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So she sat and chatted as Rafe ate buttered eggs and he and Nick drank their way through a pot of strong black coffee. And when Nick said he was going to speak to Molly, Rafe suggested to her that they go back upstairs. Sophie nodded, but her emotions were all over the place. He’d been very cool with her and she needed to remember that. To remind herself that he could be cold and curt, and it was only during sex that he seemed to show any emotion. But they weren’t real emotions. She needed to remember that, too. Even she, with her laughable lack of experience, could work that one out.
Back in their room the bed had been made and a fresh fire lit in the grate. Someone had put a huge spray of seasonal holly in a jug on one of the window ledges—its spiky green leaves and scarlet berries contrasting with the dramatic whiteness of the snow outside. It looked beautiful, almost tranquil, but tranquil was the last thing Sophie was feeling as Rafe closed the door. She went straight over to the dressing table, sat down in front of the mirror and started to unpin her hair.
In the reflection of the glass, she saw him frown—as if her reaction wasn’t what he’d been anticipating. He walked across the room and put his hands on her shoulders, starting to caress them in a way which instantly made her want to melt, but she forced herself to wriggle away.
‘Don’t,’ she said.
‘Really?’
She supposed it was an indication of his arrogance that the note of surprise in his voice sounded genuine. ‘Yes, really.’ Meeting his gaze in the mirror, she picked up the brush and began to attack her hair.
‘You’re bored with sex already?’
She gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t be disingenuous, Rafe. I’m sure there isn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t find you physically attractive but my emotions aren’t something you can turn on and off, like a tap.’
‘Why bring emotion into it?’ he questioned carelessly.
‘Well, what about simple manners, then?’ She put the brush down and turned on him. ‘You were cold and accusatory towards me downstairs, yet the minute we get back to the bedroom I’m supposed to fall straight into your arms?’
He seemed taken aback by her frankness. ‘You seemed to be getting very cosy with my family.’
‘So? Would you have preferred it if I’d been aloof? Don’t you realise that’s what people expect me to be? It was actually lovely to meet people who treated me normally. People I didn’t have to put at ease, the way I usually do. Who didn’t seem to care that I was a princess. What’s your problem with that?’
‘I just don’t want them getting any false ideas about our relationship,’ he growled.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry your head about that.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I’m sure your attitude towards me will be enough to convince them that we have no lasting future. It’s just a pity you’re managing to ruin the present in the process. Great way to live your life.’
For a moment he stilled, as if he was going to object to her making such a personal comment, but he didn’t. Instead his eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what I’m doing?’
‘Yes.’ She could hear the powerful pounding of her heart as it slammed against her ribcage and knew she couldn’t keep avoiding the question she was burning to ask. ‘Tell me, do you and Sharla have some kind of history?’
There was a fraction of a pause.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘It was a simple question, Rafe. A yes or a no will do.’
Rafe heard the persistence in her voice as he looked into her luminous blue eyes. At those rosy lips, which were plump and parted. He could lie to her—of course he could. She’d told a few lies herself, hadn’t she—so what would a few more matter? Except that their conversation on the plane had made him understand why she’d been so reluctant to reveal her identity. Even why her virginity had become a millstone around her neck—something which had been saved for a man who had ultimately chosen someone else. Maybe there had been some justification for those lies she had woven, but the same could not reasonably be said of him if he chose not to answer her question directly.
And surely he could give her the bare facts. He didn’t have to give her chapter and verse.
‘We were an item a long time ago.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘Over a decade ago, in fact, and it lasted less than a year.’
‘And did you—?’
‘No, Sophie,’ he said, because he was discovering that some things could still hurt, no matter how deeply you buried them. That when you pulled them to the surface they could still seep like a dark stain over your skin. Still make you want to smash a frustrated fist against the nearest wall. ‘That was a lot more than the yes or no you initially demanded and it’s all you’re going to get.’
He saw confusion on her face along with a softness which affected him even though he didn’t want it to. And although he knew he should resist touching her when she was trying to unpick him like this, something made him override his instincts. Was it comfort he sought, or oblivion? Reaching out, he pulled her to her feet and brought her up close against his body, his hands cupping her buttocks so that she could feel the hardness of his erection. And she did. He could tell from the sudden dilation of her eyes and he half expected her to object as he bent his head to kiss her. To pull away and demand to know more about Sharla, because curiosity was part of human nature and women were far more curious than men.
But she didn’t. Was she intuitive enough to guess that right then he needed her kiss, in the way a starving man needed food? Was that why her lips parted, as if silently begging him to crush them with his own? And why, when he did, she kissed him back with a hunger which matched his, as if realising that in this, at least, they were properly equal? His tongue laced with hers and he could feel the urgent rush of blood to his groin as he skated his palm down over her hips. ‘Sophie—’
‘Shh,’ she said urgently, pushing her breasts hard into his chest, her breath hot against his. ‘Just do it.’
The unexpected earthiness of her response only fuelled his spiralling hunger and Rafe tugged the cardigan over her head, not bothering with the tiny buttons. Granted access to the silky camisole beneath, he rubbed his palm over her hardening nipple and felt her shiver as she began tugging urgently at his belt. His mouth dried. She might be a novice, but she certainly wasn’t shy. He liked the murmuring sound of approval she gave as she tugged down the zip of his jeans and wrapped her hand around his rock-hard shaft. But when she started to slide her fingers up and down, he gave a swift shake of his head to stop her.
Picking her up, he carried her over to the bed, his hands unsteady as he laid her down and pulled off the rest of her clothes. Curve after silken curve was revealed and he resisted the urge to let his fingers linger and caress her until they were both naked and warm beneath the duvet. He wanted to put his head in between her legs but he wanted to be inside her even more. Somehow he found a condom and although she seemed eager to take responsibility for the task, he shook his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Let me do it. I don’t trust myself if you put your hands anywhere near me when I’m in this state.’
