His Bride for the Taking Page 8

  She also needed to shut out, for a time, awareness of the building public expectation. Already this morning’s papers were filled with photos of her and Adam. Some commentators were even discussing possible wedding dates.

  A wave of rock music hit her as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  Only one other person was in here, long muscular legs striding powerfully on a treadmill. He glanced over his shoulder as she came in, and if he hadn’t seen her she would have backed quickly out. But Rafe, the man she wanted to stop thinking about, had already punched the buttons to slow his pace. She hadn’t seen him yesterday, and had been secretly glad of the reprieve. He wiped his face with a small towel, then lowered the volume on the music. “Morning.”

  “Morning.” The word came out far too husky, on account of being the first word she’d spoken since getting up not long ago. She hung her sweatshirt from a hook next to the much bigger sweatshirt already there and turned.

  He smiled. A flash of white, perfect teeth. A gleam of knowledge and amusement in his eyes. “Running, rowing, weights or stairs? Though hardly anyone ever uses the stairs. There are enough of them throughout the palace.” He ran easily as he spoke, arms swinging at his sides. His gaze slid over her, took in her hair tied back into a high ponytail, dropped to her racer-back top, lowered to her Lycra shorts and her legs, which were bare except for her trainers.

  Her insides tightened and heated. She cleared her throat. “Running.” That was what she’d sought out the gym for. She’d wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and running usually helped her clarify things. Already she knew that Rafe’s presence would make that all but impossible because he was at least half the reason her thoughts needed clarifying in the first place. Him and the reactions he stirred, sometimes irritation, sometimes companionship, but more often than not longing and desire. Those last two were not what she wanted to feel for him. She wanted to feel them for Adam. And yet when she’d had dinner with Adam last night, she’d felt…friendship and companionship. Important qualities—a good foundation. But she wanted more and didn’t know whether that was unreasonable, or just too soon.

  Lexie crossed to the second treadmill, a few feet from Rafe, stood on its platform and considered the array of buttons and readouts in front of her that looked like they belonged on the Starship Enterprise.

  “Bridge to McCoy?” Rafe got off his treadmill.

  She grinned. “Exactly what I was thinking.” And exactly the sort of thought—so in tune with hers—that added to her confusion.

  He stepped onto the stationary edge of her treadmill. “What do you want? Tell me.”

  Oh, boy, there was a loaded question, when this vision of masculinity stood so close, radiating heat, his tanned skin glistening with the sheen of sweat. He’d brought his water bottle over with him and tipped it to his mouth. Lexie watched the slide of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “I like to start off slow.”

  He flicked her a glance that tripped her train of thought. The glance returned, his gaze held hers, a laughing question in his dark eyes, but something else, too, something deep, something light years away from amusement.

  No way could she now say, and to build to harder and faster, which in her naivety had been the rest of her intended sentence. She cleared her throat, hoped he wouldn’t notice the heat building in her face. “I thought I’d do about forty minutes, with a few hills.”

  He reached past her, his chest close to her shoulder, pushed a few buttons and her treadmill began to move, slowly at first, its speed gradually increasing. Her walk morphed into a jog. And still Rafe stood there. Close. Managing to smell enticing, masculine. “You’re up early.”

  “So are you.”

  “Sleep well?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she lied. She didn’t tell him of her dreams.

  “It can take a while to adjust to the time difference,” he said, apparently seeing through her lie if not the reason for it.

  Rafe stepped away, then came back a few seconds later to deposit a bottle of chilled water in her bottle holder.

  “Thanks.”

  He returned to his treadmill, brought it back up to speed. “How was dinner last night?”

  “Amazing.”

  “Adam took you up the San Philippe tower?”

  “Yes. The view over the city at night was incredible.” They’d had an entire level of the revolving restaurant to themselves. “And the food was divine.” The evening had been really…nice. Adam had been a little tired, and so had she. But she at least had managed to stay awake during the ride back to the palace.

  Rafe pressed a button on his treadmill and ran faster. “So, the engagement’s going well? Adam’s living up to your expectations?”

  “I like him. He’s really…nice.” There was that word again.

  Rafe shot her a look. “Damned with faint praise.”

  “It wasn’t faint praise. Just because no one’s ever called you nice.”

  “Not the women I’ve dated, anyway.”

  She wondered just what they did call him. Charming? Suave? Passionate? Electric? Till it ended, because from what Adam had told her yesterday and last night, Rafe’s relationships never lasted long. Things ended before they got to the stage of him bringing anyone home to “meet Dad.” “And do they call you the same sorts of things after you’ve dumped them as they do when you’re dating?”

  His bark of laughter sounded loud in the gym. “No, they don’t. But I’m not always the one doing the dumping.”

  “No. I understand that sometimes you orchestrate it so that they dump you.” His theory apparently being that if he never stayed the night, and never brought a woman to his own bed, his intentions, or lack of them, were obvious. “Or they let go because they realize you really have no intention of settling down, but mostly they never wanted anything serious, either, because that’s the type of woman you look for.”

  “My, you did do your research on the Marconi family.”

  “And Adam and Rebecca have both talked to me about you. I think they worry about you.”

  “I think they’re jealous of me.”

  “That wasn’t the feeling I got.”

  He ran a few more seconds before adding, “At least the women I like don’t call me nice. And I take that omission as a compliment.”

  “I wouldn’t. Because when I said Adam was nice I meant it as a compliment. He’s considerate, and he has an understated humor that can be really funny, and we have lots in common.”

  “I’m thrilled to hear it.” Rafe increased the volume of the music, upped his speed again, and without breaking his stride pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

  Now seemed like a good time to stop talking, stop glancing at him and focus solely on her running.

