Sicilian Nights Omnibus

by Penny Jordan

  He made her ache for him in a thousand—no, a hundred thousand different ways, and the way his knowing smile lifted the corners of his mouth told her that he knew that her whole body shuddered in mute delight at the slow, deliberate stroke of his fingertips along the curve of her breast.

  He turned his head and looked at her. Joy ran through her like quicksilver as she reached up to him, knowing how much she loved him.

  ‘Alessandro...’

  The sound of her own voice woke Leonora from her dream, shocking her into reality, as her cry hung on the morning air of the bedroom. Alessandro her dream lover? How could that be? It couldn’t.

  She looked towards the other side of the bed. Thankfully it was empty. A glance at her watch told her that she had slept later than normal. She was surprised that she had slept at all, given the events of the evening. There was no sound from the bathroom or the dressing room. She was obviously alone in the bedroom, and of course she was glad. Of course she was. Why had she dreamed about Alessandro like that? She had never even dreamed her fantasy before while sleeping, never mind substituted a real-life man for her imaginary lover.

  It didn’t mean anything, she reassured herself as she pushed back the bedclothes and stood up. It was only because of what had happened last night before they had gone to bed. It might be true that the more she learned about Alessandro the more she wanted to learn, but that was just because of his airline. It didn’t mean that she was foolish enough to think of him as her soul mate. That was ridiculous.

  She showered quickly and slightly apprehensively, not wanting either the return of the spider or the return of Alessandro. How awful it would be if he ever got to know about her silly fantasy. But of course he would not get to know. How could he? She certainly wasn’t going to tell him, Leonora thought wryly as she dressed casually in her new jeans and one of the T-shirts.

  Having brushed her hair and applied a discreet touch of make-up, she made her way across the courtyard to the main entrance to the house. She was standing in the hallway, wondering what to do about finding some breakfast, when Falcon walked into the hall from the opposite direction, smiling warmly at her when he saw her. Like her, he was dressed casually in jeans, looking younger and less austere than he had done the previous evening.

  ‘No Sandro?’ he asked.

  ‘I overslept, I’m afraid, and he must have got impatient for his breakfast,’ Leonora responded.

  ‘Most ungallant of him. But most fortunate for me, as it means that I can have the pleasure of escorting you to the breakfast room. With so much going on it will only be a buffet-style affair this morning—although if you wish for something more...’

  ‘No, a light breakfast will be fine,’ Leonora assured him.

  Alessandro’s brother was charming, and handsome, and she felt more comfortable with him than she did with Alessandro himself, but it was Alessandro who made her heart thump against her ribs—just as it was doing now, at the mere thought of him.

  ‘The castello is so big I’m sure I’m going to get lost before the weekend’s over,’ Leonora told her host.

  ‘If you would like a guided tour then I would be happy to be your guide.’

  ‘Oh, no. I didn’t mean—I mean, I wasn’t...’ Flustered, and feeling that she must have sounded as though she was angling for a personal tour of the castello, Leonora was aghast. But instead of looking grimly at her, as she was sure Alessandro would have done, Falcon gave her another warm smile and laughed.

  ‘You would prefer Sandro to be the one to escort you, I can see,’ he said. ‘No, there is no need to deny it. That is just as it should be.’

  Alessandro frowned as he stood at the opposite end of the long salon, unobserved by either his brother or Leonora, watching them both. Falcon was smiling warmly at Leonora—too warmly, Alessandro decided—and she was smiling back. Falcon had placed his hand on her arm and she was looking up at him. Out of nowhere a sledgehammer blow fell across Alessandro’s heart, momentarily stopping it and then setting it thudding with a fierce, possessive alpha-male anger. Leonora was his, and she was going to stay his.

  He was halfway across the room before logic cut in, warning him of the danger he was courting in giving way to his emotions. But by then it was too late, because both Falcon and Leonora had seen him and were looking at him. It was impossible for him to turn back—either from crossing the room or from what he had just learned about himself and his real feelings for Leonora.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Sandro. I found Leonora in the grand hall, looking hungry and alone.’

  ‘I left her in bed, and hungry, I had thought, only for my return.’

  Alessandro’s response to his brother, his words and their implied meaning, caused Leonora to take a sharp breath at the deliberate sensuality and his implication that there had been an implicit promise between them that he would return to the bed where he had left her to make love to her.

  ‘I did offer to show her round the castello, but she made it plain to me that she would rather you were her guide,’ Falcon told his brother without commenting on Alessandro’s own words.

  Falcon’s comment caused Alessandro to look directly at Leonora for the first time since he had joined them. She looked flushed and uncomfortable, as though embarrassed by their conversation, but Alessandro told himself that she was simply putting on an act, that secretly she was relishing the opportunity to make him jealous because Falcon had shown an interest in her. Even so, he had no intention of leaving her on her own with Falcon—or anyone else.

