Читать книгу The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 86

Lexie tried to concentrate. Her dinner companion, a senior San Philippe politician, his chest weighted down with medals, whose name she had already forgotten, was explaining the evolution of the country’s political system. Sadly, the throbbing in her head and the complexities of the system combined to leave her floundering. The enthusiastic playing of the band wasn’t helping her efforts. She could only hope that her smiles and nods at least convinced her companion that she was both following and interested in his discourse, and not secretly wondering whether it was too soon to leave. He paused to reach across the table for a profiterole.

At first the state dinner had been exciting, the long tables set with so much silver cutlery and crystal that beneath the light of the chandeliers they gleamed with the brilliance of diamonds. Then there were the guests, the elite and powerful of San Philippe, the beautiful of San Philippe. But after a while it had become just another dinner spent having to make conversation with people she didn’t know.

Which wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been for her steadily worsening headache. A maid had styled her hair. Lexie loved the elegant twist—it was perfect for a formal dinner, but she hadn’t realized quite how tightly her hair had been pulled until the aching in her head began.

She found herself yearning for pizza eaten in silence while she looked out over city lights at nighttime, her feet resting on an ottoman.

Massaging her temple, Lexie looked at the head table, where Adam sat deep in conversation with an elder statesman. He had explained that it would be best for them not to be seated together tonight. No point in adding fire to the already circulating rumors just yet. She completely understood and agreed. Already she felt as if she were under a microscope.

Looking around she caught sight of Rafe, farther up her table and on the opposite side, watching her. She couldn’t fathom the expression in his dark eyes and couldn’t quite explain the effect it had on her, causing a strange discomfort. He raised his wineglass in a mock salute, then turned to the voluptuous, sophisticated blonde at his side.

Lexie’s companion finished his profiterole, wiped cream from his fingers onto his linen napkin and invited her to dance. As far as she could see, she had no choice but to accept. Taking her arm, he escorted her to the dance floor and pulled her into a formal and rigid clasp for the waltz. Lexie looked over his shoulder to avoid staring at the droplet of cream caught in his moustache.

As they danced, he continued talking politics. Specifically, his rise through parliament, and the problems with the younger politicians who thought they knew everything. Who knew one song could last so long?

Finally, the music slowed and quieted, but then segued immediately into another melody. “By the time I was elected for my third term,” he said, giving her no opportunity to decline another dance.

Rafe appeared behind his shoulder and tapped it. “Mind if I cut in, Humphrey?”

Humphrey, that was his name.

Humphrey released her, took a step back, bowed slightly, then bowed again to Rafe. “Of course not, sir.” He moved aside.

Rafe stepped in front of her. His gaze swept the length of her beaded, ice-blue gown; his undisguised masculine approval warmed her. Gentle yet sure, he took her hand in his, placed his other hand at the curve of her waist. “Thank you,” she said, when what she really wanted to do was hug him in sheer gratitude.

“Dancing with Humphrey after being seated next to him for the last two hours seemed a little too much to have to put up with. Even for a woman who wants to marry Adam.”

“That almost sounds chivalrous. And definitely thoughtful.”

“Hmm. I suppose it was,” he said, sounding surprised. They danced a few steps. “Ironic, really, isn’t it?”

“What is?” She rested her left hand on the broad strength of his shoulder, felt the power beneath her touch.

“That tonight you really do have a headache,” he said as they began to waltz, “but don’t feel you can leave.”

She hadn’t thought she’d given it away, or that Rafe had been watching her closely enough to notice. “My penance, I guess. Though I have to admit I was wondering about the protocol for leaving.”

He grinned and said nothing further. They danced in silence, his movements altogether more fluid and easy than Humphrey’s as he led her around the room. When the band next stopped, he dropped his hand from her waist and shifted to stand beside her, keeping her right hand held in his. “This way,” he said. They were on the far side of the dance floor and he began leading her, not back to her seat, but in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?”

“You want to leave, don’t you?”

She hesitated. “I shouldn’t.”

He led her onward. “Why not? You’ve had a long day, and you’re jet-lagged.”

“Same as you.”

“Which is why I’m leaving.”

“Really?”

