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But he wasn’t looking at the shell. He was looking at her.
Her heart ached in her chest and her throat closed. She’d never get enough of the compliments he gave her, never. And when he gave them, she always felt as beautiful as he told her she was. For the first time in years.
Will he say those things to you back in Spain, too? Will he still look at you the way he’s doing now? Or will that heat in his eyes grow colder? Will he stop looking at you at all...?
Alice tore her gaze from his, directing it out over the ocean instead, the agonising pressure of all that love in her heart like a weight, crushing her.
It had become even worse after that day on the beach when he’d told her about his father and the terrible things he’d said to Sebastián. How he’d made a lonely little boy feel as if he’d failed. She’d hurt for him so much. She knew what it was like to believe that you weren’t enough, to feel as if you’d disappointed people.
It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, and she’d wanted more than anything to help him understand that he hadn’t deserved it and that nothing he did was a failure. That he couldn’t blame himself for his mother’s death or his father’s inability to accept him.
He hadn’t brought up the subject again, so perhaps she hadn’t succeeded.
‘If I didn’t know any better,’ she said with forced lightness, shoving the drag of grief away, ‘I’d say you were a romantic, Sebastián Castellano.’
He didn’t seem to notice the effort in her tone, his fingers threading through hers and drawing her close with gentle insistence. ‘Apparently, there are many things you don’t know about me.’ He leaned forward to brush his mouth over hers. ‘Perhaps a few lessons will be in order.’
The ache inside her intensified. She’d love to know more about him and not just the pain of his childhood, but about the things that brought him joy. That made him happy. That made him laugh. She wanted to know everything.
‘And perhaps I might even like that.’ She leaned into his warmth, trying to concentrate only on this moment with him and not on the fact that they’d be leaving the next day. ‘I’d very much like you to teach me to ride, too.’
‘Of course.’ He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, a wicked glint in his eyes. ‘Though you don’t appear to need much teaching. You have a natural talent for it.’
Despite the ache and the tension clutched around her heart, she couldn’t help smiling. ‘That’s the most blatant double entendre I’ve ever heard.’
‘I could be more blatant if you like.’ The wickedness in his eyes gleamed brighter, hotter, his mouth curving. ‘I could even give you your first lesson here and now.’
She wanted to. Wanted to lie down with him on the hot sand and let his touch take away the knowledge of their impending departure, if only for a brief time. Wanted to keep teasing him, keep flirting with him, since being able to was new and special, and she liked it. But that would only make things worse. Deepen her longing for what she couldn’t have, what he’d already told her he would never give her, and quite frankly she wasn’t that much of a masochist.
‘Hold that thought,’ she whispered, going up on her toes to give him a quick kiss back in promise. ‘For when we have a mattress instead of sand.’
‘That didn’t seem to bother you yesterday.’
She leaned against him, her hand on his broad chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart, relishing this peaceful moment. ‘Maybe I just like saying no to you.’
Amusement lit his eyes. ‘You have a natural talent for that too.’
Her chest tightened even further. She liked him teasing her in return and she couldn’t resist responding to it, spreading her fingers wide to feel the heat of him through his T-shirt and the hard band of muscle beneath the fabric. ‘And you like it.’
He laughed, the sound travelling through her like sunlight, turning her knees weak with want. And he lifted his free hand to push a lock of hair the wind had blown over her face behind her ear. ‘I do, my lovely wife. God help me, but I do.’
Looking up into his beautiful face she almost said it, almost let slip what was in her heart. But at the last moment she bit it back. She wasn’t going to ruin this night by giving him a truth he didn’t want to hear, no matter how desperately she wanted to tell him how she felt.
Instead, she went up on her toes and brushed his mouth with hers. ‘Good,’ she whispered. ‘Because I do too.’
Later, on the rooftop terrace of the villa, her hands on the pale stone of the parapet, Alice watched the rest of the sunset flaming over the ocean. The air was still warm and scented with salt and jasmine, and the turquoise of the lagoon looked as if it had been turned to flame by the setting sun, all reds and pinks and golds.
She should be enjoying the spectacle, but the ache in her chest that had begun during their evening walk had settled in. She was so tired of it. For the past few days she’d managed to push the fact that they were leaving aside, trying to exist only in the here and now, because the here and now was so wonderful. Yet as the hour of their departure loomed, she couldn’t fight the pull of grief. And not, this time, for her sister or Edward, or even the baby she’d lost.
It was grief for the present that she was losing. Him, available whenever she wanted him. Ready to touch her, talk to her, hold her. Walk beside her along the sand and give her seashells. Show her some new delight in the rock pools near the beach or at her side as they snorkelled in the lagoon. His thoughtful, incisive conversation as they discussed politics and the state of the world, books and movies and everything in between over dinner. His strong arms holding her when the grief hit as it sometimes did, letting her know that she wasn’t alone, that he was right there beside her.
And grief for the future that she wanted so badly and would never have.
Somehow her heart had known the moment she laid eyes on him that he was perfect for her in every way, and he was. A true soulmate. Except for the fact that he didn’t feel the same way. He’d been very clear about that.
And it hurt, the thought of leaving here, of going back to their life and the reality of their marriage. He’d told her that day on the beach, when she was in his arms, that their connection was deep and emotional, that her happiness was important to him, and she’d tried to tell herself that that was enough.
But it wasn’t. They’d promised to be honest with each other and yet she was terrified of telling him her deepest truth: that she was madly, passionately in love with him. Which was the one thing he didn’t want. Telling him would change things between them irrevocably, because once that secret was out, she could never take it back. How it would change things, she didn’t know, but she was very sure it wouldn’t be for the good.
