Chapter Twenty nine

UNDER THE CURVING arches of a galleried ballroom an

orchestra played and Massimo looked around him. Be-

neath the low murmur of voices, he could hear the

occasional aristocratic laugh and belI-like sound of

champagne glasses being chinked.

 Even for a man

who had attended more than his fair share of daz-

zling occasions, the Antiochda New Year's ball was

quite something.

He could sense people's eyes on him- at least, ev-

eryone's except Toyin's. She seemed to be avoiding

his gaze as much as possible. He wondered if she was

remembering that unsatisfactory episode of lovemak-

ing yesterday, when she'd been about as responsive

as a block of ice in his arms. His mouth flattened

because that had never happened to him before a 

woman staying ice-cool even while he was deep in-

side her body. And Toyin wasn't some random lover

he could just forget about, or decide that maybe they

weren't so compatible after all. He shook his head

as someone offered him a glass of champagne. She

was the woman he had vowed to make his wife and

he knew it was a lifelong commitment.

A middle-aged blonde-a fortune in emeralds dazzling around her neck was making no attempt

to hide her interest and even though he was used to

being stared at, it had never felt like this before. He

was aware that his every movement was being ob-

served, his every comment noted and analysed. 

Was this what being royal was all about along with all

the damned rules and endless protocol which seemed

to make this palace seem like a giant institution? Was

that the reason Toyin had been so uptight the mo-

ment she'd stepped back on familiar territory? Why

she was scarcely recognisable as the warm woman

he'd grown to know?

He glanced across the ballroom as she strayed into

his line of vision. She was easily the most beautiful

woman in the room, her dark hair studded with sap-

phires and a matching midnight-blue gown hugging

her slim figure. Her ebony skin glowing.

 But she looked cool and aloof as she

greeted the high-born guests and once again that feel-

ing of unease settled over him.

He had asked her to be his bride but he couldn't

deny that doubts had started to creep into his mind

Since they'd arrived here in Antiochda. Back in New

York, it had all seemed ridiculously simple. He'd been

on a high--amazed to find a woman whose company

didn't irritate him and dazed from the non-stop and

amazing sex. 

They'd each dragged out their demons

and shone daylight on them and confronting them

had seemed to diminish them. She'd told him she

wanted a family and marriage; well, so did he. And

the cherry on the cake as far as he was concerned

was that neither of them was

appointing fairy tale known as love.

But in the high-octane buzz of the city it had been easy to forget that Toyin was a royal, while here it

had been in his face from the moment they'd touched

down. And nothing was ever going to change that.

He wanted children of his own but hadn't he over-

looked the fact that any child he sired with Toyin

would be royal by birth? As soon as they were born

wouldn't expectation be heaped all over their inno-

cent heads? Could he willingly subject any child of

his to a life beneath the glare of the spotlight?

Toyin was walking towards him and he could see

people bobbing into curtseys as she moved past. 

'So there you are,' she said.

'Here I am, he agreed,' his eyes capturing hers.

'And I'm all yours. Dance with me?"

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips as

he took her into his arms and the orchestra swelled

into a slow and sensuous waltz. He could smell a dif-

ferent scent on her skin, something warm and spicy,

and he felt the punch of his heart as he drew her close.

'Having fun? he questioned.

"Of course!' Her voice sounded bright. How about

you?"

"This is certainly a very elaborate production, he

said dryly.

Now what did he mean by that? Toyin glanced up

into Massimo's hard-boned face but his shuttered features 

gave her no clues. She thought how unapproachable

he looked this evening, even though she kept trying 

to tell herself she was imagining it.

But deep down

she knew she wasn't. Things had been awkward be-

tween them since that disorientating episode of sex

when she hadn't felt a thing. They hadn't discussed

it because neither of them had acknowledged it-and hadn't she been secretly praying he might not have

even noticed? That his own pleasure had been pow-

erful enough for it to have passed him by? But the

truth was that he hadn't laid a finger on her since.

Yet while his lack of attention had removed her

fear of a repeat episode of unresponsiveness, it did

nothing to lessen her dread about what was happen-

ing to them. Her growing fear that this was how it

was going to be from now on. Her stomach tied itself

up in knots as they moved around the dance floor.

Because what if she was one of those women who

couldn't sustain sexual enjoyment? She'd read about

that kind of thing happening. Women whose senses

shut down for whatever reason, leaving their highly

sexed menfolk aching and frustrated.

And she wasn't stupid. There were plenty of rea-

sons why a rift should have appeared between them

and it wasn't just because they weren't having sex.