He stopped and turned to face her. “There are some things I don’t joke about. Besides, you have a headache. A real one this time.”

Leave her first official dinner early? Wouldn’t that be bad form? “You said yourself that I’d have to sit through these things till the bitter end.”

“You will have to stay. Once you become princess.”

“If.”

“If. Whatever. But now? Now you have a valid excuse. Now you’re under the radar, just. Now might be your only chance.”

She glanced at the head table.

“Adam won’t mind.” He read her thoughts, and mercifully didn’t add that Adam likely wouldn’t notice. They’d had a lovely but brief meeting this afternoon. He had shown her round some of the palace’s enormous manicured gardens, including the renowned labyrinth.

As they’d walked arm in arm in the sunshine, he had explained the gardeners’ efforts at conservation of his country’s native flora. He was knowledgeable and gentlemanly, and alert to her fatigue. It had been a relief to be in the company of someone easy to be with, not like Rafe, who always seemed to be watching her and whose presence filled Lexie with a strange tension.

She and Adam had parted to prepare for this evening. But throughout the meal, he had only once looked her way and had nodded—almost paternally—at her before returning to his conversation.

Rafe, on the other hand, had caught her out more than once looking at him.

“He asked me to keep an eye on you.”

She smiled. “What did you say?” She couldn’t imagine he would have been pleased to have his babysitting duties extended.

“I said yes.”

“Just yes?”

He smiled back, real warmth in his eyes. “Of course, just yes.”

“Liar.”

His smile widened. “Come on, Lexie.”

Escaping with Rafe held infinitely more appeal than staying. But it was his use of her name that swayed her. Reminded her that he was her friend. Because only her friends called her Lexie.

None of the staff seemed surprised to see them as they slipped through a kitchen the size of a house. She couldn’t suppress a gurgle of laughter as Rafe grasped her hand to lead her around counters and past the souschefs and kitchen hands, most of whom seemed to be shouting at each other.

“Rupert.” Rafe acknowledged the man who stood, arms folded, surveying the entire kitchen.

Rupert, impressive gray sideburns showing from beneath his chef’s hat, glanced at his watch. “You lasted well tonight, sir.”

“By the time I’m your age, I expect I’ll be able to last a whole evening.”

“I’m sure everyone looks forward to that day.”

“Everyone except me,” Rafe said on a smile, not breaking his stride.

“I take it you do this often?” Lexie asked.

“Since the very first state dinner I attended. Rupert was on dishes back then. He helped me find my way out of this maze.”

“Couldn’t we just have gone out the doors we came in?”

“Far less attention drawn to us this way. Too many people watch the doors.”

“It’s only because of my headache that I’m leaving. I have a valid reason. I don’t need to be sneaking about.” Although, oddly, from the moment she’d decided to leave, the headache had begun to diminish.

“So if I told you about a nightclub not too far away, where they play the most amazing music?”

“I wouldn’t be even remotely tempted.” Though she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to dance with Rafe. Truly dance. And to watch the way he moved. Not like their earlier formal waltz, which she now recognized as merely a part of his escape plan.

They passed through another door and stepped into an empty, dimly lit corridor. As the door swung shut behind them, the chaos and noise of the kitchen ceased. Silence swamped them. He stopped and turned to face her, blocking her way. “Liar,” he said in a whisper. “You’d be tempted.”

And suddenly she wasn’t sure what temptation he was referring to. The temptation of dancing or the temptation of him? The memory of the kiss that shouldn’t have happened came back to her, flooding her with warmth. And she remembered, too, the even earlier kiss. One that back then had hinted at things she’d only guessed at.

Lexie couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

Abruptly Rafe stepped back and turned to keep walking. Lexie clenched her fists at her side. She just needed to get away from here, away from him. She needed to spend time with Adam.

They continued in silence, along corridors, past opulent room after opulent room, climbed broad, sweeping staircases, till finally he stopped in front of a door she recognized as her own.

Lexie pushed open the door and turned back to face Rafe, keeping one hand on the handle. “Thank you.”

He was looking over her shoulder and she followed his gaze, saw her nightgown, green and flimsy, laid out on her turned-back bed. Then she looked in the region of Rafe’s too-broad chest. “Good night.”

