She felt a warm frisson of pleasure at the prospect. Her handsome, sexy husband was in for a shock.
He was crossing the silent carpet now, handing her her glass. And as she took it Sofia smiled and raised it in a toast. ‘Here’s to this evening, and to your wonderful speech,’ she told him. And she smiled again, eyes dancing over his face, and took a long, slow sip of her brandy.
Damiano seated himself in a nearby armchair. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have given you that brandy after all. I think you’ve had too much wine as it is.’
‘You’re wrong.’ Sofia shook her head. ‘I hardly had any wine at all. I’m not drunk in the least. I’m just in a good mood.’
‘What brought that on, I wonder?’
Sofia flicked him a look, then kept on looking at him as she took another mouthful of her brandy. ‘Ask me how my ankle is,’ she demanded.
Damiano said nothing for a moment, just continued to watch her. She was intriguing this evening. He had never seen her like this before. And he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman in his life.
Then he did as she had asked. ‘How’s the ankle?’ he enquired.
‘It’s not bad.’ Sofia glanced down at it. ‘It’s not bad at all.’ And as she sat there she could feel the dark eyes sweep over her, causing a helpless warm tingle to go rushing through her. But she ignored that and concentrated on the effect she was having on him, for she could sense very clearly just how badly he wanted her. Tonight, he definitely wasn’t thinking of Fiona; She smiled to herself, looking forward to the lesson she was about to teach him. Though before she turned him down she’d make him want her even more!
She raised her eyes to his again, then suddenly she laughed and, laying down her brandy glass, jumped to her feet. With a coquettish tilt of her head she proceeded to execute a pirouette. ‘It feels so good I think I’ll do a bit of ballet practice before bed!’
Still laughing, she pirouetted again, head thrown back, arms stretched wide, the skirt of her pink dress billowing up to reveal her legs. ‘What do you think?’ She tossed her head as a sharp excitement filled her. ‘Is the Duchess of San Rinaldo going to be the new Margot Fonteyn?’ And she pirouetted and pirouetted, laughing, across the floor.
But then suddenly, abruptly, she wasn’t pirouetting any more as a hand, quick as a flash, reached out and snatched hold of her. Instead, what she was doing was dropping down onto Damiano’s lap, falling back into his arms, her skirt up around her knees.
‘What I think has nothing whatsoever to do with Margot Fonteyn.’ His strong arms were folding round her like a prison. ‘What I think, my dear little ballerina, is that tonight’s sleeping arrangements are going to be a little different from last night’s.’
Sofia was catching her breath, her heart thudding inside her. This was her cue. Her cue to reject him. And she had better be quick, for he was gathering her up into his arms, rising to his feet, starting to head towards the bedroom.
She opened her mouth to speak. No! she was about to tell him. But, without saying a word, she closed it again. For something strange had happened. The desire she had sparked in him she had somehow also succeeded in sparking in herself. The last thing she felt like doing was turning him down.
And so what she did instead was sink softly against him, wind her arms round his neck and sigh with excitement as he carried her through to the softly lit bedroom.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘FIRST of all, I think we ought to remove this.’
In the bedroom, Damiano had set her down on the bed and with deft fingers had begun to undo the fastening of her pink dress.
Sofia watched him, looking into his eyes, her heart racing inside her. This hadn’t been meant to happen. This was not what she had intended. Her plan had been to reject him the moment he laid a hand on her, and there was still time to reject him, even now. But that would be madness. In her heart she knew it. This was what she had really wanted all along.
As he peeled the dress away and dropped it onto a chair, she was wearing only briefs and lacy holdup stockings. He ran his hands over her thighs. ‘Very sexy,’ he murmured, and bent to kiss the gap between briefs and stocking-top, making her catch her breath and a clench of helpless longing seize her.
She reached down with both hands to softly caress his hair, holding his head between her palms as though it was infinitely precious. Then she bent down to kiss him. ‘Oh, Damiano,’ she said.
He looked up at her then, eyes black and smouldering, and for a moment they seemed to look all the way down into her soul. ‘I’m going to-make love to you,’ he told her. ‘Not just give you a baby.’ He laid his hands on her naked breasts and lay down on the bed beside her. ‘Tonight, I promise you, is going to be very, very special.’
That was a promise he kept. In fact, it was a promise he exceeded. For the night that followed was far more than just special. It was one of those nights that, if you have the good fortune to experience one, you are unlikely to forget for the rest of your life.
The first time they made love it was hungry and urgent, the slaking of a mutual thirst that could not wait a moment longer. They came together like a crashing storm, desperately, almost violently, the power of their passion overwhelming them. The love they made was breathless and fierce.
And when it was over Sofia lay exhausted in his arms, shock waves going through her, her cheeks damp with tears, a blissful smile on her lips. And suddenly her love for him, which she had been so prudently controlling, was swelling inside her, unstoppable and vast.
My beloved Damiano! her heart cried within her. And it felt wonderful not to hold back her love any more.
Later in the night he reached for her again and she turned sleepily to embrace him, her body already smouldering with desire. And they made love again, this time more sweetly, more sensuously.
