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She nodded, the emotion so thick in her throat she couldn’t speak.
He left her sitting in the darkness. She heard the search-and-rescue team entering the house, could hear the muffled voices and the crackle of radios as they informed the outside world that the two of them had been found safe and well.
But as she showered, washing away his scent, then got dressed, she became far too aware of all the tender spots, the soreness, where her body had been well used during the night, and yet still yearned for his touch.
When she ventured downstairs half an hour later, the house,theirhouse, was full of people, including the commander of the mountain rescue team, the rest of whom were outside with a parade of snowmobiles, a couple of paramedics—who insisted on giving her a thorough medical check—a police chief, three officers and several Palace officials from Androvia, who explained that as soon as she was cleared, Isabelle was frantic to speak to her.
But she couldn’t find Rene anyway. When she finally worked up the courage to ask where he was, one of the police officers told her he was already on his way back to Saltzaland.
But he didn’t say goodbye.
The foolish thought pierced the daze of unreality gripping her as she was bundled into a large black SUV. She got another jolt when they passed the Jeep they had abandoned four nights ago, now being hooked up to a snowmobile to be towed back to Gaultiere Castle.
As soon as the SUV hit the mountain road to Androvia, the Palace official handed her a satellite phone and Isabelle’s voice came over the line, clearly distraught and trying not to show it. Mel reassured her friend she was well and gave her a heavily edited version of events, then had to repeat the same story to her mother, who had arrived in Androvia from London two days before to wait for news.
The relief when the calls were over was short-lived though, because as the car travelled through a phalanx of people and reporters and photographers camped out at the gates of the White Palace she realised how selfish she had been in the past four days. She hadn’t given a thought to Isabelle or her mum or all the other people who had been drawn into the frantic search to find them. All she had really thought about was Rene and herself and what it had meant to be with him again.
The White Palace staff welcomed her back as soon as the car stopped in the courtyard and she climbed out. Then Isabelle appeared on the Palace steps and rushed down them to wrap her in a fierce hug, tears of relief streaming down her face. She held her friend, aware of the Queen’s new fake husband Travis Lord standing behind Isabelle and looking surprisingly concerned and relieved for someone who wasn’t supposed to have any real skin in this game.
Mel tried to be happy, tried to smile, tried to feel comfortable with the outpouring of love and concern from Isabelle and then her mum and her work colleagues and friends and even Travis Lord, as the day wore on.
But the truth was, she didn’t feel found. She felt lost again. The way she had when Rene had disappeared once before without a word.
But as she lay in her own bed again that night, and tried to fall asleep without him beside her, she knew she only had herself to blame—for her aching empty heart and the cruel feeling of rejection, of loneliness, of never being good enough, that reminded her of her childhood.
Because she’d let herself fall down the rabbit hole again. Despite all her best intentions.
This isn’t love, it’s infatuation. Don’t be melodramatic, she told herself staunchly.
But if that was true, a small voice whispered from the darkness, why did it hurt even more this time?
CHAPTER TEN
‘ISSY, HI…’ MEL MURMURED, disorientated to see her friend by her bedside. She blinked, trying to clear the fog from her brain. She’d fallen asleep in the early hours, all the reasons why she had been an utter fool to sleep with Rene again finally quieting enough for her to drop into exhaustion.
‘Good morning, Mel. How are you feeling?’ her friend asked gently, the concern from yesterday still thick in her voice.
‘I… Good. Better,’ she said, which wasn’t entirely the truth, but she was determined to make it so. ‘By the way, I should contact the cabin owner and thank them and pay for the damage,’ she said. It was something which had occurred to her yesterday, while she was trying to divert her brain to the practical, instead of mooning over Rene or getting upset about his abrupt departure.
Isabelle smiled. ‘It’s already been done.’
Mel frowned. ‘But I should pay, not you.’
‘I didn’t pay, Rene did,’ she said gently. ‘He also sent an official message of thanks to the rescue team.’
‘Oh…’ Mel murmured, hating that the mention of his name only made the aching pain in her chest return. ‘That’s good.’
Apparently, he’d thought of everyone yesterday. Except her.
She stretched and rubbed her eyes, trying to cover her reaction, aware of the dull headache pounding at her temples when Isabelle crossed the bedroom and opened the curtains.
Bright sunlight flooded the room. She sat up abruptly, a dart of shame clearing the last fog from her brain, even as the dull headache became razor-sharp. ‘What time is it?’
No wonder Isabelle had come to wake her. It had to be past noon already.
‘I need to get dressed,’ Mel added, becoming frantic. She needed to find her safe space again, which had always been her career, and her place as Isabelle’s trusted companion and adviser. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have been at work hours ago.’
She’d already missed almost a week while being stuck in the cabin with Rene. And there was a lot of work to do now Isabelle had unlocked Androvia’s future with her fake marriage to Travis Lord.