But he had no right to these fruitless desires. Now the woman herself sat to his left, about a quarter of the way down the table. As far away as he could politely put her without having to shout when engaging in conversation.
He’d managed, for her sake, to coax the castle’s groaning heating system into warming this room, so she’d shed her puffy blue monstrosity of a coat. A blessing and a curse. Because underneath it she wore a dress. Long-sleeved, black, with no embellishments. It should have looked plain and unremarkable, but the simple fabric and cut transfixed him as if the cloth had been woven by magic. The way it wrapped round her slender body... Tied at the waist with a draped skirt swishing at her knees allowing glimpses of the elegant sweep of her calves...
He took a sip of the wine which he’d grabbed from the palace cellar earlier. It hadn’t been so long that he’d forgotten how to act around a beautiful woman, but she interested him far too much. It was as if he was a teenage boy again, hoping to catch the alluring swell of a woman’s calf, the tempting curve of her breast.
He’d known the moment he’d opened the door to her that she was a distraction, and he’d been right. She may be the answer to one of his country’s oldest questions, but Stefano didn’t have time to be diverted from his task by errant desire. His siblings were counting on him and he had the terrible sense that time was running out—like watching the last grains of sand trickling through an hourglass.
‘This meal’s delicious.’
Lucy carefully placed down her fork and looked at him, head cocked a little to the side. Her eyes were wide, golden light gleaming in them from the chandeliers glittering above the table. He should have lit candles. She’d look beautiful in the soft, flickering light, like she had in the glow from the fireplace this afternoon... But this was not that kind of meal, filled with romance and seduction. It was all about fact-finding rather than fanciful thoughts about bathing her in the perfect light.
‘You made it yourself?’
‘Sí. The family chef taught me a few things when I was younger. Said I should learn to feed myself. Also to “impress the ladies”. I believe that was his most important consideration for any young man.’
Except Celine had never been enthused by his efforts. She’d always wanted to dine at the finest restaurants in Lasserno, even when he’d had enough of them and craved a home-cooked meal. Lucy, on the other hand...
He’d spent a tortured half-hour watching her devour the simple pasta dish he’d made. He’d make pasta for the woman every night she was here just to witness her pleasure as she ate it. To watch her tongue dart out almost guiltily, licking some stray sauce from the glorious pout of her lower lip.
‘I’m sure you made a huge impression.’
She must have noticed him staring. It seemed to be a strange affliction plaguing him.
She tucked her hair behind her ears, the tips of which were tinted with a faint flush of pink. ‘You’ve impressed me.’
‘It was my pleasure.’
Her words shouldn’t have moved him, but it was as if an ember had been lit deep inside. A lazy kind of heat slid through him at her enjoyment of the meal he’d made. He couldn’t allow it to continue. She was simply another part of the job he must focus upon. Nothing more.
‘However, there was no need to dress for dinner.’ Her warm winter clothes were much better, with their many layers which hid her from his unruly gaze.
Lucy shrugged, blissfully unaware of his inner struggle. ‘I wasn’t sure. When you dropped me at my room you did announce, “Dinner is at nine in the dining room. I will escort you there.” I’ve never had dinner in a castle with a count before. It sounded pretty formal.’
She appeared earnest enough. However, the corners of her mouth might have twitched...or perhaps that was his fertile imagination. She seemed to invoke it.
‘As you can see...’ he held his arms out, motioning to his jeans, his sweater ‘...no formality here.’
She fixed him with her honeyed gaze and it was as if he were skewered to the spot, like an insect under a pin. It seemed his words were all the invitation she’d needed, because she was really studying him. Her eyes were on his face, sliding down to his chest, along his arms... Something about the appraisal was as intimate as it was overt. Then she looked away and the release was like a snap, sharp and brutal. He wanted her heated gaze on him again. It seemed as vital as his next breath.
‘I’ll remember that for next time,’ she said. ‘If there is a next time. The snow might clear by tomorrow and then Bruno can collect me.’
Not if the weather reports were anything to go by. And even if the snow cleared, she was a woman who might solve the mystery that would pave the way to a kind of forgiveness of his family by his best friend. But most of all he might finally be able to forgive himself. He just needed to remember how to charm. To convince her to stay when it was clear she wished to be anywhere else.
He had been charming once; it was a particular skill required of his job. When the Prince had been required to make harsh decisions, Stefano’s role had called upon him to smooth out the sharp edges. Craft messages to soothe and placate.
He needed someone to smooth out his own edges now. All of him felt sharp enough to draw blood. The past few months had been about coercing the reluctant aristocracy into returning gems that weren’t theirs. Polite conversation had no place in those efforts. He’d left polite society well behind.
‘The weather’s set in. But even if it hadn’t, you’re welcome to stay here rather than in the village.’
She finished another mouthful of pasta. Took a delicate sip of her own wine. Her glass was mostly full whereas his third glass was almost empty.
‘That’s kind of you, but I’ve paid for a room in thepensione. Plus, it’s warmer than here.’
‘Mi dispiace. I’m afraid my hospitality in that regard is lacking.’
‘Well, the room you gave me is lovely. I’ve never stayed anywhere with frescoes on the ceiling. The frolicking cherubs are sweet.’
‘It was a nursery once, and then the nanny’s room, which is why it’s...sweet. The ceilings of some of the other rooms here serve to remind humanity of all its failings.’