He saw it and said, his voice low, ‘Would that be so very unwelcome to you?’
She bit her lip. She wanted to find some way—a polite, considerate way, especially after his rescuing her from Karl—of telling him that what he wanted was impossible...just impossible!
Rafael saw her silence, needed to know if there was one reason that would be an immovable obstacle for him.
‘Is there someone else in your life right now?’
She swallowed, her expression still troubled. ‘No, but—’ She halted, not knowing what to say. How to say it.
Her hesitation was visible. A hideous thought speared Rafael’s head. His expression darkened. ‘Karl Reiner,’ he began, his voice harsh, ‘is he—?’
‘No! Dear God, no!’
Her rebuff was so instant, so vehement, that it could only be true. Relief flooded through Rafael. If for a moment he’d thought that that despicable piece of ordure had any kind of anything with her—
‘Gracias a Dios!’ he said feelingly.
‘How could you think—?’ She broke off, shuddering.
Of course she had nothing to do with Karl Reiner in that way! Someone like her would never, never think of such a liaison! Hadn’t she reacted strongly enough back there in the lobby to convince him of that? Her shock and disgust had been palpable.
He reached for his brandy, and as he took a mouthful an image formed in his mind. Madeline—Madeline being on the receiving end of what Karl Reiner had thrown at Celeste.
She’d have laughed. Laughed in his face, told him, ‘In your dreams!’ and walked off. Then she’d have regaled Rafael with it in bed. She’d have been totally unfazed by it, totally unaffected—she would have thought Reiner merely physically repellent, not repulsively offensive!
But Madeline was cut from completely different material from the woman at his side now. The woman who was cupping one slender hand around a teacup from which a delicate oriental fragrance was coiling upwards, stirring it with a silver teaspoon, focussed only on her task. He watched her for a moment, all thought of Madeline deleted as Celeste stirred her tea, inhaling the scent, and seemed visibly to calm herself.
‘Better?’ he asked quietly.
She nodded, lifting the cup to her lips to take a tiny sip of the hot liquid.
He let her be, contenting himself with looking at her. Her beauty, seen again after a space of days, was etching itself on his retinas. Tonight she was wearing a knee-length cocktail dress in eau de Nil, high cut at the neckline, with short cap sleeves. A jade necklace and earrings were her jewellery. Her hair was dressed differently, in a more complex style with braids and loops, but still worn up. An impulse went through him—a longing to see that incredible pale hair loosed from its confines, flowing like a silvery river over her naked alabaster shoulders...
He pulled his mind back from such impulses, focussing now on her features. Her perfect beauty was just the same as it had been when he’d seen her walking down the stairs at that charity event. A beauty that moved him so strangely—so strongly.
And so, too, did the other quality that had made him watch her then, as it did now.
That sense of aloneness—apartness. As if she moved in the world but was not fully part of it. As if it could not touch her.
What had she said about the stars? That they were very far away...
As she is.
His expression changed. But I will get close to her. With me she will not be alone, apart. I will draw her to me! Woo her and win her!
And he must make the most of this opportunity to begin his journey to that destination. She was here, beside him, and that, surely, was a start.
‘Tell me,’ he said, his voice holding in it nothing but quiet concern, ‘how is it that you were with Karl Reiner tonight if he is so repugnant to you? I know that you are the face of Blonde Visage, but—’