It was like that first night of their marriage all over again, Sofia reflected. Only something was different; some essential element had altered, and that alteration lent a new edge of satisfaction to her soul. What the change actually was, as they lay there joined together, eluded her, though at that moment it was sufficient just to feel it, to enjoy it. But later, before she fell asleep, she realised what it was.
It was her. Something had changed in her. Something dramatic, yet very simple. Like the flicking of a switch that turned shadows into brightness, darkness into light, not seeing into seeing. For now, unlike then, she felt his equal. He was no longer an object to be worshipped and revered. Instead, he was simply the man she loved.
As these thoughts ran through her head, Damiano shifted in his sleep and slipped his arm around her waist. Sofia snuggled against him. Had he noticed this change in her? Was he aware that his child bride had finally come of age?
She suspected that he probably had. Damiano noticed everything. So perhaps now, at last, things would start to change between them. Perhaps, finally, they could have the marriage she had always dreamed of.
It was a very big perhaps. Sofia was aware of that. But as she drifted off to sleep her heart was suddenly flooded with that most life-giving of all emotions. Hope.
A lack of certainty about his beliefs was not something Damiano had ever suffered from. On the contrary, it was one of the defining marks of his character that he invariably knew where he stood in any situation and was always totally certain of how that situation should be handled. For he knew himself well and he was a shrewd judge of others and over the years his instincts had rarely let him down.
But they were letting him down now. Totally failing to function. His brain felt blanketed in strange confusion, his emotions caught up in a dark, obscuring fog. And that was the reason why he had slipped out of bed and gone to fetch himself a glass of water and sat frowning now in naked splendour in an armchair by the window as he tried to pull his muddled thoughts and emotions together.
For he too was aware that something had happened, that Sofia was no longer what he had once believed she was and that their relationship had subtly, b
ut crucially, altered. Though it must be said to his credit that it hadn’t even occurred to him to think that she’d suddenly become his equal, for he had never thought of their relationship in terms of equality or the lack of it. What he was thinking was that she’d matured, suddenly become a force to be reckoned with. And this realisation both excited and deeply disturbed him.
Damiano watched the sleeping .form breathing softly beneath the covers. She was so beautiful, so desirable, with so much warmth in her heart. There were times, like tonight, when she simply overwhelmed his senses and filled him with feelings of almost breathless tenderness. Yet their relationship had for so long been unhappy and unsatisfying and he had come to believe it would never improve. But now... His dark brows drew together in a frown. Unexpectedly, tonight, he had found himself wondering if he might be wrong.
And this was his dilemma: ought he just to ignore these unsettling changes in her and allow things to carry on as before, or should. he encourage them in the hope of making something of his marriage, after all?
The latter course tempted him, but if he were to move in that direction he knew that it would involve making certain changes in his personal life. And for what? For something he was not even really sure of. Something that perhaps he had only imagined or was only a temporary flash in the pan.
Suddenly, Sofia stirred. He saw her reach out a searching hand for him. Then she half sat up sleepily. ‘Where have you gone?’ he heard her murmur.
‘I’ve gone nowhere.’ Damiano stood up and walked back to the bed. Then he slipped back beside her beneath the covers. ‘I’ve gone nowhere at all. I’m right here beside you.’
But even as he embraced her, pressing his lips against her shoulder, he wondered if what he was saying was really true.
Most of their engagements on their final day in London were to be joint ones. A visit to Windsor Castle, lunch at Kensington Palace, and finally in the evening they were to host a sumptuous dinner for the British monarch and her husband at the San Rinaldo embassy.
When he awoke, just before seven, Damiano was rather looking forward to the day. He glanced at the still sleeping Sofia beside him, her lovely face so serene and innocent-looking, her red-gold hair spread like spun silk across the pillow. The more time the two of them spent together the better, he decided. That way he could continue to assess the situation and finally come to a conclusion about what to do.
For last night he had failed to resolve his dilemma. He would simply play it by ear, he had decided. See what developed and take it from there. And soon enough, he was confident, his instincts would start functioning again and tell him what route he ought to take.
Angela came in and drew back the heavy brocade curtains and Damiano signalled to her to bring them breakfast in about a quarter of an hour. That would give him time, he was thinking, to have a quick shower and a shave, and in the meantime Sofia could sleep a little longer. But, as Angela left the room and he was about to slip from the bed, with a soft sigh Sofia rolled over and woke up.
The grey-blue eyes blinked open. ‘Good morning,’ she said.
‘Good morning.’
He bent and kissed the warm, sleepy face, and as he did so she smiled and slipped her arms round his neck, dislodging the sheet, exposing her naked breasts. Damiano glanced down at them. Her breasts were beautiful. Full and firm, with pert pink nipples. He felt a hardening of desire and wished he hadn’t ordered breakfast.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Like a log,’ he told her as he bent to kiss each rosy nipple in turn, loving the way they instantly lengthened against his lips. He glanced up at her, strumming one erect nipple with his tongue. ‘How about you? Did you sleep like a log too?’
‘How can I remember how I slept if you do that?’ Sofia laughed, arching her back, holding him against her. ‘I can’t even remember my name when you do that.’
