“Just like the orchestra?”
He laughed but quickly sobered. “How much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice for him?”
Lexie lifted her chin. “He’s not asking me to sacrifice anything.”
“Because he doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know that he’s not meeting the real you.”
“I have more than one side to my personality. He is meeting the real me. He already knows me better than you ever will.”
Rafe raised his eyebrows. “Sure.” Not believing her any more than she believed herself. Rafe seemed to see a part of her she didn’t even acknowledge she had.
He reached past her, turned the handle of her door and pushed it open. Then he turned her with his hands on her shoulders. His voice was close to her ear, his body close behind her. “Go have a shower, Lexie. Make yourself look regal. Your prince is waiting.”
Seven
There were just three of them, and too much food, left at the shady outdoor table. The scent of roses drifted on the breeze. Adam sat with his phone pressed to his ear, and though Lexie wasn’t actively listening she couldn’t help hearing him patiently placating whoever was on the other end.
They had spent a pleasant afternoon together yesterday. She was slowly getting used to the concept of their engagement, and she certainly felt comfortable with Adam. They talked easily about so many subjects: Shakespeare, gardening, his charities, his work with the government. And when there were silences, they were companionable. They didn’t thrum with tension and anticipation. Not like—
She glanced at Rafe, the other person at the table, leaning back easily in his chair, his meal half-eaten, watching both her and Adam. He’d come late to the lunch. A shaggy gray dog, close to the size of a small horse, lay at his side, its eyes following Rafe’s every movement.
“The dog’s yours?”
“I’ve moved on from frogs.”
She met his smile, felt the curious warmth it inevitably stirred. “What’s his name?”
“Duke.”
“What breed?”
“Irish wolfhound.”
And there was that silence again. Even with Adam beside her talking, the short distance, the width of a table between her and Rafe was filled with the tension of thoughts and words not spoken. Of mistaken touches. Why did he fascinate her so, and how did she stop it?
He lifted his glass in a silent, almost insolent, toast to her.
“I apologize, Alexia.” Adam disconnected his call. “Only half a dozen people have my private number. And they only call if it’s important.”
He hadn’t given the number to her. Not like—She cut off that thought. “It’s okay, I understand. There must be incredible demands on your time.”
“There are, and there always will be—” he covered her hand with his “—but they’re not so important that I wouldn’t rather spend my time with a beautiful woman.”
He was talking about her? He meant well, but probably had no idea how rehearsed and…insincere he sounded.
Adam turned to his suddenly coughing brother and thumped him lightly on the back. He didn’t see the unholy amusement dancing in Rafe’s eyes.
Lexie focused on Adam. “Are you still okay for riding the palace grounds this afternoon?”
“Absolutely. I have a couple more phone calls to make first. We’ll meet in an hour.”
Time together, doing something she loved and that Adam had assured her he, too, enjoyed, would surely be good.
“And tonight, I’ve planned a dinner. It’ll be just the two of us.” He smiled, real warmth in his eyes. Eyes that weren’t the same dark honey as Rafe’s, didn’t have the simmering depths or the hint of cynicism or mystery about them, or even that sporadic amusement. But nice eyes.
His phone rang again. He looked at her. “I really am sorry about this, Alexia.”
“Please, it’s okay. I’ll go get changed.”
She stood as Adam answered his call. Both men stood, as well, a courtesy she still wasn’t used to. Her gaze went to Rafe’s, to eyes that saw too much. His gaze was carefully neutral now.
Rafe watched his brother as he finished his third call and turned to him. “No,” he said, before Adam could ask.
It didn’t stop him. “Take Alexia for the ride through the grounds for me, Rafe? Please.”
Rafe dipped a chunk of bread in extra-virgin olive oil, pressed from the palace’s olive grove. “Take her yourself.”
“I can’t. You heard that phone call.”
“She could walk the labyrinth.” That was a nice, solitary, time-consuming activity.
“She’s walked it already.”
“Then get Rebecca to take her riding. They get along well. It’ll be nice for both of them.”
“Rebecca’s spending the afternoon with Alexia’s mother. Dad’s in Paris. You’re the only one of us even close to available. It will only take a couple of hours.”
“She’s here to get to know you, not me.”
“We spent all yesterday together.” Adam at least had the grace to sound defensive.
“Ah, yes, the inner workings of the museum, dark, dusty corridors. You really know how to show a girl a good time.”
“Alexia enjoyed the museum. She has a keen interest in history. Particularly the history of San Philippe.”
Alexia. Lexie. Sexy Lexie, whom he’d been doing his best to avoid without being obvious about it. Sexy Lexie, whose hair he wanted to unpin and plunge his fingers into. Whose neck he wanted to kiss. Whose laughter he wanted to hear. Whose lips—Mustn’t think about that. The same mantra he’d repeated silently whenever he was in her company and too often even when he wasn’t. “Are you sure she enjoyed it? She’s polite. She even managed to look interested when Humphrey was haranguing her at the dinner the other night.”
“He wasn’t, was he?”
“He was. Which you would have known if you’d been paying attention.”
“Some of us have other demands on our attention.”
Rafe let the implication that he had no demands on his pass. “Which is why you should make the time to ride the grounds with her.”
“Fine. I will. You take my place as the chair of the meeting on the Global Garden. There’s an updated dossier you’ll need to read. Martin can brief you, as well. It should only take an hour, two at the most, to bring you up to speed. And the meeting itself, if you keep dissent under control, will be another two. Just be careful to keep a lid firmly on the diplomatic fracas threatening to blow up in our faces. Our so-called ambassador has been treading on toes again.”
“Okay, you win. I think I’ll put her on Rebecca’s gray mare.” Martyrdom had only so much to recommend it. Though he knew he was letting himself in for an altogether different kind of torture.
Adam smiled, looking suspiciously like their father. “You don’t think Specter might be a little jittery for her?”
“Lexie’s a good rider. Specter will be just perfect.” And if he chose the most restive of his own horses, then he’d have enough to think about other than Sexy Lexie. “But are you sure you can trust me? She’s a beautiful woman.”
Adam laughed. “Neither of us has ever broken the pact. You’re hardly about