Was her awareness of Marcelo’s muscular thigh only inches from hers dangerous? Was the temptation to place her hand on it dangerous?
Clara had never felt temptation of a sensual kind before she’d met Marcelo.
The look she often caught in his eyes before he blinked it away, like he wanted to devour her, felt dangerous too. Thrillingly, excitingly dangerous.
What would it feel like to be kissed by him? Would it be nice? Or would it repulse her? Or, worst of all, would she feel nothing?
If they did ever kiss, would he find it nice or repulsive or boring?
Probably it was best to never find out. As things stood, they had a great relationship—the best relationship she’d had with a human since Alessia. Why ruin it over something as tedious as desire? That’s if what she even felt for him was desire. Maybe it was just curiosity brought about by being thrown together and their proximity. That he was so ruddy handsome and sexy only added to the mix.
‘Did you enjoy your time in the army?’ she asked, the first question to come into her head for distraction against the awareness licking her skin, an awareness that really was inappropriate in a house of God.
‘I loved it. There’s great camaraderie and adventure in the military. I’d hoped to stay until I was forty.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing dramatic. I got a chest infection that developed into pneumonia. Laid me up for months and weakened my body enough that I was no longer able to do my job effectively, so I was medically discharged.’
‘That sounds dramatic to me.’ Dramatic enough for her heart to make a strange icy swoop...
At the audible shock in Clara’s voice, Marcelo faced her. ‘I recovered so not dramatic,’ he assured her, ‘but it took a lot of work to rebuild my strength. I’m fighting fit now, but it took over a year before I was back to full health.’
How he’d hated those long months, rebuilding his strength for a life of duty and tedium, the career he’d loved gone, the life he’d loved over.
‘Was your life in danger?’
‘At one point, yes.’
‘Then that’s definitely dramatic. Why didn’t the media report it? I mean, you’re a prince so that would have been newsworthy, wouldn’t it?’
‘The life of a royal is a life of scrutiny.’ That was another thing he’d loved about the military—the anonymity, that he could be himself without having to worry about anything he said or did being reported or scrutinised.
His discharge didn’t just terminate his career but his freedom to be him, Marcelo the man rather than Marcelo the prince.
Sitting here, properly alone with Clara for the first time in days, close enough to feel the heat of her body and smell her sultry perfume, he was very much aware of his mortal side. The primitive side. Responding to her perfume and the heat of her skin...
Clenching his fists on his lap, he took a deep breath before continuing. ‘The press can be rabid and as far as I was concerned my illness and recovery was a private matter. My family and colleagues knew my wish for discretion so...’ A thought suddenly occurred to him and he twisted his face to her. ‘How do you know the press didn’t report it?’
‘Because I would have read it. I’ve read all the reports that caught my eye about you since I was fifteen.’ Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she explained. ‘I saw you pick Alessia up from school once. I thought it was a really nice thing, you taking her out—my brother didn’t visit me once when I was at school. She told me after that you often took her out when you were on leave. I’ve kept an eye out for your name ever since because I wanted to assure myself your life was going well. I like it when good things happen to good people. But don’t worry, I wasn’t cyber stalking you in particular. I did the same for Alessia too.’
‘So that’s how you recognised me?’ he murmured, but whatever she said in answer was lost through the sudden rush of blood pounding in his head as he gazed into the dark brown eyes that did something to him.
Clara did something to him.
The tempo of his heart became a burr, thickening his blood to a heavy sludge.
Her eyes pulsed. Colour rose on her cheeks. Their faces were so close he could hear the raggedness of her breath.
She was so damned irresistible...
You’re in a house of God.
Swallowing hard, he turned his gaze to the door that led into the priest’s private domain. As if summoned by Marcelo’s will, the door opened.
Marcelo finally released the breath he’d been holding.
It took a long time before he felt controlled enough to meet Clara’s stare again.
Before she could answer, the priest emerged.