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The older woman she’d seen before stood in the doorway. Constanza, apparently. The woman inclined her head in response to some unspoken command and vanished back down the hall, leaving as silently as she came.
The only sound in the room was the crackle of the flames in the fireplace and the frantic beat of her pulse.
Rafael was standing close, but not too close. Enough to feel the intense heat of his body and smell his familiar scent.
Her chest tightened, her throat closing.
His fingers tugged gently on the first button, a delicious tension gathering deep inside her, along with a bone-deep longing.
It was the same tension she’d felt whenever Rafael strode in and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. Whenever his silver gaze met hers.
Was he thinking about that right now? Had he felt that same tension? That same longing?
He’d never said anything openly, never mentioned the thick atmosphere that used to fill her father’s study sometimes when he looked at her.
The first time she’d known that their attraction was mutual had been when he’d unleashed that storm of passion the night she’d spent in his arms.
He said nothing now as he began to undo all the buttons, his fingers deft and sure, the fabric parting, cool air drifting over her bared skin.
She remembered this. Remembered being naked with him, feeling the touch of his hands and the brush of his mouth, the heat of his hard, muscular body on hers. The strength of his arms, gathering her close...
Did he remember this, too? Did he long for it as she did?
Perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps she was seeing things in his expression, in his gaze, that weren’t there. Perhaps it was all in her head.
Whatever, this was a mistake. She had to stop letting her stupid emotions control her.
Lia swallowed, her throat bone dry, preparing to pull away.
Then he said quietly, ‘Ah, yes. I remember this view.’
In the silence of the room, Rafael heard her breath catch.
She was warm and she smelled of the honeysuckle that grew on the stone walls in the older part of the palace. Light, sweet, delicious...
He shouldn’t be doing this, not when she tested his control so completely, but she’d been adamant, refusing to listen to all good sense and logic about marrying him. Insisting on wanting to be chosen for herself and not because he’d been ‘forced’ into it.
He understood her protests, at least intellectually. She’d been chosen for Matias. Matias hadn’t chosen her. He hadn’t been passionate about her. He’d found her dull. She was a duty and if Rafael had taught him nothing else, it was that doing one’s duty was imperative.
And it was true that she’d never been given the opportunity to choose for herself what she wanted out of life. Then again, she was an adult woman, full of fire and spirit, and she could have refused the path her parents had laid out for her. And he didn’t understand why she hadn’t.
He’d wanted to press her about that, but once Lia didn’t want to talk about something, she didn’t want to talk. She was stubborn like that.
Just as she was stubborn about refusing to marry him.
Using their chemistry to remind her that there would be some compensations to being his wife was perhaps manipulative, but when it came to the wellbeing of his child there was nothing he wouldn’t do.
Anyway, if she wanted to be chosen, then he would choose her. Because while it was true that if she hadn’t fallen pregnant, he would never have even contemplated marrying her, the fact that no other woman tempted him the way she did hadn’t changed.
He’d never wanted to marry, but the more he thought about having Lia as his wife, the more attractive the idea became. Being married to her would certainly be no hardship and definitely not any kind of duty.
He just had to convince her of that.
The fabric of her gown had parted, revealing the elegant curve of her spine, all pale skin and softness.
Desire kicked hard inside him, stealing his breath.
‘How could you remember?’ She didn’t ask him what he was talking about. She knew. ‘It was dark.’