Gentle fingers under her chin tipped her head up so that short of closing her eyes she had to meet his gaze. She couldn’t interpret what she saw in his dark eyes. It was close to anger, and yet not. “Good night, Lexie.” He stood close, radiating heat.

For a second neither of them moved. She felt as powerless as she had outside the kitchen, as though he somehow sapped her strength, diverted her will. In a way that was all wrong and exhilaratingly right.

All wrong. She focused on that thought. She was here to get to know Adam, not the Frog Prince. She wanted Adam to look at her with something of what was in Rafe’s gaze. She wanted to feel with Adam that same yearning she felt now to lean into Rafe, to slide her arms around him.

She was lonely. That’s all it was. She was away from her home, her country, and despite her years of contact with Adam, the last few days with Rafe meant it was him she knew best. It was only natural that she wanted to turn to him. Once she’d spent more time with Adam, that would change.

Her breath caught as Rafe lifted his hand to her hair. She felt quick deft movements and then her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. “Better,” he murmured, and she wasn’t sure whether it was a statement or a question. He ran his fingers down a lock, then lifted her hand, turned it over, uncurled her fist and dropped her clips into her palm.

“Go to bed, Lexie.”

Rafe tried to concentrate on his father’s words as the prince made his speech for the official opening of the anniversary-week celebrations. The proximity of the woman seated on his left between him and his brother made the task almost impossible. The woman who’d been nothing but trouble since that first day in Boston. Big trouble—no matter how placid and regal she looked in her rose-colored dress with her beautiful hair pulled up into a twist at the back of her head.

When he’d convinced her that coming here was the right thing to do, he’d thought that that would be his reprieve. Showed how wrong he was.

At least now she wasn’t his problem. Her relationship with Adam was progressing. They’d spent most of the two days she’d been here together. The fact that she was seated at Adam’s right was significant. Did she know that little tidbit, and what it signaled, would have the royal-watchers all aflutter and would be all over the newspapers by tomorrow morning?

She was getting her wish, her dream come true.

He’d been observing—watching and listening to Adam. His brother was solicitous toward Lexie, charming. Smiling and handsome. They looked good together. They made the perfect couple. That fact should please Rafe.

But it didn’t.

He didn’t know why he was so fascinated with Lexie. Possibly it was only because he couldn’t have her. Couldn’t ever have her. Maybe he needed to date even more. Find someone like her. No. Not like her. Because he didn’t want serious. The problem with Lexie was that she confused him, somehow tied him up in knots, made him forget the principles that let him comfortably live his life.

Suddenly she laughed, along with the crowd, at one of his father’s jokes, the sound a delight.

As soon as the speeches were done—there would be several more after this one—he was getting out of here. He needed to be somewhere, anywhere else. Maybe even a different country, if he could arrange it.

Lexie glanced at him, her face alight with her recent laughter, her eyes sparkling.

She leaned closer and started to speak.

“Lexie, listen to my father.” He cut off whatever she’d been about to say.

Lush, rose-colored lips shut together.

He hadn’t done it to stop her talking, although that was probably a good thing, but he’d realized his father had started telling a story about Marie, Rafe’s mother, something he’d seldom done in the years since her death, preferring to keep his memories private. And he was discussing his hopes and dreams, something he never did, either, because he didn’t believe in them, believing in facts and work and duty.

Henri turned to the side of the dais and Lexie’s mother, Antonia, walked in, looking both serene and smug as she made her way to stand beside Rafe’s father.

They both looked at Adam and Lexie. It meant only one thing. Rafe followed their gazes, saw Lexie’s surprise and confusion. Adam wasn’t confused, Adam knew precisely what was happening, though Rafe was guessing Adam hadn’t sanctioned it because he saw the infinitesimal shake of Adam’s head, the subtle glare at their father.

“We are so pleased,” his father said, “to announce tonight that we have each given our permission for my son and Alexia Wyndham Jones to become engaged. And our blessing to the future joining of the Wyndham and Marconi families.”

