‘I’d prefer you to come.’ The words were a gravelly command.
She arched a brow, her eyes jolting away from his. ‘As much as I’m here to fall in with your every wish, I want to stay on the island. And look at the plans.’ Her tone was unwittingly belligerent, but it was a pretty good impersonation of Cressida’s.
He reached for his coffee, his forearm brushing against her in the process. She started, flames of need dancing through her.
Her nerves stretched, pulling tighter. ‘Have fun, though.’
He scowled. ‘You don’t think you should appraise the island for yourself?’
‘That’s what I’m doing,’ she pointed out, her heart hammering. Pride kept her where she was, but her sanity was urging her to step away. Far away.
‘Capri, I mean,’ he corrected. ‘Its proximity to Prim’amore is a point of interest. I imagine your father would want to hear your thoughts on it and the crossing.’
Her eyes were wide in her face. Damn it. He had a point.
‘Come on,’ he murmured, as a snake charmer might. The words were enticing, seductive, impossible to ignore. ‘It will be a quick trip, and afterwards I will find the plans.’
She ground her teeth together. ‘Are you blackmailing me?’
He grinned. The butterflies were back—a whole kaleidoscope of them.
‘Yes.’
‘Why do you want me to come with you?’ She asked, dropping her eyes to the ground between them.
The silence was a thick, knotted ball. When he spoke, the words seemed almost dragged from him.
‘That is a good question. And I’m not sure I have an answer to it.’
Her heart turned over. Agony and pleasure warred in her heart. ‘Okay.’ She nodded, her voice hoarse. ‘I’ll just need a few minutes to get ready.’
He lifted his coffee cup between them, relaxed now that she’d acquiesced. ‘Take your time. I’m going to have this.’
She didn’t need long, though. Unlike Cressida, Tilly generally threw on what she had to hand and finger-combed her hair to make it slightly less wild. The most she ever dressed up was on the occasions when she was pretending to be Cressida Wyndham.
She showered, scrubbing her skin until it was pink, then wrapped a towel around her body. She peeked down the hallway, making sure he wasn’t nearby, before stepping out of the bathroom. She moved quickly to her room, but just at the second she reached the door he stepped out of his, and his powerful frame connected with hers—hard.
She had the brief impression of his head having been bent, his mind distracted—enough to convince her that it was an accident.
‘Ow!’ she snapped, forgetting momentarily that beneath the towel she was naked and wet. ‘Watch where you’re going!’
But he was watching. In that moment he was watching every single movement on Tilly’s face, seeing so much more than she was aware she was showing. The way her eyes clouded, turning a darker green when they met his. The way her pupils dilated under his watch, spinning into big black orbs. And the way her lips parted, revealing a moist tongue that nervously traced her lower lip.
Rio lifted his hands to her shoulders, his expression dark.
Her breath was rasping and fast. She stared at him, and all thoughts of being strong and keeping him at arm’s length fled her mind. Only desire was left.
His eyes probed hers and his fingers on her wet flesh were gently insistent as they stroked. She moaned, low in her throat, and swept her eyes closed.
Without make-up, her skin glowing from the shower, her hair pulled up into a messy bun, and with a tiny towel barely covering her, she was the most desirable woman he had ever seen.
Rio glided his hands over her upper arms, but he wanted more. His hand moved to the back of her towel, pushing her towards him. She connected with his body—by design this time. She was soft and small, her curves fitting perfectly to him, as though they’d been designed for one another.
Her lashes were dark, feathered fans against her flushed cheeks. And the small moan she made sent his pulse into overdrive. Would she moan when they made love? Would her pillowy lips part, breathing those sweet sounds into the air?
His need was a tsunami inside him, crashing inexorably towards land. She was the shore...she was the anchor...and he was powerless to fight the pull of her tide. Rio had never considered himself powerless before. But he didn’t care. What did power matter when there was the delight of Cressida Wyndham to be had?
