‘Will you stop saying that? You are not a fool,’ he insisted as she hurried back to the chair where she’d left her bag. Goodness knew what her mother had called her in the past, but he could imagine.
She delved inside her bag and rummaged around, before handing him a scrunched-up pack of biscuits. Taking care not to touch his hand, she said, ‘I’m afraid they’re a bit broken, but I made them for you. It’s traditional Scottish shortbread. We hand it out to visitors to encourage them to come back.’
‘Is that what you’re doing now, Danny?’
Her cheeks flushed red as he stared into her eyes. Her gift thrilled him. He had been given a full-blood Arabian stallion by the daughter of a sheikh, and a watch beyond price by a princess—both of which he had returned. Well, he had bought the horse for a fair price later, at auction... But nothing in his life had meant more to him than this packet of broken biscuits.
Broken? They looked as if they had been pulverised between Danny’s wringing hands.
‘You do eat carbs?’ she asked worriedly.
He raised an amused brow. ‘Please...’
‘Okay.’ She risked a smile. ‘Only some sportsmen—’
Danny had stopped talking, as if something in his face had made her think he was going to kiss her. It was sad to think his wife knew so little about him—but then they were both to blame for that.
‘We should eat,’ he said, moving away to give her space. ‘Annie’s made a feast for us. I’ll show you round later, if you like?’
‘I’d like...’ Danny’s brows drew together, as if she was trying to figure him out. ‘If this library is anything to go by, I suspect you’ve worked wonders on the rest of the house.’
‘You can judge for yourself after supper.’
* * *
She had seriously underestimated the effect of being close to Tiago after having spent so much time apart from him. When he didn’t look at her, her heart thundered with disappointment. And when he did look at her she could hardly breathe. And through all this she was supposed to appear cool and detached...
It shouldn’t be hard, when Tiago was so calm, but keeping her own counsel was proving almost impossible when she longed to ask him about so many things. Like what was left between them now Tiago no longer needed a wife?
Maybe the answer was in his manner. He was behaving more like an old friend keen to show her round his new house than a lover—let alone a husband. She would just have to adapt to this new situation between them, and fall into a similar role.
* * *
They took the tour after supper. He had to try very hard not to notice the soft dark green wool stretching over the plump swell of Danny’s buttocks as she walked in front of him, or her nipples pressing against the soft fabric through the fine lace of her bra. He concentrated instead on his wife’s animated face and the brilliance of her eyes, and relished the fact that it was thanks to Danny that he had learned so much about himself. He knew now that he wasn’t wholly gaucho or playboy, but a man determined to do his best. And if that meant curbing his playboy ways...
‘I like you here,’ Danny murmured as she looked around his home. ‘You seem more real.’
He laughed. ‘Do you mean I’m a hologram in Brazil?’
‘No. A barbarian,’ she said without hesitation.
‘Would you have me any other way?’
From the blush on her cheeks, he guessed not.
She started making thoughtful comments about the décor, but all he could think about was taking her to bed, pleasuring her through the night, and not even bothering to muffle her screams of pleasure.
Yes, he had aimed for discreet but sumptuous country casual, he agreed distractedly. And, yes again, he was glad she approved of the colour scheme. But frankly he wasn’t interested in jewel colours and expensive art when he had a living, breathing work of art standing in front of him, waiting to be undressed.
‘Nothing too obviously billionaire chic?’
He laughed at her comment. ‘I suppose you could say that.’
‘So, who did you use?’
He frowned. He knew whose body he’d like to use—right after he’d pleasured it into a state of erotic euphoria. ‘No one.’
Her gaze dropped to his lips. ‘You mean you designed this all by yourself?’
‘All except the library. Would you like to see the rest of it?’ He led the way to the stairs.
‘Why not?’
TIAGO’S BEDROOM WAS full of mellow wood and rich coloured drapes—a necessity in the Highlands, where the wind could be cruel and even well-insulated houses could be gripped in a frozen chill for months on end. There were tasteful accessories in a variety of muted honey colours, and crisp white linen on the bed. Two elegant lamps stood one either side of the bed on nightstands covered in books.
Feeling him close behind her, she turned and almost collided with him. From the way he was looking at her it was as if he knew everything she had been thinking...dreaming. Gathering herself quickly, she ignored the glint of understanding, and, yes, even humour in his eyes.
‘Are you ready to go home, Danny?’
The way he was prompting her didn’t leave her with much option. He had even stood back to clear her way to the door.
‘Thank you for showing me around.’ She sketched a smile. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t disappointed that the evening was over so soon, but what had she expected? ‘You have a beautiful home,’ she said truthfully. ‘I wish you every happiness living here. And in Brazil too, of course.’
He escorted her to the door and helped her on with her jacket. He’d been the perfect gentleman throughout the entire evening. She knew she shouldn’t hope for anything more, but having Tiago back in her life, even in a new way, was disturbing...upsetting. He was a complex man who demanded life on his own terms—as she demanded life on her terms. How had she ever imagined they could meet in the middle?
They couldn’t, she concluded as Tiago helped her into the car and closed the door.
Why had he bought a Scottish estate? It couldn’t be Chico’s influence. No one influenced Tiago. She could understand him falling in love with the Highlands. Who wouldn’t? This rugged setting was a scenic feast and, as he’d said, this was a perfect base for him. But how would she feel with her estranged husband living down the road? What if he found someone else? What if Tiago had children with that person? Could she look on and feel nothing?
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, flashing a concerned glance at her after a long silence.
‘Yes. Thank you.’ If he had been trying to jolt her into feeling passionately about him—about life, about everything—he couldn’t have planned this evening better. And now she couldn’t resist asking him... ‘How long do you think you’ll spend here each year?’
‘That all depends.’
She waited, but Tiago revealed nothing more. His attention was fixed on the icy road. How could they have become so distant? Had she really thought she could handle this? How wrong she’d been.
‘We’ll go riding on the estate tomorrow.’
Her head shot up, but then she remembered her job. ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’
‘Your work?’
‘Yes.’
‘You