A Sicilian Marriage. Michelle Reid

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      It was the silken edge to his voice that brought her to a wary standstill, with her fingers already gripping the handle to the bathroom door. Past experience with that tone warned her to beware—because the silkier Rafael’s voice became the more dangerous he became. If she dared to open this door now then he would not hesitate to react.

      ‘OK.’ She turned, slender shoulders pressing back against the door. ‘Say what you have to say,’ she invited.

      He was still standing by the window, so his face was shadowed by the sunset coming from behind him. But she could see the tension in his jawline; could feel