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‘How do you know?’ she challenged, but her tone was husky.
‘I just do.’
‘That’s hardly an answer.’
‘It’s all the answer I care to give.’
‘Even if you’re wrong?’
‘I’m not,’ he snapped.
‘I think you are.’
‘I’m not sure I care.’
She frowned. ‘Would you at least consider it?’
‘Not for one iota of a second.’
‘Not even to make your sister happy?’
‘She’s marrying the love of her life. You think the ceremony taking place here is what will make her happy?’
‘She deserves the wedding of her dreams,’ Lucinda insisted, her own heart heavy with all that she’d lost. ‘She wants a wedding that will make her feel as though your parents are with her, watching over her, on this most special day in her life. This place is uniquely special to her. I know I can give her a dream wedding, and I promise to balance that with your need for privacy.’
‘You don’t know a thing about me or my needs,’ he ground out, somehow closer to her, so now his chest brushed her breasts and her nipples tingled at the unexpected contact, aching against the fabric of her bra. Her eyes fluttered closed and she made a soft sound, a breath that was laced with all the feelings that were pouring through her.
Her own needs were tearing her apart, but they were needs she had no idea how to handle.
‘And frankly, you don’t know a thing about my sister, either.’
‘I’ve done my research.’
‘Apparently not, or you’d have known that this plan was doomed from the start. No wedding will take place at Castile di Neve.Is that clear?’
When she looked into his eyes, her face had to tilt upwards, and they were close enough to kiss. The thought came out of nowhere, impetuous and unwanted but impossible to let go of, so her lips parted and her eyes felt heavy with stars. Desire was a wind rushing through her, warm and inescapable.
‘I want—’ but Lucinda could barely finish the thought. What she wanted was impossible to articulate, and this man scared her to bits. Not the man himself, but the effect he had on her, and the fact they were here, in this stunning castle, in the middle of a snowstorm.
‘What do you want?’ The words were a growl.
Neither of them stepped back. It was as if some silent, invisible force had welded them together. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to feel his lips moving over hers, separating them, his tongue lashing hers. She wanted to forget about the wedding of the year, the fee, and what that would mean to her. Most of all, she wanted to forget about her stepmother and the mess she was making of the company, she wanted to forget about her pain and loneliness. She wanted to lose herself, just for one night.
His hand on her cheek seared her flesh. It was light and gentle, the tips of his fingers connecting with the skin beside her eye, at first, and then his whole palm curving around her cheek, while his thumb passed tantalisingly close to her lips. Stars burst through her.
‘What do you want?’ he repeated, his eyes holding hers, forcing her to stare at him simply because she couldn’t look away. It felt as though he were looking into her soul, seeing all the things she usually kept so tightly concealed.
Instead of answering, she swayed forward, closing any gap that had remained between them, so his hardness pressed to her soft curves and something inside her—something vital and unknown—locked into place.
‘Answer the question.’ His lips were taut, almost white rimmed, and, despite the mask he wore that was carefully muted of emotion, she saw the torment in the depths of his eyes, as though even the hint of this conversation was making him feel things he wished he didn’t.
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.
‘Liar.’ His response was swift.
‘What do I want, then?’ she volleyed back, eyes unflinching, heart pounding.
One side of his lip curled, derision unmistakable. ‘The same thing I do.’
