‘Val?’ The humour had left Teo’s voice.
Valenti waited, silent.
‘If you need me, you only need to ask. You know that, right?’
He exhaled. Relieved and touched in equal measure. ‘Sí, I know.’
‘Good. Now, I’d be grateful if you’d wrap things up there so I can have you back here pretending to be interested in your duties as my best man and giving me crap about security,’ his twin griped good-humouredly.
Valenti felt a flash of brief elation that wasn’t a direct result of Teo’s own brimming emotions. He was happy for his twin and for Azar. Against all their expectations, his brothers had found deserving partners, achieving the envious feat of putting their miserable pasts behind them.
Sure, it would make his job of protecting his ever-expanding family that much more of a challenge, but it was a sacrifice he’d dedicated his life to. One he’d proved repeatedly that he excelled at. Yes, it hadn’t been the dream he’d set out for himself. He’d tried, and failed, to change that. Life, he’d discovered was all about harrowing disappointment and disillusion. Duty and sacrifice were solid goals that left him little time to dwell on the gaping chasms in his own life.
Chasms he’d found himself wanting to fill with— ‘I’ll be there,’ he rasped into the phone just to distract himself from horrifying betraying thoughts of…seducing his ward. Then hearing the sounds of stirring one floor above him, he grasped that too. ‘I have to go.’
He didn’t wait for his brother’s response, his feet propelling him to the door even before he’d fully hung up and tossed the phone in his drawer.
But just as he’d dealt with his failure to protect Helga and the guilt that had weighed him down ever since, he would handle this unexpected challenge too.
Lotte was halfway down the stairs when he reached the living room.
Her nightshirt reached mid-thigh but might as well have been a skimpy negligée because, with the combination of sleep-tousled hair, sleepy eyes and tentative smile that combined innocence with sexiness, Valenti couldn’t drag his eyes from her or stop the furious cascade of forbidden lust through his veins if it was the single necessary thing needed to keep living.
‘Buenos días,’ he muttered, then wondered why the hell he kept speaking to her in Cartanian.
She paused at the last but one step, bringing her face closer to his eye line. Closer to his avid gaze that insisted on roaming her face unceasingly.
Her lips parted on a soft sigh. ‘Góðan daginn,’ she murmured.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Já,’ she said, then her mouth twisted, immediately drawing his gaze to her plump lips. ‘As well as can be expected.’
Lips he’d touched, then spent the night dreaming about. Lips he’d wanted to taste with a need and fervency he knew and accepted came from the ocean of forbidden reasons why he couldn’t. He wasyears olderthan her, and yet…wasn’t the taboo often the greatest of lures?
And here in this secluded cabin that he’d insisted they come to, when she’d rightly pointed out that they could’ve gone anywhere else in the world with guaranteed safety but with ample room to avoid each other—an ideal, much more prudent course of action—he’d placed himself directly in the path of that allure.
It’s not too late. You can do something about—
She stepped forward that last step and tilted her face up to his and Valenti’s thought dissolved to nothing.
‘Coffee?’ she muttered huskily, even as her own gaze roamed over him, before coming back to meet his eyes.
He nodded, a jerky thing of little substance that somehow saved him from appearing like a dazed schoolboy. Forcing his body to move, he took one step back, then pivoted towards the kitchen. Ignoring the frantic urge to look over his shoulder, watch her follow him. Going to the sophisticated coffee maker he’d installed when he’d had the cabin decked out, he pushed the requisite buttons, bracing his hands on the counter and willing sense and reason back into his brain as he waited for the beverage to percolate.
And yes, he told himself he remembered just how she liked it because it was his duty to pay attention to the minutest detail.
Because not doing so risks lives. Sometimes fatally.
Like with Helga.
Helga, whom he’d protected on assignment eight years ago, and on seeing her exceptional talent as a doctor had divulged his most secret, abandoned wish of becoming a surgeon, then spent hours and days discussing her favourite subject. Helga, who, like her younger sister three years ago, had suddenly appeared in Cartana, offering friendship while daring him to reach for his dream, with her help. She’d selflessly offered her eye-wateringly exclusive services to his father, the king, with a view to advocating on Valenti’s behalf, even though he’d protested, proud and determined to stick to his new destiny, but secretly welcomed her advocacy.
Helga, who’d died a mere handful of months later before she could complete her self-imposed task. All because he’d dropped the ball on her protection.
The icy, bracing showers of guilt and regret shaved off the layers of unwelcome sensations, so that he could turn and hand her the coffee with his emotions back under tight control where he preferred them.
Whatever she saw in his face made her eyes widen, then the light dulled.
