by Renee Rose
She didn't. Her lips answered his, soft and sweet. She took a step closer to him, and he stifled a groan, because now the tips of those breasts touched him. He teased her lips with his tongue, and she brought her hands up to rest on his chest, parting her lips to allow him entry. He groaned and cupped her firm, ripe breasts, stimulating the tips of her nipples with his thumbs, bringing them to stiff attention. She pulled away from his kiss and stood there, leaning her head back slightly, arching into his hands.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.
She slid her hands down his body, from his chest down his sides, one moving behind to grip his backside through his wet pants, and one seeking his shaft in front.
"Oh God!" He nearly climaxed right then.
"Tomi!" the count's voice boomed, echoing through the stone walls of the bath.
He and Celia sprang apart. His heart raced with a surge of surprise that quickly turned into dread.
"Get out of the women's bath. Now!" the count roared.
"Yes, my lord." He pulled himself out of the bath, dripping.
The count stood at the opposite end of the bath, and when Tomi looked at him, he simply pointed toward the exit with a burning gaze. Thinking it unwise to offer an explanation, he did as he was bade and left the baths.
In his chamber, he changed into dry clothes and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face and trying to understand what had just happened. All he knew was that kissing Celia was an act he wanted to repeat. As soon as possible. Of course, that depended largely on whether the count planned to throw him out on his arse over this. He waited to be summoned, but nothing happened.
At suppertime, Celia didn't say a word. She kept her eyes lowered submissively and seemed worried. He realized with an inward curse that she, too, could be punished for the scene the count had walked in on. She'd already told him the count had punished her for seducing him in Florence. Would he whip her for this?
The count's face appeared stony. He suddenly felt more anguish for Celia than he did over his own fate. He had put her in this situation. She had no guilt in the matter whatsoever. He resolved to explain that to the count as soon as possible. He struggled through finishing his food while Lucia made several attempts at polite conversation before she gave up and the four of them ate in silence.
When they finished the meal, the count said, "I'll have a word with you in my office, Tomi."
He followed, his heart pounding, summoning the courage and the right words to somehow resolve this. "My lord –" he started, but the count held up his hand to silence him.
The man walked the length of his office, his long legs eating up the room in two strides before he turned to pace back. When he spoke, his voice cut like steel. "You may believe because of Celia's previous circumstances that her reputation is of no import here."
He looked up, surprised. "No, my lord –"
The count interrupted him again. "The fact is she's still a lady. Very few know what happened with the Duke of Tuscany, and I believe a decent marriage can be made if she chooses."
Tomi opened and closed his mouth. This was not the direction he thought the tongue-lashing would take.
"If you wish to court her, you will court her as a lady. You will not treat her like a common whore, catching her naked in the baths where any other woman in the castle could walk by. Is that perfectly clear?"
He swallowed, his mind reeling. "Yes, my lord," he choked.
Had the count just given him permission to court Celia? Did that mean he did not consider her to be his own?
"You're dismissed," the count said curtly. He glowered at Tomi, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a stormy visage.
Tomi managed a bow. "Thank you, my lord." He escaped to the hallway, where he paused after closing the office door and took several deep breaths. As his mind cleared, he realized he had not said or done anything to defend Celia, who still may be facing punishment at the count's hand. And she didn't deserve that, especially considering he had paddled her raw that afternoon.
He turned back to the office door and knocked.
"Enter," the count barked.
He opened the door.
The count raised his eyebrows with an expression of irritation.
"My lord, I just want to tell you that Celia was not to blame at all."
The count waved him away. "Celia is quite capable of answering for herself."
He hesitated, not sure what that meant, precisely. That he'd be taking the matter up with Celia? It sounded that way.
He tried again. "My lord, I assure you that –"
"I don't need to hear it," he interrupted. "It did not appear to me as if Celia had sought you out." He paused with his eyebrows raised until Tomi's face had grown hot under the weight of his stare. "But as I say, if I have something to discuss with Celia, I will take it up with her. She is quite accustomed to answering to me."
Tomi flushed for a different reason. Imagining the intimacy of the count punishing Celia raised a surge of the now familiar jealous anger he'd been experiencing since the day he left the Dante winery.
The count watched him closely. He seemed fully aware of the effect his words had on Tomi.
Anger made him meet the count's eye with a look of challenge. The count lifted his chin, daring him to speak.
He gritted his teeth. There was nothing at all he could say.
"As I say, if you wish to court her, do so. But until she is wed—to whichever man wins her heart—I'm still her guardian."
The anger drained out of Tomi. He stared at his employer, suddenly feeling more hope than he had since the day he'd accepted the man's offer of employment. He bowed again. "Thank you, my lord." He paused, wishing to say something else, but not knowing what. "I do wish to court her," he admitted.
The count looked slightly amused. Of course, he had known it all along, hadn't he? "Then I suggest you stop dallying with my servant girls and give her the attention she deserves."
For the third time, Tomi felt his face grow hot. "As you say, my lord. Thank you, again."
The count smirked, all traces of anger gone from his countenance.
