The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and dancing for Zoë. By the time people started drifting away her feet were aching. She had joined in every traditional dance of the region—men, women and children, all on their feet, colourful skirts flying and proud hands clapping the irresistible syncopated rhythms.

      Now she was exhausted, and more grateful than ever to Rico’s efficient staff, who had cleared away absolutely everything from the hall, leaving her with nothing to do there.

      ‘Why are you back in the kitchen?’

      ‘Rico—you caught me.’ Zoë turned, embarrassed that he had seen her stealing her own figuritas. Now it was her turn to get her hand slapped—the only difference was, Rico’s slap was more of a caress, and then he raised her hand to his lips. ‘You have earned a break, Zoë.’ He looked around. ‘My people are only too happy to clear up—I told them they could take anything that was left home with them.’

      ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

      ‘Don’t be. I’m sure they can spare you one marzipan mouse.’

      ‘Why are you frowning?’

      ‘I just don’t have the knack of dismissing the things you told me—as you seem to have.’

      ‘Have I spoiled the party for you?’

      ‘Don’t trivialise what you said, Zoë. You can’t keep everything locked inside you for ever.’

      Why not? She’d been doing a pretty good job up to now. ‘Let’s not talk about it tonight,’ she said, forcing a bright note into her voice. ‘We’re both tired—’

      ‘Are we?’

      Heat flared up from Zoë’s toes to scorch her cheeks. ‘Is it a deal? Can we just leave all the other stuff for another time?’

      Pressing his lips together, he frowned. He didn’t look keen. ‘If that’s what you want. I don’t want to spoil the night for you.’

      ‘You could never do that.’

      The suggestion of a smile tugged at his lips.

      They broke eye contact at a knock on the door. She couldn’t have given a better cue herself, Zoë realised as Rico’s helpers trooped in. It was impossible to talk about the past now. ‘Shall we go back to the party?’

      ‘Not for too long.’

      There was something in the way he said it that made Zoë blush. ‘Why?’ She looked up at him, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

      Dipping his head close as he opened the door for her, he whispered in her ear: ‘I’m tired of playing games, Zoë. Can’t you see how much I want you?’

      It was so unexpected. She couldn’t imagine anyone other than Rico even saying the words. No man had ever admitted to wanting her—he was the first. She didn’t know how to answer him. She didn’t know what was expected of her. ‘I don’t want to talk about—’

      ‘Who said anything about talking? And you have my word I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.’

      Rico drew her out of the bustling kitchen through a door that led into the silent hall. ‘That’s better,’ he murmured, pulling her close to drop a kiss on her brow. ‘I like to see you smile. I don’t want to see you tense and unhappy ever again.’ Nudging her hair aside, he planted a second tender kiss on the very sensitive place below her ear.

      When he rasped the stubble on his chin against her neck Zoë gasped, and allowed him to draw her closer still. It was so easy to slip beneath Rico’s seductive spell. She could have broken away at any time; but his hold on her was so light there was no reason to try.

      She parted her lips, welcoming the invasion of his tongue, but he teased her gently, pulling away until she locked her hands behind his neck and brought him back again. And then their mouths collided hungrily, and it was Rico’s turn to groan as she moulded into him.

      She was in a dream state as Rico led her swiftly by the hand through the castle. Every part of her was aching for his touch. His hand was firm and warm, and she went with him willingly through the archway that led to the luxury spa.

      ‘I haven’t been down here before,’ Zoë admitted as Rico let go of her for a moment to close the door. She couldn’t bear the loss, and reached for him.

      ‘Not yet,’ he warned, his fingertips caressing her cheek.

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because it’s better this way.’

      She followed him down a short flight of marble steps.

      ‘Are you sure you have never been down here before?’ Rico stopped at the bottom and turned to look at her.

      ‘Never.’

      ‘Then you’re about to get a very pleasant surprise.’

      Zoë watched Rico punch a series of numbers onto a panel on the wall. A door slid behind them. ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘I’ve changed the code so we won’t be disturbed. Zoë?’ Rico touched her face with one fingertip when he saw the expression on her face. ‘The code is twenty-one, twelve—my birthday. Don’t look so worried. You can leave any time you want.’

      ‘I just thought if there was an emergency—and I needed to get out in a hurry—’

      ‘An emergency?’ Rico smiled. ‘What? You mean something like this?’

      And then somehow she was in his arms again, and he was kissing her so tenderly, so thoroughly, Zoë wondered how she remained standing. Heat flooded through her veins, and when his tongue tangled with her own a soft moan came from somewhere deep in her chest, showing him how much she wanted him to kiss her.

      When he pulled back, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck to mesh her fingers through his hair and draw him close again. When Rico kissed her she felt no fear. She wanted him to know how she felt, that she was ready for him: moist,