In The Count's Bed: The Count's Blackmail Bargain / The French Count's Pregnant Bride / The Italian Count's Baby. Catherine Spencer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ make-up is spoiled?’ he said.

      ‘I’m not wearing make-up,’ she retorted, trying to catch her breath.

      He slanted a faint grin at her. ‘I know. Now let us try again.

      ‘You lack confidence, no more than that, so you must learn to trust the water,’ he directed eventually. ‘Let it hold you, and do not fight it. Now, turn on your back and float for a while. I will support you.’

      She did as she was bidden, feeling the dazzle of the sun on her closed eyelids.

      She was not even aware of the moment he gently withdrew his hand from beneath her head until she heard him say, ‘Brava, Laura. You do well,’ and realised he was no longer beside her.

      Her eyes flew open in swift panic, to see him watching her from the side of the pool, and she floundered suddenly, coughing and spluttering. He reached her in a moment, and held her.

      ‘You let go of me,’ she gasped.

      ‘About five minutes ago,’ he told her drily. ‘You stopped believing. That is all. But now, when you are ready, you will swim beside me across the pool, because you know you can. And remember to breathe,’ he added sternly.

      She gave him a mutinous look. ‘Si, signore.’

      But to her amazement she did it, and she felt almost euphoric with achievement when she found herself clinging to the opposite edge, catching her breath.

      Alessio pulled himself out of the water, and stood for a moment, raking back his wet hair. Then he bent, sliding his hands under Laura’s armpits, lifting her out to join him as if she were a featherweight.

      ‘But I wanted to swim back,’ she objected, smiling up at him as he put her down on the tiles.

      ‘I think that is enough for the first time,’ he said softly. He paused. ‘After all, I do not wish to exhaust you.’ His hands moved slowly to her shoulders. Remained there.

      Laura was suddenly aware of a strange stillness as if the world had halted on its axis. Or was it just that her heart seemed to have stopped beating? He had told her to breathe, she thought confusedly, but it was impossible. Her throat was too tight.

      In spite of the heat, she was shivering, an unfamiliar weakness penetrating the pit of her stomach.

      He was looking down at her, she realised, watching her parted lips. He was smiling a little, but there was no laughter in the half-closed eyes, which studied her with frank intensity, as if mesmerised.

      He bent towards her, and she thought, He’s going to kiss me.

      Deep within her, she felt a pang of yearning so acute that the stifled breath burst from her in a raw, shocked gasp. And with it came a kind of sanity as she realised exactly what she was inviting. And from whom…

      She heard a voice she barely recognised as her own say raggedly, ‘No—Alessio—please, no!’

      The dark brows lifted wryly. He reached up, and framed her face with both hands, his thumbs stroking back the wet strands of hair behind her ears, then stroking gently along her cheekbones and down to the fragility of her jawline.

      She felt him touch the corners of her quivering mouth, then the long fingers travelled down her throat to her shoulders again.

      He said softly, ‘No?’

      He hooked a finger under the strap of her swimsuit, and drew it down, then bent, brushing his lips softly across the faint mark it had left on her skin.

      Laura felt her whole body shudder in sudden heated delight at his touch. Knew, with dismay, that he would have recognised that too.

      He said quietly, ‘Laura, I have a house overlooking the sea near Sorrento. It is quiet, and very beautiful, and we could be there together in just a few hours.’ His dark eyes met hers. ‘So—are you still quite sure it is—no?’ he asked.

      Somehow, even at this stage, she had to retrieve the situation. Somehow…

      She stepped back, out of range, lifting her chin in belated defiance. ‘I’m—absolutely certain.’ Fiercely, she jerked her strap back into place. ‘And you—you—you have no right—no right at all to think—to assume…’

      ‘I assume nothing, carissima.’ He raised his hands in pretended surrender, his tone amused—rueful. ‘But you cannot blame me for trying.’

      ‘But I do blame you,’ she flung back at him. ‘And so would Paolo, if I decided to make trouble and tell him.’ She swallowed. ‘Do you think he’d be pleased to know you were—going behind his back like this?’

      He shrugged. ‘Paolo’s feelings were never a consideration, I confess. I was far more concerned with my own pleasure, bella mia.’ He smiled. ‘And with yours,’ he added softly.

      She felt betraying colour swamp her face, but stood her ground. ‘You still seem very sure of yourself, signore. I find that extraordinary.’

      ‘Losing a battle,’ he said, ‘does not always alter the course of the war.’ He paused. ‘And you called me Alessio just now—while you were waiting for me to kiss you.’

      Her flush deepened at this all-too-accurate assessment. She said through gritted teeth, ‘The war, as you call it, is over. I shall tell Paolo I want to go back to England immediately. As soon as my flight can be rearranged.’

      ‘And he may even agree,’ he said. ‘As long as it does not interfere with his own plans. But if there are difficulties, do not hesitate to ask for my help.’ He added silkily, ‘I have some influence with the airline.’

      Ignoring her outraged gasp, he walked across to his lounger, picked up the towel and began to dry himself with total unconcern. Laura snatched up her own things and headed for the steps.

      ‘Arrivederci.’ His voice followed her. ‘Until later, bellissima.

      ’ ‘Until hell freezes over,’ she threw back breathlessly, over her shoulder, then forced her shaking legs to carry her up the steps and out of the sight and sound of him.

      Alessio watched her go, caught between exultancy and irritation, with a heaped measure of sexual frustration thrown in.

      He ached, he thought sombrely, like a moonstruck adolescent.

      Stretching out on the lounger, he gazed up at the sky, questions rotating in his mind.

      Why, in the name of God, had he let her walk away like that? He’d felt her trembling when he’d touched her. Why hadn’t he pressed home his advantage—thrown the cushions on the ground, and drawn her down there with him, peeling the damp swimsuit from her body, and silencing her protests with kisses as he’d taken her, swiftly and simply?

      Winning her as his woman, he thought, while he appeased the hunger that was tearing him apart.

      Afterwards, he would have sent her to pack her things while he enjoyed another kind of satisfaction—the moment when he told Paolo, and his damnable mother, that he was taking Laura away with him. His mission accomplished in the best possible way.

      Then, СКАЧАТЬ