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Lise was lost in sensation. His hair caught in her fingers, his mouth moving over hers. Their bodies, melding together. She flexed against his hardness and there was a groan. Her? Him? She couldn’t be sure. Then he stopped and pulled his mouth away. Looking down on her, his eyes fierce as she let him go. He stood back. Lips still parted. Breaths heaving like her own. She craved to be in his arms again, fused together with no distance between them. Proving that not only was she craven, but a liar as well. Except in this moment, only a step from her, Rafe was as far away as he’d ever been.
He glanced over her shoulder towards the door of her room, his gaze distant. Then he frowned and turned his attention to her once more. Eyes glittering in the low light of the evening.
‘Anything to say, Lise?’ His lips curled into a wicked smirk, but she didn’t react. Trying to give nothing away when everything inside her seethed with emotion. ‘Because that felt alotlike feelings to me.’
She attempted to ignore his look of triumph, as Rafe brushed past her and strode from the room.
Rafe throttled the neck of a dusty wine bottle as he stalked around the bowels of the castle. He’d ostensibly come to find the palace cellars to select a vintage for dinner, but in truth he couldn’t face Lance, not with anger and unrequited desire still careering out of control through his blood. He needed to regain his famed control, which was rapidly shredding because of a kiss, which once again proved Lise was not the Ice Queen she pretended to be, but a woman on fire.
What kind of monster did she think he was, leaving her to cry? And it had been more than simple tears. The agony of the sounds had had him rushing through the door between their rooms before he could even give what he was doing much thought. The brokenness of it all. Perhaps he should have backed away, but he was never a man to be shy and she’d neededsomeoneto comfort her, even though Lise was desperate to run from herself.
He checked his watch, realising that in his introspection he’d forgotten the time. Taking stock of his surroundings, he found himself in a cavernous storage area, piled with all kinds of forgotten treasures. An ostentatious statue of Bacchus stood in the corner and the gleam of burnished wood and gilding peeked from under dust covers. He turned at the sound of footsteps.
‘Where are you?’ That male voice. The clipped British accent. ‘Ah. Store Two. This looks interesting.’
‘Lance.’
His friend strolled through the doorway, holding a glass half full of red wine. He looked around the space, eyes narrowing to settle on the bronze in the corner. ‘That is the ghastliest statue. I’ve a client who’d love it. Do you think the Queen would sell?’
As he’d journeyed through the lower reaches of the palace Rafe had seen corners stuffed with discarded objects. The palace itself was full of them, rooms shut off and never used.
‘She might. I could talk to her.’ Lance had an eye for quality and was one of the finest antique experts in Europe. He’d know what was worth something and perhaps they could divest themselves of some of the unwanted treasures gathering dust.
‘I’m not sure that’ll go well.’ Lance snorted. ‘What are you doing down here? In the doghouse already after four days of marriage? That’s a stellar achievement. I don’t believe even I’d have done better.’
‘I was getting wine for dinner.’ Rafe gestured to the bottle.
‘As you can see, I already have some.’ Lance held his glass to the light, which shimmered through the ruby liquid, then took a hefty swig. ‘This is a lovely drop. The Queen was most gracious when we couldn’t find you. She asked staff to check your suite. Strange to have your own rooms considering you’re married...’
Lance was many things, and thirsty for information was one. He didn’t peddle in it, necessarily, but had a rampant curiosity. Rafe wouldn’t give him any more to pique his interest, or he’d never hear the end of it because his friend had always liked to bring him crashing back to earth.
‘That’s the way it’s done in the palace.’
Lance cocked his head. ‘If that’s the story you want to tell.’
‘What other story would there be?’ His voice sounded distant, unconvincing. Swallowing down the lies to his best friend was more difficult than he thought.
‘Whilst considering whether to mount a search party Lise and I had a lovely chat. She mentioned Carl, like she didn’t believe he was real.’ Rafe’s heart stopped for one beat, then picked up its pace. A sharp ache and then anger, stoked inside. Even though he’d bared his soul to Lise, she thought it was an untruth? Rafe didn’t know why that realisation knifed him deep inside.
Anyhow, Carl’s name shouldn’t be mentioned in random fashion. His memory should be carefully handled, with respect.
‘I assured her that, whilst you might be a cad, you weren’t known for lying,’ Lance said. ‘Not about that, at least.’
Rafe tried to sound disinterested. ‘Thank you for your support.’
‘You haven’t spoken about him in years.’ Lance’s eyes narrowed.
‘Did you tell Her Majesty that as well?’
‘That’s for you to divulge.’ He looked sharp as a hawk. The pause went on for a few seconds too long. No doubt he was waiting for Rafe to fill it. Rafe stayed silent. ‘Though, speaking of cads,I’venever been relegated to a palace storeroom.’
Rafe looked at the rough-hewn ceiling and thanked the change of topic.
‘As I said, I was finding wine for our dinner.’
Lance raised an imperious eyebrow. ‘Hmm. The palace has a cellarmaster for that sort of thing. The staff are intrigued. I believe I heard something about...dungeons. There are all kinds of whispers going on upstairs.’
Which was what Rafe hadn’t wanted. He thought he’d seen a shadow under the door of Lise’s room just before he’d left. People were watching and listening to them, of that he was certain. ‘There’s nothing to be intrigued about. Lise is playing her own game.’
