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He frowned. ‘And then you go away again.’
‘For ever?’
A muscle jerked low in his jaw. His nod was slow. A surrender to the necessity of that. But was it really necessary?
‘It has to be that way.’
‘Why?’
‘You know the answer to that.’
She did. At least, she knew what he believed. But he was wrong. How could she make him see that? And how could she possibly fight for him to understand?
He would say no.
He would reject her.
Thirio would become just another person in her life who didn’t care for her. Someone else she loved who wouldn’t love her back. Just like after her father had died and she’d turned to her stepmother and stepsisters, expecting consolation and receiving cruelty. Just like when she’d fallen in love with Beckett and he’d chosen her stepsister.
Thirio would be just the same. He would choose not to be with her.
And she couldn’t bear it.
How could she fight when the outcome was already ordained?
Perhaps this would be all they’d ever have. Snatches of time with no hope for a future.
Sadness cloyed at her throat. She wished she could refuse him. She wished she could tell him to go to hell. But she loved him, and she would take whatever time they had, before the real end game.
‘Dinner,’ she agreed finally, her voice uneven.
His relief was obvious, but so too his concern. This wasn’t easy for either of them.
He had planned to avoid her. Simply to know she was here and be near her without touching, without speaking more than was necessary. But as soon as he’d seen her, the plan had crumbled around him and he’d reached for her as a drowning man would a lifeline. He’d clutched at more time together. More of Lucinda.
It ran contrary to everything he’d planned.
He actually felt nervous. Thirio Skartos! A man who’d dated hundreds of women in his life felt as though his legs were going to fall out from under him as he waited for Lucinda. The only advantage to having his castle overrun by staff was that he’d been able to have the terrace set up like a restaurant. One single table stood in the middle of the space, covered in a white cloth with a candle at its centre. Strings of fairy lights ran overhead, and soft jazz music played through the speakers. The air was heavy with the scent of food covered with sterling silver lids. Brightly coloured cushions had been scattered on the far side of the terrace, as well as a picnic rug. It looked perfect.
Too perfect.
It looked like a night of promise, but this was no such thing. There was nothing Thirio could offer Lucinda. Would she mind? Would she hate him? He almost hoped she would.
‘Wow.’ The word curled around him, so he closed his eyes before turning, needing to rally his strength before he saw her.
He spun slowly, bracing himself, but there was nothing he could do to stop the wave of awareness that cascaded through him.
She was beautiful.
More beautiful than she’d ever looked.
It was ridiculous. She was wearing the same thing she’d been wearing earlier, but her long hair was out now, loose down her back and tumbling over her shoulders, and her feet were bare. That small detail sent his nerves into overdrive. It was so intimate. So...at home.
The phrase gripped him like a noose.
This was his home; not hers.
‘Please.’ He cleared his throat, gesturing to the table. She walked towards it without sitting down. Her fingers shook visibly as she reached for the bottle of red wine and poured herself a glass, then moved around the table and poured him one. Her fingers were still shaking when she picked both up and walked slowly, purposefully towards him, extending a glass. He reached to take it, his fingers closing over hers without regret. The contact seared his skin, sending arrows of awareness darting through him.
