As they approached Kaitlin slowed, and he could almost see her morph into the persona of Lady Kaitlin Derwent. He wondered whether that had been another defence mechanism against the after-effects of the kidnap.
They entered the hotel, where Roberto awaited them, discussed the ball and their plans for the following day without even a hint of impatience, and then finally made their way across the lobby to an elevator that began an excruciatingly slow ascent.
Finally—finally—they reached the suite, entered and closed the door behind them.
‘Now, where were we...?’ he asked.
Stepping forward into his arms, she gave a slow smile. ‘I think we left off about here. But we can make it even better if we move to the bedroom.’
‘Your wish is my command.’
With that he scooped her into his arms and headed for the bed.
* * *
Kaitlin opened her eyes and for a second a tendril of panic coiled in her tummy. Then she remembered exactly where she was. The weight of Daniel’s arm cocooned her and she shifted gently on the sumptuous smooth silk of the sheet. In repose he looked younger, one lock of dark hair curled on his forehead, the craggy strength of his features slightly softened by sleep.
She waited for regret to consume her but realised that in truth she repented nothing; she couldn’t feel any remorse over the beauty of the past few hours. The passion and the laughter and the sheer pleasure—it had been a night that she would treasure the memories of for ever.
As for sharing her past with him... There was no regret over that either—no shadow of doubt that she could trust him to keep her confidence. She trusted him.
The realisation was shocking in its simplicity, terrifying in its complexity. Because she had broken a cardinal Lady Kaitlin rule.
Unfamiliar emotion crept up her veins, coursed through her body with unidentifiable sensations as she gazed at Daniel. Joy mingled wit
h a yearning to lie down again in the safety of his arms, to wake him up and make love. To make him breakfast, to spend the day walking the streets of Venice hand in hand...
A new type of panic sparked and morphed into dread and disbelief.
What was she doing? Weaving a fantasy out of an illusion? The reality was that the night was over and so was her time with Daniel. It was time to assume Lady Kaitlin Derwent’s mantle and get back to her routine—the life she had so carefully and painstakingly built up. She could not, would not let that crumble, and she would not, could not fall in love with Daniel Harrington.
Daniel opened his eyes and met her gaze sleepily. ‘Morning.’
‘Good morning.’
Surprise banished sleep and a small frown creased his forehead. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing is wrong.’
Everything was wrong, and her brain threatened to short-circuit as emotions overloaded it. The primary emotion was horror at her body’s treachery. She had never meant to fall in love—this was meant to have been an interlude, time outside time, the opportunity to experience physical attraction. Not this crazy freefall. She had to get out of here before it took hold. Before she did something super-crazy.
Before he figured it out.
From somewhere she summoned reserves of pride—the idea of discovery was a humiliation impossible to contemplate. So she had to dig deep and locate Lady Kaitlin—who disdained love as a messy, unpleasant, unnecessary component to life and relationships.
Play the part. Image is everything.
Holding the sheet to her, she leant over in a desperate bid to find at least her bra and knickers.
‘I’ve woken up with my head buzzing with all the things we need to get done for the ball. Plus I need to get back to my room and make sure it looks like I slept there.’
Finally her fingers found her bra, and somehow she wriggled into it whilst shielding herself as best she could with the sheet.
‘Kaitlin.’
Don’t look at him.
If she could just make it to the sanctuary of her room she would be able to get herself together.