by Lucy Monroe
Her lips said one thing, her body another.
Finally, she went completely limp, little whimpering noises interspersed with each breath and he pulled away, kissing her gently as he did so.
He knelt between her legs and surveyed the effect of the first level of their loving on her. Her small body was flushed with arousal all over, her purple eyes awash with tears, and her mouth parted on shallow pants. Hard, red berries, crested the swollen flesh of her breasts. He reached out and gently touched them.
A moan snaked from her throat.
Her nightgown was still bunched around her waist and he wanted her naked.
Disposing of the silk cloth was easy as she languidly allowed him to move her any way he wanted to. He pushed his own pajama bottoms down his hips, his body experiencing relief at the removal of the light restraint of the fabric.
He wanted to touch only one thing with his hardened shaft, the rich, swollen tissues of her inner woman.
“Are you ready for me, carina?”
“I want you to be part of me.” The words were a soft whisper, but very certain.
“Si.” He would hesitate no longer. He could hesitate no longer. He had to have her.
He covered her body with his in one movement, his hard flesh pressed to the most secret part of her. He had been this way once before, but tonight he would not stop. He would consummate their marriage and perhaps even give her their child. “Now, you become my wife.”
CHAPTER NINE
“YES.” It was a broken sound, a mere breath as she curled her fingers into the hair on his chest.
He pressed inward, but though he had brought her to completion many times, she was still tight. “You must relax for me, little one.”
“You’re so big.”
“I am just right for you. Trust me.” The urge to press forward without caution and bury himself in her wet heat was almost more than he could bear. “Give me yourself, mi moglie.”
“I don’t know how,” she whispered brokenly.
“Absorb me, sweetness. Open yourself to our joining.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Inside, the tight clasp on his body loosened and he slid forward a bit more. He started a rocking motion that made her breath hitch and his body break out in sweat as he went deeper into her.
He felt the barrier of her innocence and would have paused, but she arched up toward him crying his name and suddenly he was sheathed in her softness completely. He stilled immediately.
“Are you all right?”
Her eyes slid open, their pansy depths warm with emotion that caught the breath in his chest.
He made love to her then, forcing himself to go slow, to build the pleasure in her again until he felt the beginning tremors of her release.
“Now we share it,” he cried and gave in to the rapture exploding through him.
Her pleasure prolonged his own until he shook with exhaustion from his release. Unable to hold himself above her any longer, he collapsed on top of her. She made a muffled sound and with the last bit of his strength, he rolled them both so she was on top of him, but they were still connected.
“Now you belong to me.”
She rubbed her face against his chest, adjusting herself against his body with a movement that unbelievably teased his recently satisfied flesh. “And you belong to me.”
He did not deny it. The bitter pill had turned out sweeter than nectar and he reveled in his possession of a woman so sweet, so passionate and so completely lacking in artifice. She was everything her grandfather was not.
Everything women like Zia could never hope to be.
Tenderness he had never known toward a lover washed over him and he caressed her back, wanting to soothe her to sleep in his arms.
A soft butterfly kiss landed near his left nipple. “I love you, Luciano,” she whispered against his skin.
The words did strange things to his insides and he could almost thank Joshua Reynolds for giving him the gift of such a woman.
They spent their honeymoon in Naples. Luciano kept his promise to Hope and took her to Pompeii to visit the ruins of the ancient city. They did other touristy things together, Luciano never once growing impatient with her desire to see and experience new things. He made love to her every night, most mornings and frequently in the afternoon as well.
He was insatiable and she loved it. Shocked by her own capacity for passion, she became a total wanton in his arms. It worried her a little bit, this lack of control she had over her body when he touched her, but his ardor made her feel better about her own.
Every day her love for him grew. Though while she told him frequently of her feelings, he said nothing of his own.
He was solicitous of her needs, tender when he loved her and gentle when she needed him to be. There were several times Hope almost convinced herself that Luciano loved her as she loved him. Although he never said the words, he seemed to like hearing her say them. And he made her feel so special, never letting his gaze slide to other women when they were out, using endearments when he spoke to her, and touching her frequently with affection.
When they returned to Palermo, she was so happy she was sick with it.
“It looks like your marriage to my brother is having a very good effect on you,” Martina teased the evening following their return as Hope set up for a billiard shot. “You are positively luminescent with joy.”
She grinned at her new sister-in-law. “I’m happy.”
Martina laughed, the sound echoing in the cavernous game room. “You two were made for each other.”
Hope was beginning to believe that was true both ways and the sense of elation she felt at finally finding her place in the heart of another person knew no bounds. “He’s a really incredibly guy.”
Martina rolled her eyes. “To each her own, but I think you are biased. Luciano is no better. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you all through dinner last night. Mamma had visions of babies dancing through her head. I could tell.”
Hope placed her hand over her stomach. It had only been two weeks, but she couldn’t help thinking that with all the physical attention she received from Luciano, the odds of pregnancy were good.
