Harlequin Presents--April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Dani Collins

  And then, as her pleasure mounted and mounted more, and a restlessness started to fill her, making her legs strain outwards, it was as if her body, driven by an instinct older than time itself, was readying itself to receive him.

  He was lifting his head from her breasts, kissing her mouth once more, before easing his long, powerful body so that with a movement so smooth she did not realise it was about to happen he sought his way within her. His control was absolute—she knew that—and she knew it was for her sake that he was bending every fibre of his will to make this moment the way it should be...a wondrous union of flesh with flesh.

  And she took him into her, holding him, cradling him within her body, within the circle of her arms.

  He lay still for a little while, as her body accommodated itself to his, before slowly, infinitely slowly, and infinitely arousingly, he started to move within her. He stroked her hair and his hand, she realised, was trembling very slightly as he took his weight on his arm, not wanting, she knew, to crush her.

  Then, his eyes holding hers in the dim light of the night, he lowered his mouth to kiss her softly, exquisitely. Once more she felt as if a glow were starting up inside her—a warmth, a heat, a pleasure so extraordinary, so intense, welling up and melting through her. It was a pleasure she had never known nor imagined, consuming her whole body, her whole being. Wonder filled her, lifted her spine, parted her lips...

  And it went on and on, flowing through her to every extremity of her body, this molten fusion of her being combined with his.

  With the dimmest part of her consciousness she realised that he was moving faster within her, that his torso was lifting from her, his muscled thighs straining now against hers, his body rearing up, head thrown back. She felt their bodies meld into each other, fusing in the heat that was making them one single, searing flesh.

  Did she cry out? She didn’t know—knew only that it was the most glorious moment of her life, and that she was giving, and had been given, a gift whose worth was infinite.

  Love poured from her—and if it was a love he’d never asked for, never sought, it did not matter. Because it was her gift, freely given, in return for this burning moment of union, of ecstatic joy.

  His arms enfolded her and she felt the sheen of his exhaustion on his cooling skin. She knew it was the same for her as he drew her close into his encircling embrace. She felt his breath, warm and ragged, at her shoulder.

  ‘Did I hurt you? For all the world I would not have—’

  She heard the tremor in his low voice and caught his hand, curving it into hers, turning and lifting her head so it was resting against his broad chest, allowing her to brush his lips with reassurance.

  ‘You will never hurt me,’ she said.

  And in her eyes, though it was too dark for him to see, was all the love she had for him and always would.

  * * *

  It was in the early hours of the morning that the storm rolled in, with thunderous clouds unleashing a torrent of rain upon the palazzo and lightning jagging the night. The tempest was silent at first, felt only through the charged static of the atmosphere, then it was ripping through the sky with a belligerent crackling roar of deafening thunder and noise.

  Evandro levered himself up from the bed and strode to the window to lower the sash, shutting it against the driving rain exploding out of the heavens, pounding down upon the stone paving of the terrace below like bullets as another fork of lightning sliced across the sky and another thunderclap crashed overhead.

  ‘Amelie!’

  Jenna’s anxious voice made him turn. ‘I’ll go to her.’

  He seized his bathrobe, belting it swiftly around him, and left the room, returning moments later.

  ‘Sound asleep,’ he announced.

  He discarded his robe, getting back into bed and wrapping Jenna in his arms. It was all that he wanted.

  Certainty filled him. And defiance too.

  He had made his declaration—claimed Jenna for his own. This woman who was everything that Berenice was not, nor ever could be with her cankered soul. Jenna—whose clear-seeing eyes, kindness and compassion, honesty and sincerity, quiet ways and subtle beauty, could wash away the taint of his accursed marriage and draw from him all its poison.

  He would not turn away from her again.

  He did not care—would not care.

  If there was danger, so be it.

  If there was risk, he would face it.

  But until they came—if they came—he would have all the happiness that surely life owed him after so many bitter, wasted years.

  All the happiness that the woman in his arms could gift him.

  Jenna—his sweet Jenna—his own, his blessing and his bounty.

  He folded her to him, feeling her soft, warm body moulding to his, hearing her gentle breathing easing into sleep once more.

  The storm started to die away as swiftly as it had broken, thunder descending to a mere rumbling, lightning to mere flickers. His arms tightened around her, holding her close, so close.

  It was the only place he wanted her to be.

  With him.

  His breathing slowed, his limbs becoming heavy, and sleep washed over him...with Jenna safe in his arms.

  Outside, jagging down from the fleeing storm clouds, a fork of lightning more vivid than anything before illuminated the woodland above the gardens in lurid, livid light.

  But the crack of thunder that came an instant later was not the only deafening sound to be heard.

  At the edge of the woods the chestnut tree Evandro and Jenna had sat under only a few hours ago split violently in two, severed by the final vicious knifing of the storm.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘WELL, IT WILL save on the watering,’ Evandro said cheerfully, surveying the rain-battered gardens.

  His eyes went to Jenna, bathing her in a visual caress, and the sight of her standing next to Amelie out on the still-damp terrace, where the bright, clear morning air was sparkling and fresh, lifted his heart.