  They ran in unison, Lexie finally finding her rhythm, channeling her energy into her stride. Droplets of sweat ran down her face, trickled between her breasts. She was sure it wasn’t princesslike, scarcely even ladylike. Her mother had a saying about horses sweating, men perspiring, and ladies only glowing. If that was the case, she was glowing fit to light up the whole gymnasium.

  At about the same time they slowed their machines to a cool-down jog and then a walk before stopping. They stretched hamstrings and calves in silence. Crossing the floor, she followed Rafe’s example, dropping her towel into the wicker hamper.

  “What about you, Rafe? You’ve never fallen in love? Never met anyone you want to settle down with?”

  He laughed as he turned to lift their sweatshirts from the hooks by the door. His back and shoulders glistened. His skin would taste salty. Lexie quashed the errant thoughts about the taste of Rafe, about her lips on his skin. Thoughts that had no place in her head.

  “That’s like asking if I’ve ever met anyone I want to climb Mount Everest with,” he said as he tossed her sweatshirt to her, “when I have no desire to climb Mount Everest in the first place.” Finally, he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, covering the too-distr
acting expanse of masculine skin and muscle.

  “Everyone wants to find someone to share their life with.” Lexie pushed her arms into the sleeves of her sweatshirt, shrugged it onto her shoulders and turned her attention to the zip.

  Rafe’s eyes tracked the movement of her zipper as she pulled it up. “Why do so many people assume that?” He turned away and held open the door. “I’ve met mountaineers who assume everyone, even if only secretly, wants to climb Mount Everest.”

  She stopped in front of him, not prepared to let him so easily dismiss the conversation. “Imagine the sense of achievement and satisfaction.”

  “You want to summit Everest?” He studied her face, his own thoughtful and serious.

  “Well, no,” she admitted, trying to ignore the building heat that had nothing to do with the exertion of her run and everything to do with standing close to Rafe. This was the reaction she wanted when she was with Adam. Hard to achieve when given the opportunity of private time, like last night in the car, he fell asleep. There was nothing sleepy about Rafe: he was vitality and masculinity personified. “But just imagine.” She tried to keep her own imaginings on topic. Mount Everest. They were talking about Mount Everest.

  “I’d rather not. And ditto for the settling down. I’m a happy man, Lexie. Happier than most men I know. Including the married ones.” There was a warning in his words, in his eyes.

  “You do have a zest for life. I think it’s probably what some women—” if she said “some women” she was clearly exempting herself “—find attractive.” She took the steps that carried her past him. “Like the woman with the long black hair?”

  Rafe frowned, a good impersonation of incomprehension. But Lexie knew better. She’d seen the two of them with her own eyes.

  “I saw you. Yesterday. As Adam and I were going to dinner. He was on the phone and I was looking out the window. He’d wanted to show me the old part of the city.” They’d driven over cobbled streets with ornate, gracious old buildings that came right to the street front. “You were standing on the path, and she was there, in an open doorway. She was very beautiful.” Lexie had seen that much as the woman had looked smilingly, perhaps adoringly, up at Rafe before stepping aside to let him in.

  Rafe’s brow cleared. He studied Lexie long enough to make her uncomfortable, a smile tilting one corner of his lips. “Yes, Adelaide is beautiful,” he finally said.

  “That’s it?”

  “You want more?”

  “No. It’s none of my business.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. But I’ll tell you this much. She’s not my Everest. Not even a foothill.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “Of course.”

  “I didn’t mention her to Adam.”

  He cut her another look, but didn’t respond.

  Activity in the halls, particularly on the lower levels, had increased from when she’d made her way down. And this time she did draw glances. Although given that the most lingering glances were from the female staff, she was assuming they were lingering on Rafe, not on her. She didn’t blame them. Her gaze wanted to linger, too. She kept it focused straight ahead.

  Her steps slowed as they reached her corridor. “Apparently, all of your friends are bachelors. And when they find partners and marry, your contact generally dies off.”

  “Not true,” he said at her side. “I have friends who are married. I must have.” They stopped outside her door, Rafe silent and thinking. “Mark and Karen,” he announced proudly. “They’re married, they even have a baby. I’m going to become its godfather at the christening in a few days. Though it has to be said, Mark’s not as much fun as he used to be. Which is what happens when people marry. They get caught up in each other. Two’s company and what have you.”

  “Can’t you see you’re shutting yourself off from even the possibility of happiness?”

  “Can’t you see that I am happy?”

  “Adam says you feel uncomfortable around couples. It makes you realize the emptiness of your lifestyle.”

  Rafe laughed. “Perhaps Adam’s transferring his feelings to me, because, Precious, that’s not what I feel.” They were standing close. “But surely you and Adam had better things to talk about than me?” His words were low and curious and teasing. “Otherwise I’d suggest you and Adam have problems.”

  She didn’t step back, didn’t want to reveal how unsettling his proximity was. She lifted her chin. “Don’t flatter yourself. Of course we talked about other things. You were one brief snippet in the whole evening.” She didn’t detail the other topics, affairs of state, diplomatic considerations, the upcoming anniversary celebrations. Sadly, Rafe had for Lexie been the most interesting topic of conversation. She’d tried to draw Adam out about himself, but it wasn’t till she’d lain in bed that night thinking over her evening that she realized how skillfully evasive he’d been.

  “Today we’re going to the Royal Garden Show, and tonight we’re attending the orchestra.”

  “You didn’t suggest a nightclub? Some dancing?”

  “Do you think he’d like it?” she asked, hopefully. It hadn’t occurred to her. She didn’t think Adam was the type.

  “No. He’d hate it. Pressing crowds, loud music.”

  “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, an
d 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.”