A Royal Vow Of Convenience: The steamy new romance from a multi-million selling author

His princess under the covers...

The whirr of helicopter blades announcing the return of her new boss sends Sophie scurrying back to the kitchen. Little does she know that fleeing from royal scrutiny will place her under the devastatingly searing gaze of notorious billionaire Rafe Carter.

Having resisted his cook for days, a secret midnight swim sends Rafe’s senses into overdrive and he can’t resist a taste of the forbidden. But the press descend when Sophie’s identity is shockingly revealed, and Rafe is duty-bound to rescue the beautiful princess...with a convenient vow.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Rafe said, with a disdainful curl of his lips. ‘I haven’t come here for sex.’

‘Oh? Then why have you come here?’

Sophie tilted her chin in a defiant gesture and suddenly Rafe wondered how he could have been so dense. Of course she was someone—hadn’t that been apparent from the start? A diamond in the rough—that had been his initial reaction on seeing her, and he had been right. And when he stopped to think about it, her high-born status had been apparent in every gesture she made. It had been there in the way she moved and the way she walked. In her flawless skin and heart-shaped face and in the thick, lustrous bounce of her hair. She was a princess. Of course she was. A runaway virgin princess who had chosen him as her first lover.

‘I’m still trying to get my head around what happened last night,’ he said. ‘And wondering if there’s anything else you’ve omitted to tell me.’

‘Like what?’ she questioned nonchalantly.

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘Why do women find it impossible to give a straight answer? I’m talking about the fact that you’re a princess—and that the world’s press know you’re here.’

‘No...’ she whispered, her fingers moving from her neck to her lips.

‘Yes. So you’re going to have to come to England with me.’

Dear Reader,

Every book is special. The characters become totally real to me and by the time I write ‘THE END’ I hate to leave them. But this book is extra-special because it’s my 100th, and although I wanted to mark that in some way I didn’t know how until—a friend said, ‘Why don’t you go back to where it all started?’

Go back? What a tantalising thought. Go back to Australia, which was the setting for my very first book, about a nurse who fell in love with a doctor.

This story is very different. My heroine is a runaway princess, seeking to escape her gilded world—a world in which she has been humiliated. She’s chasing anonymity and peace and she finds both on a cattle station in Queensland. Until sexy billionaire Rafe Carter arrives unexpectedly and suddenly everything is threatened.

The story moves to snowy England, to the high-octane glamour of a New York Christmas, and then to Sophie’s sumptuous Mediterranean island home. There’s glitz, grit and heartache, and I hope you like it as much as I do.

There are so many people I should thank for the help they’ve given me along the way. People who have carefully explained what their jobs entail. Others who’ve helped me come up with clever first lines or brilliant ideas. Who have patiently listened while I lose myself in the world of my imagination. You know who you are.

But most of all I need to thank you, the reader. Because without you I wouldn’t be writing.

This one’s for you.

Sharon x

A Royal Vow of Convenience

Sharon Kendrick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

‘Sharon Kendrick is such a talented author and a good friend. Her books are all-consuming, and I race through the pages from start to finish every time I pick one up.’

—LYNNE GRAHAM

SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring often stubborn but always to die for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life...

Books by Sharon Kendrick

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

The Ruthless Greek’s Return

Christmas in Da Conti’s Bed

The Greek’s Marriage Bargain

A Scandal, a Secret, a Baby

The Sheikh’s Undoing

Monarch of the Sands

Too Proud to Be Bought

The Billionaire’s Legacy

Di Sione’s Virgin Mistress

The Bond of Billionaires

Claimed for Makarov’s Baby

The Sheikh’s Christmas Conquest

One Night With Consequences

Crowned for the Prince’s Heir

Carrying the Greek’s Heir

Wedlocked!

The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

This book is dedicated to my two greatest achievements—Celia Campbell & Patrick Kendrick, who are talented, hard-working and funny. I’m very proud to be your mum.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

Praise

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE CLATTER WAS deafening as the helicopter descended from a cloudless blue sky, and a nervous bead of sweat trickled down between Sophie’s breasts.

‘He’s here,’ said Andy abruptly as the blades stopped turning. ‘Don’t look so worried, Sophie. Rafe Carter might be the big boss but he doesn’t bite. He just doesn’t suffer fools gladly and as long as you remember that, you’ll be okay. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ Sophie echoed dutifully. But her throat was still tight with tension as Andy left the veranda and ran towards the helicopter where a powerfully built man had just appeared at the open door, raking his fingers through dark and wind-ruffled hair. Pausing briefly to scan the horizon, he shook his head as a busty blonde in a tight blue uniform tried to get his attention, before jumping to the dusty ground, leaving the woman staring after him—her shoulders hunched with dejection.

