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She exhaled, the sensible approach filling her with relief.
Calmed, she moved back to the table, taking her seat and eating as much as she could—the butterflies in her tummy left little room for food, though.
* * *
‘Where are you going?’ he asked at the door to his room.
Hannah’s smile was soft, and inside, she carried the knowledge that was continuing to unfurl inside her. She loved him. She loved him in an everlasting, for-the-rest-of-her-life kind of way. And tomorrow, they’d marry.
‘It’s the night before our wedding, Leonidas. Don’t you know it’s bad lu
ck to spend it together?’
His brows arched heavenwards. ‘A superstition?’
‘Yep.’ She nodded. ‘And one I intend on obeying. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.’
He groaned, pulling her closer, his eyes locked onto hers. ‘I don’t want you to go back there.’
He nodded down the corridor, and her heart turned over in her chest. ‘Why not?’
She held her breath.
‘Because.’
She laughed. ‘That’s not an answer.’
A frown pulled between his brows but before he could answer, she disentangled herself from his arms. ‘It’s one night, and then a lifetime.’ Her smile almost reached her eyes. Leonidas stared at her, completely silent.
And Hannah stared back, unable to look away, three words whispering through her, begging to be spoken—a question to be asked.
‘Goodnight,’ she said instead, simply. And she turned away, walking towards the bedroom she’d slept in when she’d first arrived, opening the door and moving into it for what she believed to be the last time.
* * *
Of course it did rain in the Mediterranean on occasion. Summer storms weren’t unheard of. But the rain that lashed the side of the mansion woke Hannah before dawn, the unfamiliar ruckus causing her to frown at first. She pushed her sheet back, moving towards the window and staring out of it, so fascinated by the sight of everything that had become familiar looking so foreign and unrecognisable now. It took her a moment to realise what day it was. The significance of the morning.
And then, to remember.
To remember who she was marrying and what he meant to her.
She gripped the wall behind her for support, turning and pressing her back to it as fear tightened inside her.
‘When Amy and Brax died, my heart died with them.’
His words had been hammering away at her chest from the inside out since they’d come back from Paris.
She’d decided, the night before, that she would marry him and let things play out. She’d had a sense of confidence, a sureness, that one day he would feel the same as she did.
But what if he didn’t? What if he was right, and his heart was gone for ever, any kind of love no longer in his power to give?
The rain fell harder and she turned to face it, pressing her forehead against the glass. The rain lashed the other side.
What if he didn’t love her, and never would? What if he was no longer capable of love? What if she was about to tie herself to another man who was incapable of giving her what she needed?
Panic flared.
When Angus had proposed, she’d been grateful. She’d been grateful that someone loved her and wanted her. That someone was choosing her to be their wife and partner. Since her parents had died, she hadn’t felt that, and so she’d agreed to marry him out of gratitude rather than love.
