‘Like your apartment in Venice?’
He shrugged, wishing himself a past that was one whole lot more glorious. ‘Exactly like Venice.’
‘And this place? Another card game? Another win?’
He looked back over his shoulder, up at the castle that imposed itself on the clifftop almost as if it were part of it. He realised the truth, maybe for the first time in his life, and only because of what he was doing to her—he hated this place.
Was that why he had brought her here? Not from some noble desire to keep her safe, but so he might taint thoughts of her with this toxic castle and its toxic memories? So it might make it easier when she left?
Or because it was easier for him to remember why he was wrong for her? Because a man who did not hold out a hand to a woman in desperate need …
She deserved better.
She was like a breath of fresh air in a stale room. She was a candle glowing in a dark cave.
And it crushed him like a weight on his chest that, for all he had given her, he might be the one to extinguish that light.
‘Another win,’ he conceded, although it hardly seemed a win now when it was the last place he wanted to be with Gabriella. She should be somewhere far more deserving of her company right now. Somewhere light, beautiful and free from the darkness of the past. And she should be with someone far more worthy.
But she was with him now, and there was a picnic waiting, the curve of sand in the cove lying inviting below. If he could not give her happiness, he could at least give her a taste of what she deserved.
He turned, holding out his hand to her as they negotiated the first of the uneven stone steps down to the beach, and she smiled her thanks, her hand warm and surprisingly strong in his. Surprisingly addictive. He wished it could be more than just her hand he held, and for a moment he just looked at her.
The soft breeze tugged at her fringe over those smiling, brandy-coloured eyes, toyed with the skirt of her white sundress, kicking up the hem around her long, tan legs. For a moment he almost forgot himself and thought about taking her into his arms and crushing her to him, wanting to possess her in every sense of the word.
‘Raoul,’ she whispered. He saw her mouth form the word and for the first time he noticed how good his name looked on her lips.
And he turned away, setting off down the stairs, knowing he could not afford to notice such details, knowing there was no point to it. But he would accept her smiles and laughter. He would take them and store them away in a special place in his mind so that, once she was gone, he could take them out, dust them off and remember how precious it had been to have her if only for such a short time …
The beach was as protected as Natania had promised, the cove acting like a sun trap, the air still and surprisingly warm. Gabriella kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes in the sand. Delicious.
Just like Raoul’s gaze had been moments before. She was still half-breathless with its impact, still dizzy with the anticipation and the desire.
He wanted her. And that knowledge made her body bloom in readiness. Was that why he had brought her here, to seduce her on the sandy shore today, before they joined as a married couple tonight?
The cove was larger than you could tell from the castle, full of secret grottoes hidden behind giant boulders so they were utterly private. She glanced up at the castle where it sat heavy and imposing on the cliff, recognising it from the painting in the hall near her room. She mentally counted rooms, working out which one was her bedroom, checking out the angles from where the kitchen must be, frowning when she noticed the turret.
‘What’s that room?’ she asked. ‘The one with the turret?’
He shook his head without bothering to look that way. ‘Nothing. A store room.’
‘It must be somewhere over that locked door. Are there stairs inside?’
‘Perhaps. It is not something I bother to think about. Do you want to eat?’
She squeezed her eyes against the light and put a hand up to shade her brow, trying to make out details. ‘The view from there must be wonderful.’
‘How about the view from here?’ he suggested, and she turned back to him to see. He had found a place bathed in the warmth of the sun and yet totally private from any inquisitive eyes at the castle. Not that she imagined Natania and Marco would be bothered to watch them when the pair were clearly more involved in each other. They laid the blanket down upon the virgin sand and set the picnic basket in the middle.
‘I hope you’re hungry,’ he said. ‘Natania has prepared an entire feast.’
He pulled out a plate of chicken, a dish of plump, green olives stuffed with feta, another plate of cheese, some crusty bread and the rustic salad. Everything looked and smelt delicious; she was more than hungry, but food was not her greatest need at this time.
She accepted a glass of the local village wine, though, ruby-red and spun with gold in the afternoon sun. And she lay sideways on the blanket, one arm propping up her head, the other hand nursing the wine glass. She didn’t have large breasts but she knew the angle would spill them together and accentuate their curves. She was determined to seduce him, if he didn’t seduce her first. ‘How long have Marco and Natania worked for you?’
‘Ten years,’ he said, selecting one of the fat olives. ‘Maybe longer. Maybe shorter. Why do you ask?’
‘They seem very close.’
‘They have been together much longer than they have been with me.’
‘They clearly love each other very much.’
He did not look at her, she noticed. He did not take the opportunity to say he loved her, as she hoped he might. Instead he looked out to sea. ‘Perhaps. It is not my business.’
‘You mean you haven’t seen them together? They’re very affectionate. Very—close.’
‘They do their work. That is all I ask.’
‘He is very good-looking, of course.’
He looked at her now, she noted with satisfaction as she sipped on her wine. He had taken no time at all to swing his head around to her. ‘Who is?’
‘Marco, of course. I can see what Natania sees in him.’
He picked up a small pebble from the sand and flung it at the sea where it landed with a plop. ‘You find Marco attractive?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe I like what he does for Natania. I like the way he is so fascinated in her, so drawn to her. She seems happy enough.’
He didn’t answer, just turned his gaze out to sea again. She propped her glass in the sand, slipped off her cardigan and flicked her hair off her neck. ‘That’s better. It’s warm here. Natania said it was warm enough in the cove to swim naked.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Maybe we should give it a try.’
‘The water will be freezing.’
‘I can think of a way we can warm up afterwards.’ She sat up and popped the first two buttons on her dress. ‘I’m game if you are.’
His arm snaked out, his wrist ensnaring hers like a manacle before she could attempt the third. His eyes were dark and storm-tossed. ‘Don’t do this, Gabriella.’
‘Don’t do what?’
‘What you’re doing.’
But