He lifted his hand to her face, cupping her cheek and sweeping the ball of his thumb over her lower lip. Her eyes flew open, pinning him with a look that held the same tsunami of need that was ravaging his defences.
‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she said quietly, but her hips pushed forward, moving from side to side in an ancient silent invitation.
His fingers moved through her hair, pulling it from the bun, running through the ends. ‘We shouldn’t,’ he agreed darkly.
‘I don’t...just sleep with guys,’ she whispered, closing her eyes on the confession.
And it was a confession, he realised. There was guilt and shame in it—as though she had been keeping it a secret. It confused the hell out of him, because he would have put money on Cressida sleeping with pretty much anyone she found attractive.
Curiosity flared and challenge lay before him. Not to sleep with her so much as to find out more about her before he gave in to temptation.
‘Do you kiss them?’ he asked.
She smiled, but before she could answer his mouth was crushing down on hers. It was a kiss driven by a passion that had burst out of their control; it was its own force, enormous and undeniable. His tongue was fierce in her mouth, and she surrendered to him willingly. She melted against him, her whole body catching fire.
Her hands pushed into his hair. His body was a weight against hers. He moved her easily, pushing her back against the wall. The pressure of his frame kept her standing, his strong legs pinning her on either side, his mouth making her forget anything except this. This moment, this need.
The world seemed to stop. His hands reached lower and it wasn’t until they curved over hers that Tilly realised she’d been about to unhook her towel, wanting to lower it, to be naked for him and with him. His hands held it still, though, and he broke the kiss just enough to look down at her.
‘No.’ He shook his head, and his expression was so serious that she wondered for a terrifying moment, if she’d mistaken his interest in her. But he’d kissed her? Hadn’t he? Or had she kissed him?
Doubt and worry replaced desire, dousing it quickly. ‘Oh, I thought...’
‘You don’t just sleep with men, remember?’ he prompted, his breath strained, his chest moving quickly.
Her eyes clouded, almost changing colour as she reached through the strands of memory to recall what he was talking about. ‘Oh, right,’ she muttered, wishing she could eat those words.
‘And if you take this towel off I don’t think either of us will be able to stop what was about to happen from happening.’
She nodded, but embarrassment was making it difficult to accept his explanation. Because Tilly didn’t want to stop. She wanted to give in to this—them—here and now.
‘I am only human, cara,’ he said gently. ‘And already I find I cannot get you out of my mind.’
She drew in a deep breath at the admission. ‘Really?’
His laugh came from deep in his throat. ‘Really.’
‘I thought maybe I was the only one fighting this.’
He shook his head and moved forward again, pinning her with his body so that she could be in no doubt as to how he felt.
‘I have been like this since we swam, yesterday.’
Her cheeks suffused with colour. ‘Oh...’
He grinned. ‘Yes. Oh.’
She bit down on her lip and forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘So...?’
‘I am not often surprised,’ he said, and it was a thick admission. ‘But you surprise me. I like that.’
* * *
If Tilly had thought her nerves stretched tight before, they were now at breaking point. A bumpy boat ride to Capri hadn’t helped. Nor had the sight of Rio at the helm, his shirtsleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing tanned forearms and capable hands, his strong body braced as they crested the waves.
By the time they arrived she was parched, and just about ready to beg him to relent, to find some place where they could be together and see if that cured her desperate state of longing.
He pulled the boat directly into a cove, bringing it to a stop beside a wooden jetty. He stood up and tossed out a thick rope, catching a hook which he used to bring the boat in closer. He jumped up, in an impressive display of athleticism, looping the rope several times and then putting a hand down to her.
Tilly eyed it suspiciously, but his smile made her laugh. ‘Yeah, okay. I’ve learned my lesson.’
Still, she was tentative as she reached up and placed her fingers in his palm.
It was like being electrocuted. Her whole body was quivering with it. Her eyes met his helplessly. She was lost.
