Wife: Bought and Paid For

by Jacqueline Baird

  ‘It is rather warm,’ she murmured. ‘And I have had rather a lot of champagne.’ She made the excuse because she could hardly confess she was worried about what would happen next.

  Since signing the pre-nuptial Solo had treated her with cool indifference. In fact she had begun to think he had changed his mind. He had made no attempt to touch her or kiss her, and when she had suggested again last night after dinner that they did not have to get married he had looked at her with a sort of lazy possessiveness, and reiterated it was too late to change her mind.

  ‘Not too much. I have been counting,’ Solo remarked softly. ‘But I think it is time we left.’

  ‘Already?’ Penny exclaimed, coming back to the present with a jolt. She glanced around the guests and saw they all seemed to be settled in for a long liquid lunch. ‘But what about your friends?’

  ‘Our guests, my dear wife,’ he said pointedly, ‘can take care of themselves. Whereas I have an overwhelming desire to take care of you,’ Solo drawled silkily, standing to his feet. He caught hold of her arm and pulled her up.

  Solo said their farewells and thanks in a mixture of Italian and English for Penny’s benefit, and instructed Nico they would be away for three days, and began walking towards the door.

  When they reached the street a sudden thought made her blurt out, ‘Three days—where are we going?’

  ‘A surprise.’ Solo opened the door of the sports car and saw her seated before sliding into the driving seat. ‘Obviously not far, as your penchant for being sick in an aircraft curtails the choice somewhat,’ he mocked. ‘I want you fit for our wedding night.’

  She ignored his quip about the night ahead. ‘But I have no clothes,’ she declared.

  ‘Anna has taken care of everything, just relax and enjoy the ride.’ He flicked her a glance of mocking amusement. ‘I know I shall.’

  In the close confines of the sports car she was aware of several things at once. His long, muscular body, the faint scent of cologne mingled with the male scent of him, the gleaming silver eyes, and the faintly mocking curve of his sensuous lips. She shivered and closed her eyes, battling against the strange fascination this one man aroused in her.

  She opened them twenty minutes later and glanced out of the window ‘Oh, my God, no! You can’t drive down there.’ Penny grabbed Solo’s arm. ‘It’s a cliff.’

  ‘Trust me.’ He slanted her a grin, his typical macho excitement at the drive ahead obvious. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘God save me from would-be racing drivers,’ she murmured and squeezed her eyes shut, and did not open them again until she felt the car come to an abrupt halt. Warily she looked out of the window again, and saw only water.

  ‘Where are we?’ She turned to Solo but only his jacket and tie lay on the seat. He was already out of the car, and in a moment was holding the door open for her. Penny climbed out and the heat struck her. She slipped off her jacket and looked around, and looked again.

  It was a complete suntrap. A tiny bay at the foot of a cliff with a small what looked like a log cabin perched on the very edge of a rocky outcrop, with a wooden deck and jetty reaching out a few yards into the sea. A small boat rested clear of the waterline on about twelve yards of beach. She turned and tilted her head back and looked up at what looked like a sheer cliff face, until she spotted the serpentine track cut into the rock.

  ‘You drove down that?’ Penny flung out a hand and cast Solo a horrified look. ‘You must be mad!’

  He briefly caught her hand and pulled her around before flinging out his arm in a wide, encompassing gesture. ‘Look around you. Beautiful, no?’ he demanded in a slightly accented voice, and, not waiting for an answer, added, ‘The first time I landed on this bit of sand I was like you, scared stiff at the sight of the cliffs, but now I love it.’ A satisfied grin softened his tone. ‘The perfect hideaway, no television, no telephone.’ He started walking towards the cabin.

  The image of Solo afraid of anything was something Penny had trouble picturing. He seemed indomitable. She watched his confident stride, the movement of his buttocks as he walked, and a sudden rush of heat that had nothing to do with the bright sunshine flooded through her. Quickly she moved forward and stumbled in her high-heeled shoes.

  ‘Sugar!’ she exclaimed, and in a moment was swung up in Solo’s strong arms. ‘Put me down.’ She tried to wriggle out of his hold, her jacket and shoes falling in the process.

