Chapter Nine
There was a reason Valenti much preferred to live a life free of excessive emotion. A reason the grounding routine of unwavering duty to family and the Cartana throne was all he accommodated these days.
His brothers knew and accepted—mostly without complaint—the tight boundaries of what affection he could express. The crown gratefully accepted his allegiance to serve and protect with everything he had.
No one expected more from him and didn’t dare to ask because what he’d provided far exceeded anyone’s highest level of excellence.
So sitting in his office, feeling like he was wearing his every nerve inside out while his usually sedated heart beat overtime was highly inconvenient and most infuriating.
For the life of him, Valenti couldn’t find the off switch and with each moment that passed without locating it, his senses roared his distress until he wanted to flip his desk upside down just to experience something other than the chaos rioting inside him.
He blamed her. He blamed himself.
He invited this…this fiasco. Welcomed it with open arms when usually a cold, hard no had seen any curiosity killed dead, and those who dared broach it seen off with their tail between their legs.
Hell, even his father and brothers had only received an abbreviated version just the once and never since.
Hours had passed since she thanked him for exposing his greatest regret and failure to daylight and scrutiny. Since she shed tears then told him she wished he hadn’t bothered to look out for her. Since she’d retreated upstairs.
Valenti expected she would regroup soon enough to lay blame where it rightly deserved to be. At his feet.
Even now, the roaring dimmed intermittently so he could listen out for her. Almost willing her to return to challenge and rile him. To scream at him for not protecting the sister she’d loved.
Is that the only reason you want her back in your presence?
He gritted his teeth and stabbed at his keyboard. There were clients clamouring for his attention. Even a message from his father via the old King’s personal aide, seeking an update on the situation. The last line enquiring when Valenti would return to Cartana drew a fresh vein of bitterness.
He’d meticulously arranged it so he would never be personally needed in any situation except where his father and brothers were concerned. He’d rigorously trained every operative in his organisation, selected only the best of the best so he remained emotionally aloof and objective.
With each day, month and year of success, his father had heaped praises on his head for choosing family above all else. Entirely oblivious or not caring that the hole that remained in his heart from never fully realising his true desires had never come within a whisker of being filled.
Did the old man even realise that Valenti had often wondered, especially recently since his father took a steep decline, if he had been a doctor, if he hadn’t been split-focused between looking forward with duty and looking back on his dreams, whether he could have found a solution where others had failed?
Sí, an arrogant thought, perhaps, but he was a Domene. Conceit flowed through his veins faster than blood. And just as he knew his own name and the depth of his talent and dedication, he knew he would’ve excelled as a surgeon too, had he been free to choose.
He surged to his feet, the roiling having achieved its purpose and driven him partly mad. When the view of pristine snow mocked him, he growled.
Enough. It’d stopped snowing and—
The noise from upstairs jerked his head up. He was moving towards the door before he’d clocked the movement of his feet.
She was at the top of the stairs when he emerged. Her hair was tousled, her face soft and drowsy. Valenti searched her features for signs of further distress and tears. Then her eyes for the blame he fully expected. He found none but the constriction in his chest didn’t ease.
‘Halló,’ she muttered, and he wondered if she realised she’d spoken in her language.
‘Are you okay?’ he responded in the same tongue.
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. ‘Jà.’
It wasn’t relief pouring through him. He was merely doing what needed to be done with the circumstances they were faced with. He was practical if nothing else, after all, wasn’t he? He held out his hand. ‘Komdu.’
Again she hesitated, then slowly made her way down, her eyes searching his. ‘Is the truce still in place?’ she asked when she reached the final step. ‘Because I’m not in the mood for anything else.’
‘Indeed it is. And we can suspend the question-and-answer part of it too if you wish.’
Distress flashed in her eyes gone too quickly for him to decipher what exactly she found objectionable. Then she was nodding, her gaze drifting past his to the window. ‘I noticed it’s stopped snowing.’
He nodded. ‘Which is why I have a surprise you might find to your liking,’ he said, the idea flashing into being, then solidifying when he didn’t fight it.
Her eyes snapped back to his, brightening in a way that made air trap in his lungs. ‘Really?’
