“Our home,” he corrected and walked her into the main living area near the front door. His house was a maze and confusing to most people. He’d explain to her the real maze inside, later.
Sheena kept pace with him and sighed. “Ours… that feels hard to say.”
It would be a life sentence if they didn’t figure out how to get along. Hopefully he’d find a way to speak to her. Right now his stomach was in knots as he wondered what he might offer a lady. The truth was he’d almost married Patrice because she’d simply want cash. Her needs were easy to understand, but Sheena… she was different. “We’ve both signed that nonnegotiable contract. We’re stuck forever, unless the king approves of a divorce, which won’t happen.”
She pressed her lips together without a word but continued walking beside him as she studied the wooden banister of the main stairwell. He wrapped his arm around her waist to get her attention. “Here, let me give you the quick tour so you don’t get lost.”
She glanced down at his arm but didn’t remove it. He guided her toward the main ballroom that he thought she might use in an art show.
Her eyes almost popped as she saw the cream walls with specks of real gold embedded in the paint and multiple crystal chandeliers. Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped out of his arms and twirled. “You never told me it was so grand. You said big, but this is lovely, and not at all bachelor party-boy taste.”
“This isn’t my taste to be honest. I never cared what the place looked like.” This house and the money in the bank was why he’d needed a wife. Her not knowing this made Sheena more interesting.
It wasn’t about the money to her as he spouted off some facts about the estate. “As I mentioned before, there are well over three-hundred rooms, and more than enough space to show off whatever art you wish to the public, and still have private quarters. There is a maze I’ll show you how to navigate inside the house tomorrow so you can plan whatever event you’re thinking about.”
She looped her arm in his and gazed up at him like she’d just experienced Christmas morning. Her excitement sent a spark through him as she said, “I’m not thinking about events or hosting or anything like that right now. I just need to know where to get my coffee in the morning and where my… our bedroom is.”
The spark gave him hope. Perhaps there was a way that chemistry and friendship would work out better than basically employing someone as his wife. His heart lifted but he needed to know Sheena wasn’t always proper—he brought her to a door in the main ballroom.
“This leads to the kitchen stairs. Staff will find you wherever you are.” He opened one of the side doors—they could all open in the event of a large party. “This is the dining hall where we’ll eat with guests, but there is a smaller nook for just family closer to our quarters.” He closed the doors behind them as he said, “I’d prefer to set a schedule where we eat together.”
She gazed out at the large, freshly-cut green lawn with olive trees lined up on both sides of the emerald center for as long as the eye could see. She looked at him with surprise. “That sounds lovely.”
“Good.” Unlike Patrice when he requested something, with Sheena, he had hope that she would remember the conversation. He fixed the button on the top of his shirt and set out to show her his library and study.
She patted his arm. “Why?”
“What?”
Sheena placed her hand on her hip and tilted her head. “Why do you want to eat together?”
They entered the formal dining room on the way to his library. He held out a wooden chair that currently had royal blue upholstery. As a boy he’d seen blues come and go. The staff had always made the decisions regarding the furnishings and that hadn’t changed when he’d become Count.
Sheena sat and he smelled her lavender perfume. He took the seat beside and brushed his finger against hers as he said, “And sleep together?”
She turned toward him and trembled.
No other woman he’d known had done anything like that when he’d touched her. Her reactions were interesting. He fully took her hand. She said, “Yes, that too.”
He needed to explain to her in a logical, nonsexual way, his mind screamed, but he kissed her hand and goosebumps grew on his body from the touch of her bare skin. “I never knew my mother.”
She blinked. “What?”
The statement alone didn’t explain but she had him confused. Her touch shouldn’t set off fireworks in his veins. The positive to his reaction was knowing they’d have something good between the sheets, even though he hadn’t sampled her.
“I didn’t know her,” he said. “I didn’t know anything about her other than she’d died. My father had multiple women, in multiple suites, in this house that he used to satisfy his wants.”
She turned her nose in the air like he’d just offended the sensibilities of a sixty-five year old noble lady that never discussed sex out loud. “I didn’t pick up on that vibe in these walls.”
She never would. He sat back in his chair and spoke clearly. “The staff is well-trained to keep the place in pristine condition in case a lady joins us. Or running the place, despite horrible ownership. They’re probably delighted to see me with you.” Even if both of them spent every dime they could, the estate had more for any future counts.
Her lips pinched together like he’d said the wrong thing. She said, “Ah yes, I already know you threw wild parties.”
Which might not make his point that he was ready for change. His heart sped up like he’d been caught in a lie. “I kept up family traditions.”
She folded her hands on the table and crossed her ankles. “I’m not much of a party person. Unless it benefits a certain cause. I’ve always preferred intimate gathering with friends where we can talk.”
The opposite of him. He scooted closer, eager for her kiss, like that might help the tension in his belly. “You’re going to be good for me.”
A small sigh showed her true opinion that she wasn’t interested in flattery before she said, “That doesn’t explain why you want to eat meals together and sleep beside me. Your past sounds like a warning shot to never get near.”
