His Virgin Bride: The Fiorenza Forced Marriage / Bought: For His Convenience or Pleasure? / A Night With Consequences. Margaret Mayo

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СКАЧАТЬ could see beyond the prim and proper façade she adopted to the passionate woman simmering beneath. She was a feisty little thing with her flashing grey-blue eyes and pouting mouth, her sensual allure so powerful he could barely keep his hands off her every time she was in the same room as him.

      He wondered if she was holding him at bay deliberately. Had she done that with his father, leading him on and on until he finally agreed to give her what she wanted? If so, what was it she wanted from him? She already had half of the estate secure in her hands. Nothing he could do or say could take it away from her. But did she want more, and, if so, what?

      ‘If you say you did not sleep with him, then I suppose I shall have to accept that,’ he said after a pause.

      ‘I have no reason to lie to you about something like that,’ she said. ‘What could I hope to gain by doing so?’

      ‘I am not sure,’ he said, rubbing at his jaw. ‘I am still trying to figure that part out. Eighteen months ago you had not even met my father, now you own half of his estate. I am trying to join the dots but so far with little success.’

      Emma reached for her glass. ‘Maybe he wanted you to learn to trust people,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he sensed I wouldn’t do the wrong thing by you.’

      ‘Interesting theory, Emma,’ he said with an unreadable smile. ‘But I wonder if he really knew you. You caught him at a vulnerable time. He was dying and his judgement may well have been impaired. For all I know you could have talked him into this madcap scheme.’

      Emma compressed her lips. ‘Of course you would think that, wouldn’t you?’ she said. ‘You don’t want me to be anything but a scam artist, do you? What if you’re wrong about me, Rafaele? What then?’

      He studied her for a lengthy moment. ‘If that is the case I guess I will have to get down on bended knee and beg your forgiveness,’ he said. ‘But it is hardly something you would be able to prove either way, is it?’

      Emma could think of a very good way of proving it, but didn’t like to inform him of it. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her inexperience; it was more a case of not wanting him to ridicule her. Somehow that seemed particularly important. Besides, she could just imagine what he would say. She could even imagine his teasing smile.

      ‘I don’t have to prove anything to you,’ she said instead. ‘You can believe me or not, it makes no difference to the truth.’

      ‘So you don’t do recreational, just-for-the-hang-of-it sex?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I think we could be dynamite together. Fire meets ice, that sort of thing.’

      ‘I think any woman with half a brain would give you a wide berth,’ she said. ‘You won’t commit, you’re incapable of falling in love and you don’t want kids. For the thinking woman you’re a very bad deal, Rafaele.’

      He gave her a bone-melting smile. ‘But I make up for it in other ways. Even thinking women like hot sex, do they not?’

      Emma hated that she blushed so readily. ‘I can’t speak for other women, but personally I would rather share my body with a man who treats me as an equal, not as a sex object.’

      ‘I do not see you as a sex object, Emma. I just think we could be really good together.’

      ‘Oh, yes, but for how long?’

      He gave a could-mean-anything shrug. ‘I am not one for setting time limits,’ he said. ‘Physical attraction has its own timetable.’

      ‘Yes, but in your case it lasts about as long as the life cycle of a flea,’ she said. ‘Or maybe even a gnat.’

      He gave a low chuckle of laughter. ‘You are so damned cute. I bet you do not even know how long a gnat’s life cycle is.’

      Emma tried to purse her lips, but somehow it ended in a lopsided smile. ‘You’re incorrigible. You really are.’

      He picked up her hand again and brushed his lips over the back of her knuckles, his dark-as-midnight gaze holding hers. ‘But you like me anyway, right, mio piccolo?’

      Emma didn’t answer but the words seemed to ring in the silence all the same: I like you. I like you too much.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      THE drive back to The Villa Fiorenza took only a few minutes, but Emma suddenly found she didn’t want the evening to be over. Rafaele had relaxed over dessert and coffee, chatting to her about his work as a share trader, telling her some amusing anecdotes about some of the people he’d met and the places he’d visited. She knew she was being a fool for letting her guard down around him, but for some reason the cold breath of common sense couldn’t seem to penetrate the warm mantle of complacency that had settled around her in his company.

      As he led the way to the front door of the grand old house Emma could smell the pungent clove-like scent of night stocks from the massive herbaceous border running along one side of the property. The purple and white pendulous blooms of sweetly scented wisteria hung in a fragrant arras from the trellis on one of the walls, and the melodious twinkle of the wind chimes hanging in the summer house carried over the garden on the slight breeze, setting an atmosphere that was as intoxicating as a mind-altering drug.

      ‘Why don’t we take a nightcap out to the arbour?’ Rafaele said once they were inside. ‘It is too nice a night to be indoors.’

      ‘That sounds lovely,’ Emma said, wondering if he had somehow read her mind. She had been thinking how nice it would be to sit out in the garden, breathing in the fragrant air and looking up at the peepholes of stars and planets in the dark blue blanket of the sky.

      A few minutes later she followed him out to the summer house, minus her heels, the soft, slightly damp carpet of the springy lawn tickling the soles of her bare feet.

      Rafaele handed her a cognac and patted the swing seat beside him. ‘You look like a nymph or a sprite,’ he said with a smile.

      Emma returned his smile with a warm one of her own. ‘I love nights like this,’ she said, curling her toes as she sat on the seat next to him. ‘I love the sounds and smells of a garden late at night. It’s like another world out here.’

      He placed his foot against the frame of the arched doorway to set the swing in motion. The gentle rocking motion brought their bodies closer together on the seat. Emma could feel the strong length of his thigh within a breath of her own, her shoulder brushing against his upper arm. Her skin tingled as he laid his left arm over the back of the seat, his fingers within touching distance of the nape of her neck. It would be so easy to turn and face him, to reach up and stroke her fingers over the lean planes and angles of his face, to explore the contours of his sensual mouth.

      ‘You have not touched your cognac,’ he said, looking at the glass she was cradling in her hands.

      ‘I haven’t got much of a head for alcohol,’ Emma confessed. ‘The wine we had at dinner has already addled my brain.’ And my common sense, she thought wryly as she placed her untouched glass on the nearest ledge.

      The long silence was measured by the sound of crickets chirruping in the background, СКАЧАТЬ