SEB leant forward and tapped the driver of his car on the shoulder. ‘Stefan, stop here, please. I need to stretch my legs.’
Obediently his driver brought the car to a halt, the one immediately behind doing the same, and Seb turned to Alois, sitting beside him. ‘Can you take my briefcase up to my private apartment? Leave these with Liesl and I’ll work on them again later.’
‘Sir.’
He shuffled the papers he’d been working on back into his briefcase and handed them across with a nod of thanks. Then, leaving his jacket on the seat, he opened the door and stepped out into fresh air.
It was good to be home. Really good. Seb drew the air into his lungs. Travel might broaden the mind, but home was good for the soul. Who’d written that? He couldn’t remember, but it was so true.
He really loved this place. It seemed to envelop him every time he stood inside its protected boundaries. Poltenbrunn Castle, with the Alps rising majestically behind it, was rather a spectacular building in a truly breathtaking setting. Most of the time he took it for granted, but sometimes, like now, after a longish absence, he was struck how incredibly fortunate he was to live the life he did in the place that he lived it.
Seb stood back and allowed the cars to snake their way up to the castle, before following on foot. Of course, six weeks of hotel suites, paparazzi with their telephoto lenses focused on every window and the constant companionship of the men assigned to protect him probably had a lot to do with his relief at being home. At least here he was afforded a modicum of privacy.
His smart leather shoes prevented him from doing anything other than sticking to the main path, but he took the longer route around the great lake. It was an incredibly beautiful vista. And one he’d loved since he was a child.
He’d spoken to people over the past couple of weeks who seemed to have no sense of place or purpose, people whose lives had been shattered through no fault of their own. And all this was his. ‘In trust for future generations’—but his.
Just as he was occasionally reminded of the beauty of his home, so was he reminded of the responsibilities of his position. Few people were able to influence so much or bring about such change simply by virtue of who their ancestors were. At nineteen he’d balked at that, wished for a different life…
Seb looked across the lake towards the oldest part of the castle. He’d wished for Marianne. At nineteen he’d accepted he would be the next sovereign prince of Andovaria, but it had cost him. And seeing Marianne in London had reminded him how much it had cost him.
The sturdy grey stone of the old keep looked so permanent and dour as compared with the later more aesthetically pleasing additions. In less than a week she’d be there.
Seb paused at the brass sculpture of Maestoso Bonadea XII, his father’s favourite stallion, and moved his hand down the smooth muzzle. It was going to be strange to know Marianne was at the castle…every day. Close, but not close.
Perhaps it was because their relationship hadn’t been allowed to run its course that he felt…
Heck only knew what he felt.
Seb screwed his eyes up against the mid-afternoon sun. Since he’d seen her in London he’d thought about her pretty much constantly. How much worse would that be when she was actually here? Just knowing that she was a five-minute walk away from his private rooms…
He turned abruptly away and rounded the bend, his feet slowing as he saw a solitary female figure coming out of the woodland area. There was something about the way she was walking that made him stop completely and his stomach want to jump in both directions simultaneously.
It was her. Incredibly.
And he knew the moment Marianne had moved close enough to recognise him. Her body seemed to tense and then she resolutely carried on up the path.
Seb pulled a hand through his hair and searched his mind for something suitably casual to say. He’d spent the last six weeks thinking about her, wondering whether she’d changed her opinion of him, wondering whether she still felt anything for him…
Just wondering. Idly. And now here she was. And he wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to see her against the backdrop of his home.
Marianne stopped a few feet away from him, her shoulder-length blonde hair drawn back into a casual pony-tail. She looked so absurdly young. Incredibly beautiful.
And he wanted to kiss her. He knew exactly what it felt like to slide his hands over her body and feel her lips warm and moving against his. In fact, he knew more than that. He knew what it was like to be inside her. To wake and watch her breathing. All of a sudden his skin felt several sizes too small for his body.
He drew a hand round the back of his neck to ease out the sudden tension. Nervous as any adolescent. Unsure what he should say. What he shouldn’t.
The edge of Marianne’s long white cotton skirt caught in the summer breeze and her pony-tail flicked out behind her. Then she smiled.
‘Y-you weren’t supposed to be here until next week,’ he managed in a voice that sounded hoarse.
She shook her head. ‘I’m here to set up the computers before the professor arrives next week. I…came on ahead.’
