She’d spent the intervening days getting her head clear. She’d pushed aside the fleeting romantic notions she’d had, those few moments when she’d seen a future that could possibly be happy.
She didn’t even know where those notions had come from. She didn’t expect or want love. Love was a kind of witchcraft, a power strong enough to destroy the person suffering from it. A marriage built on mutual respect was the most she had ever hoped for, although hopes were an indulgence she rarely allowed herself.
Nathaniel was a commitment-shy womaniser of the highest order. Their brief marriage would be over before it had begun and she would remarry. Now all she cared about was the welfare of the tiny life she carried. She needed to protect it, but all she sensed was danger.
She took a long breath and straightened her spine. She would call him herself. Let him make his excuses not to see her personally.
Before she could move to her office, she rushed to the bathroom and brought up her breakfast.
* * *
Nathaniel’s phone vibrated noisily on the desk.
Swearing, he cursed himself for not turning the vibration facility off when he’d switched it to silent.
The same number from ten minutes ago flashed at him.
He snatched it up, pressed the answer button and put the phone to his ear. ‘Tell the Princess I am unavailable until the day of our wedding and if she doesn’t like it she can—’
‘It’s Catalina.’
The unexpectedness of her voice and the coolness of her tone momentarily froze him.
‘Are you there?’ she asked. He could imagine her sitting at the round French mahogany table of the family room, legs crossed, back straight, as composed as she always was.
He cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I’m here. What can I do for you?’
‘I need to see you.’
‘As I explained to your companion, I don’t have any free time until the day of our wedding.’
‘I’m sure you can make the time.’
‘Is it important?’
‘Nathaniel, we’re having a baby together.’
‘I am aware of that. It’s the reason I’m marrying you.’
There was a slight pause before she said, ‘Our marriage might only be temporary but our child is for life. Unless Dominic was telling me the truth and you have no interest in our child?’
He sighed. It didn’t surprise him that Dominic would tell such a lie. ‘He must have his wires crossed. I will want to play an active part.’
‘Then show me the courtesy of meeting with me.’
There was something in her voice that gave him pause.
‘If I agree then I want it to be somewhere neutral and not in the palace,’ he said slowly. If he never had to set foot in that palace again he would die a happy man.
‘I was going to suggest the same thing.’ There was definite relief in her words. She went silent again before asking, ‘Do you like opera?’
‘No.’
‘Good. My family have a private box at the Monte Cleure Royal Theatre. There’s a production of La Bohème on this week. Our box is free on Friday so we can have it to ourselves.’
‘I just told you, I don’t like opera.’
‘Then you won’t find the singing a distraction when we talk.’
Rebuffing Catalina’s assistant was a lot easier than rebuffing his fiancée personally. It would be easier if she were issuing hysterical orders but her sheer calmness made him feel foolish for his previous avoidance.
He knew beyond doubt that the less interaction they had as a couple, the better it would be for them both. But especially for her.
‘Okay then, Friday,’ he agreed, before terminating the call.
He rubbed the nape of his neck and closed his eyes.
* * *
The theatre manager greeted her personally, hurrying Catalina through a private side door and up the red-carpeted staircase to the House of Fernandez’s private box before the general public had time to notice her appearance.
They’d arranged to meet in the royal box at eight p.m. She was fifteen minutes early.
To make the time pass quicker and in an attempt to smother the nerves swirling in her gut, she tucked herself into the corner and opened the programme. She had made it to the section describing the careers of the secondary players when Nathaniel slipped into the box, all six foot plus of him, looking dashingly handsome in a black tuxedo and bow tie, with a tumbler of Scotch in hand.
He was exactly on time.
Her heart battering against her ribcage, she got to her feet and gave him her hand. Dutifully, he put it to his mouth and razed his lips across her gloved knuckles. The heat from his breath sank through the satin.
‘You’re looking well,’ he said, stepping back and openly appraising her.
‘Thank you.’
‘No sickness?’
‘Not right now. It comes and goes.’
He gave a half-smile. ‘That must be difficult.’
‘I’ve been told it comes with the territory.’
Below them, the theatre was filling, the buzzing sound of pleasant chatter filling the air. The royal box had been specially designed for privacy, the curvature of the balcony allowing the occupants an unhindered view of the stage while protecting them, along with clever lighting, from prying eyes.
‘How long does this go on for?’ he asked as they took their seats.
‘About three hours including intervals.’
He didn’t bother hiding his grimace. ‘Have you seen this before?’
‘Oh, yes, it’s a beautiful story and perfect for the Christmas period.’ She looked at him and arched a brow, smothering the churn in her stomach at his obvious wish to be elsewhere. ‘Even if opera’s not your thing, I’m sure you can cope with my company for three hours. After all, you seemed happy with my company at Helios and Amy’s wedding. Or has the thrill gone now that you’ve slept with me?’
He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up in the same manner he had moments before he’d placed his lips against hers for the last time.
‘At this moment, the only thing I’m not happy about is spending three hours listening to ear-splitting wails being passed off as singing. I give you no guarantee I’ll stay until the end.’
‘So you don’t deny you have no interest in my company at all?’ She kept her voice even but the humiliation burned.
They were only supposed to have been for one night. They had both made that clear. No ties, no regrets. Catalina had imagined hugging their secret night close to her heart for the rest of her life and, as vain a hope as she now knew it to be, she’d imagined it would be the same for him too.
She’d thought—wished—that he would see the one positive of their marriage as being able to share a bed again.
She’d overestimated his boredom threshold.
‘You’re a beautiful, interesting woman. I doubt there’s a man alive who wouldn’t want to be in your company.’
‘But you’re not one of them.’
Nathaniel finally allowed himself to look at her properly. It was at moments like this that Catalina’s