Читать книгу Secret Prince's Christmas Seduction / The Queen's Baby Scandal - Maisey Yates, Carol Marinelli - Страница 14

RAFE HAD BUOYED her up. The day felt brighter for the time she had spent with him.

And the night felt not so long, nor as dark, and Antonietta awoke the next morning with delicious anticipation.

Yes, even the prospect of seeing Rafe buoyed her up.

So much so that she decided to stroll into the village and do her shopping before her shift started.

In so many ways it was wonderful to be back. As Antonietta had explained to Rafe, when she had left Silibri it had been after a summer of fierce wild fires and the mountains and trees had been charred and black.

In fact the village had been slowly dying even before she was born, with shops and cafés closing and the youth moving on. Now, though, with the monastery refurbished, there was new growth all around. The trees were lush and there were winter wild flowers lining the roads. The village itself was thriving. Its produce and wares were now in demand, and the cafés were busy and vibrant.

She had already done some of her Christmas shopping—as well as presents for her parents and brother there was a lipstick for Aurora, which she bought faithfully each year. Just because her friend was newly rich, and could afford a lifetime’s supply of the vibrant red cosmetic, some things never changed.

Some things did change, though. Aurora was married now, and so Antonietta bought some chocolate for Nico at one of the craft stalls in the village square. And not just any chocolate. Hand-made Modica chocolate, which was so exquisite that even a man who had everything could never have enough.

Bizarrely, she thought of Rafe.

Or perhaps not so bizarrely. Because she had been thinking of him on and off since the previous day. More accurately, he had been popping into her thoughts since the day they had met.

‘Could I get the coffee flavour, too, please?’ Antonietta said impulsively to the stallholder—and then jumped when she heard her name.

‘Antonietta?’

It was Pino.

‘Did I catch you buying me a gift?’ he teased, when he saw her reddening cheeks.

‘No, no…’ Antonietta smiled back and then glanced at his shopping bag, which was empty. She knew that Pino was just killing time. ‘Are you on a day off?’

‘Yes, though I thought you were working?’

‘Not till midday. But Francesca wants me to go in a little early. No doubt because of our esteemed guest.’ She felt her cheeks go a little more pink.

‘That’s probably it.’ Pino rolled his eyes. ‘I heard he has asked not to have Chi-Chi service his suite again.’

‘Really?’ Antonietta’s eyes widened. ‘Why?’

‘I thought you didn’t like to gossip?’ Pino teased.

‘I don’t,’ Antonietta said, and hurriedly changed the subject. ‘Now, I have to choose two presents for Gabe—it is his first birthday next week, and then Christmas too.’

Pino was delighted to help, and soon they had a little wooden train for him, as well as a cute outfit, and Pino suggested they go for coffee.

‘I don’t have time,’ Antonietta said, which wasn’t quite true.

The sweet, spicy scent of buccellato—an Italian Christmas cake—wafted through a nearby café, and though she was tempted Antonietta was too nervous about bumping into her family to stop there for coffee and cake.

Instead, having said goodbye to Pino, she decided that she would bake her own, and headed into the village store. There she chose the figs and almonds that she needed to make the cake, and added a few other things to her basket before lining up to pay.

The shopkeeper was awkward with her, and did not make eye contact—and then Antonietta found out why.

‘Stronza!’

The insult came from behind, and Antonietta did not need to turn her head to know that the word was aimed at her. She had been called worse on previous trips to the shops. Steadfastly, she did not turn around, and though she was tempted to walk out without her groceries, she held her ground.

Another insult was hurled. ‘Puttana!’

They all assumed there must have been another man for her to have run out on Sylvester, or that she had been sleeping with all and sundry in her years away.

Let them think what they choose, Antonietta told herself as she paid.

But as she picked up her bag she saw that it was Sylvester’s aunt who was taunting her.

Antonietta said nothing. She just did her best to leave with her head held high—or not quite high, but nor was she head down and fleeing as she had previously. She was determined not to let the incident ruin her day.

