The Forbidden Touch of Sanguardo

‘My thoughts entirely.’

The deep, cold voice from the doorway made both heads turn. Rafael stepped into his study.

‘Get out, Madeline,’ he said.

He said it with an air of complete indifference, as if she were nothing more than a passing nuisance. Celeste saw her deep-set eyes flash with anger at such dismissal. Then a different expression filled them. She moved towards Rafael, who was standing motionless in the doorway, every line of his body showing tension.

‘Why, Rafe, darling, you’re looking dreadfully stressed out!’ Madeline advanced purringly. ‘Why don’t you let me give you a massage? You know,’ she said huskily, ‘just how...relaxed...I could always make you with a massage.’

She was baiting him. It was obvious to Celeste. And just as obvious was Rafael’s stone-faced lack of reaction. Madeline must have seen it, too, for she tilted her head of fiery auburn hair and found a new line of attack.

‘No? Then maybe your lovely blushing nun here would welcome it? She looks very tense to me.’ Her eyes moved across to Celeste, who stood as expressionless as if she were walking down a catwalk, then back to Rafael, equally blank-faced. ‘So, what do you say, hmm?’ she asked tauntingly. ‘You could always just sit back and watch if you’re too puritan to join us...’ She laughed mockingly.

Rafael only stepped back out of the doorway, holding the door open for her pointedly. Madeline’s eyes flashed fire again.

‘No wonder you’re stuck with Little Miss Pure here!’ she bit out. ‘Tell me, do you just sit chastely side by side, holding hands, and sigh at each other?’ Her face twisted. ‘God, Rafe, what a bore you are. To think I wasted time on you!’

‘Out, Madeline’ was all the response she got, in a tone that did not hide its note of impatience.

Celeste saw her snap, her temper flaring openly. Before she could stop her, the other woman had snatched up the blue evening bag from Rafael’s desk and was pushing past her to the door.

‘I’ll take a souvenir with me, I think!’ she exclaimed, and then, as she gained the large hallway, she halted and turned back. ‘In fact...’ She turned, and her eyes were gleaming with an expression of satisfaction. ‘I’ll even do you a favour—and your precious Lucien Fevre! I’ll take this bag with me tomorrow night to the state reception at the White House! That should be good enough publicity for you! I might even get the senator to buy me some more of them! I could make the damn things fashionable all across Washington, if you like! Is that sufficient atonement?’

Celeste’s eyes flew to Rafael. His stone-faced expression was gone.

‘Senator?’ His eyes pinioned Madeline.

She gave that laugh again, the satisfaction in her eyes blatant. ‘You are out of touch, aren’t you, Rafe? Too busy mooning over your pet nun! Yes,’ she said, preeningly, ‘Senator Roxburgh and I are most definitely an item now. And, since he’s so likely to get picked as running mate in the next presidential election, you could, if you ask me nicely, soon be on the Capitol Hill guest list. I’ll be the Second Lady in the land.’

She turned to go again, having shot her bow and saved her pride, Celeste could see. But Rafael’s voice stayed her.

‘Are you serious, Madeline?’ His voice was different.

She whirled round, animation in her face. She was delighted.

‘Oh, yes,’ she purred. ‘And the senator is so very, very devoted to me! Widowed, you know... It’s so sad. And you know how expensive political campaigning is over here in the States—I’m so keen to help him on that front! Once we’re married, of course!’

Rafael’s hand brushed aside her preening.