by Sara Wood
‘Dante tells me,’ he murmured, ‘that you and he have patched up your differences. Does that mean he’s forgiven you for being unfaithful?’
‘I wasn’t unfaithful!’ she cried indignantly. ‘I told you that,’ she reminded him, ‘when you came around to see me after he disappeared and I rang your office to see if he was there—’
‘Well,’ Guido said with a shrug, ‘you have to admit that even by your version of events, it looks bad. I think he’s a saint to put family honour second and I told him so, just now.’
Annoyed, she turned around to face him, crushing her panic with an effort.
‘We’re sorting our own lives out, Guido,’ she said coldly, afraid that his interference might ruin everything. ‘I think you can leave it to us to work out a solution.’
Guido looked her up and down in a rather insulting way and she couldn’t prevent herself from shuddering.
‘I can see why he wants to forgive, even if he can’t ever forget. He’d be a fool not to want you back in his bed. That body of yours would tempt a monk. Though I imagine he’ll loathe himself for giving in to his urges. Dante’s got high morals.’ He heaved a melodramatic sigh. ‘I don’t suppose he’ll ever be able to put your infidelity out of his mind. Every time he makes love to you, he’ll be wondering about your lover and how his performance matches up—’
‘I think you’ve said enough!’ she whispered, white with anger.
‘I am concerned for my brother’s welfare.’ He paused. Then asked, ‘Are you one hundred per cent sure there was no man with you that night?’
She stared, unable to answer. She had a flashback of hot breath on her face, those rough hands…
Miranda’s eyes grew huge with horror. No. She wasn’t sure. A shudder went through her at his look of triumph.
‘There you are!’ he murmured. ‘And one other thing worries me.’ He looked up at her slyly. ‘Are you hoping to milk him for all he’s worth?’
She gasped. ‘How dare you?’ she whispered, hoarse with fury.
Guido shrugged. ‘I can’t see any other reason for you to hang around. No normal woman would be able to stand being touched by a man who doesn’t give a damn about her.’
‘I only have your word for that,’ she said thickly.
‘On the contrary. You have his.’
Guido came closer, holding her captive with his intense gaze. Frozen to the spot on the stairs, she knew he was going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear but she felt compelled to listen, to know the whole truth.
‘Why do you say that, Guido?’ she croaked.
‘He’s just told me. He was laughing, saying that now he had the inheritance, the title and his son. And the services of a sexy woman whenever he chose to snap his fingers.’
‘I—I don’t believe you!’ she rasped, wishing she could sound more convinced.
‘I’m the only one who tells you the truth,’ Guido assured her. ‘You knew nothing of our uncle’s will or its conditions until I explained them. Dante kept that a secret from you. I am the only person you can trust to tell it how it is. Remember that, Miranda, when—’
‘Do you need a hand to carry any luggage up?’ Dante called and soon appeared in the doorway of the salon.
‘I don’t want anything that’s down there in the hall,’ she said, making a point of including Guido in the sweep of her gaze. Her head reeled. She didn’t know what to believe now.
‘I think I’ll come up, anyway.’ Dante came forward and slapped his brother on the back. ‘Your room’s second on the left. See you in the morning for that chat about business. Help yourself to whatever you want.’
Guido’s eyes gleamed and rested briefly on Miranda. ‘Generous of you,’ he said with a low laugh. ‘Thanks for the offer. I will do just that.’
And she felt her spine ice over. The brothers hugged and said their goodnights. Sick to the stomach and unreasonably scared, she turned and began to make her way slowly up the stairs.
Guido was up to something. He had taken against her, though she couldn’t understand why.
And yet she couldn’t confide her feelings to Dante. He had always been protective of his younger brother. Perhaps she should learn a little more about Guido, discover what made him tick.
Dante bounded up to her side and his arm drew her close. Gratefully she looked up, shaken by the tenderness of his expression.
‘You look pale,’ he murmured. And raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Are you really tired?’