  I have them both—Jenna and Amelie. All that I could ever want.

  ‘The world new-made,’ he heard her say now, a smile at her lips.

  The world new-made.

  Her words echoed inside him, resonating with a clarity and an intensity that crystallised all that he felt.

  I have made it new—made the world new for myself...

  Clean and clear and untainted by the world he had lived in with Berenice.

  But he would not remember her or think of her. The long shadow she had cast over his life, blighting it, must never reach here...not now.

  He shook his head free of the thought, placing his arm around Jenna’s slender shoulders, drawing her against him and dropping a kiss upon her head. Then, taking Amelie’s hand in his, he held it tight in a silent vow never to let it go.

  They were his. The woman he had claimed as his and the child he would always protect and cherish.

  For an instant, as the vow formed so vehemently in his head, he saw a shadow pass across the face of the bright sun. Heard—as if in an ugly echo, summoned by his unwelcome thought of Berenice—her mocking, vengeful laugh...

  He banished it.

  He squeezed Jenna’s shoulder, and Amelie’s hand.

  ‘So, what shall we do this wonderful day?’ he asked genially, his heart glowing within him. ‘Shall we have another pool day, or drive off somewhere? And, if so, where? And if we stay here, shall we have another tea party and dress up in our best again? Or have a dinner party, and even more dressing up?’

  Amelie caught on the last option he’d suggested. ‘Dressing up!’ she cried enthusiastically. ‘Oh, Papà, can we dress up like Miss Jenna said? Like the children at her school did?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘Why not?’ He nodded. ‘Will you be the silver fairy you described?’ Then his eyes went to Jenna
, softening. ‘Though that should be you—you are the good fairy in my life.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Breaking the evil spell...’

  Her hand lifted to his face, her eyes full of warmth. ‘And you, Evandro, are my Prince Charming,’ she said.

  He gave a crack of laughter, dropping a light kiss upon her mouth, then ushered them all to the breakfast table. As they settled down around it he reached for the coffee pot and another brilliant idea struck him.

  ‘You know what I think?’ he asked. ‘How about taking a holiday? At the seaside? We’ll go next week.’

  Amelie’s eyes brightened at the magic word. ‘Yes...yes! Seaside! Seaside!’ she exclaimed excitedly.

  ‘You’ve done it now,’ Jenna murmured, smiling. ‘No going back on it now that you’ve said it.’

  He grinned. ‘I have no intention of going back on it—on anything.’

  No, there would be no going back now. And nothing that might yet come would threaten his new-found, wondrous happiness.

  But it might not come.

  That was what he must cling to.

  The same reckless defiance that had filled him as he’d sent Bianca and her friends packing—the defiance that had steeled him with ruthless resolve and sent him racing up the stairs to stride into Amelie’s schoolroom and claim the woman he wanted, despite all his own warnings to himself, now filled him again.

  His gaze swept between them, Jenna and Amelie. Then moved out beyond them, across the sunlit gardens to where, at the edge of the wood, the burnt and stricken chestnut, severed by that final lightning bolt, lurched brokenly, blackened and crippled.

  Victim of the storm that had broken overhead, destroying all that defied it.

  * * *

  ‘This is bliss!’

  Jenna leant back, legs outstretched, on the warm, soft sand, her arms straight behind her, her palms supporting her weight. Her hair was held back by a colourful bandeau and she lifted her face to the sun.

  But then, all of life was bliss these days. How could it be anything else?

  Her eyes went to Evandro, lounging on the sand beside her, and her insides gave a little flip. Evandro in a business suit was powerful and formidable. Evandro in chinos, an open-necked shirt and deck shoes was darkly, magnetically attractive. But Evandro lying as he was now, on his side, a hand supporting his head, his magnificent body completely on show apart from the bathing shorts he was wearing, was simply...breathtaking.

  ‘You look like a fifties film star,’ he was saying now, his eyes lazily appreciative. ‘But twice as glamorous.’

  His eyes held hers, and in them was a look that made Jenna wish they were not on the private beach at this extremely swish family resort in the Cinque Terre, but in their own bedroom.

  To deflect her thoughts, she looked towards the sea’s edge, where Amelie was playing with another little girl she’d palled up with. They were busy building a sandcastle together.

  ‘It’s so wonderful to see Amelie so happy,’ she said warmly. Her eyes went back to Evandro and that warmth was still in them. Her gaze softened even more. ‘You are a wonderful father, Evandro—you would do anything for her.’

  There was a catch in her voice as she spoke. She was remembering her own father, who had done nothing for her—never loved or wanted her, only ignored and resented her. She dropped her eyes, not wanting to remember.

  And then Amelie was running up to them, asking if she and Luisa could go and get ice creams from the beach bistro.

  ‘If Luisa is allowed by her parents,’ said Evandro, and the two children hared off to where Luisa’s parents, with a smaller toddler in tow, were sitting on sun loungers in the shade of a parasol.

  The mother nodded at her daughter’s request, smiling across at Jenna and Evandro as the girls ran off to the bistro.

  ‘You two have a lovely little daughter,’ the woman called across to them. ‘With excellent manners!’

