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Elizabeth was delighted by the display. Then he hustled her down to Treasure Island just in time to watch the British man-o’-war engage the pirate ship in battle. She clapped when the cannons flashed, and when the British ship finally sank with its captain bravely going down with his command, she gasped at the sight of the lone tricorne floating on the waves. When the ship rose again after a long, tense wait, and the actor portraying the captain spouted a stream of water high into the air, she laughed herself silly.
Next, he took her to a chic French restaurant which boasted burgundy leather seats, quaint low-lit lamps and wildflowers on tables covered in lace-edged linens. After seating her and allowing the maitre d’ to unfurl napkins edged in matching lace across their laps, he smiled across the table at her. “It seems a crime to come to a place like this and not drink wine, but you aren’t permitted to have alcohol.”
“One small glass would be acceptable,” she said. “Nutritional value, you know.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Umm-hmm. If you say so.”
They chatted over dinner, the small, getting-to-know-you rituals that couples on a normal date would enjoy. Because he seemed so fascinated, she let him draw her out, telling him story after story of the scrapes she and her sisters had gotten into as children.
They both declined dessert and while Rafe drank strong coffee and she had a cup of decaffeinated tea, she seized an opening in the conversation to ask him a few questions. It was like pulling teeth with a pair of twee
zers, but finally he told her about completing Oxford and deciding to study architecture at Harvard, a move which had appalled his father. Though Rafe didn’t elaborate, she sensed there was a great deal more to the story.
“So how did you get from Harvard to owning a Phoenix construction company?”
He shrugged. “I decided I wanted to design unique structures. But I also wanted to see them built to the standards I envisioned, so creating my own company seemed a logical next step.”
“This can’t have made your father happy.” She thought about the Grand Duke she knew. “He’s big on tradition. Doesn’t he want you nearby, taking over the reins from him one day?”
A heavy silence fell over the table. “My father’s plans for my life are irrelevant,” he finally said in a tone that indicated discussion was at an end. “He threatened to disown me when I wouldn’t fall in line, though he hasn’t resorted to that yet. Periodically he stops in Phoenix or calls just to browbeat me, thinking I’m going to get less bull-headed as I age. So if your father hoped to cement his relationship with Thortonburg through me, he made a major miscalculation. He’d have done better to throw you at my younger brother.”
The words were such an unexpected attack that she felt as if he’d leaned across the table and struck her. Very slowly, she set down her teacup with trembling hands. “I’ve told you before, my father isn’t the least interested in arranging marriages for any of his daughters. My parents fell in love and married, and they have given us the same opportunity.”
Rafe snorted. “My father and your father made an agreement decades ago to marry one of you off to me. I expected it would be the eldest—”
“Alexandra.”
“But for some reason they must have decided you would be more suitable.” He chuckled, but there was no mirth in the sound. “Obviously, they had no idea just how well we suit each other or they’d never have left us alone.”
The perfect filet she’d eaten rolled in her stomach at the callous reference to what she had been hoping was lovemaking. A wave of nausea, so strong that she had to grit her teeth, made her set her napkin aside and reach for her purse. “I’m going to visit the ladies’ and then I’ll be ready to leave. I’ll meet you in the entry.”
Rafe rose, a frown of concern creasing his broad brow. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m not.”
“I knew you shouldn’t have had that wine. Is there anything I can do?”
“You’ve done quite enough, thank you.” Her words were clipped and she saw his eyes narrow at the tone, but she was past caring. The beat of her heart in her chest was nearly painful as she pushed away the hopes she’d had of love. Rafe had been hurt in the past, but he wouldn’t share that part of himself with her. And she couldn’t live with a man who couldn’t love her, no matter the reason.
Six
Elizabeth was so quiet on the drive back to the hotel that Rafe could feel his gut twist with worry. She’d started getting weird again when he’d mentioned their fathers and the marriage deal. Mentally he kicked himself. That had upset her before, as well. He should have remembered. What did it matter if she didn’t want to believe she was part of an arranged marriage? Women liked a little romance. Well, he thought, she’d forget about their conversation soon enough when she saw what he had done for her.
He led her back to their room and passed his keycard through the lock, then opened the door and motioned for her to precede him. As she did so, he pressed the button on the entry wall for the lamps in the living area.
Halfway into the room, she stopped dead.
Behind her he was grinning. The florist had done a good job. On the glass table in front of the couch stood a huge crystal vase with an arrangement of red roses, three dozen if they’d done as he ordered, beautifully displayed against a background of greenery and some fine-textured, airy white stuff.
“What’s this?” Her voice sounded strange.
“They’re for you.” He stepped forward and took her hand, drawing it to his lips. “For the mother of my child.”
She half turned and her eyes were wide as she stared up at him. Then she burst into tears and bolted into the bedroom, sobbing.
What the hell—? He was so stunned, he didn’t react at all for a moment.
Then he sprinted to the bedroom door as a feeling of déjà vu assailed him. She wasn’t locking him out again!
