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Pride made him shrug, telling himself that it was ego causing this sharp pierce of blistering pain. What did she think he was about to do—start begging her to stay? Had she overdeveloped a sense of her own importance since she’d been using the title ‘Princess’ before her name? Well, she would soon learn another lesson—that Xaviero di Cesere was dependent on no woman!
He nodded. ‘We’ll need to think about how best to go about it.’ Dark lashes shaded the golden gleam of his eyes as he set his lips in a cynical line. ‘In fact, I’m wondering if maybe we might be able to bury the story in the good news about Casimiro’s recovery.’
Didn’t part of her crumple then, because hadn’t she—against all the odds—been holding out for more? All he had needed to do was to show her something—some sign that she meant more to him than compliance and passion. But there was nothing. That icy inaccessibility was back and all that concerned her husband was the most diplomatic way to announce their divorce to the press!
‘Perhaps you could let me know what you decide is best,’ she said as she pushed aside the sheets and got out of bed. ‘I’ll stay on the island for as long as you think I should—though, obviously, I’d prefer it if that time was as short as possible.’
‘Obviously,’ he echoed sarcastically, but the sight of the buttery fabric clinging to her voluptuous curves was a temptation beyond endurance and he swiftly turned his back and slammed his way out of the bedroom.
Chapter Twelve
‘CASIMIRO wants to see you.’
Cathy looked up from where she’d been studying the drawer lined with soft pastel piles of silk lingerie and debating how many of the sensual little sets she could reasonably take back to England with her. Or maybe she should leave the whole lot behind. Wouldn’t it be easier that way? Easier to forget…
‘Cathy?’ Xaviero’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
Sitting back on her heels, Cathy forced a smile. ‘He wants to see me? Why?’
Xaviero’s mouth hardened. ‘How the hell should I know? I’m not privy to his thoughts. He just said he’d like to see you before you leave.’
‘Oh, right.’
Xaviero glanced at his watch. ‘Everything’s all been arranged. A car will be here to pick you up just after two. If there are any problems, then just speak to Flavia.’
She stared at him. ‘You mean…you mean, you aren’t going to be here?’
‘To wave you off as the car drives away?’ His lips curved into a cynical smile. ‘No, Cathy, I am not. I don’t do goodbyes—I don’t find them particularly palatable.’
Who did? She swallowed down the sudden lump which had risen in the back of her throat along with the telltale taste of tears. ‘So…so this is it?’
‘Yes, this is it,’ he said implacably, doing his best to ignore the bright glitter of tears in her eyes which made them look as blue as a Californian swimming pool. ‘This is what you wanted.’
‘What I thought was best.’
‘And you’re right,’ he agreed steadily. ‘It is. Every single reason you gave as to why we shouldn’t be together made perfect sense. And there are positives, of course. You’ll leave this marriage a considerably wealthy woman—’
‘I don’t want your damned money!’
‘Well, you’re going to get it whether you like it or not! No ex-wife of mine is going to go back to being a chambermaid!’ he bit out.
‘You can’t stop me!’
‘No,’ he concurred. ‘I can’t. What you do when you leave here is up to you. You’re on your own. But what I can do is to make over a house and an income for you to do with as you see fit—because I will not be accused of having married a woman and then leaving her in penury!’
Cathy closed her eyes. Of course. This was all about image, wasn’t it? And ego. His ego. How he would be perceived and judged by the rest of the world. If ever she had needed convincing that her decision was wise, he had just reinforced it with that damage-limitation statement of his.
‘Now you’d better go to see Casimiro,’ he continued, hardening his heart to the sudden chalky whiteness of her face. ‘He may be grateful to be alive, but his old monarchical attitude has set in—and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’
‘So this really is goodbye?’ Her voice was a tremulous little whisper, the realisation driving a sharp twist of pain through her heart.
‘Yes, Cathy—it really is.’
His hand reached out—and for one moment Cathy thought that he might be about to pull her into his arms. And if he did that—she would be lost. Completely lost. As lost as she had been when he’d proposed this farce of a marriage. So do it, her eyes begged him silently. Make me feel you need me.
