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‘I will want children, too.’
This time her gaze flickered. ‘Oh.’
‘It makes my revenge even more perfect,gatita. Don’t you see? He took my son and I will have another with his daughter.’
An expression he couldn’t catch rippled over her face, then abruptly her lashes lowered, veiling her gaze. ‘I do see, yes.’ Her tone was utterly neutral.
He stared down at the smooth, silky curve of her cheek and the brilliant colour of her lashes resting against her pale skin. She seemed a little less bright now, her excitement dimming, disappearing.
‘You don’t like the idea of children?’ he asked.
‘No. I just...just hadn’t thought of them before.’
He couldn’t blame her. She was young, and probably hadn’t considered a future with a family. But still, he didn’t think it was surprise she was trying to hide from him—and she was definitely hiding something.
Reaching out, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up so he could look into her eyes. ‘This bothers you. Why?’
She made no attempt to pull away, her violet gaze meeting his. ‘You’d really want another child? After what happened with your son?’
Ah, she never shied away from the difficult questions, did she?
‘It will be different this time.’ He stroked her chin gently with his thumb, unable to resist the feel of her satiny skin. ‘Because the child won’t be for me. The child will be for the pleasure of seeing Victor de Riero’s face when I tell him he will have a Velazquez grandchild.’
That way he could retain his distance. He’d never have to feel what he’d felt for his son for another child again. Never have to experience the pain of another loss. Anger was the only emotion he could allow himself to have.
Some expression he couldn’t name shifted in her eyes. ‘That’s a terrible reason to have a child, Cristiano.’
The flat note of accusation in her voice burrowed like a knife between his ribs, making him realise how cold and callous he’d sounded.
He let go of her chin, felt the warmth of her skin lingering against his fingertips. ‘Too bad. That’s the only reason I’ll ever have another.’
Cold and callous it would have to be. He couldn’t afford anything else.
‘Revenge...’ The word echoed strangely off the stone walls of the room, her gaze never leaving his. ‘Don’t you want more than that?’
Something inside him dropped away, while something else seemed to claw its way up. Longing. The same kind of longing that had gripped him the day he’d taken her on the staircase of thiscastillo. The need for her touch, for the feel of her skin and the taste of her mouth. The heat of her body burning out the cold.
The need forher.
He couldn’t allow that. Need had caused him more pain than anything else ever had, so he’d cut it out of his life. Successfully. He had no desire to let it back in again.
‘No.’ He kept his voice cold. ‘I don’t.’
But she only looked at him in that direct, sharp way. Seeing beneath the armour of the playboy duke that he wore, seeing the man beneath it. The desperate, lonely man...
‘Yes, you do,’ she said quietly. ‘Would it really be so bad? To let yourself have more?’
Ah, hisgatita. She couldn’t leave well enough alone, could she? She should really learn when to stop pushing.
‘I had more once,’ he said. ‘And I lost it. I do not want it again.’
Those big violet eyes searched his. ‘Because of your son? Because of Anna?’
He should have laughed. Should have lifted a shoulder and made a joke. Should have closed the distance between them and put his hands on her, distracted her the way he knew so well how to do.
But he didn’t do any of those things. He turned away from her instead and moved around his desk. ‘I told you before—do not speak of them. They have nothing to do with our wedding.’
He sat down in his father’s uncomfortable chair, ignoring the way his heart was beating, ignoring the pain that had settled in his heart for absolutely no reason that he could see.