But she shrugged, refusing to expose her hidden hopes in case they proved futile. “Who knows?”
The phone rang in the other room and seconds later a maid came into the game room. “ di Valerio, your grandfather, he wishes to speak to you.”
Martina laid down her cue stick. “Take the call in here. I’ll go get dressed for dinner.”
Hope picked up the phone. “Hello, Grandfather.”
He returned her greeting and asked about the honeymoon. She told him about their visit to Pompeii and a garden she had found enchanting.
They had been talking about ten minutes when he asked, “Are you happy then, little Hope?”
“Fizzing with it,” she admitted without hesitation.
“That’s good to know.”
His concern had come late in life, but it still felt nice. “Thank you.”
“I finally managed to give you something you really wanted.” He cleared his throat in a familiar way that made her realize she missed him even if he hadn’t been a big part of her daily life in Boston. “I knew what you did with the coat and my housekeeper told me the car stayed in the garage.”
“I never got around to learning to drive,” she said somewhat sheepishly.
He chuckled. “So, that was it.” The line went silent for a second. “I don’t know you very well.”
It was true. He hadn’t wanted to, but maybe that had changed. “It’s all right.”
“Hell no, it’s not, but now maybe that will change. I’m damn happy things are working out for you and Luciano. He’s a good man. Proud and stubborn, but smart and understands the value of family.” His satisfaction rang across the phone lines.
“Yes, he does.”
“I trussed him up like a Thanksgiving turkey for you and I’m glad I did
.” More blatant satisfaction.
The comparison was unfortunate. She couldn’t imagine Luciano in such a scenario at all, nor was she sure that a bit of matchmaking could be likened to trussing someone up, but she didn’t argue with her grandfather. His matchmaking efforts had brought her and Luciano together.
For that, she could swallow a lot of male self-aggrandizement.
“I guess you did, Grandfather. Thank you,” she said warmly.
“I’m just glad you’re happy, girl.”
“I am.” Very, very happy.
“I called to talk to Luciano. Have him call when—”
Luciano’s voice cut across her grandfather’s. “That won’t be necessary, I am here.”
He must have picked up another extension.
“Consuella said you were on the phone talking to Hope while waiting for me to arrive,” he explained his intrusion into the conversation.
“That’s right,” her grandfather replied, “wanted to talk to my granddaughter and see how you were treating her.”
There was an odd note in her grandfather’s voice.
“As she has said, she is happy.” Luciano’s tone was flat and emotionless.
She felt like an intruder on their conversation even though she and her grandfather had been talking first. “I’ll let you two talk business,” Hope interjected.
Her grandfather said goodbye, but Luciano said nothing and she hung up the phone.
Up in their bedroom, she undressed and took a quick shower before pulling on matching lace bra and panties. She was pulling a lavender sheath dress from the closet when Luciano walked into the room.
She laid it on the bed and went over to him, expecting a kiss of greeting, but he sidestepped her. “I need a shower.”
“You look wonderful to me.” She smiled.
He looked better than wonderful. In his tailored Italian suit that clung lovingly to the well-developed muscles of his thighs, he looked edible.
He didn’t return her smile. “Like a Thanksgiving turkey all tied up?” he asked grimly.
“You heard that?”
“Si. I heard.” He looked totally unapproachable.
Heard and been seriously upset by it.
“Don’t let Grandfather’s analogies annoy you.” She pulled her dress off the hanger and tossed the hanger back onto the bed. “It’s just the way he is.”
“He is blunt.”
She smiled again, this time in relief at his understanding. “Right,” she said as she pulled the dress over her head. “He’s not very tactful, but I think he means well.”
She straightened the dress over her hips.
“When it comes to you, his granddaughter, there is no doubt of this.”
“You know, I think you’re right.” It was a novel concept, but one that unraveled some of the pain that had been caused by her grandfather’s rejection throughout her growing-up years. “It feels good to be cared about, to tell you the truth.”
“Regardless of what form that caring takes?” Luciano asked, his expression just this side of feral.
She didn’t know what was wrong with him, but then there were still a lot of things about her husband she did not understand.
“We can’t always choose how someone will love us.” Or if they would love you at all, she thought. Her grandfather had certainly done a good job of hiding any affection he felt for her before.
“And you will take whatever form of love he gives, or is it that you are happy to reap the advantage of his desire to give it at all?”
Okay, her grandfather’s comments had been less than flattering to Luciano, but surely he wasn’t offended by the older man’s claim at matchmaking. Perhaps his male ego was wounded by the thought of someone interfering in his life like that.
She stepped over to him and laid her hand on his chest. “How we came to be together is not as important as the fact that we are together, is it?”
“For you, I can see that it is not.” He swung violently away and stormed into the bathroom.
The door shut with an audible click.
Shocked into immobility, she stared at it for the longest time. What in the world had just happened?
