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‘Who am I if I’m not working for the Prince?’
Lucy’s heart thumped an unsteady tempo, like some kind of wicked drumbeat. He was only being kind, putting her in his room where he hoped it would be warmer than in the chill that had settled over this whole place. More than the troublesome heating, it was an oppression, hanging like a grey pall over the castle. She couldn’t shake the conviction that it was coming from the man who had now stopped walking in front of her in long, easy strides. There was a sense of brooding about him...something unfulfilled. She couldn’t put her finger on it.
They’d reached a grand door—or at least grander than the other magnificent doors here—with an impressive coat of arms carved into the wood. Stefano stood next to her, a respectful distance away, holding her violin case. It made her prickly, nervous that his hands were on it when the only person who ever touched it now was her. Still, since he might be the true owner of the instrument, she thought she’d try it out for size. It didn’t fit.
‘You have a unicorn on your door,’ she said. It was a fierce-looking unicorn, almost terrifying as it reared against a shield of some sort.
‘It’s a unicorn rampant.’
‘Well, it does look a bit wild, with those eyes and its tongue.’
She turned to look at him and the corner of his mouth hitched. Her breath caught in anticipation, but she still couldn’t call the move a smile.
‘It’s a heraldic term,’ he said. ‘Since the unicorn’s rearing up. But you mustn’t forget the dragon.’
How could she miss it? Rearing up as well, looking no less fierce than the unicorn.
‘The dragonrampant, you mean? Not exactly a restful entrance to your bedroom. I suppose they have some suitably impressive meaning?’
He shrugged. ‘Lasserno’s herald could tell you more, but a unicorn represents courage, strength and virtue. The dragon is a defender...valiant.’
‘A valiant defender with courage, strength and virtue? That’s a lot to live up to.’
Stefano stared at his family crest, again appearing as though he was looking through it into a memory. Given the grim line of his mouth and the clench of his jaw, it wasn’t a happy one.
‘So I’m perpetually reminded,’ he said.
This whole place appeared to haunt him. She felt an ache start inside, a sensation of empathy, because at least she’d been able to flee her apartment and her life for a while. Where was his escape, if not here?
‘As impressive as it is, your family crest is sadly absent of rainbow unicorn cats.’ She wiggled her sock-covered toes and looked up at him. That garnered another of his almost-smiles, and a snort which didn’t sound at all dignified or aristocratic.
‘After centuries of living with these honourable creatures I can see my family coat of arms is lacking. What do the unicorn cats represent?’
‘Hmmm... Happiness, I guess? Which I suppose isn’t very impressive.’
‘It’s an important quality, since so many fail to find it.’ His head dropped, and his shoulders slumped in the smallest of ways which told a larger story. ‘And I’m certainyouwould be much happier in a warm room and asleep after your long and arduous day.’
Stefano opened his bedroom door, flicked on a light and strode inside. She followed. Whilst what she’d seen of the rest of the castle had been designed to impress, this room was something else. Wine-red carpet as thick and soft as unmown grass. A massive marble fireplace, unlike the tiny elegant one in her room. A lounge suite in front of the fireplace that looked as if you’d sink into it and never want to leave. Walls lined in a deep, rich burgundy silk.
It was bold...sumptuous. Yet as impressive as the whole space appeared, it was nothing compared to the centrepiece of the room. A four-poster bed that didn’t look as if it had been built for any mere mortal, with its gleaming polished wood and a rich embroidered canopy in jewel tones completed the opulence of the room.
Stefano placed her violin case gently down in a corner, then moved to the fireplace, working on the fire. All the while she stood silent, just inside the doorway. The breath was tight in her chest. She couldn’t sleep here. It was as if by being in this room she’d become immersed in him. It was far too close, too intimate. Like she would sink into him, be pulled under and drown.
‘Come in and close the door,’ he said, drawing her out of her heated imaginings.
Except watching him poking about in the fire, coaxing it to catch and burn with his sleeves pushed up, looking all manly and competent, just dragged her further into a kind of spell.
He stood and glared at the flames as if daring them to go out, his hands on his narrow hips, the whole move accentuating his broad shoulders backlit by the fire in the hearth. It was a masculine silhouette, but she didn’t know why the picture it painted caused all of her to flood with a roaring heat. Really, she didn’t need a fire in the room to keep her warm. All she needed was Stefano to stand around and...brood.
After a few moments, seemingly satisfied that the fire wasn’t about to disobey him, he turned back to her, still stuck in the doorway. Frozen. He frowned. ‘If you come inside and shut the door it’ll keep the heat in.’
He’d obviously misunderstood her reticence. She probably looked like the frightened little mouse he’d accused her of being, and she refused to be that. Lucy stepped inside and shut the door behind her—then almost backed up against it. Because now hestared, as if she was some kind of fool. His intense black gaze was fixed on her. It should have been cold, that fathomless colour, but it reminded her of febrile summer nights in the subtropics back home.
She needed to say something which made sense. ‘Ican’tsleep here in your room.’
The words spilled out in a voice that was a little too soft and a lot too breathy and left her exposed—as if she’d stripped off her clothes and was dancing about the room shamelessly naked. And that thought led inevitably to thoughts of him naked too...except he wouldn’t be shameless. He would be glorious. Perfect, if the shape of him hinted at under his clothes was anything to go by. Or perhaps not hinted at but shouted out—loudly. With a megaphone.
Her cheeks burned. She wanted to clap her hands to them, to hide what was no doubt a flaming blush, but that would draw even more attention to them.