But it was about to get worse.

Her parents were walking arm in arm towards her, and both were startled when they saw her.

‘Mamma!’ Antonietta called.

But together they looked away and crossed to the other side of the street. For Antonietta it was a new version of hell. That they should cross the road to avoid her was not only painful and humiliating, it made her angry too, and hurt words tumbled out.

‘I tried to tell you, Mamma!’

Her voice was strangled then, but the words were true, for she had tried to reveal her fears about Sylvester to her mother. Antonietta watched as Tulia Ricci’s shoulders stiffened. She stopped walking, and slowly turned around.

‘You know I tried to tell you.’

‘Antonietta.’ Her father spoke then. ‘What are you doing back here?’

And as she saw his cold expression she wondered the very same thing.

It was Antonietta who walked off, refusing to cry.

Even at the hotel she felt an anger building that was unfamiliar to her.

But her shift would start soon, and Antonietta decided she could not think about her family situation and do her work, so she fought to set it aside. Tonight she would examine it. Tonight she would sit down and decide whether to stay long enough to complete her training, to give them a chance for a Christmas reunion, but she would not think of it now.

She changed quickly into her uniform and then, with her heart fluttering in her chest and her breath coming too shallow and too fast, she crossed the monastery grounds.

Antonietta was usually a full fifteen minutes early for work, but so shaken was she by the morning’s events that she got there only just in time.

‘There you are!’ Francesca said by way of greeting. ‘Signor Dupont has requested that his suite be serviced at midday, when he is out.’

Antonietta nodded and made her way up to the suite. After knocking and getting no answer, she let herself in. There was the scent of him in the air, but not his presence, and she was relieved to be alone and not have to make small talk. She set to work, ticking things off her list, trying to banish all thoughts of this morning.

Except Antonietta could not.

As she smoothed the sheets on the bed all she could see was the sight of her parents, crossing the street to avoid her. She plumped the pillow but found she was crushing it between her hands as the tears started to come thick and fast.

And they were angry tears!

She had come here to make amends.

To say sorry to her parents for not marrying a man who had treated her less than gently. A man who had tried to force her to do that more than once.

She had held on to her anger for so long, but it was more than seeping out now, and she buried her face in the pillow and let out a muffled scream.

‘Agh!’

It felt good.

So good that she did it again.

‘Agh!’

And again.

That was how Rafe found her.

He had finally gone for a run—in part to avoid her, for such was his cabin fever that he was getting a little too interested in a certain maid.

And that would never do.

However, he had not been for a run since his accident, and his endurance was not quite what it had been. He would soon get it back, he told himself, and the next run would be longer.

He made his way up the stone stairs to the private beach entrance of the balcony.

And then he saw her shouting into a pillow.

Rafe did not get involved with the dramas of maids.

Ever.

But when she stopped shouting into the pillow and sobbed into it instead, something twisted inside him even though generally tears did not move him.

She was not crying for an audience; he was aware that he was witnessing something private that she would rather no one saw.

Indeed, Antonietta was mortified when she removed the pillow and saw Rafe.

He was breathing heavily from running, and he looked displeased.

‘I apologise,’ Antonietta said immediately, for an esteemed guest did not need anything other than quiet efficiency. She wiped her cheeks with her hands and started to peel off the pillowcase as her words tumbled out. ‘I thought you were out.’

‘It’s fine.’ Rafe shrugged.

‘I ran into my parents…’ She attempted to explain. ‘They crossed the street to avoid me.’

‘I see.’ Rafe tried to remain unmoved. No, he did not get involved with the dramas of maids.

‘I can send someone else up…’ Antonietta hiccoughed, frantically trying to regain control. Except her tears would not stop.

‘There’s no need for that,’ Rafe said. ‘Carry on.’

‘But, as you can see, I can’t stop crying…’

‘I said,’ Rafe snapped, ‘carry on.’

