The Royal Wedding Collection. Robyn Donald

he breathed.

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      MILLIE felt faint and dizzy—her heart was beating so loudly that it threatened to deafen her as she looked into the cold and unwelcoming eyes of Gianferro—but somehow she managed to keep a small and noncommittal smile pinned to her mouth. People were watching them—she dared not let her fragile emotions show.

      ‘Are you not pleased to see me, Gianferro?’

      With an equally noncommittal smile, he placed his palm beneath her elbow.

      ‘Surprised,’ he murmured. And that was an under-statement. The last thing he had expected was to see his beautiful blonde wife slinking across the reception room towards him, and for once he was unprepared. Fleetingly he allowed himself to wonder how a normal man might have dealt with such a situation, but the eyes of the room were fixed on them.

      Damn her! Had she deliberately contrived to catch him off-guard? To slip beneath his defences as cunningly as she always managed to do in bed? When she made him feel like Samson after his hair had been shorn? Had he not spent the past week telling himself over and over that she must not be allowed to do so again?

      ‘I will speak with you in private, my dear,’ he continued. ‘But first I must make my farewells.’

      His voice was soft, but the words were undoubtedly a command, and something in the dark glitter of his eyes made Millie suddenly apprehensive.

      ‘I didn’t intend to drag you away,’ she whispered.

      ‘Really? Then just what did you intend, Millie? That you would flounce in here unannounced and everyone would just pretend not to notice?’

      It was a reprimand, and one she knew she deserved. ‘What do you want me to do?’

      But at that moment, as if summoned by some unspoken order, Alesso appeared. Gianferro spoke to him rapidly and fiercely in Italian, and then he bent his head to her ear once more.

      ‘Go now with Alesso,’ he said, switching effortlessly to English. ‘And wait for me. It will only complicate matters if formal introductions are made,’ he added coolly. ‘At least this way the Spanish Ambassador can be reliably informed that there is a family crisis.’

      And was there? Millie wondered, as she followed Alesso from the room, pride making her smile at the people who bowed and curtsied as she passed. Of course there was…and by the time she and Gianferro were through maybe the Palace lawyers would have been instructed to draw up the papers announcing a formal separation.

      In the corridor, she saw Alesso’s look of resignation.

      ‘I’ve got you into trouble, haven’t I?’ she guessed.

      ‘He is not pleased.’

      Millie bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Alesso.’

      He shook his head. ‘No. It is for the best. I do not like to see the King miserable. He cannot rule with so much on his mind.’

      ‘How has he been?’ Millie asked breathlessly, wondering if Alesso would give her any inkling of the truth, or just be Gianferro’s official mouthpiece.

      ‘Distracted,’ he admitted with a shrug.

      And Millie wondered what he had been distracted with. Had he missed her? Or had he simply been working out the best and cleanest way to end the marriage? ‘Is there somewhere very private we could go?’

      He nodded. ‘It is already arranged. The Cacciatore family own a house on the coastal road. He is taking you there. It is empty and—’

      But at that moment Gianferro himself swept out, accompanied by a retinue of diplomats and servants. His black eyes gave little away as he looked at Millie other than faint displeasure, but he could not stem the sudden rush of blood to his groin. He found himself thinking how much more uncomplicated life was without a woman in it, and his mouth hardened.

      ‘Come,’ he said crisply.

      As she slid into the back of the large unmarked car beside him she told herself that this was never going to be a romantic reunion. But his proximity sent her already raw senses into overdrive. She was achingly aware of him as a man—of the long, lean thrust of his legs and the muscular body so tightly coiled beside her. Could he not have touched her? At least reached out to squeeze the frozen fingers which looked so lifeless where they lay against the lemon silk dress.

      Gianferro was aware of a mixture of powerlessness and frustration—of wanting to press her body hard against his and knowing that the presence of the driver ruled it out. But it was more than that. He still did not know why she was here—her very eagerness to confront him might spell her determination to seek a new life for herself.

      Could he blame her if she did?

      The silence between them grew as the powerful car ate up the miles, and Millie didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when a pair of electric gates opened and their car was spotlighted by the security lighting which zapped on.

      She wasn’t really aware of the terse conversation going on between Gianferro and his head of security, only that it seemed to take endless negotiations before the two of them were finally alone in a rather formal-looking salon. It had the air of a room which had not been lived in for some time—although the furniture was very beautiful indeed.

      Gianferro closed the door quietly and an immense silence seemed to swallow them up. He looked at her properly then, as if for the first time, but his face did not relax.

      ‘So, Millie,’ he said quietly, ‘is there some kind of explanation for this extraordinary behaviour?’

      She stared at him, bewildered and hurt. ‘I wanted to see you.’

      ‘And now you have.’

      ‘You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you, Gianferro?’

      He gave her the bland, formal smile she had seen him use at so many official functions. ‘Make what easy?’

      She wanted to drum her fists against his chest, to tell him that he couldn’t hide behind that icy persona—except that she knew he could. Had she thought that simply because she had seen it melt from time to time it was gone for ever? Of course it wasn’t.

      She looked at him. ‘I’m so sorry for what I did, my darling,’ she whispered. ‘And I wondered…’ She swallowed down the lump in her throat and the salty taste of tears which tainted her mouth. ‘Maybe I have no right to ask this—but do you think you can ever find it in your heart to forgive me?’

      Her words touched him as he had not expected or wanted to be touched, and so did her stricken face, but he steeled his heart against her. ‘I don’t know,’ he said tonelessly.

      Millie felt as if he had struck her, but she remained strong. Maybe what had happened between them was too big to be cured with just a single word of apology. Maybe he didn’t want it to be cured.

      She bit her lip. ‘Do you want to save our marriage?’

      A cold and sardonic smile curved his lips. It had been his trademark smile as a bachelor, and he was discovering how easy it was to slip back into it. But this nagging ache in his heart had never been there in those days, which seemed so long ago now. ‘Is it worth saving, do you think, Millie?’

      She told herself that he was deliberately trying to hurt her, and that she must withstand his taunts. That this, in a way, was her punishment. And she wanted to suffer, for she had made him suffer, and then she wanted to be washed clean of all her pain and regret and to start all over again. But this might be one idealistic hope too far, it could only work if he wanted it, too.

      ‘Yes,’ she said, in a low, firm voice. ‘Yes, I do. More than anything.’

      And then she knew that she had to do something else, too.