‘You don’t have to do that, Consuela,’ she told her. ‘This is your home. It’s Felipe’s home. Can’t we at least try to live here together?’
‘No.’ Consuela shook her head. ‘In truth, I will be glad to go. It is time. Perhaps…’ She heaved out a heavy sigh. ‘Perhaps more than time that we began making a life for ourselves.’
In a lot of ways Caroline could only agree with her. Felipe, at least, needed to get away from here. It was the only way he would learn to put aside his bitterness.
The sound of another car arriving alerted Caroline to the return of the others, and her immediate concern turned to getting Luiz away from the hall before his men brought Felipe into it.
Releasing Consuela, she turned back to Luiz. He looked so big and grim that she felt the threat of tears tighten her chest muscles as she walked back to him. She turned impulsively to Luiz’s uncle. ‘Felipe will need you more than I do, Tío,’ she told him.
There was a moment when he looked as if he might argue with her, then with a glance at Luiz he changed his mind and nodded. To her father she gave a hug and a kiss. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said quietly.
He too understood. He was being dismissed. Standing back, he watched her slip her hand into Luiz’s hand, saw the larger fingers tighten possessively around her more slender ones, and together the two of them moved up the stairs.
Behind them, not a single word was spoken.
Instead of to her old room Luiz took her directly to his. It was the master suite of the castle. Huge. Grand. All heavy baroque furniture and ancient artefacts. The moment the door shut behind them Caroline felt reaction begin to set in.
Her legs felt suddenly weak, sending her over to the nearest chair to drop shakily down into it. Still without a word, Luiz walked across the room and into his bathroom. Ten seconds later she could hear the sound of running water.
Coming back into the room, Luiz found her sitting there, with her face hidden in her hands. A muscle along his jaw clenched, but that was the only reaction he showed as he came to stand over her, then bent to gently remove the tiara and veil from her hair before scooping her into his arms again.
‘Oh, very macho,’ she said, trying to lighten the leaden atmosphere.
He didn’t respond to it. Grim-eyed, tight-lipped, he carried her into the bathroom, then set her down on her feet and turned her back to him so he could begin untying the silk lacing that was holding the bodice of her wedding dress together.
‘If you don’t start talking to me, I’ll throw a tantrum,’ she informed him quite casually. The lacing gave, the bodice slipped, sending her hand up to catch it before it revealed her breasts.
‘Luiz!’ she snapped, spinning round to face him.
His eyes caught fire. The fury he had been keeping severely banked down now came bursting out through those hot, bright, burning black eyes to completely envelop her at the very moment his arms did the same. And he was lifting her off her feet, so he could bring her startled mouth on a level with his own mouth.
It was a kiss like no other. It didn’t just burn, it consumed. Her arms went up, slender forearms using his wide shoulders as a brace to keep that fierce mouth-to-mouth contact. She didn’t care now that the dress was slipping, that her breasts were bursting free to press against him. She didn’t care that the knock on her head hurt or that her bare feet were stinging or that he was holding her so tightly that he was in danger of crushing her ribs.
But she cared that she could feel him trembling, that even his mouth, where it fused with hers, was struggling to maintain some control over what was finally pouring out of him.
‘I love you,’ she murmured through a fevered grab at air. ‘I love you so much, and I hate it when you hide away from me!’
‘It’s either hide or devour you,’ he muttered. And he meant it, fantastic though the statement might seem. He meant every harsh, rasping word of it.
He claimed her mouth again, putting a stop to any more talking, because at this moment doing was more important. Caroline wound her thighs around his hips, long skirts rustling as she locked her bare feet together at his back. Her fingers were in his hair, her thumbs urgently caressing the tension along his rigid jaw.
On a driven groan he turned back to the bedroom.
‘The bath,’ she reminded him.
He issued a hoarse curse against her lips and changed direction without breaking the heated contact of their mouths until he absolutely had to. But he refused to let go of her as he bent to turn off the taps. And when he straightened again she was waiting for him, flushed-cheeked, misty-eyed, the two creamy slopes of her breasts heaving against the boned bodice now resting beneath them.