‘Don’t I get any credit?’
‘For that? Or for this?’
When Sofia kissed him, he congratulated himself on not following the impulse to thoroughly ravish her. True to his vow, he’d store up that desire and would suffer a straining groin for as long as it took. But not for too long, he trusted.
A welcome distraction came when Sofia went to examine her easel and paints. Even in jeans she looked like a queen, he reflected as she walked to the riverbank. His groin tightened on cue, reminding him that where Sofia was concerned there was no such thing as too much sex. To ramp up the agony, he’d chosen a setting that was perfect for lazy lovemaking. The grass was lush and deep, and it would be soft and fragrant beneath then. The night breeze would cool them—Dio! He wanted her. Now he knew the true meaning of agony.
‘Are these artists’ materials really mine?’ she asked, turning to greet him as he joined her at the easel.
‘They’re all yours,’ he confirmed, thinking how beautiful she looked with the last rays of the sun bathing her in a cloud of light. Looping his hands loosely around her waist, he encouraged, ‘Go to it. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.’
‘I know what you’ve come up with,’ she scolded. ‘And this is only our first date.’
‘But I can kiss you,’ he said, starting by kissing her neck.
‘You can,’ she agreed. Her voice trembled with a throb of excitement so her next words were unexpected. ‘But that’s all you can do,’ she insisted.
Unseen, he ground his teeth until he was sure they would shatter.
They cantered back together. Wind in her hair and Cesar at her side, she had never been happier. Her lips were bruised from his kisses, though the frustration of holding back from progressing those kisses was pure torture. And now the idea of marrying a prince, and therefore becoming a princess, was niggling at her. Cesar’s life was so very different from hers. No way was she regal material. Born a tomboy, she was happiest and most relaxed at an easel or in the saddle. Cesar was rich and she was poor, having invested every penny of her inheritance in the retreat.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he commented as they slowed their horses on the approach to the yard.
‘Happily contented,’ she said as she dismounted. That wasn’t strictly true. She wanted Cesar’s arms around her and his naked body, warm and demanding, against hers.
Springing down from the saddle, he led their horses to the stable. ‘I’ll see them settled down and then I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same. Remember, we’ve got training in the morning.’
She didn’t want to sleep alone, and had expected Cesar to change his mind about wooing her ‘properly’, she realised now. ‘I hadn’t forgotten, but thank you,’ she called to him on a dry throat.
With one last, brief sideways glance Cesar raised an amused brow and walked away.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THIS WAS KILLING HIM. Taking things slowly did not suit him. Cesar ground his teeth as he led their horses back into the stable complex. Having not only read the menu but having tasted it, holding back where Sofia was concerned was up there with the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Hard being a word he wanted to expunge from his mind right now.
Taking things slowly was the sensible thing to do, he persuaded himself as he removed his horse’s tack. In Sofia’s case, it was the only way. But that didn’t mean he had to like it or that it was going to be easy. He had never held back, whether in the army, business, polo or anything else, but having promised to court Sofia as she deserved—when what he wanted was to throw her over his shoulder, carry her off to bed and make love to her until her legs refused to hold her up—he would stick to the original plan. But if there was one thing this experience had taught him it was that celibacy was massively overrated.
She couldn’t sleep that night. Things were so bad she had actually left her bedroom door open a crack in the hope that Cesar might find his way in. No such luck. Thin strands of lilac light were already pushing their way through the curtains. Everyone would be up soon, and there was no sign of him. Not even a text.
Scrambling out of bed, she took a quick shower and got dressed, ready for the morning training session. Leaving her room, she crept down the corridor. Everyone was still asleep. Her next stop was the ranch house. Running across the yard, she entered the main house through the back door with the key they’d all been given in case they felt hungry when the cookhouse was closed. Setting to, she made pancakes, something she was rather good at, if she did say so herself. Loading a tray with coffee and freshly squeezed juice, she loaded it with pancakes for two and went to say a proper thank you to Cesar.
Backing into his bedroom, she put the tray down on the nightstand by his bedside. His pillows looked as if they’d been punched into oblivion and his covers were in a knot. There was no sign of Cesar but she could hear the shower running. Her throat dried with anticipation. Would he stride out of the bathroom naked, fully clothed, or would he have a towel looped around his waist?
‘Sofia!’
Naked.
Okay.
Securing her wide-eyed gaze to his, as if to prevent that gaze from straying, he reached for a robe, handily tossed onto a nearby chair, and shrugged it on.
Too late. Her gaze had already strayed. Her breath quickened and her lips parted. ‘Pancakes?’
‘I could do with something to eat,’ Cesar confirmed, though she thought she detected a wicked smile on his wicked mouth. And was his robe left unfastened on purpose?
‘You’ll catch cold.’
‘Not a chance,’ he said, padding purposefully in her direction. Rather than reaching for the food she had prepared, or pouring a cup of coffee, he reached for her. Cupping her face in his hands, he whispered, ‘You look so beautiful this morning. And what a thoughtful thing to do.’