‘Oh,’ He nodded. And now he felt foolish. Even more foolish. His mind was refusing to work and he didn’t seem to be able to stop looking at her. She wore no make-up and he could see the pale translucency of her skin, the purple smudges beneath her dark eyes. And he remembered how those eyes had looked dilated and drowsy with passion. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Ten days.’
He brushed his palms down the back of his trousers. ‘I’ve been away—’
‘I know.’
She smiled again and twisted a strand of hair behind her ears. ‘Did you have a good trip?’
‘Yes. Yes, I did. Thank you.’
Marianne nodded, more as though she wanted to encourage him than anything else. ‘I’m glad.’
Then she moved as though she intended to continue past him and Seb felt compelled to stop her. ‘D-do you have everything you need?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. That’s good…’ His voice disappeared into a husky whisper. Seb pulled the air into his lungs. This conversation was becoming faintly ridiculous.
‘I’m being really well looked after. Princess Viktoria is very organised. She thinks of things I might need before I’ve thought of them.’
‘That’s good,’ he said again, and inwardly groaned. Somewhere across the Atlantic he must have lost the ability to talk to a beautiful woman.
Or perhaps it was just the ability to talk to this one?
He’d have done better if he’d known she was already at the castle. He could have prepared himself. Steeled himself for how it would feel to see her again.
‘She’s very enthusiastic about the project.’
‘Yes, she is.’ He pulled a hand through his hair and cast her a shaky smile. ‘Sorry, I’m not making much sense, I know. I’m jet-lagged. I need to get some sleep. Perhaps then I’ll be able to string more than a couple of words together.’
Marianne’s dark eyes lit with a glimmer of sudden laughter and he knew that whatever had been between them ten years ago was still there. For him at least. The only confusing thing was how he’d ever managed to walk away from her.
Perhaps, at nineteen, he’d not been aware how rare it was to feel such an intense connection to another person? But he knew now. In ten years he’d not come close to experiencing anything like it.
‘How long was your flight?’
Even her voice was sending warm shivers through his body. Reminding him of everything his sense of duty had robbed him of. ‘Eight and a half hours. Just under eleven hours door to door. And there’s a six-hour time difference.’
Again her smile tugged at him and he wanted to touch her. Once he’d been allowed to do that. He could have cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.
‘No wonder you’re tired.’
‘I’m shattered, but it’s better if I can keep myself awake until evening.’
Seb knew the right thing to do was to smile and move away. Move and keep moving. But…there was something about her blonde beauty and the intelligence that shone out of her dark sexy eyes that acted like a siren’s call. So difficult to resist. Almost impossible.
Smile and walk away.
As a working royal, Seb was an expert at that. He knew exactly how to finish conversations without causing offence or embarrassment. But…he seemed powerless to do what his head was telling him.
And he knew the reason why hadn’t changed. He liked being with her. Still. She made him feel alive. Happy. As though he could do anything, achieve anything. Be anything he wanted.
Blood pumped through his veins and he felt acutely aware of everything around him. The trees seemed larger, the grass greener. The air felt cleaner, sharper.
The last time he’d felt like this he’d walked up to her on the steps of Amiens Cathedral. Made her talk to him, invited her to go to a coffee shop.
Seb pulled an agitated hand through his hair. ‘I’d better get back or they’ll be sending out a search party.’
Marianne nodded.
Walk away. The voice of caution was getting weaker and in its place was the whisper of temptation. Where was the harm in talking to her?
‘Are you out for a walk?’
She held up the flask of coffee she’d been cradling against her. ‘Having a break. Remembering it’s still summer. It’s cold in there,’ she said, gesturing back towards the castle.
‘Sorry.’
Another smile. She had the most incredible mouth. Soft and sensuous. And when she smiled it seemed to short-circuit his brain. ‘It’s not your fault they didn’t put a good heating system in.’
Seb could feel his lips stretch into an answering smile. There was nothing he could do to stop it. ‘It’s not a desperately good heating system in the newer part either.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Marianne’s eyes skitted away towards the castle. It was the first indication that she might not be as comfortable as she appeared. That small movement gave him a little confidence.
‘But it’s nowhere near as dreadful as the heating in Nick’s place. I think he should put thermal underwear as the dress code on all invitations.’
