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‘You want me to charter a plane for your clothes? Imagine the carbon footprint,’ he had taunted.
Beatrice pushed away the lingering memory and replaced his voice in her head with an amused Maya saying that she might work her way through this lot in ten years or so, if she changed outfit three times a day and four on a weekend.
She never had because she hadn’t stayed for ten years; she had barely stuck it out for ten months, and now she was back and all the suppressed emotions had surfaced, combining with her baby hormones to make her feel raw and vulnerable.
She dashed a hand across her eyes; she was just too tired of soul-searching. Today had gone as well as she could have expected.
Dante seemed to be making a genuine effort for the baby’s sake, and that was the problem. It was for the baby. She wanted him to want her, to need her as much as she needed him.
Giving her head a tiny brisk shake, she pushed away the thoughts and turned to a section that was devoted to evening wear.
After pulling out a few dresses she finally settled on a full-length white silk gown, the style a modern take on classic Grecian. The heavy fabric swirled on the hanger as she held it up. It left one shoulder bare, the hand-embroidered sections on the skirt alleviating the stark purity of the design.
It took her half an hour from choosing suitable shoes to complement her choice—the plain court style was secondary to the fact they were made of a silver jewelled glittering fabric and the spiky heels elongated her long legs even more—to putting the finishing touches to her hair. The fact the ends were still damp made it easier to pin it into a simple topknot and at the last minute she pulled out some loose shiny strands and let the shiny wisps fall, creating a softening effect against her cheeks and long neck.
She added a light spritz of her favourite perfume, ignoring the voice in her head that said it had only become her favourite since Dante had said it was his, when there was a tap on the door that connected the adjoining suite.
She had time to suck in a hurried restorative breath, take in the flush on her cheeks and the sparkle that was part excitement, part fear in her wide-spaced eyes, before the door opened and Dante stepped into the room, his dark head slightly bent as he adjusted the cufflinks at his right wrist.
It gave Beatrice time to close her mouth and paste in place an expression that fell disastrously short of neutral, but at least she wasn’t licking her lips or drooling too obviously.
A lot of men looked good in formal evening wear, the tailoring could hide a multitude of sins, but Dante had nothing to hide and the perfect tailoring emphasised the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs and…well, his perfect everything. One day she might be able to view his earthly male beauty with objectivity, but that day was a long way off.
She felt the heat unfurl low in her belly and ignored it as she opened her mouth to offer to straighten his tie and changed her mind. Less wisdom and more self-preservation as she remembered more than one occasion when a tie-straightening offer had made them late for an official engagement.
Dante took his time over the cuff adjustment to give the heat in his blood time to cool and recover from the razor-sharp spasm of mind-numbing desire that had spiked through him in that brief moment before he’d lowered his gaze, the electricity thrumming in a steady stream through his body.
She always had been the chink in his armour, the beautiful downfallfor a man who, over the years, had become smugly confident in his ability to control his carnal appetites, not have them control him.
And once again she was carrying his child. He had never expected that they would be here again, but the knowledge she was carrying his child only increased the carnal attraction.
He performed another necessary adjustment and lifted his head. He had regained some level of control, but there were limits. He didn’t even attempt to prevent his eyes drifting up from her feet to the top of her shining head, knowing the effort would be useless. He recognised it was a dangerous indulgence, but things could be contained so long as he didn’t touch her. Experience had taught him that the explosion would be madness.
Everywhere his eyes touched shivers zigzagged over the surface of her skin, awakening nerve pathways, making her ache. The smoky heat in his stare and the clenched tension in his jaw were some sop to her frustration. At least she wasn’t the only one suffering.
‘I’m ready,’ she said, her voice brighter than the occasion justified. She could hear the tinge of desperation, she just hoped he couldn’t.
The intensity of his hungry stare did not diminish and the longer it lasted, the harder it was for her to resist the impulse to fling herself at him. Then when he did break the silence his voice sounded so cool that she was relieved she had not reacted to it when it was quite possible that the heat she had felt pounding the air between them had been a product of her febrile imagination.
‘So I see, punctual as always and, I imagine, just as impatient about being kept waiting, so you see… I didn’t.’ He extended a crooked arm and after a moment she moved forward to rest her hand lightly on it, aware as she did of the muscled strength of his forearm.
‘You look perfect,’ he said, without looking at her.
‘Thank you.’
As they approached the shallow steps that led from the private apartment into the corridor that linked to what she thought of as the palace proper, Beatrice raised her gown slightly with her free hand, exposing her sparkling shoes.
The glitter caught Dante’s attention; he arched a brow. ‘What all the princesses are wearing these days?’ he teased, not looking at her ankles any longer. His gaze had progressed to the long, lovely lines of her thighs outlined against the heavy silk fabric of her dress.
Though her heart was trying to climb its way out of her chest, she tried to replicate the blank look on the impassive faces of the two uniformed figures they were walking past.
‘Do I look different?’ She flashed him a worried look. She felt different. ‘Do you think anyone will guess?’
He paused and, capturing her wrists, pulled her towards him. ‘Would it matter if they did?’
‘I know you think I’m being stupid about this.’
‘It’s your call.’
