by Lynne Graham
‘I think I can promise that,’ Alissandru husked, turning over to find the centre of her and establish his ownership with a sure expertise that made her writhe.
She found his mouth again for herself, arching up to him, needy in a way she had never allowed herself to be before, her entire body screaming for her to rush to the finishing line.
Alissandru loosed a hungry growl as she pushed against him, startled to register that he was struggling to hold on to his control because Isla’s need for him set him on fire. It had never been like that for him. He was as disciplined with sex as he was with everything else in his life, but his desire for Isla was hard to quench. He flipped her over onto her knees and sank into her with a hoarse sigh of unapologetic pleasure.
Isla was so excited she didn’t know which part of her was more inflamed. Her heart was thumping so crazily fast it was threatening to burst out of her chest. She was on a sensitised high of receptiveness. The throb at the tender heart of her was almost unbearable and then he was there where she most needed him to be and the intensity of that first forceful plunge sent her flying higher than the stars, her body clenching tight and exploding with scorching sensation, leaving her clutching at the metal headboard of the bed to stay in position.
But the sweltering heatwave of pulsating response only continued as he increased his tempo, grinding into her with an insistent power that drove her straight onto another high. The fierce paroxysms of pleasure blew her away until she finally collapsed under him, catching his cry of release as he hauled her to him in the aftermath, melding their hot, sweat-dampened bodies together with an intimacy that she found incredibly soothing.
‘It’s never been like this for me,’ Alissandru breathed raggedly, burying his nose in the soft springiness of her strawberry-scented curls, feeling the slight weight of her on top of him, shaken to experience the first glimmerings of renewed arousal at the same time. ‘We light up the sky.’
‘You walked away from it the first time,’ Isla could not resist reminding him, because she took everything he said with a large spoonful of salt, determined not to overestimate her worth in his eyes.
‘We barely knew each other,’ Alissandru reminded her wryly. ‘And maybe I did twin you with your sister more than I should’ve done...’
In the darkness, Isla smiled at that grudging concession, which she had thought she would never hear.
‘But nothing lasts for ever...particularly at our age,’ Alissandru continued, to ensure that she didn’t start thinking that their affair would be of the long-haul variety.
In silence, Isla gritted her teeth at that unnecessarily cool reminder. She didn’t believe in fairy-tale happy ever afters. As a child she had continually dreamt that her mother would reclaim her and sweep her off to a more exciting life with her and Tania in London but it had never happened. In the same way as a teenager she had dreamt of the perfect man coming along and that hadn’t happened, either. And then there had been the miscarriage and the loss of her first child. There had been few truly happy events in Isla’s life and she was inured to disappointment. She preferred to concentrate on reaching more practical goals that would improve her life.
She would sell the house and get onto a course that would hopefully win her a place at university. As always work and effort would be what won her better prospects. With that thought in mind, she murmured drowsily, ‘Relax, I’ll be bored with you within a couple of weeks... You may be my “first” but you certainly won’t be my last.’
The burn of hot liquid rage that flew up through Alissandru in answer to that forecast made him flinch. That was what he wanted to hear, he told himself decisively. It wasn’t a rejection, or a criticism of his performance, it was only reality. In all likelihood he would get bored first, although he was anything but bored at that particular moment, he conceded grudgingly. There was no need to make a major production out of the discovery of great sex or imagine that it was anything more. No, the wiser approach was to make the most of any unexpected gift of pleasure and let the future take care of itself.
* * *
‘I’m taking you shopping,’ Alissandru announced at eight the following morning as he rifled through the wardrobe where she hung her few outfits. ‘You haven’t got enough clothes.’
‘If you take me shopping you have to promise to keep your wallet closed,’ Isla said quietly.
Alissandru ignored the proviso and tossed a plain white sundress on the bed. ‘Come on, get up,’ he urged impatiently. ‘We’re heading back to the palazzo for breakfast.’
‘The palazzo? I thought you ordered breakfast to be delivered here?’ Isla exclaimed in consternation, only halfway out of the bed. ‘Besides, your mother’s there.’
Alissandru groaned. ‘My mother lives in her own entirely self-contained wing of the house and she would never dream of using the connecting door when I’m at home or I have a guest.’
Isla was unconvinced. ‘But how will she know you have a...er...guest?’
‘The staff will warn her.’
Isla sped into the bathroom, unnerved by the prospect of the staff that would report back to his mother, and then she scolded herself for worrying about something that was quite immaterial. Soon enough she would be leaving Sicily and only a vague memory because she was unlikely to ever return. What did it matter what anyone thought about her or her morals? Her grandparents had lived in a small tight-knit community where their reputation as a respectable family and the opinion of the neighbours had ruled their lives. Isla lived a much more anonymous life.
Alissandru noticed how Isla walked several steps away from him as if she were some chance-met stranger he had encountered on the drive and renewed irritation assailed him. He closed the gap and grabbed her hand to anchor her to his side, faint colour edging his cheekbones as she shot him a look of surprise. Holding hands? he derided. What the hell had he been thinking of? And how did he execute a smooth retreat?
