‘No sex?’ He lingered on the word, and her cheeks bloomed to a fetching shade of rose. He still affected her. Good. Rafe suppressed a smile. ‘No.’
He had some cards to play here. Liseneededhim, for more than one reason. Were things in the country worse than disclosed? Was that why her father had tried to force the marriage prematurely?
Did Lise know?
Her face paled even further if that were possible. Her mouth puckered as she no doubt nibbled the inside of her lower lip. A habit of hers when she worried, and she worried too much.
‘What do you mean “no”?’
‘My meaning’s plain.’
‘You can’t force me to allow you to...’ Her gaze darted about the room, never at him. Of course she was nervous of this arrangement. Lise was a woman who sought a fantasy. From the sweeping love stories she read in secret, to the pre-Raphaelite artists she preferred. Each one a homage to the romance she craved.
‘Make love to you? I’d never force a woman.’
‘There’s no love in our arrangement.’
But there could have been. He’d have ensured she loved him when the time came to ask for her hand. From commoner to prince...the aristocracy would never have underestimated him again. The wicked flame alight in his gut burned hotter at the chance lost.
‘Have sex, then. No love, merely slick, sweaty—’
‘I—I can see you’re not interested in a practical arrangement. I’m sorry for wasting your time.’ Lise’s chest heaved. The pupils of her luminous blue eyes blown wide and dark. ‘I’ll find other candidates. Alternatives have been proposed.’
Alternatives?Now who was the fool? He needed to tamp down this anger before he overplayed his hand. He could see them all, jockeying for position to become the most powerful man in the country. Those men who thought they knew better. School peers who’d tormented him at the prestigious Kings’ Academy for being of the wrong class, even though his family’s wealth crept close to theirs. Disdained his younger brother, Carl, whose only dream had been to tend the family herd on the mountain slopes. Bullied so mercilessly he’d refused to return after six months, when if he’d stayed at the school, he might still be alive today...
Even now, Rafe’s wealth propped up the institutions and lifestyle the aristocracy so loved. Every drop of fine wine they drank, much of the food they ate, had the De Villiers name attached. His empire built by his own hands through ambition, driven by personal experience and his brother’s blood. Yet none of that mattered. To them, he was still the son of a cow herder, as they’d used to mock him each lonely day at that godforsaken horror of a school. Ignore that for generations his family had made a traditional cheese with its own appellation, national protection and of world renown. That with his own business interests, he could buy them all and still be left with billions. Carl had been right. That place and those boys had taught him nothing but contempt. Then when Carl had died, they had heaped only scorn, not solace, on his grief. He would never forget.
Never.
None of his former collegians, the aristocracy here, had any idea how to save the country, which was why he’d been chosen. He’d show them all what he could achieve. The thought ofanyof them touching Lise raged fire in his gut. There was only ever one candidate for her.
Him.
‘I’ve never pretended to be a eunuch. Yet you’re consigning me to the life of one.’
He’d planned it. The ring, a diamond the colour of sunshine to match her golden hair. A wedding night where he’d spread her on the marital bed and show her passion she’d never dreamed of. Nowhere in this scheme was a woman who wouldn’t touch him.
‘You misunderstand. No sex...with me.’ She flushed again. Each emotion playing through the colours washing her cheeks. Her face hid nothing. A charming quality for a lover, a flawed one for a queen. She straightened her spine, tried to meet his gaze but her haunted blue eyes didn’t rest on his face. Flitting everywhere about the room, other than on him. ‘You can, of course, take a mistress. After an appropriate time.’
Was she serious? The tight set of her jaw told him she was. He swallowed down the bitter taste of her offer as if it were poison.
‘What would you consider an appropriate time?’ He gripped the arms of his uncomfortable chair till his fingers cramped. Better that than giving into his desire to break something, like the clock on the desk, which wouldn’t stop its infernal ticking. ‘Should I begin after the honeymoon?’
‘We need no honeymoon. It’s not that type of marriage.’
‘Why wait, then? You’ll be wanting a lover too. It wouldn’t be fair to deny the goose what you’re offering the gander.’
‘I am not a goose, Mr De Villiers.’ Her hands trembled; she placed her palms flat on the dark, aged desktop again. ‘You’ve said enough.’
No, none of this was enough. The absurdity enraged him. ‘I wonder. Shall we invite this...brace of lovers to the wedding?’
‘Be. Quiet.’ Her lips were tight and thin. He wasn’t inclined to listen to the tone of warning in her voice.
‘What intriguing dinner conversation we’ll all have. Though the question,Darling, could you please pass the salt?might lead to confusion. I mean, which darling? The spouse or the paramour? I can see us all grappling over condiments in our efforts to please.’
‘There will be no grappling—’
‘Not between us, no. Not even a clinch in the corner, sadly. I’m a faithful man, so I’d never cheat on my mistress with my wife. It’s against my principles. I presume you’d feel—’