Chapter 12

When I reach the terrace, the sky is just starting to turn indigo, the inky colour fading to the east where the last of the sun washes into the horizon.

My aunt is in a chair, while Constantin and Rafe are standing by the balustrade, one of my favourite places to look out over the city.

“Are you all right, Auntie?” I ask as I stop by her chair to check on her.

“I’m fine, my dear.”

Constantin turns, concern etched on his face.

“I’m sorry if we tired you out the other night,” he says.

She waves his apology away. “I’d rather have a night of company and then a couple of days in bed than sit alone to eat. I enjoy having you here. It’s been too long with just Juana and myself.”

Juana appears at that moment with a tray of coffee cups and a cafetière. If she has a problem with the extra work one more person being in the house brings, she hasn’t said so and I do try to help.

Juana pours the coffee, and I help by handing round the cups.

I ask Constantin if everything is all right with his bar. He pulls a face when he answers that this is only the second time he’s not been there while it’s been open. Does he never have a break? He’s looking very sexy in his dark blue shirt and black trousers, and I was only half joking when I flirted with him earlier. I assume he was just joining in the fun when he replied.

Rafe, who is still looking out over the city, gives a big sigh.

“This view is beautiful. I’m going to miss it when I leave.”

We all fix our eyes on him. I haven’t really given much thought to how long he will be here, my own stay being indefinite. Surely, he can’t be leaving soon.

“Oh, when is that?” It’s Constantin who asks what we’re all wondering.

“I’m due to fly home in two days.” Rafe sighs again.

“It sounds like that doesn’t appeal to you.” Constantin’s voice is low.

“No, it doesn’t.” Rafe becomes animated. Fissures appear in his voice. “I don’t have a publishing contract for my books. No one wants to buy them. I don’t want to see my ex-fiancé with Sloan bloody Thorpe, who writes better books than me, who’s better looking than me . . .”

He flails his arms as he speaks, and Constantin catches hold of his shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down his upper arms until Rafe calms. His shoulders slump. “I have nothing to go back to . . .”

“Then stay.” I fight against the hollow nausea that washes over me at the thought of him leaving.

“It’s not that easy,” Rafe addresses me. Constantin’s hands are still gently moving on his arms. The gesture is soft, and I like that Rafe seems to be getting comfort from it. “The hotel was only booked for two weeks, and they have no more rooms available. I’ve looked and there’s nothing else around, not anything I can afford, anyway. With no advance on the next books, I only have my savings and any royalties to live on. I can’t stay.”

“Then you’ll stay here.” Estrella’s voice cuts through, and as a unit, we all turn to look at her. She gives a warm smile. “I have plenty of room. You can stay here.”

I like this idea very much.

“I couldn’t?—”

“Why not?” Estrella cuts off Rafe’s protestations and he sputters.

“It would be imposing.”

“I’ve invited you. Are you going to insult me by refusing?” Even in her advanced years, she’s used to commanding attention. “It is not imposing. I shall enjoy having you here, along with my great nephew. There was a time when this house was full of people.”

Rafe blinks at her before replying, “Thank you.”

“Good, that’s settled then.” Auntie looks happy that she’s got her own way. “I’m getting cold. Constantin, would you be a dear and help me up?”

“You okay?” Constantin gives Rafe’s shoulders a squeeze and I see him nod in return. Constantin offers my aunt his hand to help her up before they walk back into the house. The care he’s shown towards both Rafe and my aunt makes me feel warm inside . . . well, that and the relief Rafe won’t be leaving soon.

Rafe turns to me. “Does she mean it? About staying?”

“Oh, yes. I haven’t known her very long, but I think she wouldn’t do something like this to be polite. She genuinely likes you. ”

“She’s only just met me.”

“I think she is a good judge of character.”

He laughs a little, sounding amused. “I could be an axe-wielding murderer.”

“Are you?” I ask.

“No, I’m not. I’m just saying I could be anybody.”

“You mean you haven’t researched it for a book?” The words are out before I know it. I’ve acted instinctively, not giving a thought to whether he likes being teased. He looks straight at me, and for a beat I wish I could take it back. Then he tips his head back and laughs. I can’t help but join in, relieved that I haven’t upset him.

“No, not axe murdering.” His laughter subsides. “Poisons, though, those are a whole different story.”

The laughter dies in my throat. Is he telling the truth? Is he serious? Then I see the smirk on his face.

“Oh, you.” I tap his chest playfully. “You had me there.”

He’s still smiling. “Well, I do know all the effects of belladonna and other substances, but not everything I research for my books becomes a hobby. I’m just saying that perhaps she ought to have known a little more about me before inviting me to stay.”

“Well, I’m glad she invited you.” Another phrase I blurt out without thinking.

“Are you?” He tilts his head and regards me.

“Yes, of course.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “I haven’t finished teaching you to dance yet.”

A smile breaks out on his face. I want to tell him how much I want to kiss him, feel his lips on mine. How much I want to taste him and watch his amber eyes shine as he comes undone by my touch. But I don’t, not yet. Now he’ll be staying here, so I can take my time.

“Then, shall we dance?” He holds out his hand with a smirk, well aware that this time, he’s the one who’s asked me to dance.

“I’d love to.” I bite back any smart remark I might be tempted to make and take his hand, leading him into the ballroom just as Constantin sits down at the piano and starts playing.