The crowd erupted in a joyous roar. Beside Rafe, Lexie gasped and stiffened. Adam grasped her hand. The gesture looked affectionate, but Rafe suspected that his brother was also keeping her in her seat, because she looked ready to flee. Over the rousing applause, he couldn’t hear what Adam whispered to a suddenly pale Lexie. Flashlights burst in a prolonged bright explosion.

Just days ago on the plane Lexie had told him that she and his brother were going to take things slowly and quietly. And he’d told her the palace would be working to keep things low-key. Clearly he’d forgotten to factor his father’s desire for a royal wedding into the equation.

Good old Dad. The family motto should be changed from Honor and Valor to Make It Happen—However You Can.

As the applause died away and his father finished speaking, Rafe leaned in to Lexie, his soon-to-be sister-in-law. “Congratulations.”

She turned, and for a second he saw a plea in her wide eyes. Then it was gone and she smiled, a polite, brittle smile. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t know this was coming?”

She kept that smile fixed in place. “I’ll admit it’s something of a surprise.” The smile wobbled a little. “I don’t… I’m not…”

She couldn’t look for support from him. “You must be thrilled. You’ve got your wish, your happily-ever-after.”

The smile firmed. “Yes. Yes, I have. But your father only said he’s given his permission. We’re not actually engaged.”

Yet. Clearly she didn’t have a complete grasp on how things worked in his father’s world. Adam may not have slipped a ring on her finger, but that part was now merely a formality. His gaze dropped to her temporarily unadorned fingers where they lay curled white-knuckled in her lap. “You should unclench your hands.”

Adam stood to speak and walked to the lectern to the sound of rapturous applause. “Did Adam know about Dad’s permission being granted and announced tonight?” Rafe asked. Because Adam, if unchecked, could be a little like their father. Once he’d committed to a course of action he had a way of making people fall in with him. Rafe didn’t want to have to intervene.

“Apparently, your father raised it as a possibility yesterday. But he’d said he didn’t think it was a good idea. That we weren’t ready.”

“Dad being ready and the timing being right are the only things that matter.”

“Anyway, it’ll be easier now. Adam and I can legitimately spend more time together. I can accompany him publicly.” She’d tensed up again, her shoulders rigid, as she repeated what sounded like his brother’s words.

“I wish you all the best.”

“Thank you.” Her hands clenched back into fists.

“You do make a nice couple.”

“I know.”

“The photos of the two of you at the orchestra were very fetching.”

“Adam says that’s largely why your father announced it. The photos, the speculation.”

Unfortunately, that announcement now meant that Rafe couldn’t leave the country as he’d planned. His leaving might be misinterpreted, or worse, might be correctly interpreted. “Dad has the very best PR advisers guiding him,” he said. “Not to mention a will of steel. He’s also shrewd and wily. And he most definitely likes to stay a step ahead of the press. They have kind of a love-hate relationship. He’s misled them more than once, and though they resent it, they respect him for it, too.”

She smiled. “I like him. Your father.”

“By and large, so do I.”

She blinked her surprise.

“He also has some unlikable qualities, but we usually ignore those.” His father was grinning broadly at Lexie from his seat behind the lectern. “He likes you, too. He always has. But that doesn’t mean he won’t use you to suit his own purposes. In the nicest possible way.”

“To suit his purposes? What does it matter to him if Adam and I get engaged or not?”

Rafe felt a sudden, cold stillness within him. She didn’t know. No one had told her that Adam had more or less been instructed to marry her. And rather more than less. Rafe certainly wasn’t the one to break that news to her, at least not here and not now. That was a job for someone far more tactful than he. Someone who loved her and could convince her of that.

Lexie was silent for a few steps. “Anyway, I’m used to dealing with people who like to get their own way,” she glanced at her mother. “And I’m not quite the pushover I seem.”

“Good for you.”

The hunted look left her eyes to be replaced by the strength he’d seen in the States. “This won’t happen unless I’m certain it’s what I want.”

Good. That meant he didn’t have to worry about protecting anyone from anyone. Not Adam from Lexie or Lexie from Adam. Apparently, they both knew what they wanted and how to get it.

