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So long as she understood, this would all be okay.
He knocked on the door lightly, then realised how stupid that was—she was probably asleep. So he probably shouldn’t interrupt her. He should probably just go back to his room, stick to his original, much wiser idea, to ignore Amelia altogether.
‘Yes?’ Her voice was small, but audible.
His gut churned and his body tightened.
There was no way he was turning back.
He pushed the door inwards, frustration bursting through him. It was a frustration aimed mostly at himself, because he should have been strong enough to resist her. But it was also aimed at Amelia, because she’d invited him here. She’d weakened too.
‘This is a terrible idea,’ he muttered, striding across to the edge of her bed and staring down at her, wishing she didn’t look so beautiful and innocent with her knees pulled up to her chest.
‘What is?’ Her eyes were huge in her face. It was dark in the room, except for the full moon’s beam streaking through the window. He reached down, touched her cheek, felt his body galvanise with need.
He ignored her question. She’d asked him here for one reason; he’d come because of that.
‘You understand—’ He paused, scanning her face in the silver light. She looked up at him, guarded, careful, uncertain.
Benedetto cursed inwardly.
‘I’m leaving as soon as the wedding’s over,’ he said. ‘We won’t see each other again.’
She was still. He waited, on tenterhooks. ‘I know that.’
‘You understand what I’m offering.’
Her lips pulled to the side in a gesture that was now intimately familiar to him. ‘Sex,’ she murmured, and then moved to kneeling, so their faces were almost at a level. ‘The perfect, meaningless distraction,’ she added as she leaned forward and kissed him, and Benedetto relaxed into the moment, because she did understand. There was no risk here. No complication. Just perfect, meaningless, satisfying sex, for a few more nights, and then he’d leave without a backwards glance, just like always.
Amelia woke early, stretching in the bed, frowning when she couldn’t discern the familiar rhythms of the boat’s rocking, then remembering the reason for that. She was no longer aboard Il Galassia, but rather here, in the palace, her home, with her family. And Benedetto.
Her skin flushed as she remembered the way he’d made love to her the night before, his desperate need, his body so strong and commanding, so capable, hard and perfect for her. The way he’d kissed her to muffle her screams, how he’d laced their fingers together and lifted her arms over her head to stop her from touching as he simply moved inside her, stirring her to a fever pitch, pleasing her again and again until she could barely breathe, much less speak or remember who or where she was.
Her body had felt both weak and strong afterwards, legs made of jelly, heart of steel. He’d turned to her, as if trying to ascertain something in her features, and then pushed to standing. Magnificent in his nakedness, glorious and sensual.
‘You’re leaving?’
He’d dipped his head once in silent agreement.
Her heart had felt momentarily hollow, but she concealed that reaction. ‘It’s probably for the best. There’s no point letting anyone find out about this when it’s so temporary.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
The air had pulsated between them. ‘So it’s our secret,’ she’d said, a rush of excitement exploding in her veins.
Benedetto hadn’t wanted to sneak around like a teenager, yet there they were, making exactly that sort of pact. ‘Yes,’ he’d agreed after a small pause. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
She’d wanted to ask when, but had, thankfully, stopped herself. She wouldn’t reveal any kind of neediness to him. It was the last thing he’d want, and when the wedding was over and Benedetto was gone, and Amelia had moved on, she’d be proud of herself for seeming so casual.
‘She’s been very good for him, you know,’ Anna-Maria said as they approached the crest of the hill and wound their way around the precipice, to reach a point with one of the most spectacular views of the valley. It was still early and the sun was only just cresting over the hills in the distance, casting the sky in the most spectacular oranges and pinks.
‘In what way?’ Amelia prompted, pausing to sip her water.
‘He’s far less serious. Oh, I love Anton, of course, but he can be a little intense sometimes,’ Anna-Maria said with a wink.
‘Mum!’
Anna-Maria linked her hand through Amelia’s arm. ‘You know what I mean. It’s been hard for him, having the weight of his inheritance on his shoulders, knowing all his life that he would become King. Vanessa makes him laugh at himself, makes him laugh with the rest of us. And she helps him. She’s very smart, an excellent sounding board for all manner of things. The public adores her too.’