From what she could tell, Rio was focussed only on getting her out of the boat safely. She climbed up, knowing that she must look ridiculous as she scrambled onto the jetty. She went to thank him and pull away, but he shifted his fingers, lacing them through hers, holding on to her hand.
Emotion caught at her throat.
It was just about the sweetest gesture she’d ever known. A simple touch, an innocent closeness, and yet it filled her with pleasure.
The shore of Capri was dotted with colourful homes built right into the sheer cliff face. Shops and restaurants dotted the shoreline, and in the small bay bright boats bobbed gently on the water.
‘What do you need?’ she asked, her eyes taking in the picturesque scene.
‘Apart from the obvious?’ He grinned. ‘I have to pick up a few things.’
‘That’s cryptic,’ she teased.
‘Uh-huh. That is me. International man of mystery.’
She laughed. ‘Okay, mystery man. Where to first?’
The marina at which Rio had moored the boat was small, but a short stroll away there was a market.
It turned out that grocery items seemed to be the sum total of what was required. He paused to pick up a baguette, some tomatoes, olives, oil and cheese. While Rio shopped, Tilly followed, pausing to admire the stalls that caught her attention, wondering at the artful displays and delicious-looking treats.
He paused to speak to a man selling grapes and she spied a little shop across the cobbled path. ‘I’m just going to have a look in there,’ she murmured, moving away before he could speak.
She slipped inside and breathed in the familiar scent of second-hand books. Dust and imagination swirled around her.
‘Buongiorno.’ the woman behind the counter smiled, her wiry frame shifting forward a little in acknowledgement of Tilly’s arrival.
‘Ciao.’
Tilly disappeared into the shelves, picking up a few titles that interested her before settling near the children’s books. The titles were difficult to translate, but the names of the authors were obvious.
At the very bottom, hidden behind a wall of Harry Potter translations, she saw a familiar binding. ‘Aha!’ She slipped it out. Il Castello Sulla Scogliera stared back at her. She had read all the Famous Five books as a child. She flicked the pages and ran her finger over the words. A foreign language couldn’t diminish the promise of the book.
She moved to the cash register and placed her trophy down, hoping her smile would compensate for the fact that she didn’t speak more than a few words of Italian.
The woman nodded, as if understanding, and pointed to the price on the cover. Tilly fumbled into her handbag, bypassing her phone on her way to her wallet. Her phone! She hadn’t even realised that here in Capri she must have reception.
She placed a ten euro note on the counter and waited for change. The woman slid the book into a brown paper bag, her smile dismissive.
‘Grazie,’ Tilly murmured, nestling the book into her bag as she lifted her phone. She switched it on and waited for it to load up.
A few text messages came in—one from Jack, thanking her again for saving his life, one from her mother, asking if she was coming for dinner at the weekend, and one from Art asking where a file had been saved on her computer.
She tapped out a quick reply to Art, and then went into her emails. There was nothing from Cressida.
She lifted her gaze, scanning the market, and located Rio instantly. Though he was surrounded by other shoppers, she could have spotted him from five times the distance.
As if sensing her inspection, he looked up, his eyes clashing with hers. The zing of lust was strong enough to make her slow to a stop. It was overwhelming.
He made up for her lack of movement, cutting through the shoppers easily until he was right before her.
‘Lunch?’ he prompted, his eyes dropping to her lips in a way that made her want to lift her mouth and kiss him.
Wordlessly, she nodded.
Lunch first. And whatever else he wanted after that.
CHAPTER SIX
THE RESTAURANT OVERLOOKED the whole bay. It was up at least a hundred narrow steps, but as Tilly stared over the sweeping ocean, seeing the colourful boats and the golden sun, she admitted to herself that the climb had absolutely been worth it.