Two mornings later, Lexie slipped through the hushed corridors of the palace. This early in the morning there was little activity, only the occasional servant walking quietly but purposefully. Other than a respectful nod, they paid her no attention, showed no reaction to her attire. The palace was old, its layout confusing, but despite a few wrong turns she made it to the basement level and the door to the private gymnasium. She needed to work off some of the confusion and uncertainty that plagued her. She’d told Rafe the engagement wouldn’t happen unless she was certain it was what she wanted. The trouble was, she still wasn’t certain. Adam was lovely, everything she knew him to be, and she really liked him, but…she had too many buts.

She also needed to shut out, for a time, awareness of the building public expectation. Already this morning’s papers were filled with photos of her and Adam. Some commentators were even discussing possible wedding dates.

A wave of rock music hit her as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Only one other person was in here, long muscular legs striding powerfully on a treadmill. He glanced over his shoulder as she came in, and if he hadn’t seen her she would have backed quickly out. But Rafe, the man she wanted to stop thinking about, had already punched the buttons to slow his pace. She hadn’t seen him yesterday, and had been secretly glad of the reprieve. He wiped his face with a small towel, then lowered the volume on the music. “Morning.”

“Morning.” The word came out far too husky, on account of being the first word she’d spoken since getting up not long ago. She hung her sweatshirt from a hook next to the much bigger sweatshirt already there and turned.

He smiled. A flash of white, perfect teeth. A gleam of knowledge and amusement in his eyes. “Running, rowing, weights or stairs? Though hardly anyone ever uses the stairs. There are enough of them throughout the palace.” He ran easily as he spoke, arms swinging at his sides. His gaze slid over her, took in her hair tied back into a high ponytail, dropped to her racer-back top, lowered to her Lycra shorts and her legs, which were bare except for her trainers.

Her insides tightened and heated. She cleared her throat. “Running.” That was what she’d sought out the gym for. She’d wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and running usually helped her clarify things. Already she knew that Rafe’s presence would make that all but impossible because he was at least half the reason her thoughts needed clarifying in the first place. Him and the reactions he stirred, sometimes irritation, sometimes companionship, but more often than not longing and desire. Those last two were not what she wanted to feel for him. She wanted to feel them for Adam. And yet when she’d had dinner with Adam last night, she’d felt…friendship and companionship. Important qualities—a good foundation. But she wanted more and didn’t know whether that was unreasonable, or just too soon.

Lexie crossed to the second treadmill, a few feet from Rafe, stood on its platform and considered the array of buttons and readouts in front of her that looked like they belonged on the Starship Enterprise.

“Bridge to McCoy?” Rafe got off his treadmill.

She grinned. “Exactly what I was thinking.” And exactly the sort of thought—so in tune with hers—that added to her confusion.

He stepped onto the stationary edge of her treadmill. “What do you want? Tell me.”

Oh, boy, there was a loaded question, when this vision of masculinity stood so close, radiating heat, his tanned skin glistening with the sheen of sweat. He’d brought his water bottle over with him and tipped it to his mouth. Lexie watched the slide of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “I like to start off slow.”

He flicked her a glance that tripped her train of thought. The glance returned, his gaze held hers, a laughing question in his dark eyes, but something else, too, something deep, something light years away from amusement.

No way could she now say, and to build to harder and faster, which in her naivety had been the rest of her intended sentence. She cleared her throat, hoped he wouldn’t notice the heat building in her face. “I thought I’d do about forty minutes, with a few hills.”

He reached past her, his chest close to her shoulder, pushed a few buttons and her treadmill began to move, slowly at first, its speed gradually increasing. Her walk morphed into a jog. And still Rafe stood there. Close. Managing to smell enticing, masculine. “You’re up early.”

“So are you.”

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Yes,” she lied. She didn’t tell him of her dreams.

“It can take a while to adjust to the time difference,” he said, apparently seeing through her lie if not the reason for it.

Rafe stepped away, then came back a few seconds later to deposit a bottle of chilled water in her bottle holder.

“Thanks.”

He returned to his treadmill, brought it back up to speed. “How was dinner last night?”

“Amazing.”

“Adam took you up the San Philippe tower?”

