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She followed him through the house, back to the imposing hallway, up the wide, sweeping staircase and along the first-floor corridor, in silence.
Nevertheless, she was sure she didn’t imagine that his voice was fractionally hoarser when he spoke again.
‘This is your suite.’ He stopped outside a set of heavy walnut double doors. ‘Dinner will be ready at seven. I’ll wait for you in the hallway.’
Saskia was torn between the elegant formality and the fear that it made things too clinical—too detached—between them.
‘I’m not entirely sure I’ll have anything appropriate to wear. I only brought a small case.’ She cast him a vaguely accusatory glare. ‘You didn’t exactly give me much of a chance to pack.’
‘I seriously doubt you had much to choose from, anyway,’ he eyed her shrewdly. ‘Or do you already have a full maternity wardrobe?’
Her hand flew to her rounded belly on cue. He had a point.
‘Fortunately,’ he continued easily, ‘I had the foresight to have some clothes delivered once I decided we would be coming here. Imelda had them put away in your suite.’
‘I don’t know whether to feel flattered or insulted.’ Her voice was clipped.
‘I suggest you just accept it for what it is,’ suggested Malachi. ‘Rather than overthinking everything you come across.’
Before she could answer he turned away and sauntered up the corridor, hands in pockets. Possibly to his own suite, which was no doubt located as far away from hers as it was possible to get, she decided.
Which was just fine.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SASKIA STARED AROUND her suite, slightly agog. It had been decades since she’d been part of Hollywood royalty, but she still recalled the beauty of the places she’d lived and the hotels in which she’d stayed.
Malachi’s castello beat every one of those hands-down.
The first room she’d entered was, she realised after rather a long moment, a living space. Her own private living space. The suite was already generous, but the high ceilings, with their ornate friezes, made it feel positively expansive. Carved wooden shutters framed huge leaded glass windows, and two oversized plush couches sat delicately in the space.
Saskia crossed the room to the next set of double doors, opening them almost tentatively. Another high-ceilinged ornate space lay beyond, only in the middle of this one sat an enormous four-poster bed—arguably as big as her entire bedroom back in her apartment. Underfloor heating discreetly warmed the space, whilst the stunning parquet made her itch to walk across it in her bare feet.
If it hadn’t been for her post-op state she might even have twirled around the room like a ballerina. It was such a beautiful, magical space.
She opened a door on what presumably had to be the bathroom, only to find it was a walk-in closet about the size of her kitchen, full of carelessly beautiful clothes that her fingers ached to touch.
Then, finally, she found it. The bathroom. A glorious limestone affair with practically a spa-sized tub for a bath and a waterfall for a shower.
It was enough to make Saskia wish she never had to leave.
Except, she reminded herself fiercely, for the fact that it belongs to Malachi.
Wandering in, she found some pins to put her hair up, let her clothes lie where they dropped, and allowed the shower to call to her. It was a revival such as she had never had before. Not just sluicing away the drudge of the journey, but also the crud of the last few weeks.
She washed it all down the long-grid gutter as though it had never existed. Including the last conversation with Malachi, which had seemed to go completely the wrong way. Like a giant step back after all the shuffling forward they had managed together this past week.
It wasn’t how she’d wanted it to go. She certainly hadn’t wanted to argue...
Saskia had no idea how long she stood there, letting the water pound down over her body, and letting her mind clear of some of its recent obstacles. She only knew that by the time she emerged she felt lighter, happier than she had in a while.
She padded softly through to the bedroom, climbed up onto the high bed and sank back into the downy pillows, intending to stay there for only a few minutes.
She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep within seconds.
* * *
It might have helped if she hadn’t looked quite so devastating, Malachi thought several hours later, as Saskia walked down the stairs in a figure-hugging maternity dress which showed off the growing bump—his baby—perfectly. It also made something thicken and tighten within him.