Another feeling of panic prickled over Sophie’s skin but now it was underpinned with something else. Something which made her pulse start racing as the man stood very still, just staring at the land—his frozen stance drawing attention to his proud profile and the shadowed jut of his jaw.

Even from this distance she could see the hard definition of his body. In an immaculate suit, which hugged his muscular physique, he looked sophisticated and urbane—as out of place in the dusty Outback setting as his expensive helicopter. Everything about him proclaimed the fact that this was the billionaire owner of one of the world’s biggest telecommunications companies, whose enormous cattle station was simply one of his ‘hobbies’. Rafe Carter. Even the name sounded sexy. She’d overheard the other staff talking about him—tantalising snatches of gossip which had made her ears prick up—though she’d been careful not to pry or show her curiosity.

Because Sophie had learnt very quickly that if she wanted to keep her identity secret, it was better to be seen and not heard. To dress demurely and fade into the background. To not ask questions about the man who owned this property and all the land as far as the eye could see. All she knew was that he was rich. Very rich. That he liked planes and art and beautiful women—in addition to a rural Australian life he dipped in and out of as he pleased. Her breasts prickled with an unfamiliar beat of anticipation. She just hadn’t expected him to be quite so...mesmerising.

She watched as Andy moved forward and the two men exchanged a few words of greeting before walking towards the homestead as the helicopter rose back up into the sky. It was hot on the veranda. Even at this early hour the mercury was shooting up the scale. Summer had arrived and sometimes it felt as if she were living in a giant sauna. Her palms were covered in a fine layer of sweat and she rubbed them over her cotton shorts, willing her heart to stop pounding—because surely that would make her unease seem somehow obvious.

She wondered what it was about the arrival of Rafe Carter which made her feel as if her world were about to come tumbling down around her. Fear she would be found out? That he might succeed where everyone else on this cattle station had failed—and work out who she really was? That he would discover the crazy lengths she’d gone to in order to secure herself a place here in the wild peace of the Australian Outback, because she’d wanted to escape from her gilded life and forge a more worthwhile existence? She’d never met him, but it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that he’d seen her photograph in a newspaper—because didn’t their gilded worlds have distant connections? Her mind began to race even faster. And what if he did find out—then what?

A series of disturbing scenarios flashed before her and she clenched her fists as a wave of determination swept over her. Because that wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t let it. For the first time in her life she’d been enjoying the simple pleasures of anonymity and the rewards of honest hard work and was feeling cautiously optimistic about the future. Nobody knew who she was and nobody cared. There were no eyes following her every move. She was on her own—properly on her own—and it was both daunting and exciting. It couldn’t last. She knew that. Her brother had given her an ultimatum and time was fast running out. He wanted her back in Isolaverde—preferably by Christmas, but certainly by the time of her little sister’s nineteenth birthday at the end of February. In a couple of months it would all be over and she was going to miss the sense of peace and freedom she’d known in this out-of-the-way place. She was going to have to return to the world she’d run away from and face up to the future, but she wanted to do it on her own terms. To leave here in the same way she’d arrived—without fuss or fanfare.

Leaving the heat which hung over the veranda like a heavy blanket, Sophie hurried into the kitchen where the air-conditioning did little to cool her heated skin. She fanned her face with her hand as she heard the heavy tread of masculine footfall and tried not to let her nerves get the better of her.

‘Sophie? Come and meet the boss.’

Andy’s broad Australian accent shattered her thoughts and suddenly it was too late for any more reflection because the station manager was walking into the kitchen, a smile wreathing his face—in stark contrast to the expression of the man who followed him. And try as she might, Sophie still couldn’t tear her eyes away from the newcomer, even though her upbringing had taught her it was rude to stare.

Close up, he was even more spectacular. His hard-boned face was shockingly beautiful and so was his body. But his physical perfection was underpinned by a dark quality which shimmered around him like an aura—an edge of danger which was making her feel self-conscious. Did he know the effect he had on women? she wondered. Did he realise that her mouth was as dry as the dust in the yard outside and that her breasts had started to swell, so that they were pushing against the suddenly constricting material of her cheap underwear? She wondered how he managed to look so cool in a suit and, as if reading her thoughts, he slid the jacket from his broad shoulders so she was confronted by the hint of hard, honed torso—shadowy beneath the pristine silk of his white shirt.

Another bead of sweat trickled down her cleavage and soaked into her T-shirt as she met the steely grey eyes which were trained in her direction. He narrowed them in contemplation as he looked her up and down and Sophie’s apprehension gave way to indignation because she wasn’t used to men looking at her that way. Nobody ever stared at her so openly. As if he had every right to do so. She swallowed. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking about him and his beautiful face and body...