Isla was disconcerted when Alissandru spun her close in full view of the palazzo and crushed her lips under his with all the enthusiasm of a man who had been held at bay for weeks. As he released her hand, she kissed him back, breathless and bubbling with sudden energy and happiness. She slid her hand shyly back into his before they headed for the front doors.
The dining room was a much smaller version of the room that had been used for entertaining the night before but, for all that, the table had been beautifully set with shining cutlery and beautiful crystal while Octavio was hovering beside a maid in charge of a large trolley.
‘What do you usually eat for breakfast?’ Isla asked casually.
‘This morning I’m starving,’ Alissandru confided with glinting amusement brightening his gaze as she coloured.
And Isla had to confess that, as soon as the silver domes were lifted on the cooked foods available, her stomach felt as though it were meeting her backbone.
Alissandru watched with satisfaction as Isla demonstrated the healthiest appetite he had ever seen in a woman and, having polished off a heaped plate, finished with a croissant and a cup of very rich hot chocolate.
‘We have a busy day ahead of us,’ he told her, lounging back in his chair.
‘We?’ she queried.
‘It was your idea, so we’re off to collect a puppy on the other side of the island where the last pug came from,’ Alissandru told her. ‘I could have had the dog delivered but there’s a litter and I thought you should choose, being a doggy kind of person, unlike me.’
Isla’s attention briefly strayed to Puggle, who was fawning at Alissandru’s feet in the hope of another titbit. ‘Are you starting to like him?’
‘I’m afraid not. He’s a shameless manipulator and a crawler into the bargain,’ Alissandru told her in disgust.
Isla laughed. ‘He doesn’t care what you think as long as you feed him. He’s a dog, not a human.’
The sound of her amuseme
nt animated the formal high-ceilinged room, bringing a warmer, lighter element into the atmosphere. Alissandru frowned at her as though she were a riddle he had still to solve. He could not recall a woman ever making less effort to impress him. She didn’t flirt or pout to hold his attention; she was happy to disagree with him and perfectly relaxed in his company. That resistance to being impressed made her an intriguing combination and a challenge. And although he was always exasperated by women who were clingy, he was keen to see Isla make more of an effort to attract him. Was that because no woman had ever made him work so hard for approval before?
He didn’t know and he didn’t much care. He was content to live in the moment. Isla wouldn’t be in Sicily for long and he would make the most of their time together, keeping their affair light, casual and fun until it reached its natural conclusion.
CHAPTER NINE
‘SO, YOUR FAMILY has always been rich and privileged,’ Isla gathered without surprise, for Alissandru’s awe-inspiring self-assurance was an integral part of his character. ‘My background is very different. I come from a long line of poor people. My grandparents on both sides were crofters and they barely scratched a living. My father qualified as an engineer and he might have done better if an aneurysm hadn’t killed him in his early thirties.’
‘Why did your mother’s parents raise you? Where was your mother?’ Alissandru interrupted, reaching for the wine bottle to top up her glass.
‘Trying to work two jobs down in London and take care of Tania at the same time. There was no way she could’ve coped with a baby, as well. She had poor health—she had kidney disease. There was never really any hope of the three of us reuniting as a family and living together,’ she pointed out wryly, covering her wine glass with her hand. ‘No more for me. In this heat too much would send me to sleep.’
‘I believe I could keep you awake,’ Alissandru teased, dark golden eyes settling on her with slumberous sensuality, sending warm colour flying up into her cheeks.
The remnants of a luxury picnic lunch spread in front of them, they were sitting in a meadow that gave them a bird’s-eye view of the Rossetti estate. A lush green collage of flowering orchards and vines interspersed with the silvery foliage of the olive groves stretched across the fertile rolling landscape below them. That morning Alissandru had given her a tour of the entire estate and, although Isla did not feel she had been especially active, she was now feeling ridiculously sleepy. Drenched in sunshine and warmth, she stretched her shoulders, frowning as her bra cut into her ribcage while, confined within the tight bra cups, her tender breasts ached. Had she put on weight? She supposed that was perfectly possible when they had eaten out so often. Even when they ate in at the palazzo, meals ran to several courses and the food was rich.
But gaining a little weight wouldn’t give her sore boobs, she reasoned ruefully. She had thought that was more likely to be linked to hormones and the failure of her menstrual cycle to return to normal and stay normal after her miscarriage. But how could she possibly consult a doctor here in Sicily about something so intimate when she didn’t speak the language? In the same way she had baulked at asking Alissandru to organise birth control for her. All such matters could surely safely wait until she returned to London...although by then she would no longer have any need for birth control, she conceded with innate practicality.
Ought she be doing a pregnancy test? For goodness’ sake, how could she be pregnant again? Apart from that one tiny moment her first night in Sicily with Alissandru, there had been no mishaps, no oversights. And yet sore breasts and absent periods were also the most common sign of pregnancy in a woman, she reminded herself worriedly, and there and then she decided that she would be perfectly capable of identifying a pregnancy-test kit in a Sicilian pharmacy. She would do a test simply to rule out that frightening possibility.