  ‘I return the compliment entirely,’ Evandro assured her.

  Jenna saw the other woman’s eyes linger a moment on Evandro and could not begrudge her—because his physique was perfect. Powerful and smoothly muscled, long-legged and...

  She ran out of adjectives, but knew she did not need them. She had the real thing, so words just weren’t important.

  There were other words that lingered in her head instead.

  ‘You two have a lovely little daughter.’

  They echoed again now, and with them came the memory of how she’d stood out on the terrace at the palazzo, watching the sun set with Amelie and Evandro.

  Like a family...

  Emotion welled in her. It had not been true then, and she’d berated herself for the thought.

  But are we now...a family?

  If wishing could make it so, then it would be true. But though she might love Evandro, and though he might desire her—wonderful as it was that he did—was that enough to make her dream come true?

  And is it his dream?

  The question lingered in her head like a crab pincering its claws on her flesh. And for all the happiness and joy that flooded her day after golden day, night after passionate night, it lingered still.

  Unanswered.

  Unanswerable.

  * * *

  After their fortnight at the seaside—leisurely days on the beach interspersed with days exploring the charm and delights of the famed Cinque Terre, visiting the impossibly pretty harbour villages with their painted houses climbing up steep cliffs, lunching at open-air trattorias, taking boat trips out to sea to spot dolphins and flying fish—Evandro announced that he could no longer postpone looking in at his office.

  So they drove north, inland to Turin, after Amelie and Luisa had vowed faithfully to message each other daily, as proof of their enduring friendship.

  In Turin, Jenna settled down with Amelie in Evandro’s ferociously modernistic apartment, using the time he was at work to resume her pupil’s studies. Evandro pitched in as well, helping his daughter with maths every evening upon his return from the office.

  ‘Imagine if I couldn’t do my sums correctly,’ he quizzed Amelie. ‘I wouldn’t be able to tell if I was making any money at all—or, far worse, if the bridges and dams Rocceforte Industriale builds would fall down!’

  ‘You’re so good with her,’ Jenna said to him fondly, when the maths book had finally been put away and Amelie had been released to play her favourite computer game online with Luisa before dinner. ‘A natural-born father. It’s clearly in the genes.’

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek, wanting him to be free of the doubts he’d once had that he could be a good father after so much separation from his daughter.

  But he did not reply—only got to his feet, his expression suddenly shuttered.

  A moment later it was gone, replaced with a smile.

  ‘So, what gastronomical delights are in store for tonight?’ he asked, and there was only good-humoured enquiry in his face.

  ‘I thought I might do something completely different,’ Jenna answered solemnly and straight-faced, knowing the limit of her culinary skills. ‘Pasta in a totally different shape from last night’s.’

  He laughed, strolling into the kitchen to the huge fridge to fetch himself a beer and settling down at the breakfast bar to oversee the preparation of the sauce she would painstakingly assemble from vegetables freshly purchased that morning.

  It was a pleasure to venture out with Amelie—not just to explore the busy, bustling city together, with its mix of architectural styles, boulevards and covered arcades, but for the fun of feeling like an Italian housewife doing the daily shop—confirming to her, if she needed confirmation, that all her joy stemmed from being with Evandro and his daughter, enjoying these ordinary, domestic days.

  Like a family.

  As she added freshly chopped beef tomatoes to the sauce and stirred them in, t
he ache for it to be so for ever rose piercingly within her. Perhaps one day he would love her as she loved him...

  And one day he will see a future that has me in it—a happy future for him and Amelie, after all the misery his marriage put him through.

  But would it come, that day? Could it come?

  The sound of Evandro’s phone ringing was an interruption she welcomed to thoughts that were as fruitless as they were aching.

  * * *

  Evandro lifted his phone from the breakfast bar, expecting it to be the project manager he’d asked to report in that evening. But the call was from someone quite different.

  ‘Evandro, cara, my spies tell me you are back in town!’

  The sultry tones were breathed across the ether, and he gave a silent curse that he had not checked the caller before answering.

  ‘Bianca,’ he replied evenly, keeping his voice neutral. He was aware that Jenna had stopped stirring the fragrant contents of the saucepan and had half turned, before freezing.

  ‘You must have been bored out of your mind in the country once we’d all gone,’ Bianca was purring now. ‘Come over for drinks—and anything else you might feel like...’ She trailed off seductively.

  ‘That isn’t going to be possible,’ he said.

  He kept his tone somewhere between even and repressive. He’d prefer, if he could, to get out of this gracefully. He caught at the one thing he could say to put Bianca off—other than the truth. Which was none of her damn business.

  No one’s business except mine and Jenna’s.

  The defiance with which he’d claimed the happiness he was now enjoying with Jenna filled him again. As for Bianca Ingrani—she was swiftly dismissible.

  ‘I’ve got Amelie with me,’ he told her.

  Bianca’s annoyance was obvious. ‘What a shame,’ she said. ‘Of course, there are always agency nannies who can be summoned to babysit,’ she said hopefully.

  ‘Thank you—but I already have someone. The woman you took to be Amelie’s nanny—Jenna,’ he heard himself reply. Then cursed himself.