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‘This is…’ she murmured faintly between pants. She wanted to say wrong but she couldn’t because it was bloody marvellous.

Then it was over, his hands were on her shoulders and he was looking past her while he stroked her hair absently.

‘She’s gone back to her seat.’

His words felt like a bucket of ice cubes that liquified and steamed on her overheated skin as she pulled away from the mechanical stroking.

Chest heaving as he fought for breath, he returned his focus to Elsie’s flushed face as he casually dabbed the moisture on his upper lip.

Elsie glanced down at the dog caracoling around her feet and reached down to stroke her automatically. ‘You…your mother…?’ The crushing reality hit her, the humiliating impact so brutal that she didn’t read the physical evidence that he was not quite so unaffected as his words suggested. ‘That was your idea of performance art?’

‘If she thought that this is a political marriage she would be devastated. Despite everything, she is a romantic at heart.’

‘You fake it very well.’

He was probably too busy congratulating himself to notice that her laugh didn’t quite rob her words of the bitterness she was feeling.

‘Deus, Elsie, why pretend? You know I wasn’t faking it any more than you were. Surely it is a good thing that we are physically compatible. It will make marriage—’

‘A lot easier to endure.’

‘Endure? You really know how to sell it. Now, get back there and look in love…all right, just not frozen.’

‘I thought I was meant to be myself?’

‘You are.’

She gave a sigh of weary resignation. ‘It might be better if you told me exactly what story you spun so we are on the same page.’

‘You are a strong woman, but you vocalised your need for a friendly face.’

‘I vocalised this?’

‘Indeed, and you wished there was someone who knew the pitfalls who could identify the pitbulls in human form.’

She winced at the description of the people she would encounter. ‘You are a very manipulative man.’

‘Thank you.’

She released a hiss of exasperation through her clenched teeth.

‘My mother is a kind-hearted woman.’

‘Are there factions ranged against me, Leandro?’ To have people she had never even met hate her made her stomach muscles quiver.

‘It’s me they are ranged against. Don’t start thinking there are knives aimed at your back—’

‘So they are aimed at your back. Is that meant to make me feel better?’ Well, it was broad enough and muscle-packed enough to repel most attacks, but he was not invulnerable. Her flippant smile morphed into a frown as the idea of him being hurt jolted free a bundle of tangled emotions.

The dog at her feet yipped to remind Elsie she was still there. ‘Sorry,’ Elsie bent and stroked the animal’s silky ears.

Leandro picked the dog up, dumped her in Elsie’s arms and, catching her by the shoulders, turned her around, his nostrils flaring at the floral scent of her shampoo.

‘Relax—her dog loves you, so will she.’

‘I think the smell of my fear will win her over.’

‘You don’t smell of fear, you smell of…’