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‘I’ll let you…um…’ She rose to retreat.

‘Stay.’ He grabbed her wrist. ‘Please.’

She paused. ‘Do I reply to him?’

‘Do you want to?’

‘I want to tell him to go…’ She shrugged and her chin lifted. ‘I’m going to ignore him. Ignore all of it. I don’t care if that’s cowardly.’

‘Honestly I think that’s a good idea for now.’ As far as he was concerned she wasn’t going anywhere until he was sure she was safe from all this rubbish. He needed time to get information. But he couldn’t keep her on his island for the rest of her life.

‘Are you enabling my avoidance?’ She smiled sadly.

‘Sometimes I’m the Prince of Avoidance.’ He swept his hands over her shoulders, needing to reassure himself she wasn’t shaking. He never wanted to feel her shaking the way she had when they’d seen Domenico after their wedding.

‘Professional level?’ she teased softly. ‘Show me how you do it best.’

He kissed her, both swiftly lost in the mindless bliss of physicality. He held her after until she fell asleep, but then he rose. Too restless to risk waking her, he stood at the window and stared at the city lights.

* * *

‘Any update?’ She was still pale when she came to the dining room the next morning.

‘Not yet.’ He pushed the pot of coffee towards her. ‘I need to grab some files from the fortress. Walk over with me?’ He was unwilling to let her out of his sight—told himself he was being protective, not possessive.

‘Sure.’

While he found the files, she explored the building. He met her in the tower, peering out of the old arrow slit that overlooked the dock.

‘You’ve kept so many original features.’ She looked more energised than she had all morning.

‘The architect did.’

She turned a laughing gaze on him. ‘Why restore it at all if you’re so averse to history? That table in the banquet hall is original.’

Her knowledge of Montaurella’s treasures put him to shame. ‘You really like all the old shit?’

‘By which you mean the beautiful paintings, hand-crafted furniture and links to the past? Yes. I love them.’

‘Why are you enraptured with a history that isn’t even yours?’

‘Believe it or not I love my job. I love making the museum displays, celebrating history. I think it’s important to pay attention to what once happened to avoid repeating the same mistakes. To respect the wisdom and experience of those who’ve gone before us. Montaurella has an amazingly prosperous past.’

‘With a little bloodlust on the side.’

‘Centuries ago.’

Not so long ago, actually. She had no idea of the cruelty that still lay just beneath the surface. The lack of control. The outlet for that frustration. The training he’d endured to become worthy. He couldn’t stand to think on it, preferring to focus on her own history. ‘Who was the fifteen-year-old you kissed?’

She looked startled, then smiled. ‘I was fifteen… I didn’t say he was.’

He arched an eyebrow.

She softly laughed again. ‘He was sixteen. It was before I came to Montaurella and it was a nothing.’

‘No one at university?’

‘By then I was—what did you call me? Princess Pathetic. I couldn’t do anything to bring your father’s house into disrepute.’