Her words cut through his skin like she had knives attached to the verbs. “That might be wise, but I don’t want any future Count of Korbel to know what sordid means before he turns three. I also didn’t want cousins to inherit, so I figured even with Patrice I could do better than my old man and show my son a thing or two in life so he wasn’t as messed up as me.”
She rubbed her arms but he noticed that the goosebumps stayed. “Sordid?”
Sheena was a lady, which was a good and bad thing for him—otherwise their kisses would have gone much further already. “It’s a good word to describe my childhood.”
“You always struck me as carefree.”
He kissed her fingertips and she let out another one of her rather sexy sighs. “I took chances, hoping to disappear where nothing matters.”
She leaned close and the curve of her chest brushed the table. “Yet, you’re so full of life.”
Matteo ached to reach under her shirt and palm the weight of her breasts, to see for himself the color of her nipples. With a guilty swallow, he jumped out of his seat. “Sheena, let’s get lunch.” The library and his study could wait—he had to get a grip.
She stood like she was the Queen of England but didn’t ask if they would eat in the formal dining room. Sheena followed him to the hall. “And you’ll explain more about what kind of life you want together?”
Her words were like weapons that dug into his soul. He led her to a stairwell that went to the master’s chambers. Together, they walked up the stairs. “Sure. I want to know what traditional family is and to at least provide stability for my son.”
Side by side, they took the next step. Sheena asked, “What if we have a daughter?”
Fair question. He nodded as they made it to the second level. “Her too. I’m just projecting based on my own past.”
He motioned for
them to turn right and she said, “Okay, please continue. I want to hear your life plans.”
Adrenaline coursed through him as they passed the bedroom. He was tempted to detour except she didn’t seem interested. Matteo led her to the next door to show the family quarters. As he opened the doors, he said, “They aren’t plans.”
“Goals, then.” She slipped into the living quarters.
Her hands traced the fabric of the new cream-colored couch. His staff changed out furniture according to some schedule he wasn’t aware of, but everything they replaced fit as if meant to be there.
He closed the door behind them and said, “Goals. I’d like a dependable wife that I can get along with.”
Her eyebrows perked as her lips curved into a smile. “I hope that’s me.”
“You’ll be better than Patrice ever would have been.” He hugged her from behind as they stood in front of the side table near the door.
Matteo couldn’t imagine anyone else right here, right now. He gently tugged her backward toward the couch as goosebumps rose on his arms from her simple contact with his bare skin. Sheena patted his arm, followed but asked him, “Then why did you ask her?”
She meant, why hadn’t he asked Sheena until the last moment. He noticed the space between her shirt and her skirt and slipped his fingers between the two articles so he could feel her bare skin. She hummed as he said, “The clock was ticking. I needed to marry. I’ve never been poor.”
“I can see that.” She didn’t object as he tasted her mouth for a kiss, wrapping her into him where their bodies were almost touching except for their clothes.
She was sweeter than cream. His lips craved hers and he turned her around while keeping her in his arms. “I wish I’d had the sense to find you and ask you to marry me before yesterday.”
Her lower lip trembled as she stared at his mouth. “We weren’t exactly friends in school.”
“We weren’t enemies,” he whispered and claimed her mouth.
Her hands ran through his coarse hair and every part of him stood at attention.
Sheena in his arms now was better than any dream life he’d fantasized about. Her hands curled around his neck and shoulders. He ended the kiss so he could show her the bedroom, but she said, “I wouldn’t be on your radar because we didn’t run in the same circles.”
“That’s not why.” She was skirting the truth. He held her close but walked with her to the adjoining room as he said, “You weren’t on the radar because I avoided good girls.”
He opened the door and she stopped in the frame with her gaze locked on the bed. “But you want to be married to only one and offer your children a life you never had.”
Since divorce was impossible, he hoped for an alternative that he’d only heard about on television or from neighbors. He closed the door behind her the moment she stepped in and said, “Yes, but I thought I had all the time in the world to find a lady.”
She walked toward the white sheets like she was walking the plank on some pirate ship. “When did you find out you had to marry by the time you turned thirty?”
He stripped off his shirt—was his wife scared? He’d show her that everything would be fine. He tossed his shirt on the floor and hugged her waist. “It didn’t click in my head though, until I was twenty-eight. By then good girls like you, weren’t around. I hadn’t seen you in years. And even if I would have thought of you, I would have assumed you were married and possibly had children by now. So why aren’t you married already?”
He tugged on her shirt and she held her hands up to help him lift it off her as she said, “I never had the right offer. Most of the guys I dated never quite got me.”
Lucky for him. She was now his and he would never share her with anyone. He licked her skin and she shivered. Before she bolted for the door he asked, “Later, are you ready to go outside and learn to skateboard?”
Her eyes widened but she nodded. “Yes. I’ll need fun.”
“This is fun.” He claimed her lips while back-stepping her toward the bed. With her bra and pants still on, he recalled his earlier thought on the color of her nipples, and if she tasted like cream everywhere—were all parts of her soft, and most important, what was she like after she was satisfied? If she was any sweeter, he might have really won the lottery.
His hard body was ready to find out.