  He had risen this morning tired and frustrated, after a largely sleepless night, having at one stage woken up to discover that he had moved to lie so close to Leonora that she’d been within arm’s reach of him. His thigh had ached to be thrown over hers, to claim his male possession of her. Of course he had let it do no such thing, moving back to his own side of the bed instead, but the ache had still tormented him—and it was tormenting him now, Alessandro admitted angrily. Of course the only reason he wanted her so fiercely—the only viable reason why his emotions were involved—was because she had challenged him and then rejected him. There was no other permissible reason.

  ‘I thought you might like to see something of the island whilst we’re here,’ he told Leonora. ‘So I’ve arranged for us to pick up a helicopter at the airfield in half an hour’s time. We won’t be able to see everything, of course, but I’ll do my best to show you the highlights.’

  Leonora’s face lit up immediately. Unable to conceal her pleasure, she smiled up at Alessandro, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  ‘I’ve never piloted a helicopter—’ she began, but Alessandro shook his head.

  ‘And you won’t be piloting one today either,’ he warned her. ‘You aren’t licensed to fly them.’

  ‘Are you?’ Leonora couldn’t resist demanding.

  ‘Of course,’ Alessandro responded. ‘So, either you can have your breakfast now, or we could have brunch at a hotel I know with the most spectacular views of the Ionian Sea.’

  ‘Let the poor girl at least have a cup of coffee, Sandro,’ Falcon protested, but Leonora shook her head.

  ‘Brunch sounds perfect,’ she assured Alessandro happily.

  * * *

  In the end she did get her coffee, and some delicious fresh bread and honey, brought to her by Alessandro himself after she had returned to their suite to collect everything she thought she might need.

  When he walked in, carrying a tray on which there was a cafetière of coffee, two cups and fresh bread and preserves, she did feel a small sweetly sharp heartbeat of self-conscious uncertainty, brought on as much by her own private dream fantasy as by what had actually happened between them.

  The sight of Alessandro dressed like her in jeans, but wearing a soft white short-sleeved linen shirt with them, which somehow emphasised the breadth and masculinity of h
is torso, heightened her already acute awareness of him. What would happen if she went to him now and told him with the openness and the sexual confidence she knew she ought to have that she could not stop thinking about him and that she wanted them to make love? He had been angry with her last night when she had retreated from him, but he had wanted her then. Did he still want her now?

  What was the matter with her? Her virginity might be a burden to her, but that was not a valid reason for her to feel the way she was doing right now. Wanting Alessandro merely physically would have been bad enough, given her ambition to work for him, but the need and the hunger she was battling contained an emotional longing to connect with him.

  That was simply because they shared certain aspects of their childhood. She would have felt the same way about any man she met who, like her, was a second child and had lost a parent.

  ‘Here you are.’

  She had been so engrossed with her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed that Alessandro had poured them both a cup of coffee. As she took hers from him their fingertips touched, and she had to fight not to reach out to him, to make that touch even more intimate. This was crazy—and dangerous. Anyone would think she’d never been so close to a man before.

  She hadn’t, though, had she? Or at least not to a sensually powerful and compelling alpha male like Alessandro. He was unique, but her response to him was far from unique, she reminded herself firmly, turning away from him to face the window. She clasped her coffee and pretended to be interested in the view beyond the window in order to avoid having to look at him and further increase her unwanted vulnerability. No doubt hordes of other women had felt about him as she did. But they, unlike her, had no doubt had the sexual confidence to show him how they felt. What would his reaction be if he knew the truth? Would he be as repulsed as she dreaded? Or would he simply laugh at her? Either way, she wasn’t going to risk finding out. Not when she already knew that what he certainly wasn’t likely to do was sweep her up into his arms and carry her to bed. He wouldn’t do that, would he? Not after the way she had stopped him last night.

  Leonora tightened her grip on her coffee cup, all too aware of the betraying tremors of longing threatening her body. From the place deep within her memory where she had locked it away came a teasing comment made to her by Leo, when she had first insisted that she wasn’t going to give up her dream of working for Alessandro’s Avanti Airlines.

  ‘Are you sure it’s the job you want and not the man, sis? After all, there are dozens of airlines who’d jump at the chance to take on someone as qualified as you, but the only one you seem to be interested in is Alessandro Leopardi’s.’

  Her response had been immediate. She had repudiated his brotherly teasing, insisting with flags of anger flying in her cheeks that the only reason she was so determined to get Alessandro Leopardi to back down and take her on was to prove a point, that it had nothing to do with the man himself. Or at least not in the way Leo had been implying.

  The reality was that her determination to force Alessandro to concede that she was more than up to being one of his pilots had everything to do with the fact that she had been so deeply resentful of his professional rejection of her, and intensely determined to make him change his mind.

  ‘You’d better have something to eat—unless you’re one of those women who doesn’t do breakfast?’

  Alessandro’s cool voice, tinged with a mix of disapproval and contempt, broke into the chaotic confusion of her private thoughts. Glad of an excuse not to have to pursue them to a conclusion she already knew she wasn’t going to like, Leonora answered him by going over to the table and putting down her coffee before selecting some bread and spreading it with honey.

