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Of course he could dismiss her.
And yet he did not.
Instead Rafe stood on the balcony and looked out towards the temple ruins, wondering about his teary maid.
He recalled the slight triumph he had felt when she’d smiled, and he found he would like her to smile again.
In turn, she liked the silence he gave her. It did not feel as if she was crying alone, as she had done so many times. And neither did she feel patronised, for there had been nothere, thereor invasive questions.
He let her be, and finally she was done with both her work and her tears.
Every last thing on her list was ticked off and Antonietta felt surprisingly calm as she gathered her things and finally addressed Rafe. ‘I am finished.’
‘Perhaps before you go down you should go and splash your face with cold water...take a moment.’
She did as she was told, appalled to see her swollen eyes and red nose, but she appreciated the opportunity to calm down, and retied her hair before heading out.
‘If you need anything else, please page me.’
‘I shan’t,’ Rafe said, but then he reconsidered, for Antonietta really was proving to be the brightest part of his day... But, no, he would not make up reasons to call her. ‘Are you working tomorrow?’
‘Just a half-day,’ Antonietta said. ‘Then I have a day off.’
‘Well, I might see you tomorrow, then?’
He hoped so.
So did she.
‘Thank you,’ Antonietta said as she turned to leave, instead of the other way around.
‘No problem.’
Except there clearly was.
‘Antonietta.’
He called her name as she headed for the door. And his summons hit her deep and low, and the word felt like a hand coming down on her shoulder. How could the sound of her own name make her tremble and feel almost scared to turn around?
Or rathernervousto turn around.
Slowly she did turn, and she knew in that second that she was not scared or even nervous to face him. She was fighting her own desire.
In the room behind him she could see the vast bed, and she wanted to lie with him on white sheets that smelt of summer. To know the bliss not just ofaman, but ofhim.
Rafe.
Whoever he was.
‘Yes?’ Her voice sounded all wrong. It was too breathless and low and so she said it again—except it came out no better, was a mere croak. ‘Yes?’
Rafe rarely—extremely rarely—did not know how to proceed. Not only did he not get involved with maids’ dramas, neither did he take maids to bed.
Added to that, she had been crying for the best part of an hour. He never took advantage.
Yet the air was charged. She looked as if he’d just kissed her, and he could feel the energy between them and her increasing awareness of him.
His sad maid looked exactly as she might if he had her pressed against the wall.