Alissandru rested back on one elbow watching her, wondering what she was thinking about that made her look so serious. He could barely credit that she had already been in Sicily for six weeks and that he had stayed with her that long, as hooked on the pleasure she gave him now as he had been at the outset. Six weeks had to be some kind of new record for him. But then Isla was intelligent and easy company and he had enjoyed seeing Sicily through her more innocent and less critical gaze. But when would the boredom, the itch to move on to fresh fields, kick in? He had also done the bare minimum of work since her arrival, an acknowledgement that disconcerted him.
Of course, that was what living in the moment entailed, he reminded himself bracingly and, since he hadn’t taken a proper break in years from his workaholic schedule, it made sense to make the most of his time with Isla because she would not be in Sicily much longer. She had already applied to join an educational course in London, which started in the autumn. He assumed that she was planning to stay the summer, but he hadn’t actually asked because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, and looking that far ahead would definitely give her the wrong impression.
Isla lay down, her drowsy gaze welded to Alissandru’s flawless bronzed profile, experiencing that revealing little kick in her pelvis that made her squirm, her body lighting up as if in search of him. That she couldn’t imagine life without him now terrified her. Fleeting moments of happiness had always been the norm for Isla, but the kind of effervescent happiness that Alissandru gave her was an entirely new departure for her. She had not slept alone a single night since they got together and if business or travel intervened, Alissandru was not above joining her in bed in the middle of the night or even at dawn. Either she slept in his giant carved mahogany four-poster bed or he shared her far less ostentatious double at his late brother’s house.
Recovering from being part of a couple and adapting to being alone again would be difficult for her. She had never imagined that togetherness developing when their affair began. She had assumed there would be days they wouldn’t see each other, arguments when they rubbed each other up the wrong way and needed a break. But she had assumed wrong because she was with Alissandru round the clock and he didn’t seem bored...yet. In addition, they had very few rows.
Dissension usually broke out when Alissandru tried to give her some ludicrously expensive gift and took offence at her refusal. He didn’t seem to grasp that she didn’t need presents to feel appreciated. She was much more impressed when he took the time to drive her up into some remote mountain village and walk her along narrow cobblestone streets to a tiny restaurant he had been told offered superlative but simple food, made of the finest, freshest ingredients. Or when he had taken her to see the Greek temple ruins in the beautiful valley at Agrigento even though he was not remotely interested in antiquity.
Yes, Alissandru was just chock-full of surprises, she conceded warmly. If he hadn’t told her she would never have guessed that he had originally planned to be a doctor, but that he had abandoned his studies after his father’s death because his parent had made some rather risky investments and the family finances had required a steady hand. That he had put his family’s needs first had shown her how much caring he was capable of, and that he missed his twin every day was also a fact that touched her heart because, quite honestly, Alissandru had had very little in common with Paulu, yet he had still managed to love and value his brother.
‘Just drop me at the house. I need to go to the pharmacy for...er...sun block,’ she told Alissandru as she climbed back into his sports car.
‘It’s a five-minute drive into San Matteo. I’ll take you,’ Alissandru insisted.
And Isla thought about arguing and then worried that that would only draw attention to any purchase she made. Buying a pregnancy test was ridiculous, she told herself irritably. There was no way she could’ve fallen pregnant again. Even so, it was wise to rule out the possibility, however unlikely it was, she reasoned.
San Matteo was a pretty little town with a charming piazza surrounded by several cafés that overlooked the old church and the central
fountain. Alissandru parked and said he would meet her at the bar next door to the pharmacy and she sped off. Recognising a pregnancy test on the shelf was not as much of a challenge as she had feared and she dug the package deep into her capacious bag and rejoined Alissandru with a smile on her face to enjoy a cold drink.
Driving past the palazzo, Alissandru glanced at the sleek car parked there and suddenly braked. ‘Fantino and his mother must be here for lunch. Why don’t you join us?’
Isla froze. ‘Your cousin...er... Fantino?’
‘Sì, you probably met them at my brother’s wedding. I’m not particularly fond of Fantino but our mothers are sisters and close,’ he explained wryly.
A chill ran over Isla’s skin at the mere idea of even being in the same room as the man who had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience in a manner that had taken her months to recover from. ‘No, thanks. I don’t like Fantino.’
‘You remember him?’ Alissandru’s voice emerged with an instinctive chill as he recalled what he had witnessed on the day of his brother’s wedding. Reminding himself that Isla had been a mere teenager at the time, he just as quickly strove to forget the memory again.
‘Yes, I remember him,’ Isla responded woodenly. ‘Just drop me back to the house...or I could walk from here if you like.’
His black brows drew together as he studied her pale, set face. ‘What’s wrong?’ he prompted.
Isla breathed in slow and deep and then saw no reason to withhold the truth.
‘Fantino assaulted me at the wedding.’
‘Say that again,’ Alissandru murmured more quietly.
‘You heard me the first time,’ Isla retorted curtly. ‘I don’t want to see Fantino or have anything to do with him.’
‘That’s a very serious allegation,’ Alissandru pointed out harshly.
‘Yes, and considering that he got away scot-free with what he did at the time, I don’t feel any need to justify the way I feel now. Please take me home.’