And though she did carry on with her work, she found that the tears carried on too, and the anger did not abate.

No pillow was left unthumped!

He ignored her.

Well, not quite. At one point, when anger gave way to sorrow, he gave a slight roll of his eyes and handed his weeping maid a handkerchief.

She carried on with her work.

She just dribbled tears, and she was so grateful for his lack of words, that there was no attempt at comfort, for there was nothing he could say.

She would never have her family back. Of that Antonietta was certain. And it was there in the August Suite that she finally mourned them. Oh, there was no howling. Antonietta just quietly let the tears roll.

Rafe did not involve himself.

He would have liked to have a shower, given he had just been for a run, except he did not want to have a shower while the weeping maid was here.

Of course he could dismiss her.

And yet he did not.

Instead Rafe stood on the balcony and looked out towards the temple ruins, wondering about his teary maid.

He recalled the slight triumph he had felt when she’d smiled, and he found he would like her to smile again.

In turn, she liked the silence he gave her. It did not feel as if she was crying alone, as she had done so many times. And neither did she feel patronised, for there had been no there, there or invasive questions.

He let her be, and finally she was done with both her work and her tears.

Every last thing on her list was ticked off and Antonietta felt surprisingly calm as she gathered her things and finally addressed Rafe. ‘I am finished.’

‘Perhaps before you go down you should go and splash your face with cold water…take a moment.’

She did as she was told, appalled to see her swollen eyes and red nose, but she appreciated the opportunity to calm down, and retied her hair before heading out.

‘If you need anything else, please page me.’

‘I shan’t,’ Rafe said, but then he reconsidered, for Antonietta really was proving to be the brightest part of his day… But, no, he would not make up reasons to call her. ‘Are you working tomorrow?’

‘Just a half-day,’ Antonietta said. ‘Then I have a day off.’

‘Well, I might see you tomorrow, then?’

He hoped so.

So did she.

‘Thank you,’ Antonietta said as she turned to leave, instead of the other way around.

‘No problem.’

Except there clearly was.

‘Antonietta.’

He called her name as she headed for the door. And his summons hit her deep and low, and the word felt like a hand coming down on her shoulder. How could the sound of her own name make her tremble and feel almost scared to turn around?

Or rather nervous to turn around.

Slowly she did turn, and she knew in that second that she was not scared or even nervous to face him. She was fighting her own desire.

In the room behind him she could see the vast bed, and she wanted to lie with him on white sheets that smelt of summer. To know the bliss not just of a man, but of him.

Rafe.

Whoever he was.

‘Yes?’ Her voice sounded all wrong. It was too breathless and low and so she said it again—except it came out no better, was a mere croak. ‘Yes?’

Rafe rarely—extremely rarely—did not know how to proceed. Not only did he not get involved with maids’ dramas, neither did he take maids to bed.

Added to that, she had been crying for the best part of an hour. He never took advantage.

Yet the air was charged. She looked as if he’d just kissed her, and he could feel the energy between them and her increasing awareness of him.

His sad maid looked exactly as she might if he had her pressed against the wall.

‘I could have one of my security detail come and speak with you?’

‘Why would they need to speak with me?’ She frowned, trying to untangle her thoughts from his words. Trying to remind herself that she was at work. ‘Is there a problem with security in the suite?’ She was desperately trying to hold a normal conversation as her body screamed for contact with his. ‘If that’s the case I can let Francesca know.’

She knew nothing about his ways, Rafe realised.

‘It’s fine,’ Rafe said. ‘My mistake.’

‘Mistake?’ Antonietta checked, and he could see that her eyes were perturbed, that she assumed she’d said something wrong.

But she’d said everything right.

For this was far more straightforward and yet way more complicated than a contracted affair.

This was pure, unadulterated lust.

From both of them.

And he actually believed now that she had no idea who he was.

Crown Prince Rafael of Tulano.