  ‘Stop it unless you want us both to take a dip in the sea,’ Solo said dryly, pulling her closer and walking on, ignoring her struggles with an ease that was galling as he elbowed open the cabin door.

  ‘Alone at last, Penelope,’ Solo drawled mockingly, lowering her gently to her feet. He was so tense it took all his considerable self-control to speak normally. He wanted to tell her she was exquisite, he wanted to throw her on the bed, and feast on her beautiful body with eyes and hand and mouth. The brush of her body against his thighs as he set her on her feet was agony. He had never wanted a woman so much in his life. ‘You like the place?’ he asked quickly, but the question wasn’t casual.

  He had discovered the tiny bay as a child of eight. He had set out to sea in a rubber dinghy he had found on the beach at Naples, even at that age desperate to escape the gutter and a mother who he’d known would never miss him. The dinghy had deflated, he had swum until his arms had ached and had finally been washed up in this bay, and it had saved his life.

  Then there had been only the ruins of an old fisherman’s cottage and a rotten jetty, the place long since deserted, but it had become Solo’s refuge. Whenever the city had got too much for him, he’d walked the miles from Naples and scrambled down the cliff path. Later, when he’d had money, he’d bought the land, built the cabin, and had the track cut out.

  Solo could feel some of the tension seep from his muscles as he glanced around the familiar room; it was his sanctuary. He glanced down at Penny. It didn’t matter if she didn’t like it, he told himself, but for some indefinable reason he knew it did.

  Penny’s eyes skimmed around the room, and it was just one room. To one side of the entrance door was a kitchen and dining area that took up a quarter of the space. At the other side of the door a long sofa beneath a window, on the next wall an open fire, with bookshelves loaded with books either side. On the far wall, a large bed… She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move a step forward if her life depended on it.

  ‘It’s tiny,’ she declared hollowly. Her stomach began a series of somersaults as she was struck by nervous dread at the thought of the three days alone in one room with Solo. No escape from his overwhelming masculine presence morning, noon and night… Penny glanced up at him. ‘There is a bathroom?’ she demanded, tension making her clip the words.

  So she didn’t like it. So what? ‘Of course.’ Solo frowned, indicating a door to the left of the kitchen area, his expression stern and remote. ‘All the facilities are located through there.’

  Penny raised an eyebrow. ‘Thank God for small mercies.’

  ‘I am not completely primitive,’ he said coldly.

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ she muttered under her breath, and, without a word, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against his long body. His head bent and his mouth closed over hers with brutal savagery, forcing her lips apart in a kiss that shocked her into numb submission.

  ‘That is primitive, my sweet wife.’ Solo’s eyes narrowed in a slow, raking appraisal of her slender form. ‘You need to know the difference, because what happens next is your choice, but don’t try my patience. I waited four years for you, and then another four days—symbolic maybe, but too long.’

  She tilted back her head; her eyes, flashing with anger, clashed with his darkening gaze. ‘Very symbolic—four is the number of the devil in Japanese culture,’ she shot back defiantly.

  ‘Then as you have labelled me a devil, you silly girl…’ he grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger, and she could see the cold fury in his silver
eyes… ‘I am quite prepared to act like one. I would hate you to be disappointed,’ he declared with mocking cynicism, his other hand sweeping around her back, and before she knew it his fingers had swiftly unzipped her gown.

  ‘I am not silly or a girl.’ She slapped his hand from her face and jerked free. ‘You saw to that,’ she hissed, burning with resentment and trying to grab at the front of her dress.

  ‘And you loved every minute of it,’ he declared sardonically, and, catching her hands, he held them wide, and to her utter humiliation the pearl-strewn gown sank to pool on the floor at her feet.

  She heard his sharply indrawn breath and for a long moment he simply stared. ‘I have been longing to do that since the first moment I saw you in that dress.’ Solo’s voice lowered to a husky murmur as his eyes roved over her delicate features and lower to her firm breasts, the tiny waist, and the small white lace briefs that barely saved her modesty.

