Shock and a bittersweet sense of relief shot through him with the force of an arrow. ‘And you’ve waited until now to give it to me?’
‘Thank you is enough,’ she scolded him lightly.
‘Thank you,’ he gritted out ungraciously.
Making his excuses to their table companions, he pushed back his chair and stood, indicating that Rose should do the same. For once, she complied, almost certainly because his face was so thunderous and she feared a scene.
‘What have I done wrong?’ she demanded as he ushered her at speed in the direction of the French windows leading on to the palace gardens. He stopped short on the veranda at the top of the steps. Losing the cufflink had devastated him, but his carelessness wasn’t Rose’s fault and he shouldn’t take his self-recrimination out on her.
‘You kept it safe for me all this time,’ he confirmed gruffly.
‘Of course I did.’ Rose looked at him with concern. ‘I didn’t realise it meant so much to you, or I’d have made sure to get it back to you right away.’
‘You kept it as a talisman instead.’
‘Yes...it did feel like one,’ she admitted with a puzzled frown. ‘You think that too?’
‘The cufflinks are special. I’ve always believed they carry a special magic. I’ve been kicking myself for being so careless ever since one disappeared.’ Holding the jewel tightly in his fist for a moment, before stowing it safely in an inside pocket, he explained, ‘They were the last gift from my mother.’
‘Oh, Raffa...’
Rose was right. There were no words. After a silence, she led the way down the steps. His uncertain mood must have left her wondering if he’d follow, but as always Rose was both undaunted and sensitive to what was needed most, which was distance between them and everyone else at the Prince’s ball.
She carried on through the subtly lit gardens, without attempting to speak, or comfort him. She didn’t need to. An understanding had sprung between them, based on their shared grief.
How Rose wished she could reach inside Raffa and drag out all his pain. She felt so frustrated as they walked along. A determined woman didn’t like to admit defeat, nor find it easy to accept there was a problem she couldn’t solve, but so much of Raffa remained hidden. The only way forward, Rose decided, was to look at the small part of his grief he had shared with her as the first step on a long journey. Would she be a part of the rest of that journey? There was no way to tell. They’d be returning to the ranch soon, where life would return to normal. Rose would be fully occupied in the stable, while Raffa resumed his busy life. Their sole connection would be work, with chances to be close as human beings nigh on impossible. Determined to change that for a time, she dipped down to slip off her shoes. ‘We’re both due a night free from guilt and the past. A night to run free,’ she declared, and with that, she was off.
Picking up her skirts, she ran across coarse European grass that pricked her feet, but it was damp and refreshing, and with each step she took, the sense of freedom increased. An ornate fountain dominated the centre of the lawn. It held the promise of cooling spray, as well as shade and privacy behind its elaborate stonework. The scent of flowers was intoxicating, and so was the thought of the man stalking her. She ran faster and faster into a situation of her own creation, knowing she could be risking everything on an impulse.
She skirted behind the fountain and held her breath. Closing her eyes as she rested back against the cold stone, she knew what she ought to do, when Raffa found her, and that was thank him for a wonderful evening and politely say goodnight, but if she didn’t want to take things to the next level, what was she doing here? And if Raffa didn’t want the very same thing, why was he coming after her?
Every moment seemed to stretch into an hour, and she almost jumped out of her skin when he finally rounded the fountain. Even in the dark, she felt his black stare on her face. It scorched its way through her body, heating every erotic zone she possessed, but, instead of yanking her into his arms as she’d halfway hoped, Raffa kept his distance, and stared out to sea. Had she misjudged this chemistry between them? Perhaps he didn’t feel the same way she did. Maybe she was in danger of making a fool of herself. Upfront as always, she went ahead to find out. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered.
‘That isn’t sensible, Rose.’
‘I don’t care,’ she replied stubbornly.
CHAPTER SIX
THEYDIDN’TKISSright away. Instead, they shared the same breath, the same air, teasing by promising contact, only to pull back. When Raffa finally drove his mouth down on hers, delay and anticipation had built to such a crescendo the outcome was inevitable.
‘What, here?’ Raffa murmured with surprise as Rose drew him with her to the ground.
‘Why not? Or, are you afraid of grass stains?’
He laughed as he joined her, and she sank into an embrace so firm, yet gentle, she had never felt so safe in her life. ‘Don’t stop?’ he confirmed.
There was no stopping, no calming her, either, until she heard a peal of laughter.
‘Relax,’ Raffa soothed. ‘It’s only another couple enjoying the fruits of the night. They don’t care about us.’
‘A fruit of the night?’ Rose repeated with a grin. ‘Is that what I am?’
Cupping her buttocks in one big hand, Raffa nudged the fine mesh of her gown aside. Exposing her breasts, he suckled each nipple in turn. Thrusting her fingers through his hair, she kept him close. ‘Touch me. Touch me here... Show me... Show me what to do.’
‘That would be my pleasure,’ Raffa whispered as he set about undressing her.
‘You really don’t care if we’re discovered?’
