CHAPTER FIVE
CLARA’SDELIGHTTOfind Alessia in the living area when she came down the next morning was evident by the joy on her face even before she threw herself at her. ‘It is so good to see you,’ she enthused, embracing her tightly. ‘Thank you, thank you for sending your brother to rescue me.’
‘It was nothing,’ Alessia laughed. ‘Can you let me go now? I’m having trouble breathing.’
‘Sorry.’ Giggling, Clara unwound her arms but put her hands on Alessia’s biceps so she could study her properly. ‘You look fantastic.’
‘Thank you. You’re looking good too.’
‘Ha! I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. I haven’t even brushed my hair yet.’
Marcelo watched the exchange with the strangest tightness in his chest. Clara was still wearing his polo shirt. It still fell to her knees. He was still unable to eradicate from his mind that beneath it she was naked. Hours he’d spent, lying in his bed, trying to switch his brain off, but the current running through his veins had been too strong for sleep to come easily. There had been too much running through his head too.
One impulsive act in three years had changed his life irrevocably.
If he’d stuck to the original plan, Clara would have still been rescued but his presence in the wedding chapel would have been proof of his innocence in the matter. There would be no diplomatic or trade threat to his country.
He still couldn’t wrap his head around how quickly she’d agreed to marry him. She could have refused and there would have been nothing he could do about it. But she’d had no hesitation in agreeing to it. To insisting.
What kind of woman did that?
A woman like Clara Sinclair.
As short as their time together had been, it had been more than enough for him to learn a great deal about her, more than he’d ever learned about anyone in such a short time. Clara was too open for there to be any ambiguity. She didn’t do ambiguity. She did unfiltered honesty.
She’d processed the seriousness of the situation and, feeling she owed him her life, had pledged herself to him. It had been as simple as that.
The weight of responsibility lay heavily in him. Responsibility to Clara to make the next year as easy for her as he could while she navigated her way through the royal role she was to selflessly undertake. Responsibility to his family to ensure Clara made that navigation seamlessly without further damage to the monarchy.
The pitfalls, though, were obvious. A loose cannon was marrying into his family. A loose cannon who made his blood thicken just to look at her.
The only thing that had made him take a mental step back from his desire for Clara had been her virginity. It had been an easy step to take when he’d expected to spend no more than a few hours with her.
Gazing at her now, dishevelled from sleep and as sexy a sight as he’d ever seen, he couldn’t work out if it was excitement or dread thrumming through his veins at what his immediate future held.
There shouldn’t be any thrumming. Excitement had no place in his life. Adrenaline, mad rushes of blood to the head...those were the things that drove a man to act on impulse and do foolish, thoughtless things like personally rescue a distressed damsel from a cruel king.
‘Can you believe we’re going to be sisters?’ Clara enthused to his sister as she bounded to the French doors to let Bob into the garden. ‘How crazy is that?’
‘Crazy,’ Alessia agreed, although she was the only member of Marcelo’s immediate family who hadn’t been surprised at Clara’s ready agreement to marry him, which he’d informed them about after his and Clara’s talk. His parents and brother had all been dumbstruck. He was quite sure Clara would have found their expressions funny.
The amusement left Clara’s face. ‘But you know it isn’t for ever?’ she said, her tone serious.
‘Marcelo explained everything.’
‘Good.’ The smile returned. ‘It is always best to be honest. Your brother is a very sexy man but I like living on my own. I don’t think I could cope if it was for ever. And I don’t think Marcelo could cope with me for very long either.’
Alessia’s face showed she was trying not to laugh. ‘We’re just grateful that you’ve agreed to marry him at all.’
‘It’s the least I can do. Just not for ever.’
Somehow her face managed to glow even brighter when Alessia showed her the dress she’d brought over from her own quarters for Clara to wear that day.
‘It’s a maxi-dress on me,’ Alessia explained. ‘But it’s roomy so you should be able to fit in it okay.’
Compared to Marcelo’s six-foot-three height, Clara was short. Compared to his diminutive sister who, like their mother, didn’t even reach five foot and was as thin as a pencil, she was tall. Short or tall, Clara had curves in abundance, and he almost got a full view of her voluptuousness when she crossed her arms to grab the fabric of her polo shirt dress, clearly about to whip it off, but then her gaze landed on him and, after a moment’s thought, stopped what she was doing.
Shooting him a cheeky look that quite clearly said, ‘See, I can be modest,’ she gathered Alessia’s dress into her arms. ‘I’ll take a shower. I don’t suppose you’ve got any make-up on you?’ she added hopefully to his sister.