Her stomach swooped with his insightfulness, but the ease with which he could turn her blood to lava spiked her pride. With a hint of insurgency, she murmured quietly, so only he could hear, ‘And what if I don’t want you to kiss me?’
He laughed softly.
‘Why is that funny?’
‘You shouldn’t issue challenges you don’t wish to lose.’
‘What does that even mean?’
‘It means—’ he leaned forward once more, his intent obvious, and yet she still didn’t step back, even when she had ample opportunity to put some space between them ‘—I’m going to enjoy making you eat those words.’ And he crushed his mouth to hers once again, his kiss a possession and a promise. A promise she knew she should fight and somehow, frustratingly, wasn’t sure she wanted to...
CHAPTER FIVE
‘AND THIS IS the private residence, madam.’ A middle-aged man dipped his head deferentially, allowing Frankie to walk past. Her mind was already spinning, and she’d only been in the palace an hour. Exhaustion had begun to sink into her skin, making thought and attention almost impossible. Where Leo had slept on the plane, she hadn’t—not a jot—and she couldn’t even do the maths in that moment to work out what time it was in New York.
Late, though. Or early in the morning. No wonder she felt so wrecked.
The Private Residence was, in fact, more like a penthouse apartment. Where the rest of the palace was steeped in a sense of ancient tradition, with historic balustrades, paintings, old tapestries and glorious wallpaper giving it a sense of living history, this apartment felt completely modern.
‘It was redecorated at the turn of the century,’ the servant said. ‘All of the wiring was renewed in this suite.’ He moved deeper into the apartment. ‘Would you like a tour, madam?’
‘Oh, no, thank you.’ What Frankie wanted more than anything was a strong coffee and to be left alone. To soften her refusal, she smiled. ‘I’ll find my way around just fine, I’m sure.’
‘Certainly. There has not been time to properly complete Master Leo’s rooms, but a start has been made,’ the servant offered, gesturing down the hallway. Frankie moved in that direction as if being pulled by magic, her trained artist’s eye making note of small details as she went. Here the walls were crisp white, but not perfect white—there was a warmth to them, almost as though they’d been mixed with gold or pearl. Flower arrangements were modern and fragrant, pictures were simple black and white, portraits and photographs. Artistic and interesting.
Undoubtedly the work of some palace designer or other, she thought with a twist of her lips.
‘The blue door, madam,’ the servant offered.
With a frown, Frankie curved her fingers around the brass door knob and turned it, pushing the door inwards. The room opened up before her and her heart sank.
How could she have contemplated turning Matthias down for even a moment? This room was every little boy’s fantasy, she thought, stepping inside and turning a full circle. Leo followed behind her and he was as struck dumb at the scene as she was.
‘Mine?’
Frankie couldn’t form a response. She looked at him then back to the room, doubt and certainty warring inside her. ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged finally, moving to the small bed. Like something out of a movie, it was a pale cream, glossy, with sumptuous blue bedding, big European pillows—almost th
e size of Leo—and toy-soldier cushions, as if brought to life from The Nutcracker. A bay window overlooked a beautiful garden—‘The chef’s potager,’ the servant advised with more than a touch of pride in his tone.
Though the room was filled with toys and books, they were all good quality: wooden, old-fashioned, simple. Frankie surveyed them, begrudgingly approving of their selection, their appropriateness for Leo’s age and stage indisputable.
‘Mine?’ he asked again, lifting a set of blocks off the shelf.
‘Yes,’ she agreed once more.
‘There you are.’
The heavily accented voice had Frankie turning and when she saw Liana smiling as she approached, it was natural for Frankie to return the gesture. She liked this woman, though she knew so little about her. There was a warmth and openness that Frankie needed—an ally in the midst of all that was new and frightening. Not to mention the fact she’d kicked off her shoes at some stage and now wore bright pink socks beneath sensible trousers—high recommendation indeed.
‘’Ello, Frankie.’ Liana nodded, and Frankie liked her even more for using her name rather than any silly title or ‘madam’. ‘You like his room?’
‘Oh, yes, it’s perfect,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how but someone’s managed to fill it with all of the things Leo would have chosen himself, if given half a chance.’
‘Ah, it is not so long since Matthias and Spiro were boys. I remember.’ She tapped a knobbly finger to the side of her head and nodded sagely.
Frankie’s curiosity was stirred to life. ‘Spiro?’
Liana’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t answer. ‘You go, you go,’ she said. ‘I get to know.’ She pointed to Leo and when he looked at her she clapped her hands together and held them out to him.