Luciano’s reaction to the situation was totally over the top. His fury at the discovery that her grandfather’s request he check on her in Athens had been an attempt at matchmaking was disproportionate to the circumstances. Even taking into account that it had been a successful attempt and he might feel somewhat manipulated, was it really so awful?
Luciano was a really smart guy. Hadn’t he even suspected ulterior motives when Joshua Reynolds asked for such a personal favor? Especially after that kiss on New Year’s Eve.
One thing became glaringly clear to her as she stood in transfixed stupefaction. If Luciano really had loved her, it would not have mattered. His pride would not find such offense in her grandfather’s harmless machinations. After all, it wasn’t as if Joshua had held a gun to Luciano’s head and forced him to marry Hope.
He’d set them up to meet again, but Luciano had been the one to pursue her. He had invited her to come to Palermo, so why was he acting like her grandfather’s actions and her acceptance of them was so heinous? If anything was at fault for their marriage, it was Luciano’s desire.
Feeling sick, she realized that was all it was. Desire.
And desire was not the soother of pride that love was.
She’d been so sure he was coming to love her, but his reaction tonight showed her how wrong she had been.
Luciano stood under the hot water and cursed until his throat was raw with it.
She had been in on it all along.
This woman he had trusted and believed would make the perfect mother for his children was in reality a scheming witch who did not care how she got what she wanted so long as she got it. Where he had seen innocence, there had been deviousness.
He now saw the initial reticence she had shown to his advances as the ruthlessly manipulative tactic that it was. The classic game of playing hard to get refined to the point of deviousness. She had known he had no choice but to pursue her. Yet, she had made the pursuit difficult, knowing his male instincts to hunt would be aroused. She had done her own part to make sure he was caught in her grandfather’s trap.
He had been right to suspect such duplicity and a fool to dismiss the possibility so easily.
The knowledge he had been so used filled him with a desire to do violence. He hit the tiled wall of the shower with his fist, ignoring the pain that arced up his arm.
He had trusted her. He had believed she was unlike any woman he had ever known. And she was. She was a better liar. A better cheat. And better at entrapment. Many women had wanted marriage, but she had managed to secure his name on the other side of the marriage certificate. Had she begun making her plans before or after that kiss on New Year’s Eve?
No matter what, he was furious at his own gullibility.
The pain of betrayal radiated through him and that made him even angrier. He could not feel betrayed if he had not trusted her and knowing he had trusted unwisely was a direct hit to his pride.
He had allowed himself to care for her, to believe in a future together and all the while she and her grandfather had no doubt been laughing over how easy he had been to dupe. Her feminine arrogance knew no bounds. Telling him that it did not matter how they had come together.
Perhaps that would have been true if she had been a woman worthy of his name and not a lying manipulator.
She wasn’t and the fact she had colluded with her grandfather to blackmail him into marriage enraged Luciano.
No longer would he withhold his revenge from her. She would learn right alongside her grandfather that a Sicilian man would not lie down to coercion.
He was a man, not a fool, no matter that he’d been behaving like one for weeks.
Hope cuddled around the pillow in her lonely bed for the third night in a row. Luciano had gone from attentive and loverlike to cold and dismissive in a de
vastatingly quick and thorough transformation. And all because he was furious her grandfather had played matchmaker.
She’d tried to talk to him about it, but Luciano had refused to listen.
He’d spent the last three days working long hours and although he returned to the family villa before dinner, he did not come to bed until after Hope fell asleep.
Tonight, she was determined to wait up for him, to have it out. She wanted her marriage back. Things had been so good in Naples. She could not accept that something so unimportant could destroy it all.
She threw herself on her back and kicked the covers off. A minute later, she rolled onto her stomach. Thirty agonizing minutes later he had still not come up. Unable to wait another second in the silence of their huge bedroom, she got up. Where was it written that she had to wait meekly in bed for him to show up? She would go to him.
She went in search of her robe. Pulling it on, she left the room. He would probably be working in the study. Light filtering from the cracked doorway indicated she had been right.
She pushed the door open and found him sitting at his desk, papers spread before him.
“Luciano?”
His head lifted and he looked at her with eyes that sliced into her heart with their coldness. “What?”
“We need to talk.”
“This is not so. We have nothing to talk about.”
She glared at him, fed up with his stupid male ego. “How can you say that? You’re being ridiculous about this thing with my grandfather. Can’t you see that?”
In a second, he was towering over her, his big body vibrating with rage. “What are you saying to me?”
Okay, so she hadn’t been tactful. Her grandfather’s bluntness had rubbed off on her, but it was the truth. “We were happy together in Naples. Why do you want to throw that away over something that just doesn’t matter?”
“To you it does not matter, but to me it is important.”
She reached her hands out in appeal. “I love you, Luciano. Isn’t that more important than an old man’s machinations?”
His eyes burned her with a contempt she didn’t understand, but that hurt her horribly.