Modern Romance December 2016 Books 5-8. Annie West
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she would be left watching from the sidelines, not daring to show him her feelings because they didn’t have that kind of marriage.
‘Relax,’ he said, his thumb making idle little circles at her waist.
‘I’m trying.’
‘Then try a little harder.’ He smiled. ‘Because soon this will all be over.’
The decision she’d been trying her best to avoid could no longer be ignored and Sophie wondered if Rafe had any idea how eerily accurate his words were. Because suddenly she knew she couldn’t keep running from the truth. Running only got you so far. Sooner or later you had to stop and face what was troubling you—and what was troubling her was that she couldn’t let this fantasy marriage go ahead. For all their sakes, she needed to stop it. She swallowed. ‘Rafe, I need to talk to you.’
‘Then talk.’
‘No. Not here. It’s too public. Can we go somewhere more private? Please.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s important.’
He loosened his hold on her fractionally, pulling back from her so that his silver-grey gaze clashed with hers. ‘But the ball hasn’t finished.’
It felt like a reprimand. It was a reprimand. How ironic that the commoner was giving the Princess a lesson in etiquette. ‘After the fireworks and once my brother has left, can you meet me in the Ruby Drawing Room?’ she questioned breathlessly. ‘Do you know where that is?’
He nodded, but now his gaze was thoughtful as it rested on her. ‘Sure.’
Somehow Sophie got through the remainder of the evening. At midnight the French windows were opened and everyone moved onto the terrace as bells peeled out all over the island to celebrate the coming of the new year. It was always an emotional time but tonight it seemed even more poignant as Sophie thought about what lay ahead. She could feel the prick of tears as the sky exploded in a spectacular display of fireworks—silver, gold, cobalt and pink flowering against an indigo backdrop—all reflected in the dark gleaming waters of the Mediterranean. She heard the collective gasps of the ball-goers echoing around the vast terrace as the fireworks whirred and whistled in the air, but somehow she didn’t feel part of it.
And then the evening became nothing more than an endurance of clock-watching. All she wanted was for Myron to retire, because nobody was allowed to move until after the King had taken his leave. At last the King whispered into the ear of a stunning redhead before sweeping with his entourage from the room and, a few moments later, Sophie saw the woman follow him.
Sophie’s heart was thumping as she made her way to the eastern side of the palace. The Ruby Drawing Room was one of her favourite places in the palace, its décor overseen by her late mother, whose favourite colour and gemstone it had been. Hers, too. The walls and floor were in restful shades of darkest pink and only the ornate ceiling was gold—its intricate mouldings picked out with dazzling precision. It was a room which made her feel emotional for all kinds of reasons and therefore probably not the best choice for the kind of talk she and Rafe needed to have, but it was quiet and far away from the hustle and bustle of the ball.
She walked in and saw that Rafe was already there, tall and magnificent as he stood beside the marble fireplace, his grey eyes watchful as she pushed the door shut.
‘So what’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff?’ he questioned.
She drew in a deep breath, her heart pounding with nerves. ‘I’ve brought you here to tell you I can’t marry you, Rafe.’
She searched his face for a trace of emotion. Something which might hint that her words had surprised him, even if they hadn’t actually wounded him. But no. There was nothing. Those dark features remained impenetrable. And somehow that made her decision easier. It reinforced that she was doing the right thing—because he could turn it on and off like a tap, couldn’t he? The man he’d been in New York seemed to have vanished. He seemed more of a stranger even than the day she’d first met him. ‘I wanted to tell you tonight...’ she stared into his eyes ‘...so we can stop the announcement being made.’
Not a trace of emotion showed on his face as he shot out the single word. ‘Why?’ And then his face darkened. ‘Surely one episode of disappointing sex isn’t enough to make you have cold feet?’
‘It’s a contributory factor, yes.’
He slanted her another unfathomable look. ‘You want me to lock the door and make you come? Will that make you feel better?’
Sophie could feel her cheeks growing hot. ‘No, of course not. It’s about much more than that.’
‘Like what?’
She bit her lip. She could do the easy thing of telling him she’d changed her mind and didn’t want marriage after all. She could even pretend that she’d been sucked back into palace life and had decided that she liked it too much to ever leave. Except she suspected he was intuitive enough to know that wasn’t the case—and besides, why on earth did she think any such option would be easy? None of this was ever going to be easy.
‘Because we want different things.’
His brow darkened. ‘I thought we’d already thrashed this out and decided that ultimately we wanted the same things. A family life together. Wasn’t that what we both agreed, Sophie?’
And Sophie knew then that nothing would do except for the truth, no matter what the cost to her own pride. She kept her voice very low. ‘I can’t marry you, Rafe, because I’ve fallen in love with you. And I can see from your face how much that horrifies you.’
‘Because love was never part of the deal,’ he ground out.
‘I realise that.’ She licked her lips. ‘Do you really think I want to feel this way? Because I don’t—but I needed to be honest with you. I lied to you in the past about stuff and I think you realised I had reasons for keeping the truth hidden. But I don’t ever want to do that again. And since our relationship is supposed to be based on truth then you need to hear it. And the truth is that I’ve fallen in love with you, Rafe. I’ve tried my best to stop myself but there doesn’t seem to be a thing I can do about it.’
She stared straight into his face, willing him to say something, but she was met only with silence.
‘Only something tells me that love won’t work in a marriage which was only ever supposed to be practical,’ she continued unsteadily. ‘I thought... I thought I could do practical, but I was wrong. I’m not going to opt for second best. Call me stupid or unrealistic, but I’d rather hold out for love—even if that never happens.’
He nodded his head like a mathematics teacher who’d just been presented with a tricky equation and as Sophie waited, didn’t part of her hope her words might have struck a chord, even if it was just a little one? That there might be a platform from which to springboard her growing feelings. What if he told her that he was receptive to the idea of love—would that be enough for them to go on? Wouldn’t the tiniest crack in his armour mean that some of her love might be able to slip inside and warm him? She kept her eyes fixed on his face and watched as something in his expression changed. And it was as if the shutters had suddenly been lifted for there was no disguising the sudden hostility which gleamed so hard and silver from his eyes.
‘I told you emphatically that I didn’t do love,’ he said. ‘And you know why? Because it means nothing. Nothing. I’ve seen greed and lust and ambition, all masquerading as love. Did you really think that your words might bring about a fundamental change of heart, Sophie? That I was going to have a personality change just because you looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes and told me words I never wanted to hear?’
Sophie felt that little spark of hope crumble inside her, like a heap of dust onto which a heavy boot had just stamped. She wanted to break down. To sink to her knees and let the great slurry of dark emotions come sliding down onto her head. But she would not. She could not. She was going to walk away from this relationship with her heart shattered, but she would make sure that her dignity was kept intact.