* * *
"So are you going to tell me what on earth is going on?" Lucia demanded. She lay curled up on Celia's bed, looking expectant.
Celia couldn't blame her sister. Supper had been a dismal affair, and poor Lucia had tried her hardest to ease the tension. She unlaced her bodice and pulled off her dress and chemise, standing on the balls of her feet and twisting around backward to try to see her sore bottom in the mirror. It was still red.
Lucia gasped. "Did Marco do that?"
"No," she reassured her. "Tomi did."
She couldn't help the wry smile at her sister's shocked expression. She explained her misdeed of the day, which had resulted in the spanking, the kiss, and the count's discovery of them together in the women's bath. "Do you think Marco will punish me for it?"
Lucia looked at her doubtfully. "I don't think so."
But the truth was, even though they had been married for almost a year, Lucia was still learning what her husband would and would not tolerate. Between the two sisters, they had a hard time guessing at what things he minded and didn't mind, as he could be quite liberal about some things, but then surprisingly firm about others. "I'll talk to him about it," Lucia said, getting up and heading into her own room.
For her part, Celia didn't know what to think about the events with Tomi. She'd been surprised at how angry he'd been with her. The Tomi of her youth never lost his temper with them. He used to allow her and Lucia to tag along and tease and flirt with him all day without ever showing the slightest irritation. What had changed?
A spike of arousal shot through her when she thought of the way he had hauled her out of the water and over his knee for a spanking. There was something about the way he took charge of her that made him seem even more attractive to her now. He was no longer simply charming, good-looking, and easy-going Tomaso Turia.
Now, he seemed a little bit dangerous, capable of taking her in hand if he wished. And she didn't know whether he wished it, but she found she wished it more and more.
The trouble was, he had just given her a pretty firm message to stay out of his business. So obviously, he cared more about Alessandra than she had guessed. If he was that angry, she must have ruined it for him.
But then there was his kiss and what had almost followed. A man who cared so much for another woman wouldn't have kissed and touched her that way, would he? So maybe he'd just been making a point with her.
A tap sounded on her door, and Lucia poked her head in. "Marco wants to speak with you."
Her heart sank.
"I don't think he's mad, but he didn't say one way or the other."
She sighed and pulled on her robe, entering the chamber Lucia shared with Marco through the connecting doorway between their rooms. Lucia followed her and Celia hoped Marco would let her stay. It always helped to have her twin nearby for moral support.
Marco sat on the edge of the bed. He held his arm out to her. "Come here, Celia." He didn't look angry. He pulled her to sit on his knee, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I'm not upset with you," he said, immediately putting her fears to rest. "Lucia said you were worried. I was angry with Tomi, frankly. I honestly don't want or need to know how he came to be in the bath with you, but I told him he's not going to be doing further damage to your reputation in this villa."
Warmth filled her chest. Her brother-in-law's willingness to defend her honor meant a lot to her.
"Listen, I meant what I said in Florence – you are free to choose a man if you wish. I just request you obtain my permission first. But you have no obligation to my bed. And I think it would be best if you not share it anymore."
She felt a curious mix of stinging rejection and relief at that. Since Tomi's arrival, the thought of lying with Lucia and Marco had felt wrong to her. Still, being told she wasn't welcome anymore hurt.
The count seemed to sense that, because he said gently, "It just seems to me that there could be something between you and Tomi. And I don't want him taking a knife to my back." He gave her a wink.
She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, my lord."
"You're welcome. Good night, Celia."
She stood up from his knee, filled with affection for her sister's husband, and left. She crawled into her own bed and reached her fingers down between her legs, stroking herself. She replayed the scene with Tomi again. The way he'd marched in on her naked, so angry and firm. The spanking. He had paddled her long and hard, but before it had become truly painful, she had delighted in the sensation of lying naked over Tomi's knees, being subject to his authority. She remembered his intoxicating kiss, afterward. The feel of his thumbs stimulating her nipples, how he'd told her she was beautiful. She brought herself to climax, imagining what might have happened if the count hadn't interrupted them. Afterward, she rolled onto her side and imagined herself nestled against his side in bed.
The following day, she waited and took her breakfast late, reluctant to see Tomi. She honestly didn't know how to feel or act around him. She spent the morning avoiding the winery and worked instead with Lucia in the kitchen garden.
"Buon giorno, ladies." His familiar drawl made her heart skip a beat.
"Buon giorno," they both answered him.
"Take a walk with me, Celia?"
A rush of excitement and nerves shot through her. She hoped it didn't show. She stood and took the hand he offered. They walked in silence until they'd moved away from the villa, into the vineyards.
"I'm sorry I spanked you so hard yesterday," Tomi said, at last, giving her hand a little squeeze.
Her palm turned clammy in his hand. Just to hear him mention it made her belly drop a little.
"It's all right, I deserved it. Do you forgive me?" She couldn't quite meet his eye.
He squeezed her fingers again. "Of course."
