Salzano's Captive Bride. Daphne Clair

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      He seemed a tad bemused himself. His jaw went tight, and the taut skin over his cheekbones darkened further.

      Gathering her wits from wherever they’d dispersed themselves, Amber pulled at her imprisoned wrist, and with apparent reluctance he released it, thrusting his hand into the pocket of his trousers.

      “I did not remember what a desirable woman you are,” he said. “It is not so surprising I lost my head that night, and stepped outside the bounds of my normal behaviour.”

      Had he? “You weren’t the only one,” she told him dryly. And then warned herself, Shut up!

      He looked at her consideringly. “The woman I took to my bed in Caracas was no spotless virgin, I think.”

      Amber snapped, “That doesn’t make her a slut!” Momentarily she closed her eyes. Had she blown it with that automatic defence?

      Apparently unperturbed, he said, “I did not mean to imply such a thing. Merely that I assumed you were a woman of the world. Capable of protecting yourself from any…inconvenience. You yourself assured me of that afterwards, if you remember.”

      That jolted her. “I…don’t remember,” she claimed truthfully, hoping to close the subject. “Now would you—”

      “Had you had so much to drink?” he queried, frowning again. “I don’t knowingly take advantage of drunken women. You appeared well aware of what you were doing. And I believe from your reactions at the time that you very much enjoyed our…brief encounter. You remember that?” The gleam that had entered his eyes intensified, and his mouth curved a little at the corners.

      Heat rose again to Amber’s cheeks. Desperately she said, “No. Now—”

      “No?” Faint annoyance showed for an instant, and she supposed she’d offended his machismo.

      The way he let his gaze roam over her body didn’t help her flush subside. “Perhaps,” he said in a reflective tone like a tiger’s purr, “I can refresh your memory.”

      The sound she made when he swiftly closed the space between them again was something between a gasp and a squeal, but before she could say anything coherent he had his arms around her and had pulled her close, her body arching against the solid masculine warmth of his. Even as she opened her mouth to protest he covered it with his own, tipping her head back, his breath mingling with hers.

      His lips were gentle but questing, moving across her startled ones even after she raised her hands to push at him.

      The tip of his tongue was tracing an erotic path along her upper lip, igniting a shocking flare of answering desire before she rallied enough to clench her hands into fists and shove them against his chest.

      His hands fell, and Amber shakily stepped back.

      A glittering gaze met hers, and she swallowed before saying in a voice unlike her own, “I want you out of here right now.”

      As if he hadn’t heard, he said, “I also seem to have forgotten much.” She didn’t know whether to be pleased or alarmed that he looked nearly as stunned as she felt. “You taste of honey…and passion,” he said. “Something else I failed to remember.”

      He probably remembered nothing but wine, but she didn’t want to go into that. Nor did she want to fall under the spell he’d woven with that oh-so-sexy, devastating kiss. “I said I want you to go,” she stated precisely. “Please.”

      His expression became baffled, but he gave a jerky little bow of his head and said, “If you truly wish it.”

      “Yes.” Not trusting herself to say more, she marched past him to the hallway and flung the front door open. “Our business is finished,” she said as he passed her.

      He turned then, a half-amused, half-rueful smile on his lips, his eyes making another leisurely, perhaps slightly perplexed examination of her entire body before he gave a brief shake of his head, then descended the shallow steps and strode away.

      Tempted to yell a rude word or two after him, she resisted and instead closed the door with a snap and leaned back against it until her legs regained some strength.

      Never in her life had she imagined being caught in a trap like this.

      One day she’d stop feeling so damned guilty, because wasn’t it all for the best?

      Of course, she assured herself. For him as well as for…well, everyone.

      She hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true.

      A flimsy excuse. But she ought to be happy at emerging unscathed and just forget the whole thing ever happened.

      Forget?

      She lifted the back of her hand to scrub at her lips, which still tingled with the memory of Marco Salzano’s kiss.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE following day, instead of driving home after work, Amber took the route to her sister’s home.

      The seventies house that Azure and her husband, Rickie, were gradually restoring with Amber’s occasional help was in an outer suburb where real estate was less horrendously expensive than in more fashionable areas.

      Sitting at the scarred auction-bargain table in the big kitchen, Amber sipped at the cheap wine her sister had poured. Azure was on her second glass, and was now smiling at the plump, rosy-cheeked baby on her knee—a smile so special it caught at Amber’s heart—but the baby, unimpressed, wrinkled his face up and whimpered crossly.

      Azure handed him over to his aunt while she poured milk into a plastic sippy cup.

      Amber bent to kiss the amazingly smooth, warm skin of the baby’s temple and studied him while he looked at her interestedly with round eyes so dark she couldn’t determine their colour, and he babbled in his own private language interspersed with the odd Mama and Dada and even Namba which Amber hoped was his effort at Auntie Amber.

      Rickie’s eyes were dark too, inherited from his Maori grandfather along with the black curls that Benny’s soft fuzz promised to duplicate.

      In the baby’s blob of a nose, chubby face and tiny pouting little mouth there was certainly no hint of the man who had filled Amber’s flat with his utterly adult male presence and striking features.

      Seeing his mother approach with the cup, the little boy wriggled to the floor with a demanding “Ma!”

      “At the table,” she said firmly, perching him again on her own knee as she sat down.

      “Azure,” Amber felt driven to say, “you’re sure there’s no chance he’s Mr. Salzano’s baby?”

      She recognised with a sinking feeling a flicker of fear in her sister’s guileless eyes, belying Azure’s defiant, “I told you, he misunderstood my letter. I never said that!”

      “But you did have sex with him.” Unbelievable though it seemed, Azure had confessed to that when Amber pressed her about the mysterious Venezuelan.

      “Once. СКАЧАТЬ