you were already involved in governing your country.’
Leo’s mouth tightened, the moment evaporating like so much morning mist, gone with the first glare of light. Good. It was better that way. ‘A bit,’ he answered, his tone instinctively repressive.
He wasn’t involved, not as much as he wanted to be. He’d been trying to prove to his father for fifteen years that he was capable of being king. That he deserved responsibility and respect. King Alessandro might not be interested in government policy—he was too absorbed in his own selfish pleasures for that—but he didn’t want his son cramping his style or seizing his power.
He’d never wanted him to be king at all, and even after a decade and a half as heir Leo never forgot he was second choice. Second best.
Alyse stirred her coffee, her gaze thoughtful. ‘There’s so much I don’t know about you,’ she said, and the ensuing, expectant pause made Leo tense. Spending time together was one thing. You couldn’t talk while you were snorkelling. But getting to know each other...having Alyse ask him questions...having to answer them... That was an entirely different prospect.
‘Don’t look so horrified,’ she continued dryly. ‘I’m not about to ask you for your deepest, darkest secrets.’
‘I don’t have any secrets. Not too many, anyway.’ He tried to speak lightly, but he felt unsettled, uneasy, because for a few moments he’d enjoyed their conversation—the light banter, as well as, God help him, the deeper discussion—and that horrified him more than anything Alyse could ask.
Well, almost.
‘So no embarrassing moments?’ she quipped, a smile on the lips Leo kept realising were incredibly lush and kissable. He remembered how they had tasted. How she’d tasted. Honey-sweet with a tang of salt from the sea. Amazing. ‘No secret fears?’
He forced his gaze away from her mouth, up towards her eyes that sparkled with humour. How had he never noticed how silver her eyes were? They weren’t grey at all. They were warm and soft, glinting with golden lights, like a moonlit, starry sky...
Good Lord. He was thinking like some sort of besotted fool. Eyes couldn’t be soft, and he wasn’t about to compare them to the night sky.
What was happening to him?
‘Secret fears?’ he repeated, forcing his attention back to the conversation. ‘No, I don’t have any of those.’ None he was willing to share, anyway, and he wouldn’t exactly call them fears. More like...concerns.
‘Oh come on, Leo. There must be something.’
‘Why don’t you tell me something about you?’ he suggested. ‘Most embarrassing moment or secret fear or...I don’t know...funny dream.’
Her mouth curved wider and she leaned forward. ‘Here’s something you don’t know.’
‘Very well.’ There had to be a thousand things he didn’t know about her, but he felt a sudden, sharp curiosity to hear this one and he leaned forward too.
‘That kiss? The photo that started it all?’
‘Yes.’
‘I only clasped your cheek because I was wearing high heels for the first time and I was about to lose my balance.’
Leo stared at her for a moment, nonplussed, almost disbelieving, and then he burst into laughter. She grinned back and then she started laughing too, and from the corner of his eye he could see several members of the restaurant staff beaming in approval.
This would make a good photo.
The thought was enough to sober him up completely. ‘And to think,’ he said just a little too flatly, ‘if you’d been wearing flats we might not even be married.’
‘No,’ Alyse agreed, all traces of laughter gone from her face. ‘We might not be.’ They stared at each other for a moment, and this time Leo felt a certain bleakness in their shared look. Their engagement—their whole lives, entwined as they were—had hinged on something so trivial. So ridiculous.
Why did the thought—which wouldn’t have bothered him a bit before; hell, he’d have appreciated the irony—make him feel almost sad now? Sad not just for himself but for Alyse, for the way her eyes shuttered and her mouth twisted, and the warmth and ease they’d been sharing seemed to disappear completely.
He needed to put a stop to this somehow. He needed to stop wondering, stop feeling so damn much. The trouble was, he didn’t know how to stop it. And, worse, part of him didn’t even want to.
Alyse knew she shouldn’t be hurt by Leo’s observation. It was no more than the truth, the truth she’d known all along. Yet the reminder stung, when for the first time they’d actually seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.
Not wanting Leo to see how absurdly hurt she felt, she rose from the table and headed for the buffet, filling her plate up with a variety of tempting items. Leo followed, and by the time they were both back at the table her composure was firmly restored.
‘So,’ she said, spearing a piece of papaya, ‘your turn. Secret fear, embarrassing moment, funny dream. Take your pick.’
‘I don’t have any of those,’ Leo answered. She watched him neatly break a croissant in two and rolled her eyes.
‘Come on, Leo. You’re not a robot. You’re a man with feelings and thoughts, hopes and fears. You’re human. Aren’t you? Or am I going to roll over in bed one night and see a little key in the back of your neck, like that Dr Who episode with the creepy dolls?’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘Creepy dolls?’
‘Haven’t you ever watched that television programme?’
‘I don’t watch television.’
She let out a laugh. ‘You really are a robot.’
‘Ah, you’ve discovered my one deep secret. And here I thought I hid it so well.’
She laughed again, and his answering smile made everything in her lighten and lift. They’d never, ever joked around before. Teased each other. Enjoyed each other. It was as heady as a drug, his smile, his light tone. She craved more, and she knew just how dangerous and foolhardy that was.
Leo had made it abundantly clear last night. As long as it’s enough for you.
Already she knew it wasn’t.
‘All right, then,’ she said, taking a pastry from her plate. ‘No secret fears, funny dreams, or embarrassing moments. How about hobbies, then?’
‘Hobbies?’ he repeated in something so close to incredulity that Alyse nearly laughed.
‘Yes, you have heard of them? Pleasant pastimes such as reading, gardening, stamp-collecting?’ He simply stared and she supplied helpfully, ‘Tennis? Golf? Pottery?’
‘Pottery? I thought macramé was bad enough.’
‘You must do something to unwind.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘Do I seem unwound to you?’
‘Now that you mention it...maybe I should suggest something? Watercolours, perhaps?’
His lips twitched and he shook his head. ‘I play chess.’
‘Chess?’ She smiled, felt the sweet thrill of a small victory. ‘I should have been able to guess that.’
‘Oh? How so?’
‘Chess is a game requiring patience and precision. You have both in spades.’
‘I’m not sure that was a compliment,’ he answered. ‘But I’ll take it as one.’
‘Are you very good?’
‘Passable.’
Which probably meant he was amazing. She could picture him in front