Lavender framed the terrace, exploding from terracotta pots, spiking the air with darts of mauve. She reached forward and clipped one of the leaves, lifting it to her nose. The tell-tale scent came to her quickly, but there was something else. She craned forward and beneath the pot plant saw a tiny jasmine vine scrambling up the wall, reaching towards her.
‘Do not even think about falling,’ a dark voice murmured from just behind her.
She straightened, casting a look over her shoulder and rolling her eyes.
But her heart slammed against her ribcage when she saw Rio holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. Her eyes stuck to him, as though glued.
‘I have ordered lunch,’ he murmured, nodding towards the table directly beside them.
She nodded—a tiny movement.
He poured two glasses of wine; it was ice-cold and a buttery yellow colour. He lifted one and handed it to her, his eyes holding hers.
‘Cheers,’ she said as she took it, and he lifted his glass, clinking it against the side of hers lightly. ‘Have you been here before?’
‘To Capri?’
‘No. To this restaurant.’
‘Ah. Once, when I first visited Prim’amore.’
Her curiosity over his decision to buy it flared back to life. ‘Did you inspect the island like I am?’
‘No.’ He forced a smile to his face. ‘It was a sudden visit.’
‘Why?’ She sipped her wine automatically and found it to be delicious. Fruity without being cloying, and refreshing.
He angled his face to hers. ‘There wasn’t time to explore.’
‘Are you being deliberately evasive?’
He sipped his wine, his eyes locked to hers over the rim. ‘No.’
‘So...?’
He expelled a sigh. ‘I have spent a lifetime not discussing this.’
Her interest doubled. She waited, holding her breath, for him to continue.
‘There is something about you...’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I inherited the island,’ he said after a moment’s pause. ‘A little over a month ago.’
‘Oh.’ Sympathy clouded her expression. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What for?’
‘Well, if someone left you a whole island, you must have meant a lot to them.’
His smile was brief: a flicker of disagreement disguised as a polite acknowledgement. ‘I don’t want it.’
She mulled over that for a moment. ‘Because of Arketà?’
‘Because it r
eminds me of things I would rather forget,’ he corrected.
A sound alerted them to someone’s approach. Rio straightened, and his air of confiding drifted away.
The waiter placed two plates on their table. One held an assortment of seafood—calamari, prawns, vongole and oysters. The other had slices of tomato, white spheres of cheese and marinated artichoke hearts.
Her stomach gave an anticipatory lurch. She was impatient to taste the flavours. But her mind was even more impatient. She wanted to know everything about him.
Apparently she was not alone in her curiosity.
‘I misjudged you completely,’ he said slowly, thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair and waving a hand over the plates, indicating that she should help herself. ‘I thought you would be selfish and boring. Vapid and vain.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ she snapped, fluttering her lashes to look down at the food. She reached for some calamari and a few pieces of tomato, simply to disguise the guilt on her face.
‘I have apologised for this,’ he said seriously, his voice deep. ‘I meant it. You are not the woman I thought. So who are you?’
She swallowed. Despair was a chasm beneath her, trying its hardest to suck her in. What could she tell him? Not a lot. At least not without breaking the promise she’d made to Cressida.
She met his gaze, but her eyes were hesitant. ‘What do you want to know?’
He was thoughtful, as though she’d suggested he write a blank cheque and he was appraising how much to make it out for. ‘I was under the impression that you were...how should I put this? Liberal with your affections?’
She smothered a laugh of indignation. ‘Is that a euphemism for being easy to get into bed?’
He shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. ‘I make no judgements. I enjoy sex as much as anyone. I do not care how many partners my lovers have had before me.’
She squeezed her eyes shut. Just the idea of being grouped in with his lovers made her blood simmer painfully inside her. ‘How enlightened of you.’
‘It is this that fascinates me. This coy embarrassment, your prudish disapproval. As though you have never slept with a man.’
Her lips formed an ‘oh’ of surprise. ‘Just because this morning I said I wasn’t in the habit of having sex with random men?’
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