‘I’ll speak to Sebastiano,’ Rafe continued. ‘Get him to free up my diary for a day or two.’
She blinked up at him, hopeful and suspicious in the same motion. ‘Why?’
‘I’ve been working too hard. And because we have a lot to catch up on.’ He padded across the floor and pulled open a closet, totally at ease with his nudity. And why not, she thought, when you had a body built as if it should be immortalised in marble, every movement revealing the play of superb muscle structure beneath his skin? He was a living sculpture, perfectly proportioned in all the right places, abundantly proportioned where it mattered most. He pulled a white robe from the closet and slipped it over his shoulders, swiping another golden robe from a hanger.
He handed it to her, and for now she clutched it to her chest. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Once news gets out about the wedding, media coverage will make going anywhere a nightmare, but there’s still so much you haven’t seen here yet. The southern part of the island, for instance. Or we could go for a cruise around the island. Maybe take a closer look at Iseo’s Pyramid if you liked?’
‘That sounds good,’ she heard herself say, not wanting to sound too grateful, too desperate for the opportunity.
He reached out a hand to her and she took it. ‘I have to talk to Sebastiano. Why don’t you start in the shower and I’ll join you shortly.’
She would love a hot shower to massage her spent bones. She’d love it even more with him. She remembered another night, what seemed for ever ago, another promised shower. Maybe this time he might actually join her there. The look in his eyes told him he was definitely planning to.
Her hand in his, she stepped from the bed to the floor. ‘So you won’t be needing this, after all,’ he said, tugging the robe from her hands so it slid to a golden pool at their feet. ‘And you won’t be needing these any more.’ He slowly drew down first one glove and then the other until she was totally naked but for her lace-topped stockings.
His eyes gleamed with heat and fire, his breathing short and hard, and she wondered how it was possible for one man to recover so quickly, and for that man to rekindle the fire in her, so that she too was feeling that familiar ache of need.
He dropped his forehead to hers. ‘Dio,’ he muttered, ‘what you do to me. But I knew you would come to me.’
‘You were so sure?’
‘I knew. But had I remembered just how good it could be, I would have taken you that very first night.’
‘You tried,’ she reminded him, wondering what he’d say or do if he knew the real reason she’d decided to fall back into his bed. ‘I didn’t let you.’
‘It was inevitable,’ he said, lifting his head. ‘As inevitable as the sun rising in the morning.’
She bristled, having to remind herself what she was trying to achieve and why she even cared. This marriage would happen, she could see no way out, and so she would make of it she damn well could. ‘You sound very sure of yourself.’
‘I am. As I am sure of you.’
Don’t bet on it, she thought, as he let her go to make his call, thinking she knew less and less what it was that she wanted herself.
Don’t bet on it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHATEVER Sebastiano had thought of more of his plans being turned upside down, Sienna couldn’t imagine, but Rafe had done it, convincing him that another day’s meetings could wait. And it was paradise.
Rafe had driven them down the mountain in the sporty Alfa Romeo car, with the top down and the wheels hugging the tight curves as sure-footedly as a cat.
At the marina they’d transferred to the luxury yacht that would take them around the island. It was more like a floating palace, Sienna decided as she was given a tour. Rich mahogany timbers were set off with gold and brass fittings, mirrors and strategic lighting making the most of the space. Not that there was any shortage of that in the vast master suite.
What would it be like to make love in a floating palace, she wondered, looking forward to finding out.
And now up on deck, with Rafe by her side, the launch sliced through the azure water, the wind whipping around them, salt spray sparkling in the air. In loafers and shorts, a casual shirt unbuttoned at his neck and his hair blown freestyle by the wind, he looked magnificent, his olive skin glowing under the sun, his white-teethed smile wide. He looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, more together.
He felt even better, his arm looped loosely around her shoulders, his hand on her arm as he pointed out the sights of Montvelatte’s coastline, naming the small villages dotted around the cliffs and coves, waving to people in passing vessels, who smiled and cheered when they recognized the royal launch and their new Prince on board.