Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire #3)(59)

She gripped the back of his head with one hand, steadying herself with her other. “Oh yes. Oh, God, yes.”

Sometimes the best way to talk to a woman did not involve talking at all.





Chapter Twenty

The embarrassment Rachelle felt when she walked down the main staircase fully dressed in an evening gown at three o’clock in the morning faded as soon as they reached the foyer. Whether it was the glow from more orgasms than she’d ever had in one night or the warmth of the candlelight the house and grounds were bathed in, Rachelle felt as if she were stepping into a dream. There were flowers everywhere, not the same as before, but just as beautiful. If his staff felt inconvenienced at all, they hid it well.

Magnus led her out onto the lawn where the band Zinnia had introduced Rachelle to in town was now playing soft music. She waved to Benito and mouthed, Thank you.

Benito smiled and nodded.

As they reached the dance floor, Magnus expertly spun her and began to lead her in a polished waltz. She recognized the tune only because she’d attended dance lessons with Alisha leading up to her wedding. Brett had also gone, but Alisha had said she wanted to keep it fun, and having her best friend there accomplished that. Strange how it took traveling so far away to appreciate all the ways she and Alisha had remained close despite how much had changed.

Magnus spun her again, and her attention returned to him. “I thought you said you couldn’t dance.”

“I said I don’t, not that I couldn’t.”

“Then why are we doing this?”

He pulled her closer. “Because you wanted to.”

She tipped her head back to see his expression. “And that matters to you?”

“We are dancing, aren’t we?”

She glanced around. “You don’t feel guilty at all about everyone who had to make this happen twice? They might be smiling, but I bet they all wish they were sleeping.”

He spun her around again. “I have given up many nights of sleep to ensure these same people have what they need. I would take a bullet for them, as they would for me. My life is dedicated to them, just as theirs are to me.”

“That’s actually beautiful.” And a level of commitment outside of Rachelle’s experience—at least when it came to men. Did he carry that sentiment over into his relationships? “Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” he said confidently enough that her heart cringed.

Well, that clears up any misconception I might have that he’s falling for me. She tensed in his arms. “I don’t want to meet more of your family or your so-close-they’re-like-family friends.” He effortlessly swung her around again, and she matched his steps naturally. Here, as well as in bed, they fit. It was just every time he opened his mouth that she wondered what the hell she was doing.

“Why are you upset with me now, little Rachelle?” He didn’t look particularly concerned by the possibility.

But since he asked . . . “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself. I’m okay with this being temporary, but I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to get confused.”

“Temporary.” He repeated the word as if mulling it. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re the first woman I’ve considered marrying.”

“M-marrying?” She tripped over his foot and stumbled against his chest. Does that mean he—? Didn’t he just say he’d never been in—? “We barely know each other.”

He leaned down and murmured in her ear, “I wouldn’t say that after last night.”

Her heart went into a wild panic in her chest. “Marriage is more than that. You don’t know anything about me, really. Not even my favorite food.”

“That information would be best given to whichever chef we employ.”

“Or my interests. Or what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“The rest of your life would be here in Vandorra. Your interests would be me, our family, and our people.”

She froze. “And what would your interests be?”

“That depends on how well you continue to please me in bed.”

She shoved at him. Of course he didn’t move. He was an irritatingly strong wall of muscle. “Of all the egotistical . . . sexist . . .”

He roared with laughter and pulled her flush against his chest. “It was a joke. You’re so easy to rile. Smile, little Rachelle. It’s not every day you receive a proposal from a prince, is it?”

She snorted. “That was not a proposal. At least not one I’d ever say yes to.”

His hold on her tightened. “I have never met a more contrary woman.”

She held his gaze. Holding out against the fire in them took effort. On a purely primal level, she wanted to be his, but not on his terms. “What a relief it must be, then, that my answer is no.”

His expression darkened. “I retract my proposal.”

“Too late. It’s already out there and has already been declined.”

He frowned a moment longer; then his humor returned. “How did I miss it? You were joking. Touché, little Rachelle.”

Is this what Cinderella had to work with?

What had he said? “Rein me in.”

He needs someone who can, but is that me? He started to dance again, and she easily fell into step with him. She thought about how poorly her family communicated with one another. If her father had been open about the fact that his father had killed himself, would his marriage have survived? If her mother had been open about her affair and about who Spencer’s real father was, would their family have healed instead of growing further apart? Was what a person hid more destructive than what they shared? One quality she admired about Magnus was that he said what he thought.