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The smile still alight on her face, she added, ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
He worked hard to keep his tone neutral over the thumping of his heart. ‘Hardly surprising with all this noise.’
Marcelo had flown to Milan needing breathing space from Clara. Breathing space from the battle raging inside himself. Hours spent every day with a woman who made his blood burn, trapped in her zany orbit, hearing her frequent laughter, watching her face screw in concentration as she undertook what she called her princess lessons, retiring to bed early every night because the buzz in his veins deepened when night fell and they were left alone together, finding no solace in his bedroom, too alert for the tread of her steps and the creak of her bedroom door, eyes glued to the wall separating them...
His awareness of her was rapidly consuming him but it wasn’t his growing hunger that had seen him escape his island for some respite. It was Clara’s spirit, that unquantifiable something that sparkled from her and sang to the part of him prone to rushes of blood to his head and impulsive behaviour.
The part of him that had no place in his life any more.
Clara and this whole situation was his responsibility. Marcelo’s impulsive actions had put the monarchy in its greatest peril in two centuries. He needed to keep his head and, to do that, he needed to keep Clara at arm’s length. He needed to fight.
The problem was what he needed to do and what it was possible to do were two different things. How did you keep someone so full of life and joy, someone so present, at arm’s length? Especially when you wanted them so much it hurt.
And especially when they smiled at you the way Clara smiled at him, with her whole, beautiful face.
‘Sorry.’ She turned the volume down with her phone. ‘Better?’
‘Yes. I can now hear myself think,’ he said wryly, then shook his head. ‘I would never have had you down as someone who likes sentimental love songs.’
‘Love songs are the best,’ she enthused.
How long would it take before she ceased to amaze him? Clara had to be the least sentimental person he’d met in his life and he’d found her singing and swaying to a song about unrequited love. She’d been oblivious to his presence and so he’d had a few moments of private observation watching the movements of her body, her curves softly showing through her white fitted calf-length trousers and multi-coloured long-sleeved top, dark blond hair loose and spilling over her shoulders. In those unobserved moments there had been an inexplicable tightening in his chest that had been far more acute than the tightening in his loins.
His loins were far easier to control.
And then she’d spun around and the look on her face when she’d seen him...
‘How did you get on with the designer?’ he asked.
‘Great! I managed to get rid of her by giving her free rein on it.’
He laughed. ‘I thought you’d love being involved in the creation process.’
She pulled a face. ‘Turns out I much prefer choosing from finished products. Did you get your outfit sorted?’
‘I did. And while I was there...’ Filling his lungs with air, Marcelo stepped over to her. ‘I bought something for you.’
Her eyes lit up, which was something considering there was a permanent light in them. ‘A present?’
‘An engagement ring.’
Marcelo had left his favourite tailor with the details for his wedding suit efficiently sorted, enjoying his breathing space away from Clara. And then he’d noticed the adjoining jewellery shop. He already knew Clara’s ring size from when it had been measured for her wedding ring. Choosing an engagement ring would take five minutes of his time. Well, it would have if his impulsive decision hadn’t turned into an obsessive quest to find the perfect ring for her. He’d visited six exclusive jewellers before the perfect ring revealed itself.
She was practically bouncing on her toes. ‘Can I see?’
Doubt over whether she’d like it kicked in. His heart thumped hard as he opened the lid for her.
After what felt like a whole era had passed, she tore her gaze from the ring to him.
‘That’s for me?’ Clara whispered, struggling to work her vocal chords.
Throat moving, he nodded. ‘If you don’t like it, tell me. I can return it. We can go shopping together and choose one you like.’
‘But I do like it.’
‘You do?’
Her heart was fit to burst. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Is it really for me?’
