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СКАЧАТЬ knew Liana heard it too.

      She twisted towards him, her expression intent and earnest, her bare breasts brushing his chest. An interesting combination, and one that made Sandro want to kiss her again. And more.

      ‘Why do you hate being king?’ she asked, and he felt as if she’d just touched him with a branding iron. Pain, white-hot, lanced through him. Desire fled.

      ‘Why do you think I hate being king?’ he answered, glad his voice stayed even.

      ‘Maybe hate is too strong a word. But whenever you talk about it—about Maldinia and the monarchy—you get this...tone to your voice. As if you can’t stand it.’

      He started to shift away from her, sliding his fingers from her own, but she tugged him back, or at least stayed him for a moment. ‘Don’t, Sandro,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not trying to offend you or make you angry. I just want to know you.’

      ‘I think you’ve known me pretty well this week, wouldn’t you say?’

      Her expression clouded, her eyes the colour of bruises. ‘But that’s just sex.’

      ‘Just sex? I’m offended.’

      ‘All right, fine. Amazing sex, but still, I want to know more than your body, as fantastic as that is.’

      He stared at her then, saw the shadows in her eyes, the uncertain curve of her mouth. ‘Do you really, Liana?’ he asked quietly. ‘We’ve had a wonderful time this past week, I’ll be the first to admit it. But we haven’t talked about anything really personal and I think you’ve liked it that way.’

      Her lips trembled before she firmed them into a line and nodded. ‘Maybe I do. I’m a private person, Sandro, I admit that. There are—things I don’t like talking about. But I still want to get to know you. Understand you.’

      ‘So I bare my soul while you get to keep yours hidden? Doesn’t sound like much of a fair trade to me.’

      ‘No, it doesn’t.’ She was silent for a moment, nibbling her lip, clearly wrestling with herself. Sandro just waited. He had no idea what she was going to say or suggest, and he felt a wariness leap to life inside him because he might accuse her of keeping things back, but he knew he was too.

      About his family. His father. Himself.

      ‘How about this,’ she finally said, and she managed to sound both resolute and wavering at the same time. It made Sandro want to gather her up in his arms and kiss her worries away, as well as his own. That would be far more enjoyable than talking. ‘We ask each other questions.’

      He frowned, still wary. ‘Questions?’

      ‘Sounds simple, doesn’t it?’ she agreed with a wry smile that tugged at his heart. And other places. ‘What I mean is we take turns. You ask me a question and I have to answer it. Then I get to ask you a question and you have to answer it.’ She eyed him mischievously, although he could still tell this was big for her. And for him. Honesty, intimacy? He might crave it but that didn’t make it easy. ‘I’ll even,’ she added, ‘let you go first.’

      Sandro took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He nodded. ‘Okay.’

      ‘Okay. Ask me the first question.’ Liana scrambled into a seated position, her legs crossed, her expression alert. She was completely naked and Sandro didn’t know whether he wanted to ask her a question or haul her into his arms. No, actually he did.

      Sex would be easier. Safer. And far more pleasurable. But he’d accused Liana of holding things back and he’d be both a coward and a hypocrite now if he was the one to pull away. He drew another deep breath and sifted through all the things he’d wondered about his wife. ‘Why have you devoted your life to Hands To Help?’

      She inhaled sharply, just once, and then let it out slowly. ‘Because my sister had epilepsy.’

      Surprise flashed through him. ‘You’ve never mentioned—’

      She held up one slender palm. ‘Nope, sorry. My turn now.’

      ‘Okay.’ He braced himself for the question he knew she would ask, the question she’d asked before. Why do you hate being king? And how would he answer that? Nothing about that answer was simple. Nothing about it was something he wanted to say.

      ‘Why did you choose California?’ she asked, and his jaw nearly dropped. She was gazing at him steadily and he knew with a sudden certainty that she was going easy on him. Because she knew how hard he’d found her first question. And yet he’d cut right to the quick with his own. He felt a surge of feeling for this woman who had shown him in so many ways just how strong and deep and wonderful she was.

      ‘I chose California because I wanted to go into IT and it was a good place for start-up businesses. Also, for the weather.’

      She smiled, just slightly, and he felt herself tense for his next question. ‘What’s your sister’s name?’ he asked, and to his surprise and recrimination her eyes filled with tears. He’d meant it to be an easy question, but obviously it wasn’t.

      ‘Chiara.’ She drew a clogged breath. ‘I called her Chi-Chi.’

      The past tense jumped out at him and he realised what a moron he was. He should have realised her sister was no longer alive. ‘What—?’

      She shook her head. ‘My turn.’ She blinked rapidly until the tears receded, although Sandro would have rather they’d fallen. When, he wondered, had Liana last cried? He had a feeling it had been a long, long time ago.

      ‘What made you renounce your inheritance?’

      It felt necessary at the time. That was what he’d told her before. He could say the same now, but it wasn’t really much of an answer. He gazed at her steadily, saw the remnant of old sorrow in her eyes even as she gazed unblinkingly back. ‘Because I thought I’d lose myself—my soul—if I stayed.’

      ‘Why—?’

      ‘Fair’s fair. My turn now.’

      ‘All right.’

      He saw her brace herself, everything in her tensing for his next question. ‘How did your sister die?’ he asked softly.

      For a second, no more, her features twisted in a torment that made him want to lean forward to embrace her, comfort her, but then her expression blanked again and she said quietly, ‘She choked during an epileptic fit when she was four years old.’

      This time he didn’t keep himself from reaching for her. ‘God, Liana. I’m sorry.’ No wonder she devoted herself to her damned charity, to supporting the families of children like Chiara. She remained in his arms, stiff and unyielding as he stroked her hair, her shoulder. ‘How old were you when it happened?’

      ‘Eight.’ She drew a shuddering breath. ‘But that’s two questions from you, so I get two now.’

      ‘We could stop—’

      ‘Not a chance.’ She eased back, dabbed at her eyes with one hand before she stiffened her shoulders, gave him a look of stony determination.

      ‘Why did СКАЧАТЬ