Her eyes came back, warm brown…and questioning. He still wanted to kiss her. Did she know that? Could she tell from the way his eyes hovered on her mouth despite his best intentions?
‘I stayed with him for the weekend after I’d met you. He sends his regards.’
‘Oh.’ Her hands clasped and unclasped the flask.
Seb saw the movement and noticed the way her eyes yet again moved past him. Marianne wasn’t comfortable—any more than he was. But she wasn’t walking away from him either…
‘Are you heading for a specific spot?’
Her eyes swung back. ‘Spot? Oh…for coffee? No. I wouldn’t know where to go. This is the first time I’ve come in this direction. I’ve normally walked through the parterre and up to the pavilion.’
‘Do you mind if I join you?’
The slight widening of her eyes suggested that her decision might swing either way, but after a moment she shook her head. ‘No. I don’t mind. There’s enough coffee for two. That is, if you like it white with sugar.’
He didn’t. He liked it strong and black. And he didn’t even want a coffee. This was crazy. What was he doing? Exactly what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do.
‘We might as well sit here,’ she said, slipping the rucksack off her shoulder. ‘It’s an amazing view from here.’
Seb reached out for her rucksack. ‘Come with me.’ He turned and led the way across the grass, completely ignoring the damage he was doing to his shoes.
Marianne followed him—or followed whatever she’d put in her rucksack, he didn’t really care. The sleep that had been pulling at his eyelids all the way from the airport seemed to have disappeared and he felt…reckless. Younger.
And he wanted to show her his home as it was meant to be seen. ‘Here,’ he said, stopping and putting her bag down on the grass. ‘What do you think of this one?’
He watched as she turned to look down at Poltenbrunn Castle. From here its twelfth-century keep was entirely obscured and you were left with a fairy-tale castle.
‘This looks very familiar.’
‘It’s the image that’s most often used on postcards. All seasons. All times of day. But I’ve never seen a photograph yet that quite captures the essence of the place.’
‘It looks like Rapunzel might appear any minute at one of those turret windows,’ she said, unwrapping her jumper from around her waist and setting it out on the ground.
‘Maybe that’s what I ought to do with Isabelle. Lock her in the tower,’ he said in answer to the slight raise of her left eyebrow.
‘Your sister?’
‘Younger sister,’ he agreed, sitting down beside her. ‘She seems to ricochet from one disaster to the next. Locking her up might be the perfect solution. I’ll put it to her.’
‘It didn’t work for the witch who tried it.’
Seb laughed. ‘I’m sure it wouldn’t for us either. She’d be bound to do something outrageous. Though it can’t be much worse than disappearing for a week.’
‘You disappeared for longer than that.’
True.
Seb turned and watched her as she unscrewed the top of her flask and separated the two cups. He hadn’t compared himself to Isabelle before. Maybe she was that unhappy? ‘Isabelle is older than I was,’ he said slowly. ‘She’s twenty-two.’
‘Not so very old.’
No, not old, but by twenty-two he’d accepted his destiny. He’d been enthroned as the sovereign prince and he’d married Amelie.
‘Do you want some?’ Marianne asked, holding up the flask.
He’d married Amelie when he’d been in love with Marianne. Twenty years old, with a very heavy heart, he’d done his duty. Seb swallowed. ‘If there’s enough. It might help keep me awake.’
She said nothing, but poured coffee in both the cups. ‘What time did you leave New York?’
‘About eleven. I left immediately after the charity dinner finished.’
Marianne looked up. ‘Whatever time was that? Are you sure everyone else wouldn’t rather have had a good night’s sleep before setting off?’
‘I imagine they’re pleased to get back as early as possible. Most of them have families to come home to.’
Her brown eyes widened. ‘But you didn’t ask them?’
‘It’s their job—’
‘To protect you and to do what you want,’ she interrupted smoothly, passing him the larger of the two mugs. ‘Yes, you’ve told me that before.’ Her mouth quirked. ‘You must be insufferable to be around, Your Serene Highness.’
Seb took a sip of the coffee he didn’t really want and studied her. There was a new confidence about Marianne now. A quiet conviction that she had something worth saying. He liked it.
‘You don’t have a particularly good opinion of royalty, do you, Dr Chambers?’
Her smile broadened. ‘Let’s just say I had a bad introduction to the species.’
‘Thanks.’
Marianne laughed. ‘You’re welcome.’