  Struggling to free her hands and burning with embarrassment, she used the only weapon left to her and lashed out at him with her foot, connecting with a shinbone. But in seconds she was powerless to move as he linked her hands behind her back in one of his, hauling her hard against him and raking his other hand through her hair, sending rosebuds careering to the floor. ‘Let me go,’ she gasped, wriggling ineffectively in his grasp, the atmosphere suddenly raw with tension.

  Solo laughed softly. ‘Never.’ His silver eyes held her furious green gaze, his teeth gleaming in a devilishly menacing smile. ‘And you don’t really want me to.’ His gaze flicked down to her breasts heaving with her recent exertion, and back to linger on her slightly swollen lips, and then her hair.

  ‘Your hair should always be loose.’ Threading his fingers through it, he smoothed the silky mass down over her shoulders in an oddly tender gesture. ‘That’s how I always picture you.’

  A warm tide of colour washed over her body—that Solo pictured her at all was a surprise to Penny, given the women he had enjoyed, and she was rather flattered at the thought. His face was close and there was something mesmerising about his silver eyes, his deep, husky voice.

  She felt his hand at the nape of her neck, urging her head back as he lowered his own, and he brushed her mouth with his with an almost reverent gentleness, so different from what had gone before that she sighed her relief, the fight draining out of her. Her eyes fluttered closed as with practised expertise he kissed and caressed her silken skin until every cell in her body pulsed with aching need.

  She felt herself being swept up in his arms and deposited on the wide bed, and the soft warmth of silken sheets at her back.

  ‘That’s better, my beautiful bride.’ And Solo’s warmth was withdrawn.

  Better for whom? Her eyes flew open. Solo had shed his shirt, and was stepping out of his trousers. With fast-beating heart, she stared at him; his bronze body, all taut muscle and sinew, left her breathless. She gulped. ‘What are you doing?’ she cried inanely, casting him a nervous glance.

  ‘Well, if you haven’t guessed by now,’ Solo drawled, his silver eyes gleaming wickedly, ‘your education is sadly lacking,’ he mocked, and he had the nerve to chuckle as he lowered his long body on the bed and curved an arm around her shoulders. ‘But no matter, I will soon rectify your lack.’

  ‘You have a vastly inflated ego,’ Penny snapped back, his mockery infuriating her again, but the sight of his naked body had a debilitating effect on her anger. He was even more beautiful, more awesome than the picture that had haunted her sleep for the past few nights—incredibly handsome and with a body to die for. The trouble was she knew just how he could make her feel; her temperature was already shooting off the scale at the warmth of his naked thigh against her own.

  ‘No, merely a vast experience with the female sex.’ A smile quirked the corners of his mobile lips. ‘Which I am putting completely at your disposal, Penelope mine.’

  He was teasing her—the devil thought his vast numbers of lovers were amusing! Penny tore her gaze from the latent sensuality in his grey eyes. ‘I am not yours; in fact, I think I hate you,’ she grated, not for a second admitting she was also madly jealous at the thought of all his other women.

  ‘You know the cliché: hate is akin to love, but at least hate is an emotion.’ Solo loomed over her, supporting his weight on one elbow, but his hand still curved round her shoulder. With his other he held her chin, his silver gaze burning into hers, his expression solemn. ‘Indifference is the real killer, Penny, I know.’

  For a second a fleeting shadow seemed to dim his glittering eyes, and Penny had the odd idea the powerful domineering male she had just married looked vulnerable. Quickly she dismissed the idea. Solo was a typical Alpha male, and she doubted if anyone, male or female, could ever be indifferent to him. Whether it was love, hate, admiration, envy, lust or jealousy, he aroused strong emotions simply by being Solo Maffeiano.

  ‘And whatever else you are,’ his deep, husky voice continued temptingly, ‘you are not indifferent to me, Penny, cara.’ His thumb and finger brushed down her throat, and lower until his palm cupped her breast and the tantalising fingers tugged very gently at the nipple. ‘My bride and soon my wife.’

