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Absolutely the hardest.
She went over and gave him a kiss.
A light one was her intention—except Rafe moved his hand behind her head and pressed her close. Antonietta closed her eyes to the taste and the bliss. She was tempted, so tempted to give in. Was he subtly guiding her to lie atop him, or was she actually drifting that way to the command of his kiss?
Their tongues were more urgent, the kiss deeper as his other hand moved to her breast, toying with it through the fabric of her dress, and Antonietta knew he would have far less trouble with the zip than she.
Rafe’s moves were seamless, and Antonietta knew that any moment she would be naked and knotted with him, locked into bliss with no thought as to the ramifications there would surely be.
And she would fall deeper.
Self-preservation had Antonietta removing her mouth, and she looked down for a moment into his deep navy eyes and knew she could very easily drown in them.
Do not take more than the stated dose...
Or she might never recover.
‘Be good,’ she said.
He gave a slight mirthless laugh. ‘I don’t want to be good.’ But then he was serious. ‘You’re okay?’
‘Of course.’
‘You’re sure?’ Rafe checked, and watched as her eyes narrowed a touch.
Would he prefer that she cried? Antonietta wondered. Well, she refused to allow him back into her thoughts. She had been a willing participant last night and did not regret it for a moment. It was just that she had missed the part in life’s guidebook about how to walk from someone who mattered. The lesson that taught you how to be incredibly close one moment and say farewell the next.
‘Goodbye, Rafe.’
Yes, walking through the French doors and climbing down the stone steps really was the hardest thing she had ever done.
Leaving a packed church full of people waiting for the bride to arrive had been a very public hurt. Being disowned by her parents had caused anguish and pain. But it was the price she had paid for rejecting Sylvester, and despite the consequences she knew she would do it again.
This was a private hurt that no one knew of.
The guard gave her a bored look as she passed, which told her that a woman leaving Rafe’s bed was hardly noteworthy.
The birds were starting to sing and the sky was starting to lighten as she crossed the grounds, and the world carried on as if nothing had changed.
Yet for Antonietta, everything had.
She looked back to the Old Monastery, and more specifically to the August Suite, from which she had just come. The master bedroom was in darkness, and she could almost picture Rafe reaching out and flicking the switch on the lamp before drifting off to sleep.
But Rafe had not gone back to sleep. Instead, he lay in the dark, in a bed perfumed by their union.
He had come to Silibri not just to lie low but to prepare himself for the enormity of what lay ahead, and all that awaited him when he returned to Tulano.
He had come to Silibri to clear his head.
Not to lose it to a maid with sad eyes.
Just this once Antonietta would have liked to do one of Chi-Chi’sslowly-slowlyacts. She was sore, and tender, and she wanted to dwell on last night and wallow a while. But then nothing would get done.
‘I think it is mean of Nico to make us work on Christmas Day...’ Chi-Chi huffed as she refilled the selection of toiletries in one of the regular suites.
It was stunning, of course, and looked out towards the valley, but it was nowhere near as luxurious as the August Suite.
In truth, Antonietta was happy to have been allocated to the suites well away from there. Her ears were on tenterhooks, waiting for the sound of a helicopter’s approach that might signal his leaving.