‘Rafe.’ Andy’s voice was relaxed as he gestured in her direction. ‘This is Sophie—the woman I was telling you about. She’s been cooking for us for nearly six months now.’

‘Sophie...?’

It was the first word he’d spoken—a lash of dark silk which whipped through the air towards her. Rafe Carter raised his eyebrows in question and Sophie gave a nervous smile in response. She knew she shouldn’t hesitate because hesitation was dangerous. Just as she knew she should have had this answer all pat and ready—and she would have done if she hadn’t been so distracted by the lure of his deep, mellifluous voice and the effect that paralysing stare was having on her.

‘It’s Doukas. Sophie Doukas,’ she said, using the surname of her Greek grandmother, knowing that nobody would be able to contradict her, because she hadn’t shown anyone her papers. A wave of guilt washed over her. She’d managed to distract them for long enough to forget they’d never seen them.

The steely gaze became even more piercing. ‘Unusual name,’ he observed.

‘Yes.’ Desperate to change the subject, she cleared her throat, mustering up a smile from somewhere. ‘You must be thirsty after your flight. Would you like some tea, Mr Carter?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he drawled. ‘And it’s Rafe.’

‘Rafe,’ she repeated, aware that his cool tone contained the hint of a reprimand. So pull yourself together. Start remembering that he’s the boss and you’re supposed to be pleasant and obedient. ‘Right.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’ll make some right away. Andy, how about you?’

‘Not for me, thanks.’ The station manager shook his head. ‘I’ll wait for the morning smoko. See you outside when you’ve had a brew, Rafe. Take you on a quick tour.’

Sophie’s self-consciousness spiralled as Andy walked out, leaving her alone with Rafe Carter in a room whose walls seemed to be closing in on her. And even though making tea was a task she performed countless times every day, she felt like a coiled spring as she busied herself around the kitchen, aware of his eyes following her every movement. His grey gaze seemed to laser through her as she lifted a kettle which suddenly felt ridiculously heavy. Why was he even here? she thought as she poured boiling water into the teapot. Andy had said he wasn’t expected until springtime—by which time she would be gone and nothing but a distant memory. He certainly wasn’t expected this close to Christmas—which was now only weeks away.

She took a cup down from the dresser. It had been easy to forget Christmas in this exotic and tropical area of Australia, with its lush foliage and steamy heat, and the kind of birds and mammals which she’d only ever seen in nature documentaries. Yet because the men had demanded it, she’d made a stab at decorating the homestead with paper chains and plastic holly and a cheap tree made out of tinsel which she’d bought from the local store. The effect had been garish but it was so different that it had allowed her to forget all the things she was used to.

But now the familiar images of what she’d left behind came crowding into her mind, as she thought about Christmas on her island home of Isolaverde. She pictured mulled wine and golden platters piled high with sugary treats. She thought about the enormous tree which took pride of place in the palace throne room, which was decorated with real candles and diligently lit by the legions of faithful staff who served her. And beneath it the huge pile of presents, which she and her brother would hand out every year to the children of the city. She remembered the eager looks lighting up their little faces and, without warning, a wave of loneliness came washing over her. Suddenly she felt vulnerable. She knew how easy it would be to just throw the towel in and go home, but she didn’t want to do that. Not yet. Not until she’d worked out what she wanted her new future to be...

Giving the teapot a quick stir, she hoped Rafe would take his tea outside, or go to his own lavish quarters, which were in a separate part of this giant homestead. But her heart sank as he rested his narrow hips against the window sill with the look of a man who wasn’t going anywhere. And, unlike most people, he seemed content to let the silence grow. Didn’t he realise she was getting more flustered by the moment despite the fact that she’d spent her whole life being stared at? It just didn’t usually affect her like this. It didn’t make her breasts tingle, or a slug of disconcerting heat begin to gather low in her belly...

So say something. Pretend he’s one of those countless strangers you’ve spent your life meeting and exchanging polite words with.

‘Have you flown in from England today?’ she questioned, pouring milk into a china jug.

He didn’t smile back. ‘No. I’ve been on an extended trip to the Far East and I arrived in Brisbane yesterday. I was so close that it seemed crazy not to visit.’ His grey eyes gleamed. ‘And just for the record, I don’t live in England.’

She met the steely gaze. ‘But I thought—’

‘That my accent was English?’

She gave a weak smile. ‘Well, yes.’

‘They say you never really lose the accent you were born with, but I haven’t lived there in a long time. Years, in fact.’ He frowned. ‘And speaking of accents—I can’t quite work yours out. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like it before. Are you Greek?’

Sophie distracted him by holding up the jug, her bright tone matching her smile. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

‘Neither, thanks. I’ll take it how it comes.’

