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You’re letting her get to you far too much.
Perhaps. Nevertheless, he’d decided.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he bit out. ‘I’ve made my decision and that’s final.’
She was silent again, watching him. Then, after a moment, she came down the rest of the stairs, the skirts of her dress swirling around her. She moved with such economical precision, as if once she had a direction to go in, nothing was going to get in her way.
He found it challenging and exciting in the way watching a spirited animal was challenging and exciting. Thinking about how to harness that animal’s spirit, match it with his own, to help it grow and bloom into something magnificent.
You shouldn’t be watching her.
No, he shouldn’t. Yet he couldn’t help himself.
She stopped in front of him, allowing some distance and yet still closer than he would have preferred. Not that he’d ever forget himself and grab her, but he didn’t appreciate the temptation. The scent of sweet lavender surrounded him, probably from the soap made from the lavender flowers in the estate gardens that had been put in all the guest rooms. Emily hadn’t liked it, preferring the more exotic and expensive scents she’d had made especially for her in Paris. He liked it though, and on Alice there was a sweetness beneath the lavender that made everything male in him sit up and take notice.
It had been a long time since he’d taken a woman to bed. He and Emily had grown apart in the months leading up to the accident and since then, grief and guilt had stolen away anything resembling desire.
But he could feel it now, rising in him as her scent wove around him and he watched the fire flicker in her dark eyes. He knew how badly he wanted to make that fire burn higher, hotter. It was a unique temptation, yet he couldn’t give into it. He couldn’t.
‘You didn’t say anything to me at Emily’s funeral,’ she said. ‘Why was that?’
He knew he should step back, put some more distance between them, but he didn’t. ‘What did you want me to say?’
There was a flicker in her gaze, the glimpse of a temper she’d never displayed in his presence before, or at least not so openly. ‘A hello might have been nice.’
But he hadn’t said that. He hadn’t said anything to her. Which had been rude, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to even approach her. She’d been wearing blue, Emily’s favourite colour, in defiant opposition to the black all around her, and loss had been written all over her face. He should have said something, but he’d been so full of anger at Emily for betraying him, and at himself for his failure to make her happy, that he hadn’t been able to trust himself to speak to anyone, let alone Alice.
Plus, he’d thought he’d never see her again after that and so what was the point?
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, knowing he sounded not sorry in the least, but unable to adjust his tone. ‘I wasn’t fit company that day.’
‘Neither was I.’
He didn’t like the challenging look in her eyes, not one bit. ‘Is there a point to this?’ he asked, because suddenly he was conscious that standing here too close to her wasn’t a good idea. ‘Dinner is ready in the courtyard and Lucia doesn’t like people being late.’
Her dark eyes glittered. ‘Fine. Let’s have dinner. And you can tell me all about why you think Diego is better off here than he is with me.’
CHAPTER THREE
SEBASTIÁN DIDN’T LIKE that and it was obvious. Anger burned in the smoky golden depths of his eyes and his powerful body radiated tension. And heat. She could feel the warmth of him from where she stood; she hadn’t realised quite how close to him she’d got, closer than she’d ever been before. She could smell him too, horse and dry earth, sunshine and hay, and under that something spicy and masculine that made her whole body tighten with want.
He was so much taller than she was, his shoulders wide and his chest broad. He made her feel petite and fragile, and while a part of her hated that, another part, the part that had always wanted to be the same delicate, pretty little princess that her sister was, loved it.
Heat climbed in her face, her heartbeat accelerating. A mistake to get so close. She needed to put some distance between them before she gave herself away.
Except he was the one who turned abruptly and strode off in the direction of the courtyard without a backward glance.
Alice swallowed and tried to control her thumping heart. She couldn’t get that close to him again. She was too susceptible and if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up taking her eye off her goal. It was Diego who was important, and she couldn’t forget that.
Emily had wanted him brought home to New Zealand. Emily had wanted him to grow up loved.
In her letter she had written:
I’m so sorry to put you in this position and I know it’s asking a lot. You may not ever forgive me for what I did and I’m not asking you to. I wouldn’t if I were you. But this isn’t about me. This is about Diego. And I’m afraid of what Sebastián will do if he finds out Diego isn’t his.
He won’t hurt him—he’s not violent. But he’s cold and proud and blood means everything to him. I want Diego to grow up loved...
Well, Sebastián was certainly proud, but it hadn’t been ice in his eyes when he’d spoken of Diego. It had been fire. She could almost imagine him as an ancient warrior with a sword in hand, defending his family, his home, from any invaders who dared cross his threshold.
