He was still angry with himself for the way he’d handled the altercation with Rachel. He was also angry with his meddling relatives and colleagues for mentioning Cressida; he’d only brought her to Kallyria once, fifteen years ago, but they remembered.
He remembered. He’d been so besotted. So sure that she was the only, the ultimate, woman for him.
Of course she hadn’t been. His gut tightened and he leaned farther over Mesonyktio’s head, letting the wind and speed chase away the last of his tumultuous thoughts.
By the time he arrived back at the stables, he was tired enough not to have to think too much about last night, or how he regretted the way he’d handled that tense and unexpected situation with Rachel.
He slid off Mesonyktio’s back and led him by the reins into the dim coolness of the palace stables, only to stiffen when he heard a familiar voice say quietly, ‘Mateo.’
He blinked in the gloom, breathing in the smell of horse and hay, and then focused his gaze on Rachel, standing in front of him, chin tilted, eyes direct.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I wanted to talk to you.’
He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. ‘All right. Let me see to the horse first.’
She nodded and stepped out of the way as he brought Mesonyktio to his stall and began to unfasten his saddle.
&nb
sp; ‘I didn’t even know you rode.’
‘Not much time or space for it, back in Cambridge.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
She remained quiet as he rubbed the horse down, taking his time to delay the moment when he’d have to face her. He should apologise. He knew that. Yet somehow the words wouldn’t come.
Finally there was nothing more to do with Mesonyktio, and Mateo knew he could not delay the inevitable. He turned around and faced his bride-to-be. She looked lovely in a pair of tailored trousers and a soft top in burgundy that made the most of her curves. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, her eyes wide and dark and fastened on him.
‘I want to talk about last night,’ she said without preamble. Rachel was no shrinking violet, never had been. She had always been willing to be confrontational at work, politely so, but still. Mateo should have known she wouldn’t let last night go, no matter how foreboding he might have seemed.
‘I’m sorry if I seemed a bit abrupt,’ he said. ‘It’s a sensitive subject.’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘You seemed a bit abrupt? Nice try, Mateo, but I’m not having that.’
Despite the tension coiling inside him, he almost smiled. ‘You’re not?’
‘No. We’re about to be married.’ She glanced at her watch, an elegant strip of diamond-encrusted gold that was part of her trousseau. ‘In less than twenty-four hours. I’m not having you go all glowery on me and refuse to discuss something that is clearly important. The whole point of marrying me, or so you said, was because we were friends, and we liked and trusted one another. So don’t pull the Scary King act on me, okay?’
‘I don’t think “glowery” is actually a word.’
‘Well, it should be. And if it was in the dictionary, you’d be next to the definition.’ She blew out a breath. ‘So, look. Just tell me what the deal with Cressida is.’
Even now, when she’d played her hand straight, the way she always did, he was reluctant to reveal the truth, and what details he gave her he would do so sparingly.
‘I told you all you need to know, Rachel. I dated her back in university. We were both young. The relationship ended.’
‘There must be more to it than that.’
‘I don’t ask you about your relationship with that man who broke your heart,’ he retorted, and she flinched.
‘He didn’t break my heart. I told you that. I said I was never in love with him.’ She paused, seeming to weigh whether she wanted to ask the question he already knew was coming. ‘Were you in love with her? Cressida?’
Mateo stood still, doing his best to keep his face bland, his body relaxed. It took effort. ‘I suppose I was. Yes.’
She nodded slowly, as if absorbing a blow. ‘I wish you had told me before.’