Page 63 of The Royal Governess
Thinking back to last night, I went over the names Sofia had so kindly provided. “Izabella. What do you think of her?” But I could not hide my smile.
“You are laughing. What is it?”
I ducked my head, “It’s just that she is so noisy. All that jewelry. Do you think she wears that all the time?”
He smiled “I would always hear her coming.”
We laughed together. “But what do you want in a wife?” I asked, going back to that critical point.
Marco flattened a hand on his chest, almost where his heart was. “For a wife you must have the passion, no? You should want her more than you want a good meal. You should want to take her in your arms all the time and make passionate love to her.”
My breath was coming fast. His face was flushed. I pressed my back against the chair.
Shoving off from the desk, Marco went back to pacing. And this room was long. “Back to the married couples who talk about paint. I cannot believe this.”
“Um, the conversation might not be about paint but maybe about the trash that needs to be taken out or why his clothing is scattered on the floor.” Where was this stuff coming from? Marco’s horror grew with each misspoken word tumbling from my lips.
“This does not sound very romantic.” He’d come up behind me, hands gripping my chair. “I would think a man would talk about a woman’s neck, how lovely it is…like a swan’s.”
I couldn’t move. Was he looking at my neck?
“Or perhaps her eyes.” He circled around and yes he was staring down on me, one hand on each of the arm rests. No way could I escape. “Maybe a husband would tell his wife that her eyes were as blue as the sea, and he wanted to swim in those eyes forever.”
Good thing I was sitting down or I just might swoon. Or did women only do that in books?Breathe, breathe.I couldn’t look up. I just couldn’t.
His spicy scent enveloped me. Yes, he must have showered right before this meeting.Oh mercy.And now he bent closer.
“Maybe he would tell his wife that he enjoys watching her eat his grapes. Enjoys seeing her eyes grow warm with delight at the taste because he knows she would also like his wine.”
Yep. Pretty soon I would faint. It was so darn hot in here.
But he wasn’t finished with me. “Because no man can love a woman who does not let him know her feelings.” His breath swept my cheeks and I felt my lips plump from the heat of his words.
“What woman are w-we talking about here?” My voice was a whisper.
His eyes on my lips, Marco bent his head closer. The heat banking in his eyes was too much. I closed mine and waited.
A knock sounded at the door. “Yes, come on in.” Marco pushed up and away. I drew a breath and heard his frustrated exhale.
Craning my apparently swanlike neck, I turned around just as Ama entered. She did not look pleased to see me. “Oh, you are busy.” She slid her hands into her wide cuffs. How the woman put up with all these flowing gowns in the summer heat was beyond me.
Pushing up, I stepped aside. “I should go.”
Marco gestured to his mother. “Come in, come in.”
Face burning, I scurried toward the door.
“And don’t forget tonight, Christina.”
“Tonight?” Ama and I both said at once.
“Yes, movie night. Gregorio said he would tell you. We are watching the greasy show.”
“Greasy show?” I turned that over in my mind.
Marco circled the air impatiently with one hand. “Yes, yes. Lexi told Gregorio it was very popular in your country.”
Then it hit me. “Oh,Grease. Yes, it’s about the 1950s in America.”
