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Can they, though? When even your own mother couldn’t?
The unease inside him wound deeper, making the anger that had always burned sullenly in his heart flicker into life. He’d felt it out in his office, too, when he’d told her about his parents, about his father’s egregious behaviour with him and his mother’s dutiful care.
That Lia could see it had made him uncomfortable and he’d been glad when she hadn’t pushed for more. So glad he’d given her another little tidbit just to show his appreciation. She’d been so sweet, too, putting her hand on his chest, pressing herself against him, her eyes full of sympathy.
He’d liked that. It had made the cold, icy part of him feel warm, which was perhaps a bad thing since his emotions had to remain frozen. Then again, channelling them into physical passion with a woman who wanted him, with his soon-to-be wife, wasn’t wrong. And as long as he could keep doing that, everything would be fine.
What if she wants more?
Rafael pushed that thought aside, because really, what more could she want?
‘That’s because I work hard to make sure that’s all they see,’ he said casually. ‘My father’s genes aren’t exactly easy to overcome.’
Lia blinked. ‘Your father’s genes?’
‘He was a man very much driven by his not-inconsiderable hungers,princesa.Surely you remember? He was entitled, arrogant, selfish and had no self-control whatsoever.’
Her forehead creased. ‘I don’t remember much. I was young when he was King.’
Of course, she’d been a child.
So very unsuitable for the likes of you.
Rafael shifted on the couch, ignoring the thought. ‘You didn’t miss anything.’
She gave him an oddly searching look. ‘Self-control is important to you, isn’t it?’
‘Naturally. It’s the only thing that stops us from becoming animals like Carlos.’ No, there was too much bitterness in his voice. He needed to change the subject. ‘You must think it’s important yourself,’ he went on. ‘Or did your father know that the Crown Princess regularly drank whisky and smoked cigars in his office after hours?’
Colour flickered through her face, her gaze dropping abruptly to her hands where they held her glass of juice. She did that a lot, he noticed, especially when she wanted to hide something from him.
‘No,’ she said. ‘He didn’t. I didn’t tell him.’
There was a faint edge in her voice which was interesting.
You only think you know her, but you don’t.
He shifted on the couch again. He’d thought that before, that he was guilty of treating her like everyone else, ignoring her like everyone else. She was so self-effacing, so uncomplaining, so biddable and good, yet she was none of those things and he knew it.
And suddenly he wanted to know why. Why she’d sneaked into her father’s study. Why she drank whisky, smoked cigars, and argued with a man years older than she was. Why she pretended she was the queenly equivalent of wallpaper, when she was as far from wallpaper as it was possible to get.
He’d always thought she’d be an excellent queen, but now, abruptly, he’d changed his mind. She couldn’t be a queen. It would kill her.
Queens had to be controlled and well behaved, and in Santa Castelia’s case they had to give way to the King.
Lia was wasted in that role. She should have been the King, not the Queen.
‘You’re very worried what your parents think of you, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Why? You’re your own woman, Lia.’
‘Why?’ She looked up and stared at him very directly. ‘Because they tried so hard to have me. Years of tears and heartache. And then they finally conceived me and they had a plan for me, and they loved me. How could I not do what they wanted? After all they went through to have me?’
‘Yes, I can see that. But don’t forget, it was their choice to have you. And you’re not their property. You are your own person, with your own thoughts and feelings. You don’t owe them anything.’
She swallowed. ‘But... I love them.’
Love. Love was always the problem, wasn’t it?
‘You can love them and still have a life of your own.’