  ‘Food is fuel for the human body. I wouldn’t expect or want to fly an aircraft that wasn’t properly fuelled, and the same applies to my body. Besides,’ she added wryly, ‘it just isn’t possible to grow up as the only female in a houseful of men and not eat breakfast. My father used to insist on us all having a huge bowlful of home-made porridge on winter mornings, and to tell the truth it’s still my favourite comfort food.’ She stopped speaking abruptly, conscious of having allowed him to see a softer side she’d normally have kept hidden.

  ‘Mine is spaghetti with tomato sauce. Falcon used to make it for us—we were often sent supperless to bed by our stepmother, but our old cook taught Falcon how to make a few simple dishes,’ Alessandro told her.

  They looked at one another, both of them wondering what had prompted them to give away an aspect of themselves they normally kept very carefully guarded. For Alessandro, the unplanned giving of such a confidence about his childhood left him with a need to explain to himself why he had done so. He picked up a piece of bread, spooning fresh preserve onto it and biting into it with strong white teeth in a way that had Leonora’s stomach muscles clamping down hard against a surge of sensual heat that caught her off guard.

  All he was doing by exchanging such confidences with her was working towards getting her off guard and keeping her there until he was ready to show her which of them was the stronger, Alessandro assured himself, finishing the bread and then telling Leonora crisply, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t tried for your own helicopter pilot’s licence.’

  Had he deliberately chosen the word ‘tried’ to annoy her? Leonora wondered. If so, he had succeeded.

  Defensive colour flushed her face as she told him fiercely, ‘I had planned to, but tuition is expensive. I don’t have the luxury of your kind of wealth. I have to work to support myself—plus, as I don’t have a job as a pilot, I have to find the money to keep my licence up to date. Not a lot left over to indulge myself with helicopter piloting tuition.’

  ‘And that’s my fault, is it? Because I wouldn’t give you a job?’ Alessandro mocked her, quickly picking up on what she hadn’t said. ‘There are other airlines,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Not for me. For me there is only you—I mean only Avanti.’

  Now Leonora’s face was scarlet. What on earth had prompted her to make such a faux pas and substitute that far too personal and intimate ‘you’ for the name of his airline? Her face burning, she looked at Alessandro, but he was looking away from her, casually picking up his coffee as though he hadn’t registered what she had said.

  Oh, very clever, Alessandro thought cynically, as he pretended not to have registered Leonora’s deliberately accidental ‘you’. He might not have allowed her to see that he had registered it, but he certainly wasn’t fooled by it. She was obviously a member of the ‘the best way to a man’s heart is via his ego’ club, but Alessandro had learned not to trust his own ego a long time ago—and the hard way.

  ‘Mandarin lessons don’t come cheap,’ he retaliated smoothly. ‘And you are, I presume, self-employed?’

  Leonora could feel her face burning again, but this time the heat was caused by anger. The parents who paid her to teach their children and the businessmen and -women eager to add Mandarin to their CVs did pay well, but she worked hard to fit in as many pupils as she could without prejudicing her own ability to teach them well.

  Something her father had taught them all was the need to ‘pay back’ to society—from being young they had all run errands for elderly neighbours, as well as worked at home for pocket money—and now she took that early lesson a step further and gave as many free lessons as she could fit in to her timetable, travelling to various schools to teach groups of financially disadvantaged children several nights a week. Not that she would dream of defending herself from Alessandro’s cutting jibe by telling him that. It wasn’t something she had felt any need to put on her CV, so why should she feel the need to seek his good opinion by telling him now?

  Unless, of course, there was another reason she wanted him to approve of her, and like her? Such as what? She had dreamed about him, hadn’t she? Imagining him as her soul mate. But that had simply been because of last night, a
nd didn’t mean anything. Heavens, she’d be trying to tell herself she was in danger of falling in love with him if she carried on like this.

  Her heart did a cartwheel reminiscent of the first slow spin of a washing machine. Falling in love with Alessandro? Oh, that would be something, wouldn’t it? The joke of the year. And she’d be the fool—the one everyone was laughing at. But what if it wasn’t a joke? What if she was actually falling in love with him? What if she had already fallen in love with him?

  Panic gripped her. Her heart went into full washing machine spin cycle. She put down the bread and honey she had been enjoying only a minute ago, unable to finish eating it. Of course she hadn’t fallen in love with Alessandro. She was panicking over nothing. Just because she had wanted to go to bed with him it didn’t mean she loved him. But she had wanted him to hold her. She had wanted—

  ‘We’d better make a move if you’re going to see anything much of the island before we have to get back for tonight’s ball.’

  It was a relief to have Alessandro’s voice cutting through the painful confusion of her thoughts.

  ‘Look, I’ve been thinking.’ Leonora gave him her brightest smile. ‘If you’ve got things to do, and I’m going to hold you up, I’m perfectly happy to stay here.’

  She wasn’t in love with him, but it might be wiser and safer not to spend the day on her own with him.

  She wanted to stay here—without him? Alessandro’s mouth hardened. Did she really think he was so easily taken in that he didn’t know what she was up to? Did she really believe she had a chance with Falcon, or was she simply trying to make him jealous?