“Yes. The view over the city at night was incredible.” They’d had an entire level of the revolving restaurant to themselves. “And the food was divine.” The evening had been really…nice. Adam had been a little tired, and so had she. But she at least had managed to stay awake during the ride back to the palace.

Rafe pressed a button on his treadmill and ran faster. “So, the engagement’s going well? Adam’s living up to your expectations?”

“I like him. He’s really…nice.” There was that word again.

Rafe shot her a look. “Damned with faint praise.”

“It wasn’t faint praise. Just because no one’s ever called you nice.”

“Not the women I’ve dated, anyway.”

She wondered just what they did call him. Charming? Suave? Passionate? Electric? Till it ended, because from what Adam had told her yesterday and last night, Rafe’s relationships never lasted long. Things ended before they got to the stage of him bringing anyone home to “meet Dad.” “And do they call you the same sorts of things after you’ve dumped them as they do when you’re dating?”

His bark of laughter sounded loud in the gym. “No, they don’t. But I’m not always the one doing the dumping.”

“No. I understand that sometimes you orchestrate it so that they dump you.” His theory apparently being that if he never stayed the night, and never brought a woman to his own bed, his intentions, or lack of them, were obvious. “Or they let go because they realize you really have no intention of settling down, but mostly they never wanted anything serious, either, because that’s the type of woman you look for.”

“My, you did do your research on the Marconi family.”

“And Adam and Rebecca have both talked to me about you. I think they worry about you.”

“I think they’re jealous of me.”

“That wasn’t the feeling I got.”

He ran a few more seconds before adding, “At least the women I like don’t call me nice. And I take that omission as a compliment.”

“I wouldn’t. Because when I said Adam was nice I meant it as a compliment. He’s considerate, and he has an understated humor that can be really funny, and we have lots in common.”

“I’m thrilled to hear it.” Rafe increased the volume of the music, upped his speed again, and without breaking his stride pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

Now seemed like a good time to stop talking, stop glancing at him and focus solely on her running.

They ran in unison, Lexie finally finding her rhythm, channeling her energy into her stride. Droplets of sweat ran down her face, trickled between her breasts. She was sure it wasn’t princesslike, scarcely even ladylike. Her mother had a saying about horses sweating, men perspiring, and ladies only glowing. If that was the case, she was glowing fit to light up the whole gymnasium.

At about the same time they slowed their machines to a cool-down jog and then a walk before stopping. They stretched hamstrings and calves in silence. Crossing the floor, she followed Rafe’s example, dropping her towel into the wicker hamper.

“What about you, Rafe? You’ve never fallen in love? Never met anyone you want to settle down with?”

He laughed as he turned to lift their sweatshirts from the hooks by the door. His back and shoulders glistened. His skin would taste salty. Lexie quashed the errant thoughts about the taste of Rafe, about her lips on his skin. Thoughts that had no place in her head.

“That’s like asking if I’ve ever met anyone I want to climb Mount Everest with,” he said as he tossed her sweatshirt to her, “when I have no desire to climb Mount Everest in the first place.” Finally, he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, covering the too-distracting expanse of masculine skin and muscle.

“Everyone wants to find someone to share their life with.” Lexie pushed her arms into the sleeves of her sweatshirt, shrugged it onto her shoulders and turned her attention to the zip.

Rafe’s eyes tracked the movement of her zipper as she pulled it up. “Why do so many people assume that?” He turned away and held open the door. “I’ve met mountaineers who assume everyone, even if only secretly, wants to climb Mount Everest.”

She stopped in front of him, not prepared to let him so easily dismiss the conversation. “Imagine the sense of achievement and satisfaction.”

“You want to summit Everest?” He studied her face, his own thoughtful and serious.

“Well, no,” she admitted, trying to ignore the building heat that had nothing to do with the exertion of her run and everything to do with standing close to Rafe. This was the reaction she wanted when she was with Adam. Hard to achieve when given the opportunity of private time, like last night in the car, he fell asleep. There was nothing sleepy about Rafe: he was vitality and masculinity personified. “But just imagine.” She tried to keep her own imaginings on topic. Mount Everest. They were talking about Mount Everest.