‘Sí. We’ll head out after lunch. Okay?’
‘Sure.’
He’d found the need to constantly feed her disconcerting at first, then like everything else with her in this unsettling atmosphere they hadn’t been able to avoid, he’d given in.
The need hammered through him as he took her hand in his. Her easy acquiescence rattled. Not him personally. He just wished her a little more…animated. He took a minute longer than necessary rummaging through the fridge, then throwing a question at her.
That rattling he was sure was dramatic simply because they’d been under this roof for too long intensified when he turned to find her examining him like he was a newly discovered species she couldn’t quite work out. ‘Lotte?’
She jumped. ‘Jà?’
‘I asked you a question. Is pasta okay?’ he bit out, attempting to keep his unnerved state under his waning control.
She nodded abruptly. ‘Of course. Yes. I was…’
He waited for her to finish. But her plump lips merely pursed before she looked away.
Greatly vexed by the return of the discordant roar that replaced the rattle, he quickly put together their meal and set it down on the table.
Moderately appeased when she polished off the meal, he frowned when she started walking out. ‘I’ll be ready in ten minutes,’ she threw over her shoulder, then paused as if to ask a question before changing her mind.
No, he didn’t like this turn of events.
Because this sombre version of Lotte? It wasn’t to his liking. At all.
Sombre and stoic were his remit, after all.
Which was why he found himself peeling back another layer of himself and taking her to a place he’d never shown anyone else. Suspecting it might raise even more questions. And discovering he would withstand them…if it brought Lotte contentment and peace.
Lotte looked around her, awed at the sight of the deep blue water-filled fissure they’d tracked about a mile from the cabin. The fissure fed a larger fjord at some point, which she guessed was where they were heading.
Valenti hadn’t divulged their final destination, but he’d answered her questions about their surroundings. They were still on private land—which he owned for as far as the eye could see.
Her gaze drifted to the rucksack he carried, curious as to its contents but she bit her tongue.
She’d had enough upheaval today. Time to give her emotions respite from turbulence.
So she asked innocuous questions about geography and topology, until the magical sight dried her words and stopped in her tracks. ‘Is that…?’
He stopped next to her, his eyes on her face. ‘A hot spring leading to a fjord? Yes.’
There were several such springs in Reykland, but few were this private, this stunning and perfect. The last of the setting sun against the snow dappled the still water in faint golden light, the wisps of steam rising from the naturally hot spring pool surrounded by boulders, mesmeric.
Lotte dragged her gaze from one breathtaking view to the other, of Valenti and the possibility that he’d brought her here to show her something special. To…lift her mood?
She swallowed, suddenly overcome with the very emotions she was fleeing from.
Surrendering to the pull of the small body of water she moved towards it, felt him follow.
The air grew sultrier with every step and by the time she was a few feet from the lip of the spring, a pang was lighting through her.
‘I would’ve brought my swimsuit if I’d—’
Valenti moved, drawing out an item from his rucksack. ‘I took the liberty of anticipating that need,’ he said.
Her eyes widened. One of the three bikinis she’d packed on a wild whim dangled from his fingers.
That awe warring with her surging emotions, she took it from him.
Then glanced around. She may have taken more bold steps these past few days than she had in her entire life, but she wasn’t quite ready to step into exhibitionist mode.
‘There’s no one around. I’ve made quite sure of that,’ Valenti said, a tight edge in his voice that said he’d driven that command home quite thoroughly.
Her fingers tightening around her bikini, gulping when Valenti set the rucksack down and started to unzip his insulated coat. Next, he tugged off his sweater and the T-shirt he wore underneath. At the sight of his bare, hard-packed chest, her fingers convulsed around the scrap of Lycra.
Then her face flamed when he raised an eyebrow at her avid stare at his fingers on his belt. She busied herself taking off her things. Realising she had to completely undress before slipping on her bikini, she flushed.
Valenti of course, had stripped completely naked, his expression showing not a single ounce of self-consciousness.
Lotte reminded herself of what had happened this morning and yesterday.
How he’d seemed enthralled with her body.
The confidence boost helped, warming her fingers and galvanising her into shedding her clothes faster.