Wedding Party Collection: Marrying The Prince. Кейт Хьюит

       CHAPTER FOUR

      ALYSE FOLLOWED LEO out onto the beach, a violet twilight settling all around them as the sun started to slip beneath the sea.

      The staff who had set up their table had all melted away, so they were alone with the flickering candlelight, a bucket on the sand with champagne chilling, the first course of crab salad already laid out on exquisite porcelain plates. It was the most romantic dinner Alyse ever could have imagined...and it felt like a minefield.

      She had no idea how to act with Leo, especially after that kiss. Already she’d spent far too long reliving it—surely the most wonderful kiss she’d ever known—and thrilling to the undeniable realisation that Leo desired her.

      How do you make something that’s been false, true? His words had buoyed her soul at that moment, because in all her naïve hope she’d thought he meant their relationship. Their marriage.

      This is real.

      Watching Leo stride along the shore away from her, Alyse had known then what he’d really meant: the only real thing between them was sexual attraction.

      Still, it’s something, she told herself as she followed Leo out onto the twilit beach. It might grow into more. But only if given a chance...a chance Leo seemed determined not to take.

      With a little bow, he pulled out her chair and Alyse sat down. ‘Wine?’ he asked, and she nodded.

      He poured them both glasses and then sat across from her, sipping his wine as he gazed out at the sea, its surface now the inky violet of twilight.

      He might not be willing to take that chance, she acknowledged, but she had to be. Taking a deep breath, Alyse gave him as bright a smile as she could manage. ‘So, what should we do tomorrow? Snorkel? Scuba? Hike?’

      His eyebrows rose, his expression freezing for a second, so she almost laughed. ‘Don’t look so terrified,’ she said dryly, parroting his words from last night back at him. ‘I might have suggested macramé.’

      ‘Macramé? I’m not even sure what that is.’

      ‘Weaving with knots,’ Alyse explained. ‘It’s one of my passions. I was hoping you might share it.’ Leo looked so nonplussed that this time she did laugh, and the release felt good. Even better was his answering rasp of a chuckle.

      ‘You’re having me on.’ He shook his head, taking a sip of wine. ‘Six years and I had no idea you had a sense of humour.’

      Because he’d never had the chance to find out, or the desire. ‘Well, we’ve never had a proper conversation before, not really,’ Alyse said. She was trying for light but her voice came out quiet, almost forlorn. She’d have to do better. ‘Not one about macramé, at any rate.’

      ‘I must admit, I’m relieved it isn’t one of your passions,’ Leo answered. He arched an eyebrow, and she was gratified by the lightness of his expression. ‘It isn’t, is it?’

      ‘No.’ A smile twitched at her mouth. ‘Definitely not one of them.’ Leo just nodded, and despite the obvious opening Alyse knew he wasn’t going to press. He would never press, never ask her about herself, what her passions or even her hobbies were. ‘So, scuba, then?’ she said, keeping her voice bright. ‘I’m not qualified, but I read that they have instructors here who can qualify you with a day course.’

      Leo made a noncommittal noise and Alyse felt the hurt and anger return, filling the empty places inside her. ‘I think you’d enjoy scuba diving,’ she said, and heard a new sharp note enter her voice. ‘It doesn’t allow for any conversation.’

      ‘I have nothing against conversation.’

      ‘Conversation with me, then?’

      He shook his head, annoyance sparking in his eyes. ‘Alyse...’

      ‘I just don’t see,’ she pressed on in a desperate rush, knowing she needed to say it, to get it out there, ‘why we can’t be friends. Our marriage is unconventional, I know. I accept that. But we have to live together, Leo. We have to have a life together of some description. And I would like to do that as—as your friend.’

      Silence. Leo said nothing, just eyed her over the rim of his wine glass. Why, Alyse wondered, did such a benign offer of friendship make her feel so vulnerable? So needy and demanding?

      Because Leo obviously didn’t need anyone, and certainly not her. Not even as a friend.

      ‘Say something,’ she finally said, just to break the awful silence.

      ‘I don’t know what I could say that you’d wish to hear.’

      ‘At this point, anything is better than nothing,’ she answered tartly.

      ‘I’m not sure it’s possible,’ Leo said, each word chosen carefully, ‘for us to be friends.’

      ‘Not possible?’ She stared at him in confusion. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because,’ Leo replied, his voice still so terribly careful, ‘I have no wish to be friends with you.’

      As soon as he said the words, Leo realised how cruel they sounded. Cruel and deliberately cold...and he hadn’t meant it quite like that. Had he?

      From the moment Alyse had started teasing and tempting him in turns—asking for things he didn’t know how to give—he hadn’t known what he meant. How he felt.

      And as for the look on Alyse’s face... She looked stunned for a moment, and then he saw a flash of hurt darken her eyes before she turned her face away, her expression hidden in the dark.

      ‘Alyse...’ he said, although he had no idea how to explain himself, or even if he could. In any case, he didn’t get a chance.

      With a small sound of distress she rose from the table and walked quickly across the beach, her slight form soon swallowed up by darkness.

      Irritation mixed uncomfortably with an already increasing guilt—and a wretched sense of disappointment in himself. He should have handled that better. He should have known how.

      He threw his napkin down and rose, his hands braced flat on the table. ‘Where are you going?’ he called, and from the twilit shadows he heard her muffled response.

      ‘If you’re worried I’m going to do something indiscreet, never fear. I just couldn’t bear sitting at the table with you.’

      His lips twitched with a sudden, macabre humour. ‘I’m not surprised.’ She didn’t answer and he sighed wearily. ‘I can’t even see you,’ he said, taking a few steps towards her. The sand was cool and silky under his bare feet. ‘Where are you hiding?’

      ‘I’m not hiding,’ she snapped, and as he moved closer to the sound of her voice he saw she’d gone to the far side of the little cove, her back to him and the sea as she stood facing the rocky outcropping, her shoulders hunched, her arms wrapped around herself. There wasn’t really anywhere else for her to go.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a moment. ‘That came out wrong.’

      ‘Was there really room for misinterpretation?’

      ‘I only meant I think it would be easier