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‘There was no divorce, they never officially separated, just lived separate lives.’

‘So you…?’

‘I was the heir. Even if there had been a divorce there would have been no dramatic custody battle. And even if there had been, the only reason my father would have fought for me would have been to hurt my mother. He was a vindictive man.’

Almost as shocking as his words was his emotionless delivery. She had always known that her upbringing had been privileged, not in the way people assumed because of being born with a title, but because her family had been, and was, a supportive unit. They might have argued and fought, there might have been strategically placed buckets in the ballroom, but she had never felt alone.

‘It must have been awful for you,’ she said, her heart twisting in her chest as she saw a young boy caught in the middle.

His brows lifted and he laughed—a hard sound. ‘What is this, Elsie? Sympathy?’

Even as her face coloured with anger at his mocking tone she wondered whether that hadn’t been his intention. Could it be his biggest fear, maybe his only fear, was being seen as a victim?

‘Your father sounds like a total bastard.’

To her frustration, far from being provoked, he paused a moment before calming and nodding his agreement.

‘Though not in the literal sense, my grandparents were married, happily, so I am led to understand.’

The cynicism etched into his face made her wince and respond defensively. ‘There are happy marriages, you know.’

‘And here was me thinking you’re not a romantic.’

‘I’m not, but that doesn’t make me blind to the fact that some people experience true love—some people are happy together all their lives!’

‘All right, no need to get so hot. I believe you even without empirical evidence.’

Except, of course, he didn’t believe her, he didn’t even bother hiding his scepticism.

‘Fine, make it a joke, but my parents are as in love today as they were when they got married. They are a team and they love one another.’

‘No pressure then.’

His drawl set her teeth on edge. ‘What do you mean by that?’ she demanded spikily.

Utterly unmoved, he shrugged and mocked cruelly, ‘Your parents are a perfect love story, according to you. Your sister found her soulmate. That left you…little Elsie no friends.’

‘I have plenty of friends.’

‘But not a single love of your life in sight?’ he speculated, looking at her mouth.

‘None of your bloody business.’ The irony that she was having this conversation with the man she was meant to marry did not pass her by. ‘If you’re after a head count of my lovers…actually, I don’t keep count.’ Elsie winced, repressing a groan. It really hadn’t sounded that childish in her head.

A man might be forgiven for thinking his bride was protesting just a bit too much, though, with a mouth like that, he mused, unable to stop his gaze drifting to the provocative passionate curve of her lips, she was not going to lack experience.

‘I’m a realist.’ Which was why he knew that the primal hunger that was screwing with his head when he looked at her mouth, or for that matter any part of her, was getting increasingly hard to resist.

The question remained: why was he resisting?

Why the restraint?

It wasn’t as if he was going to trample her innocence, which was the only thing that had made him draw back all those years ago in Paris when, halfway through the kiss, he had sensed her inexperience. Despite his reputation and his pursuit of pleasure, he did have a few lines he never crossed—he never became involved with any woman who was likely to be hurt when he walked away.

Perhaps that was the issue—this was marriage, no casual fling, and there would be no walking away. He was negotiating a new situation with new rules. For the first time he was thinking about afterwards, after the lust faded, which inevitably it would.

They would obviously not be living in one another’s pockets—he knew himself well enough to know that would be the kiss of death. Boredom was a killer, so establishing some distance would be essential. They would be working not just as parents but as a team and they needed some sort of relationship that wasn’t sex to build on.

Normally, Leandro could compartmentalise the disparate parts of his life but right now the sex, or rather lack of it, was causing some issues. The level of attraction he was experiencing for his soon-to-be Queen had him acting more like a teenager with hormonal overload than a man who should have more important issues in the forefront of his mind—like the future of his country.