“But you can’t be a virgin,” he stammered, still unable to comprehend it. “You’re pregnant.”
“Yes.” He must have looked comical, because looking at him, she gave a rueful laugh. “I wondered a little, that no one at the fertility clinic stopped me from being a surrogate. I gather it’s usually a problem. But your—Chiara must have paid them to look the other way.” She said wistfully, “I wanted to wait for true love. To be intimate with only one person. For a lifetime.” She looked up at him with a crooked smile. “Silly, huh?”
Alex’s heart was pounding, his body burning. Rosalie was pregnant with his child. And yet no man had ever touched her. Not even him. She was a virgin.
He looked at her downcast eyes. She was afraid he would laugh at her. Scorn her. “Rosalie. Look at me.”
Nervously, she lifted her gaze. He saw her self-consciousness. She thought he would insult her as—what? As a freak? A throwback to the Victorian age? Her eyes gleamed with fear of being hurt.
“You’re right,” she said suddenly. “It’s stupid.” She started to turn away, to rise from the table—
He grabbed her arm, knowing he couldn’t let her go like this. “I honor your choice,” he said quietly. “I respect it.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little as she stayed in her chair. She looked at him over the table. “You do?”
Alex gave a nod. “You think of sex as part of marriage. As something to be shared with only one person.”
“Yes.”
“I honor sex in marriage, as well. It’s part of the vows. ‘To keep only unto her as long as you both shall live.’ It’s why I wouldn’t divorce Chiara. It’s why—” he lifted his eyes to hers “—even though she cheated on me for years, and we quit sharing a bed shortly after we were wed, I never betrayed those vows.”
Her lips parted. “But—that would mean you’ve been celibate for...”
“Almost three years.” Alex held his breath. Knowing well how his friends would react, he’d never shared that fact with anyone.
Rosalie stared at him with something like horror. For a moment, she closed her eyes, as if she’d just received some heavy blow. Then she slowly opened them.
“Finally,” she whispered. “I understand.”
And Rosalie did understand.
Ever since they’d left Mont-Saint-Michel, she’d fought her desire for him as a matter of course. Any woman would want a powerful, gorgeous, ridiculously sexy man like Alex Falconeri. But it wouldn’t make any sense for him to want her.
And yet, innocent as she was, she’d noticed the way his gaze had lingered on her. And then, on the platform at the train station
in Paris, the way he’d kissed her!
His embrace had been a wonder, magical. As he’d kissed her, all the world had whirled around them like a storm, lightning crackling through her veins. When he’d finally pulled away, she’d been lost, knowing that if they shared a compartment on the train, she could no longer resist his seduction any more than she could resist breathing.
But Alex hadn’t tried to seduce her. He’d kept his distance, leaving her to read her book and sleep alone, nervously looking out at the gorgeous Alpine scenery, wondering when he’d appear, when he’d explain. After an early breakfast, she’d walked the length of the train and said hello to other smiling passengers, all of whom seemed happy to be here, as if this trip was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. And no wonder. She could only imagine how much it cost.
But Alex had arranged it on a whim. Because he’d noticed the old Agatha Christie paperback in her satchel.
He pretended to be cold and ruthless, but on the inside, she saw the streak of kindness that he tried to hide. He wanted to take care of her, because she was carrying his baby.
But he didn’t actually desire her, Rosalie Brown of Brown Farm in Emmetsville, California. Now she finally understood.
He’d kissed her because he was starving.
A man like Alex Falconeri, with that level of sensual appeal, should have been well-fed sexually. But he hadn’t had sex in years. No wonder he was looking at her like a starving man might look at a buffet table.
“What do you mean, you understand?” Alex demanded now.
“It’s not me you want,” she whispered, glancing around the restaurant car of the train, which luckily had started to thin out from the lunchtime crowds. “You’re just starved for sex. That’s the only reason you kissed me. Any woman would be desirable to you right now. I was just handy.”
He pulled away, his dark eyes serious. “Do you truly believe that?”
Rosalie thought again of the way he’d dropped the bags on the platform and taken her in his arms with such passion when he’d kissed her, such yearning and need.