She handed him the tea, wishing he wouldn’t stretch out his legs like that—a movement which was making the dark material of his trousers spread tautly over his powerful thighs. Was it his intention to get her gaze to linger there, like some reluctant voyeur? Yet ogling men was something she didn’t do. It wasn’t in her nature to be predatory. Any such behaviour would have been picked up and frowned on by the cameras which had followed her every move since birth. Even the man to whom she’d been betrothed—a man popularly known as one of the world’s sexiest men—had never aroused this kind of heart-pumping interest, which was making her fingers start to tremble.

In an attempt to hide her nerves, she brushed some imaginary crumbs from the table. ‘So where do you live?’ she questioned.

‘Mainly in New York, although I lived here full-time when I first bought the station. But I move around a lot between cities—constantly on the move. I’m what you might call an urban gypsy, Sophie.’ He took a sip of his tea, mocking eyes studying her over the rim of his cup. ‘And you still haven’t answered my question.’

‘I’m sorry?’ She batted him a confused look, hoping he might have forgotten. ‘What question was that?’

‘I asked if you were Greek.’

Sophie didn’t want to lie but if she told him the truth it would be like hurling a bomb into the room. Her anonymity would be over and her sanctuary would end. There would be questions. Lots of them. Because what could she say?

I’m a princess who doesn’t want to be a princess any more. I’m a woman who’s been brought up in a palace who has never had to cope with real life before. A woman who has been hurt and humiliated. Who has struck out to discover if she can cope with life without the protection she’s known all her life.

She met the cold gleam of his gaze. ‘My grandmother was Greek,’ she said. ‘And Greek is my mother tongue.’

He was even more watchful now. ‘Any other languages?’

‘English. Obviously.’

‘Obviously.’ His eyes glinted. ‘And that’s the lot?’

She licked her bottom lip. ‘I can get by in Italian. French, too.’

‘Well now, aren’t you the clever one?’ he questioned softly. ‘You certainly have a lot of qualifications for someone who’s spent the last few months frying steak and buttering bread for a bunch of station workers.’

‘I didn’t realise linguistic ability was a bar to being a cook on a cattle station, Mr Carter.’

Their gazes clashed and Rafe tried not to be affected by the sudden challenge sparking from her eyes, which was easily as distracting as the pert thrust of her breasts. On one level he was aware she was playing games with him by avoiding his questions and he wasn’t sure why. He frowned. But there was a lot he wasn’t sure about right now. Plenty of young women came from abroad to work in remote parts of this country—but he’d never come across anyone like Sophie Doukas before. He wondered just what she was doing here, when she looked as out of place as a diamond you might find in the rough. Andy had told him that when she’d first arrived she’d been green and naïve, but had been eager to learn. Rafe had wondered why his gruff Australian station manager had employed someone without even the most basic of skills, but now he’d seen her—he had a pretty good idea why.

His throat grew dry.

Because she was beautiful.

Really beautiful.

Not the kind of beauty which came from spending hours in front of the mirror or having a plastic surgeon on speed-dial. Something told him she looked that way without even trying. Her cheekbones were high, her eyes as blue as a Queensland sky and her dark hair was tied back in a shiny ponytail. She wore no make-up—but with lashes that long, he guessed she didn’t need to. And her lips. Oh, man. Those lips. His groin hardened. Just one glance at them and he could think of a million different X-rated ways he’d like her to use them—starting with that cute pink tongue working a very fundamental kind of magic.

But her appeal didn’t stop at her face. She had one of those bodies which looked amazing in clothes but probably better out of them. Even her cheap white T-shirt and unremarkable cotton shorts failed to disguise her long legs and curvy bottom, and she moved with the natural grace of a dancer. She was one very desirable female, that was for sure—and Rafe imagined Andy’s reaction when he had first seen her. What man could have resisted a woman who looked like this, turning up out of the blue as if in answer to every hot-blooded man’s dreams?

But Andy had also told him that she’d kept her distance. She wasn’t one of those foreign backpackers keen to enjoy anything new—including sex. Apparently she hadn’t flirted with the men or indicated that she might be up for some late-night hook-up. His manager had told him she seemed wary and could turn the ice on without really trying, which was why nobody had dared to make a pass at her. Rafe frowned. Yes. Wary was right. She was regarding him now in a way which reminded him of a bowerbird which had once flown into the homestead by mistake—its beautiful wings battering uselessly against the window pane as it tried to escape from its domestic confinement.

He took another sip of his tea, his interest stirred in more ways than one because he could sense she was trying to distance herself from him, and that never usually happened. He was used to instant compliance from the opposite sex whenever he wanted it. A gushing desire to tell him everything he ever wanted to know—and then more.