With that Adriane hung up the phone.
He inhaled deeply several times and released the breath slowly, and the anger had dissipated from his aching stomach by the time he arrived at the hotel and entered through the back door. The media hadn’t been alerted to his presence and he was hoping to keep it that way. If Gianni knew where he was, his brother would sell him out in a heartbeat.
Someday, they might mend fences, but Adriane wasn’t holding out much hope. His brother was too bitter, too changed to accept the way the cards had fallen — the way Gianni had made them fall.
Entering his suite, he called his assistant and had dinner ordered. As he went to shower and dress, a smile flitted across his lips. Tonight would get his mind off his responsibilities and his troubles. Tonight was about sating desires, and nothing else.
Whistling as the hot water streamed down his muscular body, Adriane smiled genuinely for the first time since his father’s burial. Rachel was just what he needed before he became fully owned by his people. For the next few days, it was OK to be selfish.
Well, he thought, I won’t be completely selfish. My lover will be well satisfied.
Chapter Eleven
Ari
“Have you read this, Rafe?” Ari exclaimed.
Rafe jumped at the sound of Ari’s excited voice. Then he looked up from his computer to see what had her so animated. She’d been poring over the pages of his ancestor’s journal for two hours. The bottle of wine was almost finished, mostly by her, and he’d decided his seduction skills were decidedly lacking.
Such a fine vintage wine, and it had been wasted, in his opinion. Once she’d opened the pages of the journal, he’d ceased to exist for her, leaving him to grab his laptop and get work done.
He’d whispered in her ear, brought her a plate of fruit and cheese, accidentally brushed his leg up against hers, and he might as well have been a cardboard box. She hadn’t so much as glanced at him. After a few attempts at speaking with her, he’d discovered that she was simply mumbling, not hearing a word he was saying. So he’d given up.
She was fully mesmerized by a man he shouldn’t be jealous of, but actually was. The man had been dead for over a hundred years, yet still had her full attention.
“No. I haven’t read it, just learned of the stories through my grandmother. Why don’t you read to me?”
“Oh, it’s beautiful, just beautiful. He loved Saphronia so much. I can feel every emotion he was feeling, the pain, fear, devastation; it’s all here!”
“It was a frightening time for many in those days,” he said, trying to keep her talking. Setting his laptop aside, he moved closer on the pretext of leaning over so he could see the book. He knew he was a bit pathetic when he had to use the excuse of reading just to get close to her. If only he hadn’t promised not to touch her.
“It’s not just his words, Rafe, but hers as well. She wrote to him, and he kept the letters from her in the journal, tucked away right next to his personal thoughts and feelings about what he was dealing with. I’m so grateful that your ancestor was smart enough to have the pages protected or all of this could have faded away by now.”
“Yes, some of the old letters have weathered the test of time, and others haven’t. My grandmother loved the journal so much that my grandfather didn’t want to take any chances, so he protected it. That way she could flip through the pages as much as she wanted without fear of ruining it.”
“Oh, I would love to hear the story of your grandparents’ romance, too. It sounds like you come from a long line of romantics,” she said, gracing him with a beautiful smile.
In her excitement, she reached out and grabbed his arm, her fingers searing his skin. Since she was the first to touch, would it be breaking the rules if he hauled her onto his lap and finally took her lips? Yes, dammit. He knew it would.
He gritted his teeth; he didn’t dare move, for fear that she would pull away.
“Listen to this:
My dearest Saphronia, the nights grow ever darker and colder without you near me. I miss the feel of your fingers in my hand, the soft tilt of your lips when you smile, the sparkle in your eyes when you laugh. There are times I think our God might never call an end to this terrible war, and I’ll never find comfort in your presence again. My life as a soldier is grim, but I am saved from despair by thinking of those few days of felicity with you. The thought of kissing your sweet lips one more time keeps me going. The only thing that gets me through these long nights is the knowledge that you are waiting for me. Just know that if anything ever happens to me, you were loved to my last, dying breath. You are my light, my world. They can say you are the enemy, because you live in the Rebel South, but I will never believe it. And though I cannot regret a war waged against slavery, I am cut to the quick that you and I must be so cruelly kept asunder.
Self-slaughter has been treated as a horror and a shame by the church and by many who follow our Lord’s tenets. And yet I witness it more and more, and with more understanding. Today, a young man in our company, a child of seventeen, took his own life after looking upon a man he’d just killed, a Confederate soldier of similar age and aspect to his. My God! The body before him, the life taken by his hand, was his cousin, with whom he had engaged in the delights of boyish play only two years before. I am consumed by horror at the thought that such could happen to me. What if my weapon were to send one of your loved ones to the grave? How could I endure?
My love for you has no end. Please, know this and never doubt.
Yours always,
William
“That is the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever read,” Ari said as a tear fell down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away before it managed to reach the pages of the journal — before realizing that the pages were protected against her tears. Then her fingers stroked the page where an obvious teardrop from long ago had fallen and smudged the word love. It was so fitting.
“That is sad,” Rafe said softly, not knowing what else to say. He wasn’t a cold man, but it was hard to feel heartbreak over a couple of people who were long gone.
“I have to know what happened. Did they make it back into each other’s arms? Do you know?” she demanded.
“I can’t tell you that. It would ruin the story for you,” he said, not wanting her to lose interest in reading the journal. It was the only thing he had right now that would keep her coming back to his home.