Her eyes kindled with hope. He wanted to make love to her. But he would, wouldn’t he? A man steeped in sensuality, who needed sex…
‘No!’ she admitted. ‘I just didn’t want to spend the whole night chatting with Guido.’
‘You’d rather sleep?’ he teased, his voice low and seductive.
How could she resist him? And yet she must, while her doubts about Dante were so strong. She had to find out if Guido was lying when he claimed his brother merely wanted a sex toy to play with.
‘I was thinking of something more important,’ she began croakily.
‘Me too. I thought…we could play games.’ His hand slipped to her buttocks so that she could feel the sway of her own hips.
‘Like?’ she queried helplessly, suddenly husky.
‘Hide and seek. Kiss chase,’ he murmured. ‘Hunt the—’
‘Dante!’ she cried in mock reproof.
He chuckled and his lips sought her neck. He pushed open the double doors to his suite and spun her around, leaning against the door jamb and kissing her more thoroughly. But still she wanted to be sure that this wasn’t just sex. It had to be more.
‘We were going to talk,’ she reminded him breathlessly, pushing back a little.
‘Later. I want you.’
Joy filled her heart. His head dipped but she ducked beneath his arms, emerging flushed and trembling a foot or so away, in his sitting room.
‘Please!’
He took one look at her set face and quietly closed the doors behind them. ‘What is it?’ he asked warily.
She had to be direct. To eradicate all doubts. So before she had cold feet, she hurled a blunt question,
‘Why do you want me?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Isn’t that obvious?’
‘Sex. Any other reason?’ she asked shakily.
He sighed. ‘Several.’
‘You said I was soiled goods. That—’
His mouth twisted. ‘Miranda,’ he said throatily. ‘Come and sit down.’
Taking her arm, he led her to a sofa. Sitting beside her, he turned her stubborn, unhappy face to his, kissed her gently on the lips and then held both her hands in his firm grip.
‘I distinctly remember you saying that our marriage had been based on sex, not love—’ she persisted miserably.
‘Well, yes,’ he said, plummeting her spirits to the very depths. ‘I was referring to you. I thought at that time that you’d married me for my money. I feel sure now that isn’t true. I believe you did love me.’
Her solemn eyes were fixed on his and she tried to grasp the implications of what he was saying.
‘So…you didn’t mean that you’d had sex without love?’ she croaked.
‘No, never,’ he muttered. ‘It would have been easier for me if that had been true.’
A radiant smile broke out over her face. He had loved her in those early days and Guido had been mistaken—or he had lied. Now, why would he do that? And her brother-in-law had suggested that Dante was still using her.
‘I—I had the impression you’d been discussing me with Guido when I came in,’ she said nervously.
‘I was,’ Dante admitted. ‘He asked me if I was happy and I told him that I had everything I wanted—’
‘The inheritance? Carlo? A sexy woman at your beck and call to warm your bed?’ she flung in distress.
Dante looked shocked. ‘I would never describe you like that to anyone, even my brother!’ he declared. ‘Is that how you see it, Miranda?’
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‘I don’t know what to think!’ she cried passionately. ‘You keep giving off different signals and it’s driving me mad! How do I know where I stand? Tell me honestly. How do you feel about me right at this minute?’
‘As confused as you are,’ he growled. ‘Miranda… You evoke such emotions in me! Such a conflict of feelings…When I thought up this proposition—that we should live together for Carlo’s sake—I believed I despised and hated you so much that a business arrangement wouldn’t be a problem. But I’ve discovered that you care about Carlo very much. That means everything to me. It has changed the way I think of you.’
He lowered his gaze, watching his thumbs stroking the backs of her hands as if mesmerised by the action. But when he lifted his eyes again, she saw that they were bright and intense.
Little shivers were running up and down her spine. It still wasn’t enough, she thought. And, throwing caution to the wind, she asked breathlessly,
‘How do you think of me now?’
