She wasn’t going to argue about his family, and it was a waste of time and energy to sit here and defend hers.
‘Your bedroom is stunning.’ She looked around, because it was far, far safer than looking at him, so now she did take in the extravagance of her surroundings, the gorgeous fire crackling in the huge ornate fireplace, and her eyes drifted up to the carved ceilings and huge lights.
‘It’s not mine—well, clearly it now is.’ She jerked her eyes to him, to where he sat on the bed, his chest gleaming, his shoulders wide and strong and chose to look away. ‘It’s my first night in here—I’ve inherited it apparently. This is actually the royal wing.’ He looked to where she frowned. ‘This is where the crowned ruler sleeps—though they’ve handed it over a little early.’
‘This is your parents’ room?’
He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Quarter of a century ago. Once they’d had their children they moved to separate wings. This one has been cornered off since then. They used to use it though—my mother didn’t want central heating when it was installed, said that it was bad for the complexion, which is why we’re bloody freezing.’
‘Your parents sleep apart?’
‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘For when I go to the press?’
‘I don’t for a moment think that you shall, but if you could avoid telling your family...’
‘How effortlessly you insult them,’ Allegra said.
‘That wasn’t my intention. You’re right, my family aren’t exactly warm. They get on with the serious job of ruling Santina. There isn’t time to be worrying about—’
‘Oh, come on, Alessandro...’ she was even starting to use his real name ‘...surely you make time, surely when those gorgeous wooden doors close...’ She didn’t continue; there really was no point, for were she queen, were Alessandro her king, no matter how hard the day, no matter the weight of responsibility... It was pointless considering it, pointless because tomorrow morning the press would baying for her to leave.
‘They have better things to worry about than keeping the romance alive.’ He rolled his eyes at the very thought and turned his thoughts to the morning when the people’s verdict would come in—undoubtedly demanding he renounce his right to the throne if he insisted on taking such an unsuitable bride.
And she was most unsuitable, Alessandro reminded himself.
He had paid her to be her unsuitable self after all.
Even in the finest gown, she had looked all wrong in the heavy red dress. He had rather preferred her in those shapeless tweed trousers she had had on when they’d met—not corseted and quaffed, all her curves hidden and held in. But now she sat on his bed, her heavy fringe to one side, her dark curls a little wild now they had been let down, and without all the jewels at her throat, without the confines of the dress, her body was so alluring, so feminine beneath that skimpy gown. She was slender, yet soft; he could see dimples on her thigh that, were this a true romance, the paparazzi would later persecute her for. Her breasts through the skimpy nightdress were larger than he’d imagined. And yes, more than once in these past weeks, to his own annoyance, he’d imagined them—just not to this delicious detail, for her nipples seemed constrained beneath the lace, as if attempting a breakout. Just as it had seemed safe to climb out of the bed, it became terribly unsafe again.
‘I thought you were going on the sofa.’ She was sick of this, she was tired too—and the bed was huge, about the size of five of her own, so she peeled back the sheet and climbed in. ‘I guess we can just treat it like a school camp. You don’t get to choose who you share with.’ She looked over to him. ‘I suppose you didn’t go on school camp.’
He didn’t answer, having returned to his texts, and it was Allegra who pulled out her phone and plugged in an earpiece.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Well, conversation isn’t exactly forthcoming, so I might as well go to sleep. I like to listen to music to fall asleep,’ Allegra said, because as tired as she was, there wasn’t a hope of her falling asleep unaided with Alex in the room. ‘Well, not music exactly—’ she was a little nervous, for still he was in the bed ‘—more the sounds of nature.’ He gave her an extremely quizzical look, so she elaborated. ‘I listen to the sound of the ocean, it relaxes me.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘At least till the recording stops.’