Seb sipped his coffee. He liked this. People rarely laughed around him, he realised, and they certainly didn’t relax or treat him the way they would any other human being.
Except Nick.
But Nick was a friend from school. And Nick was someone who understood how his life worked. He was one of just a handful of people he could trust and the only person he’d ever confided in.
Which made Marianne particularly unusual. She didn’t seem to see him as a ruling prince and she certainly treated him like any other human being. And she was equally trustworthy, but with far less reason.
Marianne’s smile faded and she turned to grab her rucksack. He had the strongest sensation she was hiding from him and he longed to be able to reach and turn her face back so he could see her eyes. If he could see her eyes he’d know what she was thinking.
‘I’m afraid I’ve only got one of these and it’s lunch,’ she said, pulling out an apple.
‘Now?’ He glanced down at his watch. ‘You’re having lunch now? I thought you said Vik had been looking after you.’
‘She has,’ Marianne tossed the apple in her hand, ‘but not so well she forces me to come for lunch. I forgot the time. I only noticed it when I started to feel chilly.’
‘That engrossed?’
She nodded, the sparkle returning to her eyes. ‘You’ve no idea what you’ve got down there. It’s incredible. Yesterday I found a list of Konrad I of Thuringia’s possessions in 1236.’
‘And he was?’
Marianne tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Oh, sorry. He was a Hochmeister of the Teutonic Order.’
Seb found himself smiling again as the enthusiasm rang in her voice. It was infectious. ‘You really do love what you do.’
‘Of course. What’s the point of doing something if you don’t love it?’
Duty. The single word slid into his mind.
‘You’re a long time dead. Eliana says that. She believes life should be as fun as you can make it,’ she said, taking a bite of her apple.
When she said it like that he agreed, but it was a philosophy that ran completely counter to his training. He sat silent for a moment. Life—his life—wasn’t about fun or enjoyment. It was about fulfilling one’s duty, never losing sight of his responsibility to his country and his family.
Marianne let the silence stretch out. Unbelievably, sitting with Seb, talking to him, felt…all right. When she’d first seen him as she came out of the wood she’d panicked, but it was fine.
In fact, it was better than fine. She was here on her own merit, she was doing a good job and she was talking to Seb as though he was an old friend. Almost comfortable.
‘So why this view?’ Marianne asked, staring down at the mellow bricks. She preferred the more austere, permanent feel of the old keep. ‘I mean, it’s lovely, but why do you love this particular one?’
Seb glanced across at her. ‘My father used to bring me here.’
‘Just you and your dad?’
He nodded. ‘From about the age of eight. During the school holidays he made a point of it. Once, maybe twice a week.’
Marianne took another bite of apple, happy to watch him. It was easy to see why she’d fallen so hard and so quickly. Seb, prince or not, was gorgeous.
He took a sip of his coffee. ‘Other than that I never got to see him alone. There was always someone somewhere wanting a piece of him.’
‘And now it’s your turn.’
He looked his question.
‘Someone somewhere wanting a piece of you,’ she clarified with a swift smile, before taking another bite of her apple.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine what his life must be like. How would it feel to be surrounded by other people—at all times—and yet be essentially alone? Set apart from birth?
Did that feel lonely?
It was easier to imagine Seb as an eight-year-old striding out with his dad. Marianne plucked at the grass beside her. ‘Did your sisters mind you having their dad to yourself?’
Seb wiped a tired hand across his face and she smiled. He looked exhausted.
‘Isabelle, no. She was that much younger. Viktoria might have, I think. But I was his heir. It was all part of the training regime.’
And that about said it all. Marianne looked over the top of her apple. ‘Even though you’re not the eldest,’ she said, watching for his reaction.
It was quick to come—and she loved that about him. Loved not having to explain what she meant. ‘You don’t approve of male succession either? Why doesn’t that surprise me? How about,’ he said with a sudden glint in his eyes, ‘if I tell you it’s been part of our tradition since 1138?’
‘So was having a married sovereign and you changed that.’
She watched him fight his laughter. ‘But that was only a tradition since 1654.’
‘Of course, that makes all the difference,’ Marianne said, tipping out the dregs of her coffee on the grass beside her. She looked up and smiled.
She’d missed this. Missed him.
What would have happened if she’d met him for the first time today? Would he have wanted to spend time with her?
Probably.
