My stockpiles are good too, in the unlikely event of some kind of invasion or siege. Another thing Vittorio never imagined would befall him. In a way, my brother’s death is a lesson to me. A cautionary tale.
By noon, I’ve covered my bases and planned my next trip. This one will take me over the border. I bristle at the idea of leaving Dani here unprotected, after Gregorio showed up. It would have been a bloodbath if shooting started. But if it happens again, my men and I will have no choice. If it comes to a question of strength, I will act.
“Where is she?” I ask Sabine, who is bringing me a cup of tea. She looks startled. “Dani.”
“In the drawing room, sir. Where she spends most mornings.” Sabine’s shrewd eyes peel back my layers of cool and composure. She must know what happened last night. Certainly she would have heard something—Dani wasn’t exactly discreet. And why should she be? This is her home now too. “Shall I fetch her?”
“No. Don’t disturb her.” I drum my fingers on the desk, gazing out the window. Soft, wet snow clings to the hillside. “How is she? Dani?”
“Well enough, sir. She keeps to herself most days, but manages to keep busy. And I daresay she’s found some success with her master.”
I cock a brow at Sabine. Despite her tone, her face is a mask, carefully made. “You don’t like her.”
“That’s not for me to say, sir.”
“Speak freely, Sabine. You’ve been in this family for decades. You’ve earned that much, at least.”
Sabine hesitates, averting her eyes. “Miss Vance is very young, sir. And tender-hearted.”
I consider the hard-hearted, staunch old woman. I misread her before—shelikesDani, somehow. Interesting. “And you’re afraid this will, what? Break her? She knew what she was signing up for.”
“She’s afraid of you, sir. However well she hides it.”
“She’s been candid about as much.”
Sabine presses her lips into a firm line.
“What is it?” I press impatiently. “Sabine, come now. I’m not a child. I can handle it.”
“I only worry, sir, that this life won’t suit her. I wouldn’t like to see you heartbroken again, as you were when we lost Mr. Vittorio.”
I look away sharply. I can’t fault Sabine. I practically forced her. But still, I don’t like it. The insinuation that I’m weak. The idea that all Dani has done she’s done out of duty. But how can I believe otherwise? Maybe the girl is just a good liar. Maybe she knows just what is at stake if she fails as my wife, my lover, the future mother of my children.
“She puts on a show of strength, but I fear what might happen if…” Sabine trails off.
I look at her. “If?”
“If she falls in love with you, and you break her heart.”
This shocks me. I’m careful, guarding my expression so Sabine doesn’t notice. Dani? Inlove? She’s young and naïve, but even I can’t picture such a thing. Everything she’s done she’s done for duty, for her precarious situation.
“Thank you, Sabine,” I say, by way of dismissal. The woman shuffles out quickly.
But she’s right, isn’t she? My heart is black, hard as coal. I have nothing to give. And anyway, that’s not why Dani is here. But perhaps candor is needed now, if only to prepare her. I don’t see this tender heart Sabine speaks of. Dani has been stoic and brave and bold. She’s been a little wild. But maybe it is an act. After all, I don’t know the girl.
But maybe I should.
Chapter 11
Dani
He doesn’t say anything, but I sense him almost immediately. Static suffuses the air in the drawing room, a shiver coursing down my spine. I dreamed of him all night, of his dominating body, of his hot tongue, his groans of pleasure. I woke gasping, drenched in sweat, reaching for the empty bed as though I’d find him there.
The want is cavernous, carving me hollow. But I don’t dare let it show. Even when Santo moves into the room slowly, standing just beside me like a shadow, watching me sketch. My hand trembles. Does he notice, with those keen eyes of his?
I don’t know what I expect. For him to tell me he’s leaving again? To pick an argument? To tempt me to break my cool performance of servitude?
But I know that I don’t expect him to slide his palms over my hips. I don’t expect him to press his front to my back, every inch of him burning through his clothes and mine, making me wish we weren’t wearing anything at all, that we were skin to skin, that we were doing the terrible, wonderful things we did to one another last night.
