Her lips turned up in a soft smile, but her eyes remained sad. ‘Thank you. I’m trying to think that, but it’s been hard. At least we weren’t engaged. But the point of this isn’t to get sympathy for myself. There was a little café in Salzburg we used to go to during rehearsals. It sold the best pastries. Just before I came here, I went there. Ordered a coffee and cake and sat. Enjoyed it on my own. I took the café back. That’s whatyouneed to do—make new memories for yourself.’
‘Perhaps I will.’
She was so bright—like one of the vibrant orchids which bloomed here. A splash of colour in all the green. Any thoughts associated with this place would now seem full of her.
‘What would it take for me to capture good memories here, to reclaim this space, Lucy?’
She hesitated. ‘I—I don’t know. But...something momentous?’
Her face and cheeks flushed the colour of a newly opened rose. She looked like summer, standing there in her strappy top, with the bare skin of her arms exposed and pale. Everything here smelled raw, like life and earth, except for her. Lucy was the delicate hint of flowers. She wasn’t merely beautiful, but achingly so. The warm gold of her eyes glowing in the light.
All Stefano could think about now was the pout of her exquisite mouth...how he wanted to run his thumb over her lower lip to see if it was as soft as it appeared. He reached out. Hesitated a moment. She didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned into him. He drifted his thumb over that perfect lower lip and it was as silky as he had imagined. Her eyes fluttered closed, her eyelashes fanning over her cheeks.
A kiss would do it—chase away any remaining memories of a day that was supposed to be special and instead had somehowlacked. But kissing Lucy would be wrong. It would be madness. And still he stepped towards her, eased his arms around her waist.
Her eyes opened, then widened, and she slid the palms of her hands flat on his chest, splaying her fingers over his muscles. A tremor ran through her. Not cold, but goosebumps, which peppered her skin under his fingers. He dropped his head and she rose to meet him.
The merest brush of their mouths and he was lost. Lucy was black ice. She was danger. Someone who diverted him from what he needed to do, from what was right. And yet he didn’t care. Instead, he let go. Allowed himself to slip and to fall.
A flame of desire ignited and took hold.
Lucy made a sound, almost pained, pressed harder into his body as if she couldn’t get close enough. So he tightened his arms till there was no space between them. Her lips parted under his as their tongues touched, slipped over one another.
It didn’t seem like a first kiss, where two people needed to learn one another. This was more knowing. A passionate give and take. Nothing tentative. A kiss driven only by instinct.
Stefano was hard, aching. Almost desperate. He should stop, but the kiss only deepened. She must know—she’d have to feel his need, pressed together as they were. Still, she didn’t pull away, and he hoped she never would. This was desire in its purest form—a welcoming of two bodies together in perfect harmony. They shouldn’t, but he wanted to have her here. Except there was nowhere to lie. And this was a woman who deserved a bed with soft covers and crisp sheets. Not ravishment on a garden bench or moist earth.
His mind catalogued the places close by. He could swoop her into his arms, take her back to the Royal Suite and make love to her there...
Then he noticed her slowing, pulling away. He wanted to chase the kiss. Fight for it. But instead he stopped and pulled back too, even though inside he howled like a wild animal. He looked down at her lips, plump and red. Her breath coming in heavy gusts, mirroring his own. He loosened his arms, even though he wanted to tell her she should never leave them.
‘I...’ It was as if Lucy couldn’t get out any words. Her eyes were glazed, her pupils wide. Her dumbfounded look mirrored how he felt.
‘If that’s not what you wanted, I’m sorr—’
‘No. It was perfect...’ She raised a trembling hand to her mouth. ‘The perfect way for you to take this place back. I’m glad I could...help.’
Lucy stepped away from him.
He knew he should stop her, but she turned and fled.
Stefano could do nothing but let her go.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUCYLOOKEDOUTof the window of Stefano’s room. The sun was out, the snow no longer falling. She’d had dinner in here last night, after getting a text saying he had to work and would leave a meal in the kitchen for her. She’d welcomed the breakfast tray he’d dropped outside her door this morning, giving her some space. Apart from texts, they hadn’t spoken at all.
Did he regret what had happened?
She lifted her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes, revisiting the kiss that had kept her awake half the night. The pleasure of it was still humming through her veins. How she’d never wanted it to stop, but known ithadto.
She still hadn’t told him about the violin, and something about keeping that secret now didn’t feel right. When she’d first arrived, she hadn’t been sure of him and how he might react to what she had to say. Now she didn’t want to ruin this growing understanding between them that was as confusing as it was precious.
Only the pure force of the iron will which helped her practise through boredom and sometimes pain had her running away from Stefano in the conservatory as if their kiss had meant nothing but a mere favour. Who was she kidding? It hadn’t done any favours for her. It had rocked her world.
Lucy wasn’t sure what it had done for Stefano. She wasn’t completely naïve. He’d been hard. Aroused. But she figured that simply happened when a man got up close and personal with any woman. And maybe when she’d stepped back he might have had a confused look, as if he’d taken a hard knock to the head, but she didn’t really know. She hadn’t been thinking very clearly herself.
Which was why she was here with her violin, looking to play. It grounded her, losing herself in the music. Reminded her of who she really was. Trying to achieve the perfect pitch and those notes that sang through her and her instrument so she could forget the wallop of passion she hadn’t realised could exist between two people.