Page 12 of His Royal Bride Replacement

‘They have a bunkhouse at a local farm and here they work in two teams, four off and resting and then four on for every shift.’ Alessio speared a piece of pasta and savoured it. ‘You’re a hell of a good cook.’

‘Can’t be anything else growing up with a chef in the house. Patrick imbued me with his love of food. I used to cook with him after school when Vittoria was at work. He usually worked evenings and we’d all have dinner together before he left the house.’

‘Sounds very family orientated.’ Alessio paused. ‘I never had that. Where was your father in all of this?’

Rosy stiffened. ‘How detailed was your background check on me? Dad was an alcoholic but he didn’t want to deal with it. Plenty of people tried to help him and failed. Life was better after Patrick moved in because Dad was scared of him, so the shoving me and Vittoria out of his way and the verbal abuse pretty much stopped then. Mostly, Dad spent half the day in bed and the other half out drinking. He was never there for me or my sister and she had a tough time with him after her mother died.’ Rosy grimaced. ‘Just think, she went through all that and still had enough room in her heart for me ten years later. But then that’s Vittoria, she just puts her head down and gets on with it the best she can.’

‘And that’s why you couldn’t stand back and let your sister and her husband lose their dream with the hotel,’ Alessio slotted in. ‘Evidently you have the same big, soft heart.’

‘Except where you’re concerned!’ Rosy flipped back teasingly. ‘Not about to share a bed with you because you put a ring on my finger!’

‘Wait until I ask,’ Alessio advised, having cleared his plate. ‘And please note, I haven’tasked.’

‘Noted,’ she said, a little breathless, rising from the table to deal with their plates, grateful that there appeared to be a working dishwasher because tiredness was beginning to build on her again with an ache in her back and a heaviness in her eyes. She didn’t even know why she had mentioned the ‘sharing a bed’ angle again, most probably because she felt awkward and a little bad at subjecting him to a sofa.

‘Do you mind if I ask you a question?’ she added abruptly.

Sipping his wine, Alessio leant back in his chair and surveyed her. ‘Anything.’

‘Why did you decide to bring me here to the mountains, and not to a more conventional honeymoon getaway?’

Alessio winced. ‘I assumed that you wouldn’t welcome the attention. Graziana revelled in media interest and in one of the more conventional places there would be a great deal of it for the newly-wed Prince and Princess of Sedovia. Our every expression interpreted, our every outing and gesture and choice of clothing commented on. I didn’t want you to feel that you had to tolerate that level of curiosity. I also believed we could get to know each other here without other distractions. I assumed—possibly wrongly—that peace and quiet would be more your style.’

‘Itis,’ she agreed, disconcerted by his explanation because on some level she had assumed the worst about him: that being seen with her ordinary self in public might embarrass him or that someone like her didn’t need or require an opulent break. But all those kinds of feelings only magnified the insecurity that she had struggled to hide from him, and she didn’t want to admit that out loud. That he had been thinking of her needs, that he had been considering what was best for her instead of what he might want just blew her away. Her conscience twanged and her heart softened.

‘Look, I’m going to head to bed,’ she murmured, having loaded the dishwasher and put it on. ‘I’ll probably be better company in the morning.’

‘Goodnight,’ Alessio said lazily. ‘We’ll find out what happened to this place tomorrow and then head down to the beach for a break.’

Rosy paused and turned her head back with a frown. ‘What beach?’

‘There’s a private cove below the woods. I remember it from childhood. That’s why there’s no pool here and we can probably be grateful for that because that would have been left to go to rack and ruin as well.’

‘I’ll look forward to that,’ Rosy muttered before heading for the stairs while thinking abstractedly of Alessio as a little boy who had once enjoyed bucket and spade holidays at his grandparents’ summer home.

She went for a shower, used the towels he had replaced for her, and avoided washing her hair because she always let it dry naturally. She climbed into the giant bed and felt guilty. It was so big that she could’ve let him share it. It wasn’t as though she were afraid that he might assault her. And there would surely be occasions while they remained married that they would have to share a bedroom, particularly if they were away from the palace, so, really, what had she been whinging about? The fact that he had dared to assume that she might have sex with him? Was she punishing him for that?

Of course, she hadn’t expected to share a bed with him when their marriage wasn’t real. But, at the same time, any sort of intimacy with Alessio would expose her to experiencing the sort of possessive feelings about him that she really couldn’t afford to have in her situation.

Still tired though she was, she shifted, sleepless in the surprisingly comfortable bed. About an hour later, her every joint snapped taut when she heard a soft knock on the door. She sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. ‘Yes?’ she called.

Alessio stepped through the door, bare-chested, a pair of black pyjama pants anchored to his lean hips and a clutch of bedding clamped below one arm. ‘May I sleep on your floor? The sofa is damp and feels like a rock. It’s in here or the kitchen,’ he told her flatly. ‘They’re the only dry places in this house.’

Rosy clutched the sheet to her pink-flamingo-clad breasts, her favourite pyjamas chosen for comfort. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Stripped, he was pretty intimidating. So tall, so bronzed, so built from his powerful shoulders to the lean, honed musculature of a torso worthy of a centrefold. ‘OK,’ she breathed, and before she could change her mind added jerkily, ‘But I think you’d be more comfortable in the bed. Goodness knows, it’s big enough.’

Green eyes glimmered with surprise. ‘ButIthought—’

‘I was being unreasonable,’ Rosy interrupted ruefully and she lay back down again. After all, there was no point in making an enemy of the man she’d married, was there? To a certain extent, their arrangement would be much easier if they fashioned, at the very least, a friendlier bond.

Unfortunately, she had the best view of Alessio climbing into bed and she shut her eyes fast. All those muscles flexing, not to mention the tattoos that she craved a closer look at. A shuddering breath filled her lungs because she was remembering that kiss and those sensations were stealing back into her treacherous body, filling her with a different kind of tension altogether.

‘Mind if I switch off the light?’ he murmured, his dark deep voice sibilant and somehow unbearably sexy that close.

‘No.’

And she should have done it herself because he rolled closer and stretched up over her, enveloping her in a tormentingly intimate scent trail that was purely him: outdoorsy, earthy, clean, warm masculinity. Her nostrils flared and she breathed in deep again as the light went out.

‘Thanks,’ he said wearily in the darkness. ‘I was freezing cold down there. We need wood for the fire in there. I’ll get everything sorted out tomorrow. I appreciate you bearing with me and cooking and dealing with it all without complaint.’

---