reformed playboy Prince Rafael of Montaigne needs a wife. A convenient marriage seems the ideal solution...until his fiancée disappears and Rafe must ask her identical twin sister, Charlie Morisset, to become his stand-in bride-to-be!
Down-to-earth Charlie accepts Rafe’s convenient proposal—in exchange for the funds to save her baby sister’s life. Being swept into a crazy royal whirlwind seems a small price to pay, until she finds herself falling for Rafe—a prince she knows she will have to walk away from...
Charlie gave Rafe a rueful smile. ‘It wouldn’t work, though, would it? I’d give the game away as soon as I arrived in Montaigne and opened my mouth.’
His smile deepened. ‘We would try to limit the amount of time you needed to speak in public. It’s all about appearances, really. And when it comes to how you look, you certainly had me and my detectives fooled.’
‘But I haven’t agreed to this,’ Charlie said quickly. ‘It’s so risky. I mean, there’s so much room for things to go wrong. What will happen, for example, if Olivia doesn’t turn up before your cut-off date? I couldn’t possibly marry you.’
She went bright pink as she said this.
Rafe watched the rosy tide with fascination. This girl was such a beguiling mix of innocence and worldliness. But now wasn’t the time to be distracted…
BARBARA HANNAY has written over forty romance novels and has won a RITA® Award and an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award, as well as Australia’s Romantic Book of the Year. A city-bred girl, with a yen for country life, Barbara lives with her husband on a misty hillside in beautiful far north Queensland, where they raise pigs and chickens and enjoy an untidy but productive garden.
For Sophie and Milla.
Contents
WEDNESDAY MORNINGS WERE always quiet in the gallery, so any newcomer was bound to catch Charlie’s eye as she sat patiently at the reception desk. This morning, her attention was certainly caught by the tall, dark-haired fellow who came striding through the arched doorway as if he owned the place. He was gobsmackingly handsome, but it was his commanding manner that made Charlie almost forget to offer him her customary, sunny and welcoming smile.
A serious mistake. The cut of this fellow’s charcoal-grey suit suggested that he actually had the means to purchase one of the gallery’s paintings.
And, boy, Charlie needed to sell a painting. Fast. Her father, Michael Morisset, was the artist most represented on these gallery walls and his finances were in dire straits. Again. Always.
Sadly, her charming and talented, but vague and impractical parent was hopeless with money. His finances had always been precarious, but until recently he and Charlie—actually, it had mostly been Charlie who’d struggled with this—had managed to make ends meet. Just. But now, her father had remarried and his new wife had produced a brand-new baby daughter, and his situation was even more desperate.
Charlie was thinking of Isla, her new, too fragile and tiny half-sister, as she flashed the newcomer a bright smile and lifted a catalogue brochure from the pile on the counter.
‘Good morning,’ she said warmly.
‘Morning.’ His response was cool, without any hint of an answering smile. His icy grey eyes narrowed as he stopped and stood very still, staring at Charlie.
She squeezed her facial muscles, forcing an even brighter smile as she held out a brochure. ‘First time at the gallery, sir?’
Momentary surprise flashed in his eyes, but then he said, ‘Of course.’
Charlie thought she caught the hint of an accent, and his gaze grew even chillier, which spoiled the handsome perfection of his cheekbones and jawline and thick, glossy dark hair.
‘How are you, Olivia?’ he asked.
Huh?
Charlie almost laughed. He looked so serious, but he was seriously deluded. ‘I’m sorry. My name’s not Olivia.’
The newcomer shook his head. ‘Nice try.’ He smiled this time, but the smile held no warmth. ‘Don’t play games. I’ve come a long way to find you, as you very well know.’
Now it was Charlie’s turn to stare, while her mind raced. Was this fellow a loony? Should she call Security?
She glanced quickly around the gallery. A pair of elderly ladies were huddled at the far end of the large space, which had once been a warehouse. Their heads were together as they studied a Daphne Holden, a delicate water colour of a rose garden. The only other visitor, so far this morning, was the fellow in the chair by the window. He seemed to be asleep, most probably a homeless guy enjoying the air-conditioning.
At least no one was paying any attention to this weird conversation.
‘I’m sorry,’ Charlie said again. ‘You’re mistaken. My name is not Olivia. It’s Charlie.’
