One Night: Red-Hot Secrets: A Secret Disgrace / Secrets of a Powerful Man / Wicked Secrets. PENNY JORDAN

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СКАЧАТЬ the ceremony at Anna Maria’s insistence, Louise told herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that the lack of width of the aisle meant that she and Caesar had to walk so close together.

      Not that her ordeal was over yet. There was still the formal reception to get through, which was being held in the castello’s grandly elegant baroque reception rooms, a long corridor’s walk away from the chapel in the older part of the building.

      ‘You’re a duchess now, Mum.’

      Oliver’s wide smile as he came up to her was all Louise needed to see to know how her son was reacting to their marriage. These last few days had brought him out of himself so much, and had given him a confidence and a joy in life that lifted her heart every time she looked at him. For that alone any sacrifice she might have to make was more than worth it—even if there were times when she felt a little hurt by the strength of the bond that was developing between father and son. And that was something on which she couldn’t fault Caesar. She had been afraid both that he would over-indulge Oliver and also that he might be too formal and distant with him, but to her surprise—and a little to her chagrin—he seemed somehow to know instinctively how to relate to Ollie.

      But now, as she watched her son race off to join Anna Maria’s boys, Louise acknowledged that she felt very alone. If only she had her grandparents to turn to. Later in the week there was to be a formal ceremony to inter her grandparents’ ashes at the church of Santa Maria.

      Louise felt her body tense as she realised that the most senior member of her grandparents’ village was heading towards her. It was as headman that Aldo Barado had told Caesar he must not see her again. His had been the loudest and harshest of the voices raised against her by the community all those years ago, and Louise could see that he wasn’t exactly enjoying the prospect of paying his respects to her as the wife of his Duca. He must be in his late sixties now, Louise reflected.

      Although he was supposed to be listening to one of his advisers, trying to persuade him that he had already spent enough on building new schools for his people, Caesar recognised that his attention was wandering, and that moreover his gaze was constantly drifting in the direction of his new wife.

      Why? Because he felt protective of her as her husband? Because he now understood just how much she had suffered growing up and felt guilty that he too—however briefly—had been a part of that judgemental group? Because as the mother of his son she should have his public support? Because he was proud to call her his wife, knowing how strong and brave she had been?

      Because of all of those facts, and because deep down inside him there was still an ache of desire for her. Perhaps all those years ago a part of his psyche had somehow recognised what his logical nature and his upbringing had rejected: namely that she was not the person she had been made out to be.

      Louise seemed to know instinctively how to relate to others, Caesar acknowledged as he watched her mixing with their guests, always listening to them with interest, never hurrying them to finish whatever it was they wanted to say, and when she did move on leaving them with an approving smile on their faces. Such a wife could only be an asset to a man in his position. The gauche eighteen-year-old he remembered, determined to kick against authority and cause controversy, had obviously risen like a phoenix from her past to become a beautiful, confident woman.

      Now, as he watched Aldo Barado approaching her, Caesar excused himself to his companion and made a determined path towards them. It was his responsibility, his inbuilt duty, to protect his wife and his son, and he certainly wasn’t going to let her down as her father had done.

      Was she actually foolish enough to feel relief because Caesar had suddenly materialised at her side seconds ahead of Aldo? Louise derided herself. If so, she was making a big mistake. Caesar and Aldo had been on the same side all those years ago, and that side hadn’t been hers, had it?

      Her relief quickly turned to a sharp surge of anxiety and agitation when Caesar put his arm around her to draw her close, his unexpected movement taking her completely off guard. Even worse, her instinctive defensive attempt to keep her body from actually touching his somehow resulted in the pressure of his arm actually causing her to sway into him, just as though she was a weak and adoring fool who actually wanted his embrace. Wasn’t it bad enough that he had blackmailed her into this wholly false pretence of a marriage without him heaping even more deceit on her by looking for all the world as though he adored her and they were the only two people in the room?

      She hated herself for not being able to break the eye contact he was inflicting on her, and for allowing him to make her a party to this sideshow of husbandly affection. What was even worse was that, given that she knew he was doing it to deceive onlookers, because his own pride could not bear the thought of anyone knowing that he had been forced to marry her in order to be a proper father to his son, her own senses were somehow falling into the trap of actually responding to the fake look of male longing only restrained for the sake of propriety that Caesar was giving her.

      It shocked her to her core to feel tiny darts of female heat leaping from nerve-ending to nerve-ending in tiny but devastatingly effective points of fiery awareness. And what shocked her even more was the sudden knowledge that this wasn’t the first time she had felt that sensation. Louise could feel self-protective alarm and denial racing down her spine, but it was too late. She was eighteen again, and standing with her grandparents in the village square, watching whilst Caesar strode around it, talking to his people, her attention for the first time in her life focused wholly on a man who wasn’t her father and who was affecting her in a totally unfamiliar way.

      It was impossible for her to suppress her small betraying gasp. She had buried that moment as deeply as though it had never happened. She wished desperately that it had not happened. But the truth was there in the open now, confronting and shocking her. So she had momentarily felt the young woman’s reckless thrill of sensual reaction to a good-looking man? What did that mean except that she was human? Nothing. She had soon learned that Caesar was no romantic hero for a naive girl to put on a pedestal and adore.

      ‘My lovely wife.’

      The sound of Caesar’s voice dragged her back to the present, her body tensing instinctively and immediately when he reached out and drew her towards him, his arm around her waist. He was simply playing a role. She knew that. If she felt acutely aware of him then it was simply because she didn’t like the deception she was being forced to share. Nothing to do with the fact that she was acutely aware of the hard male strength of his arm around her in its parody of protection. She certainly wasn’t in the least bit vulnerable to the image Caesar was creating, and nor was she vulnerable to those quivers of sensation springing from the contact between their bodies. Even if that contact between them was making her tremble from head to foot.

      Caesar could clearly see Louise’s rejection of her body’s helpless response to him in her gaze. All those years ago she had trembled just as she was doing now—but back then she had made no attempt to conceal her body’s reaction to his simplest movement, as though she had been powerless to control her sensual response to him, openly delighting in it instead, as her eager yearning movements towards him had urged him to take what she was offering. Guilt shadowed his own body’s automatic response to this unwanted betrayal of her reaction to him. Why did it so affect him to see that, though she was so obviously hostile to that reaction, she was incapable of controlling it? What was the matter with him? He wasn’t a naive boy to be driven by a need he couldn’t control simply because a woman trembled with sensual awareness of him. He had far more important matters on which he needed to focus. It was Oliver who mattered now. Oliver and his future. Oliver’s acceptance by his people and with that Louise’s acceptance as well.

      ‘You will have to forgive me, Aldo,’ he told the village headman. ‘I confess I can hardly bear to let Louise out of my sight now that we СКАЧАТЬ