  Penny did try to resist, but his touch ignited a burning hunger within her she was helpless to deny. Warmth coursed through her veins, and with a low, inaudible groan, her eyes wide and luminous, she stared up at him. Wife, and he was her husband. Why deny her own feelings? She wanted him, and which emotion fuelled the craving she did not care any more. Instinct told her despite her naivety that Solo would be a hard act for any man to follow.

  Reaching up, she traced the hard line of his jaw with her fingers, and up into the silken black hair at his temples. The marriage might be for all the wrong reasons, and, if she were not pregnant, would almost certainly be brief. She had no faith in her ability to keep and hold a man like Solo, even if she wanted to, but for now he was her husband.

  ‘My husband.’ She murmured the words out loud, and he grasped her hand and pressed a hot, hard kiss into her palm.

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes,’ Solo said huskily, and her eyes widened into huge pools of helpless longing as he lowered his head. His lips traced her own with incredible tenderness, exploring and teasing and urging her response. ‘We can dispense with these.’ He raised his head and she felt his hand peeling her briefs from her body. ‘I want you naked against me,’ he rasped. This time Penny reached for him.

  She ran her fingers through his hair and urged his head down. She gave a shaky sigh and parted her lips, her tongue seeking the hot interior of his sensuous mouth. She felt his great body shudder against her, and suddenly he moved onto his back, leaving her stunned, and screaming with frustration.

  ‘I want to take this slow,’ Solo rasped, his breathing heavy. ‘It’s your wedding night.’

  Why should he dictate the pace? He dictated everything else, Penny thought in a wild bid for independence. Pushing up, she leant over him, her mouth briefly seeking his before withdrawing teasingly and nipping at his lower lip. Fierce, primitive pleasure swept through her and she was caught up in a desire so intense nothing else mattered. She eased back and deliberately trailed her long hair over his wide shoulders, glorying in her feminine power over him.

  ‘Our wedding night,’ she amended, and bit lightly into his shoulder, her slender hand stroking through the soft, black body hair of his chest, her fingers scraping over a pebblelike male nipple with tactile delight.

  Her green eyes wide and wondering, she traced the arrow of black hair that angled down to his groin, fascinated by his aroused flesh. Her body quivered in delight at the capitulation of his. She wanted to touch him, taste him, wallow in his masculine beauty, his virile power, and Solo let her for a while…until her pink tongue touched the vulnerable velvet skin.

  Then suddenly, with a husky growl of need, he pushed her onto her back, held her hands down by her sides, and kissed her with a wild, passionate hunger that melted her bones. She trembled, the blood flowing hot and thick thro
ugh her veins, as he trailed his lips down to the gentle swell of her breasts and with sensual delight he suckled each one in turn. She writhed as his mouth began an evocative journey to discover every pulse point, every erogenous zone, with an expertise that made every atom of her being spark with incredible heat.

  With the air scented with sex, their breath mingled in a branding kiss as they lay, silken skin on skin.

  Finally Solo knelt between her thighs. ‘You’re mine, Penny, my wife,’ he said with an animalistic growl of triumph, and then in one deep thrust he possessed her. Penny arched up to him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder and his side, anything she could cling to as he drove her on and on into an explosive sunburst of heat and light.

  ‘Good morning, Penelope.’ Penny tried to stretch, and came up against a hard male thigh; she opened her eyes, and saw Solo grinning down at her. Her whole body blushed scarlet as the events of the night came rushing back.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ Solo asked, his hand slipping beneath the silk sheet to curve around her breast.

  Catching his hand with hers, she looked up into his handsome face. Black curls fell over his broad brow and a five o’clock shadow darkened his strong jaw, making him look tough but endearingly dishevelled. ‘Not much, as you very well know.’ There was no point in denial; they had made love countless times through the night.

  His silver eyes gleamed down into hers with wicked amusement. ‘Well, we could stay in bed a little longer, if you are still tired.’ And they did.

  Three days later Penny stood and watched as Solo locked the cabin door and walked towards her. It had been the most perfect three days of her life. They had gone swimming naked in the sea, and made love on the sand, taken out the boat and gone fishing with Penny demanding Solo put back any fish he caught. He had dropped one on her and then washed the fish smell off her in the shower, or so he had said, but it had just been an excuse to make love again.