gaze slid appreciatively up her slender legs. It was the first time he’d seen her in a dress and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Especially when she smiled at her companion with all the warmth of her sunny homeland.
The impact was stunning. Heat flickered along his veins and pooled in his groin.
She was blossoming into a lovely woman. That had to explain why she’d been knotting his belly with thwarted desire since Paris.
And why he’d succumbed to temptation and kissed her in the tower. His pulse jumped and a spike of something like fear drove through his chest at the memory of her sprawled out over that fatal drop. The need to hold her and not release her had been unstoppable. The hunger for another sweet taste of her lips inexplicable.
It disturbed him, the force of this unexpected attraction.
She was utterly unlike his usual companions. She was unpolished, preferring flats to high heels and avoiding even the simplest of her inherited jewellery. She had a habit of talking to anyone, particularly the staff, rather than to VIPs. He sensed she’d be as happy chatting to the gardeners as attending a glitzy premiere occasion.
Yet his heart lifted when he was with her.
He told himself that was sentimental twaddle. Yet there was definitely something about his bride-to-be.
Raul shook his head. Didn’t he prefer his women sophisticated, assured and sexy?
Why did Luisa infiltrate his thoughts at every turn? Why had he found it so hard to release her that day in the tower? Or to pursue his own busy agenda while she began her lessons in language, etiquette, history and culture?
Because he wanted her. And, almost as much as he wanted her, he wanted her company.
Raul turned to his companion. ‘Could the Princess and I have time alone to view the rest of the exhibition?’
The curator agreed enthusiastically. Such interest boded well. Two minutes later Raul and Luisa were alone. Even the guard at the door discreetly melted into an adjoining space.
‘Thank you.’ She turned to him and he saw her eyes were overbright. His heart thumped an unfamiliar beat and his hand closed automatically over hers.
‘Are you OK?’ He’d thought to please her with this visit, not upset her. Show her she did have a connection with his homeland.
‘I didn’t expect to see my mum’s work on show. It was a lovely surprise.’
Raul shrugged. ‘She was a talented artist. It’s a shame she didn’t continue her botanical painting.’
Luisa looked away. ‘She dabbled but she said it was a discipline that needed dedication. She couldn’t give that. Not with the farm.’
He nodded. It was clear what a toll that place had taken on Luisa’s family. Her mother should have more than early works on display. She would have if she’d not embraced a life of hardship. All for the supposed love of a man who could give her so little.
People were fools, falling for the fantasy of love.
So-called love was an illusion. A trap for the unwary. Hadn’t he learnt that to his cost?
‘It was kind of you to bring me.’ She touched his sleeve and looked up from under her lashes in an unconsciously provocative way that made heat curl in his gut. ‘Lukas told me you rarely have time for such things, especially now.’
‘It was nothing. It’s been a while since I visited and there were issues to discuss.’ The last thing he needed was for her to get the idea he’d changed his schedule for her. Even if it was true.
Luisa had been stoically uncomplaining through her first weeks in Maritz. Yet the change must be difficult for her. Despite her heavy tuition schedule he’d often glanced up from a meeting to see her wandering in the gardens and he had the discomfiting notion she was lonely, despite her ever-widening acquaintance.
Guilt blanketed him. She was here because of him, his country, his needs. What did she personally get out of it?
She wasn’t interested in riches or prestige. The only money she wanted was to save her friends.
His lips twisted. She didn’t see him as a prize, even if she couldn’t conceal the passion that flared when he kissed her. Luisa Hardwicke was a salutary lesson to his ego.
‘I had no idea Mum’s work was so well regarded.’ She turned to examine a delicate drawing of a mountain wildflower and he followed, not wanting to lose the warmth of her hand on his arm.
‘Tell me about her.’
Luisa swung round. ‘Why?’
He shrugged, making light of his sudden need to understand Luisa’s family, and her. ‘She must have been strong to have stood up to your grandfather.’
Luisa grimaced. ‘Maybe it’s a family trait.’
‘Sorry?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought she was remarkable. And so did my dad.’
Raul threaded his fingers through hers, pleased when she didn’t pull away. ‘Tell me.’
For a long moment she regarded him. Then she seemed to make up her mind. ‘She was like other mums. Hard working, making do, running a household and doing the books. Always busy.’ Luisa paused. ‘She made the best cinnamon Christmas biscuits and she gave the warmest hugs—guaranteed to make you feel better every time. She loved roses and had an eye for fashion, even if we couldn’t afford to buy it.’
Luisa moved to the next picture and he followed. ‘She hated ironing and she detested getting up early.’
‘Not suited to be a farmer’s wife then.’ The change from palace to dairy must have been hard. Had the marriage been a disaster? He frowned. It didn’t sound so.
Luisa laughed, a rich, lilting chuckle and Raul’s senses stirred. ‘That’s what Dad used to say. He’d shake his head and pretend to be scared she’d go back to her glamorous world. Mum would smile that special smile she saved for him and say she couldn’t possibly leave till she mastered the art of cooking sponge cakes as well as my aunt. Dad would say no one could ever make sponges like Mary, so Mum would just have to stay for ever. Then he’d kiss her.’
Raul felt the delicate tremor in her hand and watched a wistful smile flit across Luisa’s features. He knew an unaccountable desire to experience what she had. The warmth, the love. A childhood of cinnamon biscuits and hugs. How different from his own upbringing!
‘But how did it work?’ He found himself curious. ‘They were so different.’
She shrugged. ‘They came from different worlds but they made their own together. Dad said she made him feel like a king. Mum always said he made her feel more like a princess than she’d ever felt living in a palace.’ Luisa swung to face him. ‘Life with my grandfather wasn’t pleasant. He tried to force her into marrying someone she detested, just to cement a deal. There was no laughter, no fun. Not like in our home.’
Someone
