Even though the bed was enormous, lying there with Stefano was still too close. Lucy closed her eyes for a moment, tried to shut him out as they lay in silence, but she still caught a hint of him. A scent like warm spice. That smell had invaded her dreams, as had the man himself. And, whilst she couldn’t really remember what had actually happened in them, all she knew was that she’d woken up with the sheets tangled round her legs, the whole bed in disarray, and a delicious warmth sliding through her.
‘I think that I prefer your bed too.’
Lucy opened her eyes. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. More of a sultry whisper than a statement of fact. Stefano turned his head, his dark eyes blacker than usual, the pupils drowning out the espresso-brown. Her heart thumped. That familiar rush of heat which she’d woken up to was now rushing through her. Enticing. Intoxicating. She knew what it was—desire. And she couldn’t,shouldn’tdesire this man. Not when her life was such a mess. Especially not when she was keeping secrets from him.
Then his lips parted, his fingers flexing on the coverlet. The moment swelled with possibility.
‘What do you like about my bed, Lucy?’
The smell of you. Imagining you in it naked. With me.
But she couldn’t say any of those things.
‘The canopy. The constellations. I miss seeing the stars for real. There’s too much light in the big cities here.’
A look passed across his face. Stark, blank...almost hopeless. Stefano turned his head to stare up at the ceiling. Then he sat up, ran his hand through his hair. ‘The castle’s large, and there’s much more to show you.’
She regretted the change in mood. That she hadn’t taken a leap of faith and told him what she really felt. But she wasn’t sure she could trust him. She hardly trusted herself.
‘I promise I won’t have you breaking any more rules,’ she said. ‘Even though I think you kind of enjoyed it.’
The corner of his mouth kicked up in another wry kind of grin which made him look younger, almost devilish, and her silly heart tripped over itself.
‘It’s one more sin to add to a list of many,’ he said.
Yet despite that lightness his voice carried a weight heavy enough to break a person. She wanted to reach out, clasp his hand, ask what was wrong, but she wasn’t sure he’d accept it or give her an honest answer.
Instead, Lucy slid off the bed. She straightened the crushed covers and dented pillows as he did the same on his side. Their movements struck her as intensely intimate and domestic.
She swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘Where to now?’
‘Perhaps the portrait gallery, so you can view the members of my noble family?’
She didn’t want to see that—all those pictures of his deceased and judgemental relatives. She wanted to know more abouthim, the man, with a ferocity that completely overtook her.
‘Do you have a favourite place here? One you love more than anywhere else?’
‘Sí.’
‘Then take me there.’
He needed to get out of here. Escape this room. Lying down next to her had been a mistake. Not because he was concerned that only the bodies of royalty should lie in the hallowed bed they’d lain on together—that was the flimsy lie he’d told himself. It was more.
The naked avalanche of desire that had struck and mown him down, crushing his will. Seeing her lying on that royal bed, with her strawberry blonde hair spilling over the pillows, he hadn’t been able to help but think of her inhisbed. Which had led to inevitable thoughts of being in that bed with her.
It had been all he could do when they’d lain on the pristine covers not to invite her into his arms. Kiss her. Evoke soft moans of pleasure as he made love to her, burying himself in the warmth of Lucy’s body and forgetting everything. But forgetting wasn’t an option. Not for him. He needed to remember, to dwell on his pain. Because he hadn’t served his penance yet and might never do so.
He went to the door of the Royal Suite. She wanted to know his favourite place here? He’d show her. That was safer than this fever which gripped him in its thrall.
They walked together through some of the service corridors, utilitarian spaces of rough-hewn stone and little embellishment.
‘I don’t know how you find your way around,’ said Lucy. ‘Do you ever get lost?’
Stefano looked over at her. Her cheeks were red. She seemed a little puffed.
He adjusted his stride and slowed down for her. ‘As children we ran wild in this place.’
‘A game of hide and seek must have been impossible. You’d never find each other.’