“I’d rather not. And ditto for the settling down. I’m a happy man, Lexie. Happier than most men I know. Including the married ones.” There was a warning in his words, in his eyes.

“You do have a zest for life. I think it’s probably what some women—” if she said “some women” she was clearly exempting herself “—find attractive.” She took the steps that carried her past him. “Like the woman with the long black hair?”

Rafe frowned, a good impersonation of incomprehension. But Lexie knew better. She’d seen the two of them with her own eyes.

“I saw you. Yesterday. As Adam and I were going to dinner. He was on the phone and I was looking out the window. He’d wanted to show me the old part of the city.” They’d driven over cobbled streets with ornate, gracious old buildings that came right to the street front. “You were standing on the path, and she was there, in an open doorway. She was very beautiful.” Lexie had seen that much as the woman had looked smilingly, perhaps adoringly, up at Rafe before stepping aside to let him in.

Rafe’s brow cleared. He studied Lexie long enough to make her uncomfortable, a smile tilting one corner of his lips. “Yes, Adelaide is beautiful,” he finally said.

“That’s it?”

“You want more?”

“No. It’s none of my business.”

“You’re right. It’s not. But I’ll tell you this much. She’s not my Everest. Not even a foothill.”

“Does she know that?”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t mention her to Adam.”

He cut her another look, but didn’t respond.

Activity in the halls, particularly on the lower levels, had increased from when she’d made her way down. And this time she did draw glances. Although given that the most lingering glances were from the female staff, she was assuming they were lingering on Rafe, not on her. She didn’t blame them. Her gaze wanted to linger, too. She kept it focused straight ahead.

Her steps slowed as they reached her corridor. “Apparently, all of your friends are bachelors. And when they find partners and marry, your contact generally dies off.”

“Not true,” he said at her side. “I have friends who are married. I must have.” They stopped outside her door, Rafe silent and thinking. “Mark and Karen,” he announced proudly. “They’re married, they even have a baby. I’m going to become its godfather at the christening in a few days. Though it has to be said, Mark’s not as much fun as he used to be. Which is what happens when people marry. They get caught up in each other. Two’s company and what have you.”

“Can’t you see you’re shutting yourself off from even the possibility of happiness?”

“Can’t you see that I am happy?”

“Adam says you feel uncomfortable around couples. It makes you realize the emptiness of your lifestyle.”

Rafe laughed. “Perhaps Adam’s transferring his feelings to me, because, Precious, that’s not what I feel.” They were standing close. “But surely you and Adam had better things to talk about than me?” His words were low and curious and teasing. “Otherwise I’d suggest you and Adam have problems.”

She didn’t step back, didn’t want to reveal how unsettling his proximity was. She lifted her chin. “Don’t flatter yourself. Of course we talked about other things. You were one brief snippet in the whole evening.” She didn’t detail the other topics, affairs of state, diplomatic considerations, the upcoming anniversary celebrations. Sadly, Rafe had for Lexie been the most interesting topic of conversation. She’d tried to draw Adam out about himself, but it wasn’t till she’d lain in bed that night thinking over her evening that she realized how skillfully evasive he’d been.

“Today we’re going to the Royal Garden Show, and tonight we’re attending the orchestra.”

“You didn’t suggest a nightclub? Some dancing?”

“Do you think he’d like it?” she asked, hopefully. It hadn’t occurred to her. She didn’t think Adam was the type.

“No. He’d hate it. Pressing crowds, loud music.”

“Just like the orchestra?”

He laughed but quickly sobered. “How much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice for him?”

Lexie lifted her chin. “He’s not asking me to sacrifice anything.”

“Because he doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know that he’s not meeting the real you.”

“I have more than one side to my personality. He is meeting the real me. He already knows me better than you ever will.”

Rafe raised his eyebrows. “Sure.” Not believing her any more than she believed herself. Rafe seemed to see a part of her she didn’t even acknowledge she had.

He reached past her, turned the handle of her door and pushed it open. Then he turned her with his hands on her shoulders. His voice was close to her ear, his body close behind her. “Go have a shower, Lexie. Make yourself look regal. Your prince is waiting.”