Didn’t he feel anything? Eve demanded. Couldn’t he? Was he so empty of normal feelings that he hadn’t been affected when her insides had turned to jelly? For a moment she’d thought … She’d been a fool to think, she told herself, but found a small stone bench because her knees had begun to tremble. A fool to think he’d felt that need, that longing, that crystal-clear rightness when their bodies had touched.

She’d meant the gesture for comfort, but the moment it had been made, her world had turned upside down. She’d wanted to go on just standing there with her cheek close to his, saying nothing, feeling everything. But that wasn’t what he had felt, she thought, and closed her eyes. She was letting her reach exceed her grasp.

Alexander of Cordina wasn’t for her. She should thank God for that, because it would be terrifying if he were. A sane woman might dream of loving a prince, but that same woman would be wise to remember that her choices would diminish if she did, her privacy would end altogether and her chances for a normal life would be nil. Beyond that, the man himself was frightening enough. He wouldn’t be kind unless the mood suited him, and he would never be patient. A man like Alexander expected perfection, while she respected flaws.

Yet she’d wanted him. For one mad moment, she’d forgotten who and what he was, and had wanted to be held, to be loved by him. Would the world change somehow if she were loved by him? In the garden, with the scent of wisteria floating over her head, she thought it might. Yet she’d wanted to be the one to take that strained, weary look from around his eyes and make him smile again.

It would pass, Eve assured herself. She was too practical to indulge herself in foolish fantasies. And if it didn’t pass naturally, she would push it along. She had work to concentrate on, plays to produce, a company to organize.

First thing in the morning, she’d be leaving Cordina. By the time she returned, any momentary insanity would be forgotten, and she’d be too busy to indulge in any more.

Not entirely reassured, she rose. At least her legs were solid again. She’d try to find Bennett. Nothing and no one would clear her head faster.

* * *

“I can’t believe what you’ve done with this place, Brie.” Eve sat on the wide, shady veranda and looked out at the long, rolling lawn, the paddocks, the acres of turned and tended earth. The youngest child, Dorian, sat at the bottom of the steps and fondled a new kitten.