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He studied her face. ‘And that annoyed you?’

‘No, why would it? We share the same face and genes; it’s not like you are interested in our personalities.’

‘You know, I think I might be… Are you always this prickly?’

She bit back an indignant denial, realising after the fact that she might have inadvertently dropped someone in it. ‘Your s…sec—’

‘Franco…’ he supplied.

‘My parents, the conversation…it was all very last-minute, he might not have realised the intention to—’

‘Oh, Franco is very quick on the uptake and he realises most things,’ he cut back drily. Head tilted a little to one side, he continued to study her with curiosity reflected in his dark eyes. ‘I suppose I might have given him the impression that you were interchangeable,’ he conceded. ‘So, did you draw the short straw…Elsie?’ He rolled her name around his tongue in a way that made her want to crawl out of her skin or into his. ‘Or did you fight over me?’

The sly addition drew a tiny gasp of outraged shock from her lips. ‘There speaks a man whose arrogance knows no bounds.’ The words were out before she could stop them, but she stubbornly refused to respond as he laughed again, even though the deep rich sound made her stomach muscles quiver.

‘You don’t seem to be taking this very seriously,’ she countered, tartly critical. ‘Considering what is at stake for both our countries.’

His expression sobered, the magnificent strong lines hardening with resolve. ‘I am aware of what is at stake, Elsie. We are both forced to make a sacrifice—I am sacrificing my freedom but I am not being compelled to marry. It is my choice.’

‘My parents aren’t compelling me!’ she exclaimed. ‘They wouldn’t do that.’

‘They know you’re here and they didn’t try and stop you…?’

‘My parents have always put their own needs last.’

‘Well, that makes them very different from my late father, who always put his needs first.’

‘But you…?’

She watched a strange blankness wash across his face. ‘I am not my father.’

Aware that she had hit a nerve, she fought the urge to apologise.

‘So, before we go any further, am I an acceptable alternative to my sister?’

‘As you have already pointed out, the future of two countries depends on our union. Would you like me to drop down on one knee and propose?’

‘Propose!’ she scoffed, unable to restrain herself. ‘You didn’t propose to Emily. Your flunky proposed to my parents.’

‘Flunky,’ he repeated, seeming amused by the description. ‘So, I am assuming by your presence here that your sister required more…erm…theatre from me…?’ He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. It hardly brought them nose to nose but Elsie felt trapped. ‘You, presumably, are more of a realist?’

‘I…’ she began. She stopped when he reached out, not grabbing her but the back of her chair. It wasn’t until the front legs hit the floor with a thud cushioned by the thick Aubusson carpet that she realised she had tipped it back and had been balancing on two legs in an attempt to put some distance between herself and the industrial quantity of pheromones that he exuded.

‘You have been attending circus school? Just warn me if you feel the urge to start juggling bread rolls,’ he pleaded before tacking on seamlessly, ‘Is this a game you two play often?’

His phone rang and, pulling it from his pocket, he glanced at the caller ID. ‘I need to take this.’ He got to his feet and began to pace the floor, listening at first and then responding in rapid, she assumed, Portuguese, which was the official language of Santagostino.

He didn’t raise his voice but she could hear the anger as he continued to prowl up and down like a caged tiger. Though she couldn’t understand a word he was saying, she caught one name being repeated a couple of times—Tomaz—and it was spoken with no affection at all.

When he came to sit back down his jaw was taut and there was a muscle jumping in his lean cheek. For the first time she noticed the dark shadows under his deep-set eyes and the lines of strain bracketing his spectacular mouth.

‘Sorry about that, I asked for no interruptions but—’ Before she could respond, he closed his eyes and brought his clenched fists down on the table hard enough to make the porcelain plate settings jump.

A few deep breaths later, he opened his eyes and, without a word, reached for the wine bottle, filling his glass and tossing off the contents in one swallow. He returned his attention to his silent companion, who was watching him with big solemn eyes.

The rush of heat that landed in his groin was a welcome distraction from the frustration and weariness that was beginning to feel like a lead weight in his chest.

Sympathy was the last thing she had anticipated feeling this evening, but she had no control over the surge of empathy she felt as she recognised this man was running on fumes.