Damiano raised his head to hers and kissed her on the lips, catching her breasts in his palm now, rubbing the hard peaks with his thumbs.
‘I’d love nothing better than to make you forget a great deal more... But I’m afraid I’ve got bad news,’ he told her. ‘In about ten minutes or so Angela will be here with our breakfasts.’
Sofia gave a disappointed moan. ‘Can’t we lock the door or something? Can’t we just ask her to leave it outside?’
‘I wish we could...’
She smelt and tasted delicious. As he held her and kissed her, the thought of tearing himself away from her was suddenly too wretched even to contemplate. He pulled away the sheet, exposing her warm nakedness, and felt a sharp thrust of desire as she sighed and moved towards him, entwining her long, slender legs around his waist. And in that moment he knew there was absolutely no fighting it. And, besides, it was amazing what you could do in ten minutes.
‘I have a suggestion to make,’ said Damiano, buttering another croissant.
It was about half an hour later and they were sitting together at the breakfast table, Sofia wearing an ankle-length peach silk robe and a smile of deepest satisfaction, Damiano, it must be said, looking pretty satisfied too, in a burgundy silk dressing gown, his hair wet from the shower.
‘Oh, and what might that. be, this suggestion of yours?’ Sofia looked at him, feeling flushed and relaxed and happy. This was a little like a dream, but not a sleeping dream, a wide-eyed waking one. It felt perfectly wonderful to be with him like this.
Damiano took a mouthful of his croissant. ‘Well,’ he put to her, ‘as you know, after London I have to go to Geneva for a week. And I was thinking that maybe you could join me?’
Sofia felt a sharp squeeze of pleasure. This was totally unexpected. ‘I like it,’ she beamed. ‘That sounds like an excellent idea!’
‘Good.’ He smiled back at her. ‘You can join me towards the end of the week. The first few days I’m going to be rather busy and it would be a waste of time for you to be there then. But the last couple of days I expect to be pretty free and I thought it would be a good idea if we could have a bit of a holiday together.’
‘Lovely!’ Sofia was almost blushing with pleasure. Things really were taking on a whole new complexion! Maybe she hadn’t been so mad to hope after all!
‘And I’ll be able to fit it in with no trouble,’ she told him. ‘I’m pretty sure I don’t have anything on that can’t easily be postponed.’
‘Perfect. Then we’ll fix it.’ Damiano drank some coffee. ‘You can go back home for a few days then fly out and join me. That way you can spend a few days with Alessandro. I’m sure the poor little chap must be missing you.’
Sofia pulled a contrite face. ‘And I’m missing him—even though I speak to him on the phone every day.’
‘I miss him too.’ The dark eyes were gentle. ‘In fact, I thought of suggesting you bring him with you to Switzerland. But we can have a family holiday later, in the summer. Right now—’ He reached across and took hold of her hand. ‘Right now, I think it’s important that we spend some time alone together. Just the two of us. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Sofia nodded, trying to control the frantic galloping of her heart. And as he reached across and kissed her softly on the lips her heart was soaring out of her chest, glowing with a fiery, bright new optimism.
Time alone together. A family holiday. A husband who wanted her, who was acting all warm and tender. Once, these had been mere dreams. And not even dreams. Just crazy fantasies. Yet now, like bright jewels, they were being spread out before her and it seemed that all she had to do was reach out and take them.
She held her breath for a moment, almost afraid of the joy that filled her. And with every ounce of her being she prayed, Please make this last.
That last day in London was a wonderfully happy one. Windsor Castle was beautiful, the Kensington Palace lunch a delight, and their thank-you dinner at the embassy in the evening turned out to be an enormous triumph. Afterwards, as from her bedroom window she gazed out over the ancient city, Sofia knew that London would always be dear to her. I
t had restored to her her husband. She would always be grateful for that.
As they made love that night, Sofia clung to Damiano. ‘I’m so happy,’ she told him. ‘I’ve never been so happy.’
Damiano kissed her. ‘I’m happy too. And I’m sure there’s a lot more happiness in store for us.’ And he hugged her and held her close for a moment. ‘I’m learning that you really are an exceptionally special girl.’
Sofia knew she was going to miss him during their few days’ separation, and she felt regret too that their closeness was about to be interrupted. For it was still so new, it still needed building on, and the only way to do that was for them to be together. But those few days would soon pass, and in the meantime she’d be with Alessandro, whom she really had missed quite dreadfully at times. And then, wonder of wonders, she’d have Damiano all to herself for a few days!
She thrilled at the thought. That really would be a dream come true!
So she was feeling composed and confident when they flew out of Heathrow next morning on the flight that was to take her back to San Rinaldo via Geneva, where Damiano and his entourage would disembark. And as she kissed him goodbye she felt a little sad, but essentially happy. And she smiled as he told her, ‘I’ll see you very soon. And in the meantime I’ll phone to sort out exactly when you’ll be arriving.’
‘Have a nice time. Don’t work too hard.’ Her heart was warm with love as she looked at him. Then she added, kissing him, ‘I’m going to miss you:
‘Me too.’ He kissed her back. ‘Give my love to Alessandro.’ Then he was heading off down the aisle and hurrying down the steps to the tarmac.
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