She swallowed. "I'm sorry, I guess I just..." She meant to tell him that she was jealous of Alessandra, but she lost her nerve. Other than the kiss and what almost followed, which was probably prompted solely due to the fact that she had stood in front of him naked, she had no indication he was interested in her. Tomi was a rake, through and through. And she was a ruined woman who had played the whore for him in Florence and who had shared her own sister's husband. If he thought of her at all, it was probably that she might be good for a roll in the hay.
"I just didn't know you would get so angry," she finished lamely.
She met his eye then, and he raised his eyebrows for a moment, acknowledging that her excuse was lacking.
Then he shrugged, "I lost my temper."
"My backside can attest to that," she said, flashing him a wry grin, and he laughed with her, the tension between them relieved.
* * *
With the count's consent for him to court Celia, Tomi's motivation to earn his bonus profit sharing grew even stronger. He would bide his time until the annual meetings in Florence where business would be conducted. After that, if he had done his job well, he would receive a share of the profits and would have enough money to purchase property, making him worthy of Celia Dante. In the meantime, he would swear off the servant girls and keep his cock in his pants. He wanted to take this slowly with Celia, and he didn't want to damage his position with the count. He wouldn't outwardly court her until he was in a position to propose.
But the connection he had made with Celia mysteriously withered. The soft, submissive side of her he briefly glimpsed disappeared and the hellcat returned. She took pleasure in sparring with him, which was entertaining, but it had an edge to it that was sharp rather than flirtatious. She spent a great deal of time with him in the winery, questioning his every decision, arguing his choices.
"Tomi, this is still far too sweet." Celia stood in the winery, her hands on her hips. She had tasted the vats of wine.
"Give it time."
"It should have started fermenting by now. I think we should add some yeast."
"No. I think it's fine. It just needs some time for the wild cultures to activate."
She folded her arms over her lovely breasts. Her face had a stubborn set to it. "It needs yeast."
He gave her his most charming grin. "It has enough natural yeast, cara mia. It just needs time. Have patience."
"Tomi, wouldn't it be better to just be sure? Just add some yeast, and that way, the time needed won't be wasted. We want to have this ready to sell by autumn, you know."
"I do know that. I am confident it will come around. If it doesn't, we'll add yeast. But not yet."
She stamped her foot and frowned at him. "What makes you so sure? Everyone knows that if it's too sweet, you add yeast. This isn't a difficult decision."
He blew out his breath, his patience ebbing away. "Look, Celia. I want to see how it ferments naturally. If we add yeast now it could turn dry on us."
She glared at him. "You are just like Papa, aren't you?"
"How?" he asked, stunned.
"You would overrule my opinion regardless of what I said."
"Are you mad? That is not even remotely true! Wait, Celia –"
She had turned on her heel and stomped out of the winery. He sighed, shaking his head. Courting Celia was more of a challenge than he ever would have imagined.
Chapter Three
Celia sat down to supper, still smarting from the disagreement with Tomi. "My lord," she said to the count. "Do you recall that you told us that if a man couldn't believe that a woman might know more than him then he couldn't work for you?"
Marco looked wary, as if he suspected where she might be going with this.
"I recall I said something of the like."
"And you have agreed that Lucia and I know far more about making wine than most men."
"Yes," he conceded.
"So if I were sure your wine could be improved in some way, would you not heed my advice?"
Marco wiped his mouth wi
th the tablecloth. "I would heed your advice, Celia, unless it was in conflict with the advice of my steward."
Her face grew hot with anger and disappointment. "And yet you said you would not hire a steward who could not take our advice," she said, her voice sounding churlish.
Marco sat back and considered her. "Where did you learn what you know about wine-making, Celia?"
"From my father," she said defiantly, daring him to contradict her and say it was from Tomi.
"And where did Tomi gain his knowledge?"
"From my father," she said, a little more reluctantly.
"And of the two of you, which one of you has spent the most time working directly – hands on, if you will – with the wines?"
"Tomi," she admitted grudgingly.
"So when I tell you that I will accept his advice over yours, Celia, it is not because he is a man and I think that men know better. It is because his depth of experience goes beyond yours." He said it firmly with a note of finality as if to close the subject.
She lowered her eyes, fuming at her defeat.
"Celia?" the count said with a note of warning in his voice. Marco knew her well enough to know she had not accepted his word.
She raised her eyes to him.
"Is that perfectly clear?"
"Yes, my lord." She sounded churlish, even to her own ears. She couldn't seem to help her peevishness lately. A deep dissatisfaction with her present situation had set in – a restlessness. A need.
The count turned to Tomi. "Have you listened to her respectfully?"
Tomi looked surprised, and Celia felt a rush of gratitude toward Marco. "I believe so, my lord." Tomi turned to her, suddenly unsure. "I did, didn't I?" When she didn't answer, he sighed. "Before we quarreled, I mean?"
She nodded.
"And you considered her advice carefully?"
"Yes, my lord. Her reasoning is sound…it's just that...well, I'm going on a bit of instinct with this one. She is in favor of adding yeast now, but I want to wait. We can always add more yeast later if it doesn't ferment as I hope."