When he looked at her…
Marianne wrapped her fine cotton skirt around her bare legs. And would she have wanted to spend time with him? She glanced over as his fingers tipped his empty cup upside down on the grass.
What would Seb say if he knew that he was still the only man she’d ever made love to? That his lean hands had been the only ones ever to move across her body?
Marianne turned away and bit down on her lip. It was finished. It didn’t matter how attracted she was to him—or him to her—there could never be any long-term future. She wasn’t ‘suitable’. He’d told her that.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ she said suddenly.
‘Of course.’
‘Wh-when you said your parents knew about me…’
‘Yes?’
‘Does that mean people know now?’ Marianne turned her face to look at him. ‘I mean…do people know that I’m the person you were with in France and—?’
‘Why do you ask?’
She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. ‘I wondered if Princess Viktoria might have…’ Marianne shook her head and let her fingers stroke the grass beside her. She wasn’t sure what Seb’s sister had been thinking. It was just a suspicion.
‘She might remember your name,’ he said, handing his cup across. ‘My mother certainly will. And the protection services will both remember and know absolutely that you’re the same woman.’
‘And be watching me?’
‘They watch everyone that stands close to me. It’s their—’
‘Job,’ Marianne finished for him. She twisted the lid back onto her flask. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘Marianne, as soon as your life touched mine it was inevitable. You’ll have been under low-level surveillance ever since we met in France.’
‘Isn’t that an infringement of my personal liberty or something?’ she asked as she stood up. ‘I thought it was illegal to keep information on people without their knowledge.’
‘My safety is paramount.’
Her eyes narrowed and she swung round to look at him. ‘Because you’re so important. I keep forgetting that, don’t I, Your Serene Highness?’ She bent and picked up her jumper, shaking the grass and the mud off it. ‘You’re important and I’m not important.’
‘It isn’t my fault,’ he said quietly. ‘I was born to this.’
No, it wasn’t his fault. But she didn’t have to like it. It really bothered her to think that unseen people had been watching her movements—over a ten-year period. Perhaps making files on her she’d no knowledge of. Free to say anything they liked about her, make judgements, without any threat of redress.
And did ‘they’ know she’d been pregnant? Had ‘they’ decided not to tell him? Marianne rolled her jumper into a tight tube and fed it into the rucksack along with her empty flask.
It would be better if she kept angry. Kept remembering why she couldn’t let herself fall under his spell for a second time.
‘They only use the information if they think you’re a threat.’
She swung her bag on her back. ‘Can’t you just tell them I’m not the bomb-planting type?’
Seb smiled and her stomach flipped over. ‘They don’t listen to me. I’m merely the object to be guarded.’
He was gorgeous. And what he was saying was true, she supposed. Every friend he made, all the people he met—everyone vetted for their suitability.
What a horrible life.
She’d thought that so many times since she’d met him again in London. It looked different in the photographs. Then you saw the beautiful surroundings, the clothes, the exotic locations you were never likely to see in person, and she’d felt…well, angry. But there was another side to it.
Even knowing that your life was at sufficient risk to warrant the level of protection Seb had must be unpleasant, let alone living with the day-to-day consequences of it. Personally she’d much rather have her life with its smaller worries about mortgage payments and lifting bamboo flooring.
‘We’d better start heading back before they send out a search party. If they find me with you I’ll never be able to convince them I’m not a threat to national security.’
‘It’s not personal.’
What a daft thing to say. It was personal. Of course it was personal. How could it be anything but personal? She’d had the temerity to fall in love with the Andovarian crown prince and been a marked woman ever since. And it was extremely personal not to be considered good enough.
Well, news flash, it wasn’t a vacancy she wanted to fill. Maybe her guardian angel had known what she was doing when she made it impossible for her to refuse coming to Andovaria.
All she had to do was to keep focused on what had brought her here. It was a great career opportunity. And the professor did need her. And maybe, just maybe, she’d return to England and be able to get on with her life without feeling that the best part of it had already happened.
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked as they walked back across the grass.
Marianne looked sideways at him. She’d hoped he already knew that. ‘In one of the guest suites. I thought you’d okayed it.’
‘I’ve been in New York.’
‘I know, but…’ She bit her lip. That was what had worried her when Princess Viktoria had insisted. That and something indefinable in the way his sister had looked at her. ‘Princess Viktoria said it would save me a great deal of time each day, not having to get through Security.’
