Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire #3)(26)

She fell into step beside him. Once on a path in the garden, he offered her his arm. She tucked her hand around it, and the connection felt right. Another woman might have come to him in an outfit designed to turn him on. Or already have started to flirt outrageously with him. Female companionship came easily to a man with a title. Magnus was a healthy male in his prime. He’d accepted more of those appetizing offers than he cared to admit, but he couldn’t remember any holding his attention for long. What was the old saying? Familiarity breeds contempt? For Magnus, it bred boredom.

Rachelle holds my attention with ease. Is it because we haven’t been together yet? His gut told him she wouldn’t be a one-night stand. Once would not be enough to know her the way he wanted to.

“I love this! It’s an edible garden, isn’t it? Funny, it didn’t look it from far away, but these are mostly vegetable plants.”

“My mother called it a kitchen garden, even though she didn’t cook.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve seen beautiful gardens and I’ve seen vegetable gardens, but this mixture of colors and textures with the burst of flowers here and there—it’s dazzling. I can’t wait to see it in the light of day.”

Her comment pleased him. “My mother put a great deal of planning into the design. She studied in France as a child and said it gave her an appreciation for all that is beautiful as well as useful. She often said we cheat ourselves when we choose one over the other.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was.”

“How did she—I mean, if you don’t mind my asking . . .”

“She was born with a weak heart valve. It never held her back, but it did take her from us too early.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She is never far from my thoughts, therefore never far from me.” It was something Magnus had once heard his father say about his deceased wife. Magnus had never repeated it, but he realized in that moment that it was also how he felt.

“That’s beautiful, and how I feel about my mother’s second husband.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Funny thing about small planes—sound carries better than you’d think.”

She froze beside him. “You heard my conversation with Eric.”

“We all heard it.”

She closed her eyes as if remembering all she’d said. “Oh my God. You should have said something.”

He shrugged. “What you were saying was too important to be interrupted. Except perhaps the last part about how we met. I don’t believe you have my accent down when you do your impression of me.”

She opened her eyes, looking pained. “And all your men were there. I’m so sorry.”

He tipped her chin upward and ran his thumb lightly over her parted lips. “Stop apologizing all the time. It’s not necessary. Do I look upset?”

She shook her head slightly, and desire once again lit her eyes. He much preferred that expression. “But your men—”

“Would not dare to have an opinion regarding a moment from my private life.” He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. “And I must admit, the story becomes more entertaining each time you retell it.” People usually presented themselves in whatever way they thought would be most advantageous to them. Rachelle was refreshingly real.

She smiled then, relaxing against him. “Every time I think I know what to expect from you, you surprise me again.”

“I could easily say the same about you. You are many things, Rachelle, but boring is not one of them.”

She ran her hand over his chest in a light caress. “You might not say that if you knew me. My life back home was a quiet one. I taught six-year-olds all day, hit the gym most evenings, and spent a lot of time with my family. Before this trip, I hadn’t even left the United States.”

“And yet you came alone.”

“Yes.”

He kissed her then but kept it gentle and in control. She was a remarkable woman, and there was no need to rush. When she came to his bed, he wanted it to be completely without fear or regret. She melted against him, and his need for her challenged his decision to go slowly. Reluctantly he broke off the kiss while he still had the strength to.

They stood in each other’s arms, breathing heavily. He remembered how boldly he’d spoken to her the first time he’d met her. It hadn’t seemed to scare her. Despite being alone with him in a secluded garden in his country, she didn’t appear intimidated by him at all. She might not consider herself daring, but she had a natural strength.

A man could make a partner of such a woman.

He frowned at where his thoughts wandered. A night with her—even a prolonged affair—was all he was looking for.

Wasn’t it?

He stepped back and offered her his arm again while chastising himself for bringing her to his mother’s favorite weekend escape rather than a more appropriate and less personal hotel. Rachelle was the first woman he’d brought here, and he didn’t like what that implied.

Rather than taking his arm again, she searched his face. “What’s wrong?” Rachelle Westerly surprised him. There were few in his daily orbit who took the time to read him. Her ability to read his disposition was disconcerting.