He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Torn,’ he said. ‘You see, I’ve never been able to reconcile what I knew of you with the evidence that was presented to me—’
‘Whoever poisoned your mind was mistaken!’ she flared. ‘Something strange happened that night you found me—’
‘Don’t, Miranda!’ he said fiercely. ‘I don’t want to think of that time. It was the worst night of my life.’
‘And mine!’ she whispered, her eyes huge with the horror of it.
‘We have to put it behind us.’ His voice grated. She realised how hard this was for him. He couldn’t forget what he’d seen. ‘This is now. We must try to forget the past—’
‘Can you forget it?’
He struggled with his conscience. ‘No,’ he growled finally. And, seeing her flinch, he added, ‘It keeps coming back to haunt me—as it does you. It’s hard to erase such a traumatic moment from one’s mind.’
‘I know!’ she muttered fervently.
‘We’ll get through it. Together,’ he said quietly and her eyes flicked up to his in hope. ‘I have to tell you, Miranda,’ he said hotly. ‘I’ve been in torment ever since you arrived. Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking of you. Can’t keep away from you. I want to touch you every time I see you. To kiss your beautiful mouth. Like that… And again…and again… I can’t stay detached. I want you.’ His mouth drifted over hers again. ‘I want to be with you. For us to live as man and wife.’
‘Because you want me in your bed?’ she asked soberly, her heart thudding hard.
‘Yes!’ he hissed. ‘And…’
She held her breath. Waited for an age. Then had to prompt. ‘And?’ she asked, hoping, hoping…
‘And because I want you,’ he said huskily.
She looked at him for a moment. This wasn’t the time for self-delusion.
‘Do you mean “want” as in “love”?’
Again she waited. He seemed to be making up his mind. She panicked. Surely he knew whether he loved her or not? The hesitation was too protracted. She’d rather the truth—
‘Fool that I am. I’ve hated you for this. For making me your prisoner. But the answer is yes,’ he muttered, and pulled her to him.
They both went a little crazy. By the time they hurried out of the sitting room and passed through Dante’s bedroom where Carlo slept, many of their clothes had been scattered in a trail around the sitting room’s carpet.
And once they reached her suite, they hungrily stripped one another, not even waiting before they reached her bedroom but sinking to the thick carpet in a tangle of arms and legs as if they had been starved of love and sex for years.
She couldn’t get enough of him. Couldn’t get close enough, her body arching and straining in an effort to melt into his, the force of her desperate passion driving her to demand to be kissed and touched here, and here, and there…
And he obliged, his ardour matching hers, his hunger as great. She was being devoured, her body sliding slickly against his, her skin tingling from his sensational caresses, her mouth ever ready to taste and bite and lick and savour the essence of the man she loved with every beat of her pounding heart.
‘Now!’ she groaned, when he tormented her with his gentle fingers, even though she had long ago liquefied for him.
His tongue explored. She sobbed with need. Grabbed his hair and made him move up her body. He took one look at her impassioned face and groaned.
Then her eyes closed because she felt the silken heat of him as he entered her and she held him to her, hardly believing that they were together again. Her heart soared and she began to float as she always did, whimpering a little, moving voluptuously beneath his body as he began to drive rhythmically inside her and the sweet pleasure filled every cell with pulsing energy.
He whispered brokenly to her, Italian words she didn’t know but which sounded tender and loving, and she spoke to him, crying out her love, her adoration, his beloved name.
The climb to orgasm was fiercer and deeper than anything she had ever known. For seemingly hours she clung to its peaks, her body responding feverishly to Dante’s erotic attentions. He held her there, coaxing and murmuring, his voice and body filling her entire mind with profound pleasure.
‘Look at me!’ he rasped. ‘Me! Say my name!’
Her drowsy, drugged eyes flickered open a little.
‘Dante!’ she whispered and he groaned.
She watched with love and rivers of sweet pain as he gazed down at her and climaxed, only closing his own eyes in ecstasy at the last moment. Shaken by the intensity of their lovemaking, they slowly came back to sanity. And, tucked close together, they lay in contented peace.
