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But she didn’t know what to do about any of the things she felt, so she went and sat on one side of the table in a stuffy sort of chair that made her question her posture. She ignored her sudden debutante concerns and tried to focus instead on the many small plates laid out before her, all laden with things she had never seen on a table in Kansas, yet all smelled and looked wonderful.
Yet the only thing she was really aware of was Cayetano. What he was doing. Or not doing. When he chose to move. When he settled himself opposite her, clearly not concerned that the furniture might be judging him. How he sat and how he looked at her and even what plate he appeared to be eyeing—
That was how she felt, she realized then. Uncomfortablyaware. Of everything.
Including that spot in the small of her back where he’d touched her, that pulsed like its own flame.
The table was laden with more than enough food for the two of them. There were sweets and cakes on one end. Trays of vegetables, raw and cooked alike and smelling of new and different spices, took up real estate in the middle. And on the other end were cold and roasted meats that smelled so good her belly rumbled. There were what looked like baked casseroles, but with ingredients she could not begin to identify. And the longer she stared, the more she accepted that she didn’t have to know what it all was to find it tempting.
And more, that she really was hungry.
She opted not to think about why it slid around inside her like a new heat that Cayetano, a stranger to her in all the ways that mattered, had known that when she hadn’t known herself.
Delaney picked up a plate and then set herself to the important task of tasting everything. She barely glanced at Cayetano while she helped herself, then commenced the tasting. It wouldn’t help her any to get mixed up in all that dark glory while she was eating, and anyway, she was too busy filling her belly.
When she was deliciously, extravagantly full, she sat back to find him watching her.
Maybe, she admitted to herself, she’d known full well that he’d had his eyes on her all along.
“I imagine those aren’t good enough manners,” she said when he seemed content to do nothing more than study her. The way he had since he’d stepped out of his car, now that she considered it. “For either the real or fake royal households on this island.”
Again, the sense of a smile when there was none. “I see you’ve been doing your reading.”
She was full, pleasantly so, and that made her feel...expansive. Delaney settled back in her own seat and regarded him, for a change. And took her time about it as she studied him. Unapologetically.
This isn’t the time to get lost in how starkly beautiful he is, she cautioned herself when her contemplation of his sensual mouth threatened to overtake her.
“I read quite a few articles,” she said when she thought she could speak without the fire inside her taking over. “All about Cayetano Arcieri, beloved by celebrities and charities and protesters the world over. They all take turns gushing about your contributions to this island and to the planet. In various interviews.”
“The plight of my people moves many,” he replied. Easily enough.
“They made it sound as if you fought a war or two to get your position. That’s not exactly true, is it?”
His gaze gleamed and she found herself repressing a shiver. “It is not untrue.”
“The Arcieris have been a particular thorn in the side of the royals for as long as anyone can remember.” She wanted to say that it reminded her of the longstanding feud back where she came from, between Jean Lynnette Baker and Lurleen Snyder about the origin of a potato salad recipe, but thought better of it. She regarded this intense man before her instead. “Haven’t you?”
“It is the duty and privilege of the name.”
“And all because, a million years ago, there were twins.”
He nodded, and now she was sure that there was a definite curve to his mouth. But she had the strangest notion that it was a kind of pride. In her. “Identical brothers. So identical that when the younger twin stepped in and took his older brother’s place at the coronation, no one recognized the switch.”
“The royal family swears this never occurred.”
Cayetano only shrugged. “They would.”
“There was a war, led by the twin who claimed the throne.”
“The false king.” Cayetano shook his head. “Because he believed that if he went on the offense immediately, he could end the argument. By killing anyone who dared stand against him. As tyrants do so like to do.”
“The other side was formed by the supposedly deposed twin, who began calling himself one of the family names. Arcieri.”
“Indeed.”
“So really, give or take a few centuries, you and I are related,” Delaney pointed out.
Helpfully.
