She glanced around. “You don’t feel guilty at all about everyone who had to make this happen twice? They might be smiling, but I bet they all wish they were sleeping.”
He spun her around again. “I have given up many nights of sleep to ensure these same people have what they need. I would take a bullet for them, as they would for me. My life is dedicated to them, just as theirs are to me.”
“That’s actually beautiful.” And a level of commitment outside of Rachelle’s experience—at least when it came to men. Did he carry that sentiment over into his relationships? “Have you ever been in love?”
“No,” he said confidently enough that her heart cringed.
Well, that clears up any misconception I might have that he’s falling for me. She tensed in his arms. “I don’t want to meet more of your family or your so-close-they’re-like-family friends.” He effortlessly swung her around again, and she matched his steps naturally. Here, as well as in bed, they fit. It was just every time he opened his mouth that she wondered what the hell she was doing.
“Why are you upset with me now, little Rachelle?” He didn’t look particularly concerned by the possibility.
But since he asked . . . “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself. I’m okay with this being temporary, but I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to get confused.”
“Temporary.” He repeated the word as if mulling it. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re the first woman I’ve considered marrying.”
“M-marrying?” She tripped over his foot and stumbled against his chest. Does that mean he—? Didn’t he just say he’d never been in—? “We barely know each other.”
He leaned down and murmured in her ear, “I wouldn’t say that after last night.”
Her heart went into a wild panic in her chest. “Marriage is more than that. You don’t know anything about me, really. Not even my favorite food.”
“That information would be best given to whichever chef we employ.”
“Or my interests. Or what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
“The rest of your life would be here in Vandorra. Your interests would be me, our family, and our people.”
She froze. “And what would your interests be?”
“That depends on how well you continue to please me in bed.”
She shoved at him. Of course he didn’t move. He was an irritatingly strong wall of muscle. “Of all the egotistical . . . sexist . . .”
He roared with laughter and pulled her flush against his chest. “It was a joke. You’re so easy to rile. Smile, little Rachelle. It’s not every day you receive a proposal from a prince, is it?”
She snorted. “That was not a proposal. At least not one I’d ever say yes to.”
His hold on her tightened. “I have never met a more contrary woman.”
She held his gaze. Holding out against the fire in them took effort. On a purely primal level, she wanted to be his, but not on his terms. “What a relief it must be, then, that my answer is no.”
His expression darkened. “I retract my proposal.”
“Too late. It’s already out there and has already been declined.”
He frowned a moment longer; then his humor returned. “How did I miss it? You were joking. Touché, little Rachelle.”
Is this what Cinderella had to work with?
What had he said? “Rein me in.”
He needs someone who can, but is that me? He started to dance again, and she easily fell into step with him. She thought about how poorly her family communicated with one another. If her father had been open about the fact that his father had killed himself, would his marriage have survived? If her mother had been open about her affair and about who Spencer’s real father was, would their family have healed instead of growing further apart? Was what a person hid more destructive than what they shared? One quality she admired about Magnus was that he said what he thought.
“This is who I am,” he’d said.
And I have never been more myself than when I’m with him.
As they spun around the dance floor, Rachelle asked herself why, despite how he drove her crazy, she couldn’t imagine returning home and going on a date with anyone else. “Make me yours as much as I will make you mine.” He’d issued that challenge to her.
I don’t know how to, but my gut tells me it doesn’t happen by agreeing to a proposal that doesn’t include love. “Magnus, don’t you think love should be a prerequisite to proposing to anyone?”
“Love is a weak base to build a marriage on.”
“You’re wrong. It’s the only base strong enough to sustain a marriage.”
“Did your parents love each other?”
His question cut deeply. “Yes.”
“My parents married before love came to them. What they had was commitment to each other and to our country.”
“I’m not your mother, Magnus.” As she said it, she realized something else as well. “I’m not mine, either. I want it all—the love, the promise, and the forever after. If I find that, I’ll fight for it, but I wouldn’t marry for less.”
They danced for several moments without speaking. There was a beauty and a sadness to the way they connected without truly connecting.
“I’m not looking for my mother. Nor am I interested in one like yours. You are the first woman I can imagine ruling beside me. If love is what you require, we’ll find it first.”
Find it? She chuckled, half convinced he was joking again. “That’s not how love works.”
He stopped then and kissed her as if she already belonged to him, was already a part of him. Lust and longing swept through her until there was nothing beyond him. When he raised his head, they were both breathing raggedly.
Breathlessly, she said, “But we could give it a try.”
Around noontime, Magnus woke to the satisfying feeling of a once-again-naked Rachelle cuddled to his side. Although he’d had many relationships in his life, he hadn’t encouraged any of those women to spend the night in his bed. Normally he preferred to wake alone, but Rachelle had turned that on its head. She was where she belonged.
He grimaced as he remembered his proposal. By nature he wasn’t an impulsive man, and he’d taken even himself by surprise with his talk of marriage. Their marathon of lovemaking must have softened his brain. He was lucky she’d turned him down.
Even though he didn’t feel lucky.
Logically, he knew it didn’t make sense to move forward with Rachelle before the issue with her grandmother was resolved. He didn’t believe she was involved, but there were still too many unknowns to be certain. He had a high success rate when it came to setting and achieving goals, because he gathered facts before he acted. There were fewer surprises that way. In his experience the unexpected was never good.
Except in the case of Rachelle. Nothing about her or what she brought into his life was predictable, and yet he couldn’t imagine waking up the next day without her in his bed. Was that the love she sought?
Many women would not have turned him down, regardless of how he’d phrased it. She expected more from him. Her happiness was already important to him. He enjoyed making her smile and could easily imagine raising children with her. Infidelity would never be a problem, since Magnus did not make a vow he was not prepared to honor.
She wants all that, and love, too. Not just any kind of love, but the romantic Americanized version of it. Am I capable of that?
Would I be happy with any less from her?
It was a question he hadn’t thought to ask himself until just that moment. He turned and studied her peaceful expression as she slept. He didn’t want her to agree to be with him out of convenience or because he was the best fuck she’d ever had. He wanted her heart as well as her body.
Without waking her, he gave her temple a gentle kiss. I understand now.
I will propose to you again, little Rachelle, but not until I can say the three words you will soon proclaim to me.
Her eyes opened slowly. “Do you ever sleep?”
“Should I respond with something romantic?”
She smiled. “You could try.”
He lightly slapped her rump beneath the bedsheets. “Perhaps I would do better with some instruction. What does an American man say after a night of good sex?”