A Royal Wedding(22)

‘Ah, dinner is served,’ the Count said with a smile. ‘Please be seated.’

He put a hand to the small of her back to direct her, and she felt warmth and heat and an instant connection. It was utterly innocent, she was sure, and the fabric of her dress was separating them, and yet she had never felt anything quite so shockingly intimate. Did he have any idea what that low touch did to her? How it stirred her in secret places and moved her to remember a kiss that had near wrenched her soul as well as her defences away?

She swallowed, some of her earlier confidence trickling away. She was leaving tomorrow but that still left tonight. Why had she thought it would be such a breeze? What if he’d planned dinner to be one long assault to her senses? The brush of his fingers when he’d handed her the glass, the touch of his fingers to her back—was it all part of a long, sweet seduction?

He leaned over her as she was seated and she felt his warm breath stir the ends of her hair and brush her ear. She shuddered, suddenly breathless and flushed and trying to ignore the thrum of blood in her veins.

She was reminded of that line of the translation.

‘It makes your chest thump and leaves you breathless.’

Where had that come from?

No. That was laughable. Ridiculous. Although her brain must certainly be turning to porridge if she entertained any such thoughts!

‘It is random, regardless of wealth or station.’

That proved nothing. She was tired, overwrought after a long couple of days, and the lines were fresh in her mind.

‘It turns your mind to a porridge filled with poems and songs and other, darker, carnal longings.’

There! Not once had she felt inclined to burst into song or break out a sonnet. And she wasn’t the type to have dark, carnal longings. Even if just a tiny fraction of her wondered about his hard body and how it would feel to have him inside her. If that paper hadn’t fallen, if they hadn’t stopped.

Her body hummed with unfamiliar awareness. A pulse she’d never known existed made itself known and almost ached.

‘Is something wrong?’

The room came back into focus. She noticed the delicate porcelain bowl in front of her and the scent of wild mushroom and herbs from the soup someone had ladled into it. And she noticed him, watching her. Somewhere along the line her appetite for food had disappeared, been replaced with an appetite for something else entirely.

Lust, she thought. She hadn’t had much personal experience but she guessed that could be a chronic affliction too. But not necessarily fatal. Definitely temporary. She’d start feeling better as soon as she’d left the island.

‘It’s been a long day,’ she offered. ‘I’m sorry. I’m probably not very good company tonight.’

‘Did you have trouble with your work today?’

‘No. On the contrary, I managed to cover a lot more than I expected. In fact, I was going to talk to you about that. I’ve got enough done that I don’t need to trouble you any more. I’m hoping the boat can pick me up tomorrow morning.’

The atmosphere flat-lined between them.

‘Tomorrow.’

It wasn’t a question. More an accusation.

‘Yes. Will it be a problem to get the boat, do you think? Only the pages are in such good condition they are more than safe for transportation, and I can continue my studies and complete my report elsewhere before the discovery goes public.’

‘You’re going to leave?’

She blinked. ‘Isn’t that what you want? For me to be gone as soon as possible?’

Yes!

But not this way. Not this soon. Not now! ‘How can you be sure there’s nothing more to learn here? What is the point of rushing elsewhere?’

Escape.

‘I’ll just have to take that risk.’ There would be more to learn, she knew it. She would love to investigate the tunnels beneath the castle some more, to learn more of their shadowy past, but there was no way she’d trust herself down there with him again. ‘I’ll make my report. Others might want to fill in more details and undertake a research trip later.’

‘I don’t want others here!’

‘That’s not my problem!’

A flash of lightning rent the skies and shook the very foundations. A boom of thunder followed hot on its heels, along with a burst of rain splattering against the windows.

‘Is it always stormy at night here?’ she asked him, when the rolling boom had finally died away, breathless with the shock of the onslaught.