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None of that should have mattered to her, not when she wasn’t going to be marrying him no matter what he thought, so she wasn’t sure why it felt so imperative now.
Yet the curiosity that gripped her felt more important than anything else. More important even than sex.
‘No,’ he said, his stare unwavering. ‘I wouldn’t have married you.’
A small, sharp pain shot through her. She ignored it.
‘Why not?’
‘Because a wife wasn’t something I ever wanted.’
‘So, what did you want then?’
His expression didn’t change. ‘To rule Santa Castelia to the best of my ability. Fill its treasury. Make sure the heir will be a decent king when he comes of age.’
‘And then what?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What did you want after that? Presumably, since you didn’t want a wife or children, you had other plans. So, what were they?’
Something in his eyes flickered. ‘It doesn’t matter what they were. Nothing changes the situation we have to deal with now.’
‘It does matter,’ she disagreed. ‘No one ever asked me what I wanted, Rafael, and I wonder if anyone had ever asked you the same. So now I’m asking. What doyouwant?’
A muscle flicked in his jaw. He was tense and she didn’t know why. It was clear something about her question bothered him.
‘You,’ he said roughly. ‘I want you in my bed.’
A pulse of an answering heat went through her, but she pushed it aside. This was important. They’d never had the opportunity to talk about any of this and now they did. While she still hadn’t changed her mind about marrying him, she wanted at least to understand him.
‘That’s not what I’m asking,’ she said steadily. ‘Did you want happiness? Success and a long life? More money? More power? Another country to rule?’
He was silent, the silver of his eyes blazing like liquid mercury. ‘Why do you want to know these things? What purpose could knowing them possibly serve?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? I want to know you.’
That muscle flicked in his jaw again, his tall figure radiating tension. ‘You know me already, Lia.’
‘No, I don’t. I know that you like whisky and Cuban cigars. And I know your thoughts on various political situations. I know you don’t like the word “no”.’ She swallowed, a familiar, relentless ache unwinding inside her. The ache to get closer to him, to scratch the surface of him and find out what lay beneath. ‘But those are all just parts of you. I don’t know the whole. I know the Regent and bits and pieces of the man, but I want the rest, Rafael. If you want me to marry you, Ihaveto know.’
Again, he stayed silent, merely staring at her.
‘How long?’ he demanded suddenly. ‘How long have you wanted me?’
She didn’t want to tell him because of what it would reveal, but then again, why not? Why shouldn’t he know? She could hardly demand answers from him and then not give them herself.
‘Ever since you arrived at the palace,’ she said baldly.
‘But you were only—’
‘Seventeen, yes. Maybe I didn’t quite know what it meant at the time, but over the years I worked it out, believe me.’
His gaze flared, though nothing else about him moved.
But she’d had months of those meetings in her father’s study, of looking into his eyes, watching his face. Watching him.
She’d shocked him, hadn’t she?
