The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t love this man. She hadn’t honoured him. And as for obedience...

      Sandro placed a hand on her elbow, and despite every intention not to feel anything for him, just that simple touch set sparks racing up her arm, exploding in her heart. She hated how much he affected her. Hated how weak and vulnerable he made her feel, how he made her want things she knew he would never give her.

      ‘We will say our goodbyes in a few minutes,’ he said in a low voice, and Liana stiffened.

      ‘Goodbyes? But we’re not going anywhere.’

      Sandro’s mouth curved in a humourless smile. His eyes were as hard as metal. ‘We’re going to our honeymoon suite, Liana. To go to bed.’

      She pulled her arm away from his light touch, realisation icing her veins. Of course. Their wedding night. They would have to consummate their marriage now. It was a duty she’d known she would have to perform, even if she hadn’t let herself think too much about it. Now it loomed large and incredibly immediate, incredibly intimate, and even as dread pooled in her stomach she couldn’t keep a contrary excitement from leaping low in her belly—fear and fascination, desire and dread all mixed together. She hated the maelstrom this man created within her.

      ‘You aren’t going to steal away yet, are you?’ Alyse approached them, Leo by her side. ‘I haven’t even had a chance to talk with Liana yet, not properly.’

      Liana offered a sick smile, her mind still on the night ahead, alone with Sandro.

      ‘You’ll have plenty of opportunity later,’ Sandro answered, his fingers closing once more over Liana’s elbow. ‘But for now I want my bride to myself.’ He smiled as he said it, but to Liana it felt like the smile of a predator, intent on devouring its prey.

      And that was how intimacy with Sandro felt. Like being devoured. Like losing herself, everything she’d ever clung to.

      Alyse glanced uncertainly at Sandro before turning back to Liana. ‘We’ll have to have a proper chat soon,’ she said, and Liana nodded jerkily.

      ‘Yes, I look forward to getting to know both of you,’ she said with as much warmth as she could inject into her voice, although she feared it wasn’t all that much. ‘You both seem very happy in your marriage.’

      ‘And you will be in yours, Queen Liana,’ Leo said quietly, ‘if you just give Sandro some time to get used to the idea.’

      Liana watched as he slipped his hand into his wife’s, his fingers squeezing hers gently. Something in her ached at the sight of that small yet meaningful touch. When had she last been touched like that?

      It had been years. Decades. She’d found it so hard to give and receive affection after Chiara’s death. For a second she could almost feel her sister’s skinny arms hook around her neck as she pressed her cheek next to hers. She could feel her silky hair, her warm breath as she whispered in her ear. She’d always had secrets, Chiara, silly secrets. She’d whisper her nonsense in Liana’s ear and then giggle, squeezing her tight.

      Liana swallowed and looked away. She couldn’t think of Chiara now or she’d fall apart completely. And she didn’t want to think about the yearning that had opened up inside her, an overwhelming desire for the kind of intimacy she’d closed herself off from for so long. To give and receive. To know and be known. To love and be loved.

      None of it possible, not with this man. Her husband.

      She might be leaving this room for her wedding night, but that kind of intimacy, with love as its sure foundation, was not something she was about to experience. Something she didn’t want to experience, even if everything in her protested otherwise.

      Love opened you up to all sorts of pain. It hurt.

      But she didn’t even need to worry about that, because right now she and Sandro were just going to have sex. Emotionless sex.

      They spent the next few minutes saying their goodbyes; her mother hugged her tightly and whispered that she hoped she would be happy. Liana murmured back nonsense about how she already was and saw the tension that bracketed her mother’s eyes lessen just a little. Her father didn’t hug her; he never had, not since Chiara had died. She didn’t blame him.

      A quarter of an hour later she left the reception with Sandro; neither of them spoke as they walked down several long, opulent corridors and then up the wide front staircase of the palace, down another corridor, up another staircase, and finally to the turret room that was kept for newlyweds.

      Sandro opened the door first, ushering her in, and Liana didn’t look at him as she walked into the room. She took in the huge stone fireplace, the windows open to the early evening sky, the enormous four-poster bed piled high with silken pillows and seeming almost to pulse with expectation.

      She resisted the urge to wipe her damp palms against the narrow skirt of her wedding gown and walked to the window instead, taking in several needed lungfuls of mountain air. The sun was just starting to sink behind the timbered houses of Averne’s Old Town, the Alps fringing the horizon, their snowy peaks thrusting towards a violet sky. It was all incredibly beautiful, and yet also chilly and remote. As chilly and remote as she felt, shrinking further and further into herself, away from the reality—the intimacy—of what was about to happen between them.

      Behind her she heard the door click shut.

      ‘Would you like to change?’ Sandro asked. He sounded formal and surprisingly polite. Liana didn’t turn from the window.

      ‘I don’t believe I have anything to change into.’

      ‘There’s a nightdress on the bed.’

      She turned then and saw the silk-and-lace confection spread out on the coverlet. It looked horribly revealing, ridiculously romantic. ‘I don’t see much point in that.’

      Sandro huffed a hard laugh. ‘I didn’t think you would.’

      She finally forced herself to look at him. ‘There’s no point in pretending, is there?’

      ‘Is that what it would be?’ He lounged against the doorway; while she’d been gazing out of the window he’d shed his formal coat and undone his white tie. His hair was ruffled, his eyes sleepy, and she could see the dark glint of a five o’clock shadow on his chiselled jaw, the hint of chest hair from the top opened buttons of his shirt. He looked dissolute and dangerous and...sexy.

      The word popped into her head of its own accord. She didn’t want to think of her husband as sexy. She didn’t want to feel that irresistible magnetic pull towards him that already had her swaying slightly where she stood. She didn’t want to feel so much. If she felt this, she’d feel so much more. She would drown in all the feelings she’d suppressed for so long.

      ‘You weren’t pretending the last time I kissed you,’ Sandro said softly, and to Liana it sounded like a taunt.

      ‘You’re as proud as a polecat about that,’ she answered. Sandro began to stroll towards her.

      ‘Why fight me, Liana? Why resist me? We’re married. We must consummate our marriage. Why don’t we at least let this aspect of our union bring us pleasure?’

      ‘Because nothing else about it will?’ she filled in, her tone sharp, and Sandro just СКАЧАТЬ