Did he still want his foolish young wife? Millie wondered, her eyes searching the high-domed white room whose walls were lined with the vibrant paintings of Lopez.
And then she saw him.
He was wearing a dark suit and looked both cool and formal. As usual, all heads were bent obsequiously towards him as people listened, and Millie knew that if he made a joke—however weak—people would fall about laughing. Because when you were King people told you what they thought you wanted to hear.
She knew then that her attempt at reconciliation must go no further than was necessary—for if she capitulated too much he would never respect her again.
He might be King, and she Queen, but the tussles within their marriage were not Royal ones—and unless they could find some real human ground on which to thrash them out then it would not be a marriage worth continuing with anyway.
Gianferro was listening to the Spanish Ambassador praising Mardivino’s attitude to the arts when he became aware of a slight buzz in the room. His eyes narrowed as he saw heads turning in the direction of the door.
But he was already in the room! Who in the world could possibly be entering and capturing more attention than he could?
And then he saw her.
Her eyes were like a summer’s sky and her hair as pale and gleaming as moonlight. She wore a yellow dress which made her look cool and composed, but he could see that her mouth was set and tense, though it wavered in a tentative attempt at a smile as she began to walk towards him.
Now the faces were turned towards him, watching for his reaction, the way they always did. They would be wondering what the Queen was doing here, for she was not expected—and members of the Royal family did not simply turn up out of the blue.
What the hell was she thinking of? he wondered angrily.
She moved towards him and the purely physical reaction which she always provoked in him kicked in—with a force and power which momentarily took his breath away. But then he remembered the ugly scene which had caused her departure, and he felt the faint flickering of a muscle at his cheek.
She came right up to him, her cheeks flushed and her eyelids dropping down to conceal the sapphire glitter of her eyes.
‘Your Majesty,’ she said, very softly.
And, breaking protocol for the first time in his life, Gianferro bent his mouth to her ear.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ 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 non-committal smile, he placed his palm beneath her elbow.
‘Surprised,’ he murmured. And that was an understatement. 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.