Chapter 7
Sheena’s body still pulsated from making love with Matteo. She’d never, ever enjoyed herself like this in bed, ever.
She’d never exercised these muscles—or any muscles.
She stayed skinny by being too busy to eat more than she needed. Sometimes her alcohol at auctions counted as much needed calories in her day, not that she drank more than wine or champagne, and if she was lucky, a handful of pretzels. When her night wasn’t spent at an art auction, she was at a different benefit or planning upcoming art functions. Her business required being social.
Not one man had ever made her feel like this.
She heard footsteps but kept her eyes closed as she sprawled across the bed, snug beneath a soft sheet.
She was in heaven and she didn’t want to leave.
Until today, with Matteo, she’d thought, mistakenly, that married people sex would be boring.
Clearly she operated in her own delusional world.
Matteo slipped his hand under the sheet and massaged her still tingly naked backside. “It’s time to get up.”
“Don’t get up. Ever. Let’s stay in bed.” She refused to open her eyes.
Right here, right now, she was living in glory. She curved her body toward his wonderful touch and motioned with her head, but he said, “No. We need to get up, Sheena.”
This time she glanced at him and he stopped moving. Instead he sat on the edge of the bed like he judged her as she asked, “What’s going on?”
“Relax, Sheena. Don’t look at me funny. I’m just hungry.”
“Oh.” Drat. The bubble around her burst, allowing doubts to cascade in. She opened her eyes and sat, pushing her blonde hair out of her face. “I’m now nervous around you.”
“Why?” He rested one of his legs on the bed and lowered his brows. “I thought… this afternoon was amazing.”
“Yes. That’s true.” She curled her legs under her, still covered by the sheets. “It was.”
He eyed her. “So what’s made you nervous?”
His hand brushed lightly against her arm.
This was too much. Her hair stood on end and she let out a small sigh. “The last time I had a relationship based on great sex, I ended up alone. It took me months to convince myself I hadn’t made a huge mistake. I’m still not sure I was completely okay with what happened—I thought when I married you, I’d get some stability.”
The words just flew out of her mouth but Charles’s memory hit hard. She’d felt so…used. Matteo was better in bed, by far, but she couldn’t forget how awful she’d felt the morning she’d checked out of the hotel alone and made her way home.
Matteo pressed his shoulder to hers and said, “You have that.”
What? Oh stability. She sighed. They were married. Somehow this had happened, though she didn’t feel married or that she belonged here with Matteo. Charles had cheated on her and Matteo, despite all his words, wasn’t raised to be… faithful. And the stories about him through the years weren’t exactly pious, even if his ‘goal’ to raise balanced children sounded genuine. She scooted into his arms and needed to clear her head. “But now that we… connect… in bed? I’m nervous. We need to go and do something.”
“What do you have in mind?”
In school, he’d disappeared fast on his board, and she’d not see him again. It was how he ran. She met his gaze and asked, “Teach me to skateboard?”
He laughed, not expecting that answer. “Sure. I have my own park out back.”
She put her feet on the ground to get up as she said, “I’m not surprised.”
Sheena was about to drop the sheets when Matteo ask
ed, “So, what happened with this Charles? You said he was unpredictable, and I assume he was who you meant about the hotel… and being left alone.”
She held the sheets tight and made her way toward the bathroom, refusing to look back. “I’m way too open sometimes.”
“It’s easier when you can talk about it,” he called in through the bathroom door.
She quickly cleaned herself up and changed. Luckily she’d packed jeans so she’d be fine skating now that she slipped into her old clothes, including her favorite green shirt that went over one shoulder and had a huge daisy she’d painted on it.
She left the bathroom and tossed the sheets on the bed. “I thought Charles was absolutely wonderful. Like you, he could go through a crowd, laugh and schmooze people to get what he wanted.”
Matteo offered her sneakers that were lying near the door as he said, “That doesn’t make him a bad choice, or me a good choice.”
Matteo had been honest with her from the beginning. Charles had made her believe he’d wanted her, but in the end, that wasn’t true. Honesty was better.
She didn’t say that, not wanting to give Matteo any reason to be cocky, like he’d been in high school. “Charles wanted my art connections more than me. You wanted me as your wife, knowing my father owned a restaurant and that we aren’t in any way noble.”
“What sort of connections?” He helped her lace her shoes, his movements efficient.
She stared at his thick black hair and remembered when he’d walked her to her dorm following that horrible school dance. She’d somehow fallen into the fountain, ruining her clothes, and he’d helped her escape everyone laughing. That day, she’d thought Matteo her hero until he flirted with the girl across the hall.
She sighed to stop the memories. “I organize many fundraisers and support artists so they can pursue their work with less financial troubles.”
He stood, her shoes perfectly knotted, and asked, “What connections did Charles think were more important than you?”
The night before the hotel incident, she’d introduced Charles to Alexa. The two had talked for hours and she’d found out later, once she’d made it back to Paris afterward, that Alexa had also left the show early—Alexa’s friends had been concerned as she hadn’t called or checked in with them.
Forbidden Count (Princes of Avce Book 8) Page 5