‘I’m sure it does.’
‘Was that wrong of her?’
‘Why would it be wrong?’
She didn’t know. That was the whole point. They were on his home territory, not hers. But there’d been something about Princess Viktoria’s expression that had made her wonder whether she suspected her reason for being in Andovaria was not entirely due to the discovery of twelfth-century artifacts.
Of course, she could be being over-sensitive. She was incredibly nervous about being here. Nervous about seeing Seb again. Nervous about…pretty much everything and that was bound to throw everything out of kilter.
Marianne tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I’d booked a room in a hotel, but Princess Viktoria—’
‘I’m glad she did.’
‘You are?’
‘Of course. There’s no point running the gauntlet of the paparazzi every day when you don’t need to.’
‘No.’ And that did make sense. She’d been shocked to see how many people seemed to be waiting at the private entrance to the castle. ‘Is it always like that?’
Seb shook his head. ‘They’re waiting for Isabelle. She’ll be home for my mother’s fiftieth birthday celebration—and they all know it.’
‘And are they there day and night?’
‘Only if they can’t get in,’ Seb said drily, ‘and they do more than wait. They jump out of bushes, they try and bribe the staff here, get friends of friends to talk. Anything to make sure they get a picture no one else gets because that’s the way they earn their living.’
‘Does she know that that’s what’s in store for her?’
Seb stopped at the bronze statue of the horse and looked across at the sweeping drive which led up from to the private entrance. ‘She’s a fool if she doesn’t. The official Press pack are hard enough to accommodate, but the paparazzi are something else altogether.’
‘I’d hate that.’
Seb looked across at her. ‘We all do. They’re so single-minded it can be quite frightening…I’m sorry—’
‘It’s fine.’
‘But not your problem and I shouldn’t have—’
‘I don’t mind. It’s interesting.’ And she liked him talking to her. Telling her things about his life and the way he felt about it.
It was funny, but until this moment she hadn’t registered how little she’d actually known about Seb while they were together in France. She’d poured out all the details of her life. Talked about her parents, her village, her school, her dreams for the future. But Seb…had said nothing. Couldn’t, she now realised.
Which meant he must have been constantly editing what he was saying. Thinking of things to say and then realising he couldn’t. She’d been so incredibly stupid.
‘What are you thinking?’
Marianne bit back an almost hysterical laugh. There was no way she was going to tell him that. He didn’t need to know she’d found a new humiliation. ‘Nothing.’
‘Please. I’d like to know.’ His voice was deep and quiet. ‘I can always tell when you’re unhappy.’
Marianne looked up and the expression in his eyes made her heart beat erratically. She felt cold, frightened and incredibly small. There was something going on between them she didn’t understand and couldn’t seem to control. How could she be falling for him now?
‘Marianne.’ He breathed her name and it was as though it was expressing an emotion he didn’t have any other way of communicating.
Slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away, Seb stretched out his hand and his knuckles brushed lightly against the side of her face. ‘You’re so beautiful.’
Beautiful. That single word throbbed through her body. She wanted to hear that. Needed to hear it.
His thumb moved gently against the side of her jaw, barely touching, and yet every nerve in her body had screamed to attention.
‘So beautiful.’ Barely a whisper. It almost seemed to hang in the air.
His eyes held hers. Dark, dark brown. His pupils wide and black. Easy to fall back in love with him. Easy to forget how alone she’d felt when he’d left her alone in Paris.
Left her.
Seb had left her. Beautiful meant nothing. It meant he wouldn’t mind going to bed with her. It didn’t mean he loved her. Or that he wanted to know her dreams or share them with her.
‘No.’ Marianne pulled away.
Seb shot a hand through his dark hair. His eyes looked bleak and, for one moment, she thought he was going to say something.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.
Seb nodded and then he walked away.
Marianne raised one shaking hand to her lips and stood there. She felt weak…and foolish…and exposed.
He’d wanted to kiss her.
She knew it. And the truth of it was…she’d wanted to be kissed.
In the distance she saw his tall figure disappear between the archways and she knew that if she could have called him back she would have.
Marianne tightly shut her eyes against the tear that had spilled over onto her cheek. She was in one almighty mess. She wasn’t over loving Seb—and she probably never would be.
So, what was she going to do now? She felt as though a fierce wind had blown through her body and had left her buffeted.