This was true happiness, she thought dreamily. She, Dante, Carlo, their new baby, living together, loving and laughing, the years passing by in a daze of delight.
Having once lost them both, she wasn’t going to lose them again. She and Dante would grow old, watching Carlo and, she thought with a blissful smile, this child, other children, ride their first bike, go to their first dance, shine at school, university, marry, have children of their own…
Nothing, she vowed fiercely, nothing would take that future from her. It was everything she had always wanted. To experience the deepest, most profound love. And a family of her own to love her too. Heaven. Sheer heaven.
Sometime in the early hours the spasms of a panic attack woke her, and she came spiralling out of her nightmare in a desperate attempt to escape it, jerking awake with a shuddering start.
Knowing that Dante was fast asleep, she clenched her teeth and fought the nausea and terror of her dream, so horribly fresh in her mind.
The stinking breath. The bruising fingers biting into her arms, the strong thighs—Oh, God! she thought, her eyes wide with disgust at the realisation—those hard male thighs were naked, the dark hairs abrading her delicate skin!
In the darkness she felt her muscles knot with panic as the memory was replayed in her brain and everything, everything, came flooding back with unwelcome clarity. This time she could actually see the face that loomed towards her for a travesty of a kiss while she lay there, dumbly waiting for it.
It was a face she recognised. Her breath caught in her throat. Lungs ceased to work. Body became paralysed with horror.
It was Guido!
Guido’s eyes. His triumphant mouth. He was laughing as she lay there inert, unable, it seemed, to stop him. She recalled that at that moment a glass had clinked. His impatient hand had pushed it away and she remembered turning her head very, very slowly and seeing two glasses and the bottle of champagne. And then she’d blacked out.
Appalled, she let out short, desperate shots of air from her bursting lungs. Had she been drunk? High on cocaine? Was that why she’d been so passive and accepting?
And…what had happened next? She searched her memory. Nothing further came. Only horrible suspicions.
‘Oh, dear heaven!’ she whispered. ‘Please, no!’
She couldn’t have let him
… Wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. And yet… The evidence was there. Stark and frightening, damning her horribly.
Of course that was why Guido had behaved so oddly. Why she’d reacted to him with such instinctive loathing. He’d known what had happened and he had wanted to prevent Dante from associating with her…
‘Darling?’
‘Ohh!’ She jumped like a scalded cat.
Found herself in Dante’s arms, his voice murmuring in lyrical Italian. ‘Had that nightmare again?’ he asked gruffly.
All she could do was nod, without speaking. She didn’t deserve his sympathy. Maybe she wasn’t worthy of him. Maybe she had betrayed him. There had been no rape. But perhaps she had, in her fuddled haze, allowed Guido to—to…
Despairing, she broke down and wept. Dante held her, stroking her hair, telling her it would be all right, he was there now. Which made it worse. Sickness surged up from her stomach and she wrenched herself free, stumbling blindly to the bathroom, where she retched till she collapsed on the floor in a trembling heap.
Her face was being wiped. Blankets wrapped around her. She was being held securely again.
Oh, how painful that was! She had won an admission from Dante that he couldn’t live without her. But she had no right to stay with him. She had let his brother paw her, and probably worse. She closed her eyes, remembering what Guido had said. That he knew Lizzie as well as he knew her.
Oh, Lizzie! she thought in horror. Her sister had to be told. Warned…
‘Come on. Back to bed.’ Dante lifted her up in his arms and she was too weak to object. ‘You’ll see a doctor in the morning,’ he declared, his fingers gently smoothing the furrow between her brows.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. A doctor… She stiffened the length of her body.
‘What is it?’ Dante asked her anxiously. ‘Another part of the nightmare come back?’ Somehow in the depths of her shock she managed to nod. ‘You’re safe with me. I’ll look after you,’ he murmured, kissing her forehead.
But she was far from safe and there was no way he’d look after her if he knew the truth.