Should she let him continue? she thought wildly. Pretend that there were not questions bubbling away at the back of her mind and give herself up to his embrace and everything that would follow? Knowing deep down that it might be the last chance she could do so? One last taste of enchanted food before she went back to more normal fare?
But no. Passion was strong, but pride could be even more powerful. She pulled away from him and went to stare out of the window instead.
Outside, the soft breeze made the petals of the fragrant roses shimmer like a heat-haze. There were pink and gold and crimson flowers, and softest apricot, too. And a mass of white blooms surrounding a statue—looking as pure and as perfect as the clouds which scudded across the azure sky.
Who would have thought that an ordinary girl like her could end up s
omewhere like this? In a Palace. With a devastatingly handsome prince standing in the room behind her, desperate to take her clothes off and take her into his bed once more.
Sweet dreams are made of this, she thought—but inside, as relentless as the beating of her heart, was the awareness that the dream was in danger of turning sour.
She turned round and found his dark eyes narrowed, watchful—but then, Guido was a very perceptive man. He had sensed that something was not right but, like a consummate poker player, he was biding his time—waiting for her to play her hand before he came back with something to trump her. And could he? Were her misgivings and her unvoiced fears completely groundless? She prayed they were, conscious of the lack of conviction of her hopes.
But her question, when it came, was not the one she had been planning to ask. It was almost as if she was seeking background knowledge for the question which would follow. Like someone doing research into motive.
‘Why did you bring me here with you, Guido?’
‘You know why. I thought you would enjoy it.’ He frowned. ‘I thought you were enjoying it. Aren’t you?’
She didn’t answer that. ‘Is it just because of that? I mean—there is no ulterior motive?’
There was a pause. She was not only an independent woman, but an intelligent one, too. Would it insult that intelligence if he tried to convince her that a dip into Royal life in the luxurious surroundings of Mardivino had been his only objective?
The question was whether she was grown-up enough to accept him as the man he really was—with all his faults as well as the qualities of any other man.
He shrugged his shoulders and accompanied the very Gallic gesture with a rueful smile. ‘It is useful, having you here,’ he murmured.
Of all the most insulting words he could have used, Lucy would have put useful in the top five. But what exactly did he mean? ‘Useful?’ she echoed, perplexed.
He began to loosen his tie. Could he make her understand? ‘My presence here always invites a kind of feeding frenzy.’
‘Feeding frenzy?’ she echoed again, feeling like someone who was learning a new language by the simple repetition of a phrase. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that the inhabitants of this island seem to feel it necessary to marry off their Princes; there is pressure on Gianferro to do so, but particularly on me. Gianferro’s bride will be cherry-picked from a very small and exclusive orchard, but the field is rather wider in my case. Especially now that Nico, the youngest, has settled down and provided Mardivino with a new generation.’
He had the grace to look slightly abashed as he stared at her, looking almost little-boy-lost with those melting dark eyes. Did he think that such grace would absolve him from what he had revealed? Or that by being allowed to see a glimpse of vulnerability she would forgive him anything?
‘Let me get this straight,’ she said, and her voice didn’t sound anything like her usual voice. ‘My invitation—apart from giving you the obvious benefits of having a willing sexual partner who would place no demands on you—was a kind of talisman—or maybe woman—’ she gave an ironic laugh ‘—who would ward off any prospective brides?’
‘That’s too simplistic a way of looking at it!’ he protested.
‘Is it?’ She noticed that he didn’t deny it—but how could he, when basically what she’d said was true? And would he answer the next question—the ramifications of which might really sound the death-knell to their relationship? But she reminded herself that the word relationship had a hollow ring about it in their case. What they had was not that at all—it was something merely masquerading as a partnership.
Her eyes were very clear, but her voice sounded strained as the words came tumbling out. ‘Did you happen to go to bed with a blonde last September?’
He stilled in the process of pulling his tie off and his eyes narrowed into shards of smoky ebony. ‘What?’ he questioned softly.
‘You didn’t hear me? Or you didn’t understand?’ she demanded, but pain had started to rip through her at the glaring omission of a denial. ‘It’s a simple enough question, Guido—all it requires is a simple yes or no answer. Did you or did you not sleep with a blonde woman last fall?’
‘How dare you interrogate me in this way?’
‘Is that a yes?’ she asked steadily. ‘Or a no?’
They stared at each other across a space which seemed to be enlarging by the second.
He nodded his head. ‘Well, yes,’ he said. ‘But it meant—’
‘Nothing?’ she supplied sarcastically, and now the tear in her heart was widening, and someone was tipping into the space a substance with all the painful and abrasive qualities of grit. ‘Isn’t that what men always say? That it didn’t mean anything? So not only do they damn the woman they betrayed, but also the woman they betrayed her with!’