Urgent heat swirled in his loins as he visualised it.
‘Why not?’ Luisa looked stunned.
‘Because she’s not at all nice.’ It surprised him how much pleasure there was in saying it out loud, even if in a murmur for Luisa’s ears alone. How long he’d been constrained by the need to keep up appearances!
‘But surely I need to meet her.’
‘Hardly. She’s leaving for LA tonight. Grabbing a lift with her newest boyfriend, a Hollywood producer.’
Raul didn’t even feel the usual simmering anger. Ana couldn’t be bothered to feign mourning for her dead husband. Their marriage had been a farce, his smitten father turning a blind eye to anything in his young wife’s behaviour that might dent his royal pride.
Raul was tired of pretending his father’s marriage was anything but a sham. His father was dead and his ego couldn’t be battered any more. Ana didn’t deserve more than the merest observance of courtesy. Her attempt just now to wheedle more cash from the royal coffers had been expected but her timing had surprised even Raul, who’d believed himself inured to her grasping ways.
‘Come,’ he said, turning Luisa with him towards the dais where the royal throne rested. She grabbed her wide skirts and followed. The scent of lavender that accompanied her movements was refreshing after Ana’s cloying perfume. He breathed deep and helped his wife up the steps.
The flush colouring Luisa’s cheeks was charming. His gaze descended her throat, gorgeous in its gold filigree and pearl choker, down to where her breasts rose and fell rapidly. His palms itched to touch.
Leaving the reception early would cause a stir. But he wasn’t in the mood to worry about protocol. After years acceding to duty and convention, trying to compensate for the trauma of earlier royal scandal, Raul chose for the first time to flout tradition.
It felt good. The gossips could go hang.
He reached for his wife’s hand, enjoying the way it fitted his own so neatly. Enjoying her presence beside him.
‘Highnesses, ladies and gentlemen.’ Raul addressed the assembly. When he’d finished the sound of clapping made him turn. There were Alaric and Tamsin, smiling broadly. The applause spread.
Raul raised a hand in acknowledgement, then turned to Luisa. ‘It’s time we left.’
Her eyes rounded but a moment later she conjured a smile and a wave for their audience. She really was superb.
A moment later Raul ushered her out through the double doors behind the throne, held open by footmen.
Then they were walking down the private corridor, her hand still in his. The doors closed behind them, muting the swell of applause.
Satisfaction filled him. He was alone with his bride.
It happened so quickly Luisa was dazed as he led her through the labyrinth of corridors.
Only two things were real. Raul’s warm hand enfolding hers and the fact she was married. Even in the chapel it hadn’t seemed real. But hearing Raul tell their guests to enjoy their wedding hospitality, seeing the curiosity, the goodwill, even the envy on some of the faces staring up at her, it had suddenly hit.
She’d bound herself to this man. No turning back.
Her spurt of indignation over his stepmother dwindled. Now she felt only shock.
Raul’s hand tightened and sensation streaked through her.
No, she felt more than shock. A tiny bud of something curled tight inside. Something that kept her hand in his even when she knew she should withdraw it. Something that shortened her breath as Raul halted before an unfamiliar door then stood aside, waiting for her to precede him.
She stepped in then halted. She shouldn’t be here in his private apartments.
The door closed, silence enveloping them. Her breathing was overloud as she sought for something to say.
‘Come.’ A hand at her elbow propelled her forward. ‘You need food. You ate nothing at the reception.’
‘How do you know?’ For much of the reception they’d been on opposite sides of the room.
‘I watched you.’
She started, stunned at the idea of Raul concentrating on her all the time he’d chatted with dignitaries. The notion sent a ribbon of heat through her.
‘And you had just one glass of champagne.’
Her gaze melded with his. The kindling heat she saw made her look hastily away.
‘Maybe a bite of something would be a good idea.’ Then she’d go. She felt too aware of him beside her.
Aware of herself too, in a new, unsettling way. Of the swish of rich fabric around her legs as she moved. Of the tight clasp of the fitted bodice at her waist and breasts as she struggled to draw in oxygen. The fabric of her bra seemed suddenly abrasive, drawing her nipples to taut peaks.
She stepped away, only to stop again abruptly. Her eyes widened. ‘This looks … intimate.’ It sounded like an accusation.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters!’ Luisa bit her lip at her high pitched response. She sounded like a schoolgirl, not a mature woman.
A low table was drawn up before a massive sofa long enough for even Raul to recline full length. Velvet cushions made it look plush and inviting. A foil-topped bottle nestled in a silver cooler. Cold lobster lay sumptuously arrayed beside a bowl of fresh ice that cradled gleaming beads of caviar.
Luisa stepped back abruptly, only to find Raul behind her. She spun round, hands planted on his chest as if to ward him off. So why did her fingers curl into his jacket?
Hurriedly she retreated. ‘Is this someone’s idea of a joke? It’s like a clichéd set for a seduction.’
‘You don’t like lobster?’
‘Well, yes.’ She’d only tried it here in the castle and had loved every mouthful.
‘Or fruit?’ He gestured and she spied a platter of her favourite fruits: peaches and cherries and glowing navel oranges. Beside them was a bowl of fresh berries. Beyond that a basket of bread rolls—not the fine dinner rolls that graced the royal table but the malty whole-grain bread, thick with seeds, that she’d discovered when she’d invited herself to the kitchens. Traditional peasant fare, she was told. The best bread she’d tasted.
Luisa leaned closer. Beyond that were fat curls of butter, a board of cheeses and a silver bowl of cashews. Her favourites.
A familiar jar at the end of the table caught her eye. Mary’s spidery writing on the label: raspberry jam.
Luisa blinked hard, her pulse thudding. She reached out and stroked the thick glass jar of her aunt’s home-made jam, the jam she’d been helping make since she was a child. A taste of home. Luisa could barely believe he’d taken the trouble to ask Mary for this.
Raul hadn’t just clapped his hands and ordered a feast. This was just for her. Something special. His unexpected thought-fulness blindsided her.
‘How did you …?’ Her throat closed on emotion.
‘How did I know you prefer fruit to gateaux, cheeses to chocolate?’
Shaken, Luisa turned. He stood so close she saw again that sparkle of gold in his dark green gaze.
‘Because I notice everything about you.’ His voice was deliciously deep. ‘You are my wife now. I want you to be happy.’ The warmth in his tone made her tremble inside.
Not even to herself would she admit how those words eased her wounded soul.
‘But not like this.’ Her wide gesture encompassed the sofa, the crystal flutes, the whole seductive scene. ‘We agreed to a marriage of convenience!’
Was she trying to convince herself or him? From the moment she’d stepped into his chamber she’d had the delicious sense of walking on a knife-edge of excitement.