by Lynne Graham
‘To be truthful it was good to have something to laugh about today!’ Jess tossed back cheekily, clutching the full skirts of her gown in impatient hands as she mounted the stairs and struggled to keep up with his long impatient stride. ‘I’ve not been in much of a laughing mood recently.’
‘Believe me, I’ve noticed!’ With that ringing indictment, which any woman would have taken as a direct criticism, Cesario thrust wide the door of a big bedroom, furnished with atmospheric pieces of antique oak and a fire flickering in the grate to ward off the chill of the late spring night air.
Jess stared wide-eyed and disorientated at the room; she had never been upstairs in the hall before. The Tudor magnificence of her surroundings was in stark contrast to the contemporary décor that embellished the ground floor reception rooms that she had seen.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Her tone was truculent as she questioned his censorious comment, but then she was assailed by dizziness as her head began to swim. She caught at the doorknob with her hand and leant on it to steady herself on knees that momentarily had all the consistency of jelly. Perspiration broke out on her short upper lip as she straightened up, wondering in dismay if she might have been a little too free with the champagne cocktails on offer at Luke’s table. Depending on how much she narrowed her eyes, the vast oak four-poster bed that dominated the room seemed to be shifting and changing position rather like a boat on the edge of a whirlpool.
‘That, in spite of the fact that I’ve done everything possible to accommodate your needs, you have been a very sulky bride!’ Cesario condemned, still picturing her glowing face as she sparkled as brightly as a Christmas tree ornament while she talked, giggled and smiled for that toyboy, Luke Dunn-Montgomery’s, benefit.
‘So, I’m human and imperfect and you’re surprised at this discovery?’ Jess fired back, stumbling slightly in her high heels as she moved away from the door. She pushed the door shut too hard and it slammed, very loudly, closed behind her, making him frown and wince. ‘It isn’t that easy to marry a stranger and contemplate living with him…although I guess with all the one-night stands you’ve had it will be no big deal for you! ‘
Indignation lanced through Cesario at that unnecessary comeback. He was not promiscuous and, although he was willing to acknowledge that he could be arrogant and demanding, he had made a genuine effort to make the terms of their marriage more attractive for her benefit. Not only had he arranged without her knowledge to have her six moth-eaten dogs microchipped and transported out to Italy for their honeymoon, he had controlled his aggressive instinct to intervene and call every shot. And he was very far from being impressed by the response that his generosity had so far won from her. ‘You shouldn’t believe the nonsense you read about me in the newspapers. I left one-night stands behind when I was a teenager.’
‘What about Alice? When did you leave her behind?’ Jess heard herself throw at him out of the blue, not even aware that she was about to hurl those nosy questions until the driven words emerged from her lips.
His ebony brows knit in excusable surprise at that sudden change of topic. ‘Why are you asking about Alice?’
‘I heard a couple of the guests talking…I understand that you and she were an item before she married your cousin.’ Having opened the subject, Jess discovered that she could not make herself back off from it again. She wanted to know, she needed to know more.
‘That’s true.’ His lean, darkly handsome features taking on a forbidding aspect, Cesario compressed his wide sensual mouth into a hard, inflexible line, his dark golden eyes screened. ‘But it’s not a good idea to listen to malicious gossip. The truth is that I put Alice through hell and it’s a wonder that she stayed with me as long as she did. I didn’t realise I loved her until she was gone and by then she was with Stefano and it was too late. I wouldn’t have come between them. They’re very happy together.’
As she listened Jess had slowly lost colour to pale and stiffen with discomfiture. She was horribly conscious that she had asked what she should not have asked and learned what she would sooner not have known. He had loved Alice, maybe still loved her, even though he couldn’t have her. In fact, wasn’t he exactly the sort of high-achieving Alpha male who would want a woman who was out of his reach all the more? He had stepped back and done the decent thing for Alice and Stefano’s sake. It was not an explanation that pleased her or soothed her worries. But why did she have worries on that score? Why should it matter to her if Cesario was in love with a woman married to another man? That was none of her business. Their cold-blooded marriage, their project, was not based on emotional ties or expectations, she reminded herself ruefully. And if he was emotionally bonded to another woman, that could well be why he had decided that only the most practical of marriages would meet his requirements.
‘I wasn’t sulky today,’ Jess fielded belatedly, lifting her skirts to kick off her shoes and sink her bare soles gratefully flat onto the Persian rug below her feet. At least that was what she intended to do but, somewhere in the midst of removing the second shoe, which necessitated her standing on one leg like a stork, she lost her balance and lurched sideways, knocking an occasional table and the floral arrangement on top of it flying in a noisy, tumbled heap.
‘You were sulky and you’ve had too much to drink as well,’ Cesario contradicted between gritted teeth of disdain, striding forward to haul her up out of the debris of dripping flower stalks and greenery while lifting the table back up with one impatient hand.
‘Maybe I’m a little tipsy but I wasn’t sulking,’ Jess persisted in stubborn denial. ‘If you knew me better you would know that I’m quite shy and not a chatterbox at the best of times. I don’t like crowds much either and today has been a big strain.’
Cesario closed the distance between them and raked long brown impatient fingers through his cropped black hair, gazing down at her with a dark intensity that made her nerve endings pull taut with shockingly sexual awareness. ‘I thought all women loved weddings? ‘
Her tummy performed a nervous somersault while the buds of her breasts swelled and lengthened. Hot-faced, Jess viewed him with huge silvery eyes. ‘But I don’t love you and now I’m in a bedroom alone with you and you’re expecting—’ Her voice cut off abruptly as though she had bitten back dangerously unguarded words rather than cause offence. ‘Well, you’re expecting what you’ve got every right to expect as a new husband and that’s all I’ve been able to think about all day and—’
‘I too, but not, I think, for the same reasons, piccola mia,’ Cesario incised, his dark golden eyes hot and hungry on her tense oval face, his long, lean, powerful body taut as he swooped on the vase still leaking water and set it upright on the rug.
He closed a lean hand round her wrist to tug her closer. He felt the resistance in her slight frame and expelled his breath in a slow measured hiss. ‘I don’t want you when you’re intoxicated and unwilling…’
So tense she could barely catch her breath, Jess gazed back at him and despised herself for playing that card when the flickering obstinate heat of arousal was shimmying through her pelvis like a mocking touch. In a movement that took him as much by surprise as it took her she shifted up against him, stretched up on tiptoe and pressed her soft mouth to his.
A masculine hand curved to her hip to crush her against him. Her heart thumping feverishly fast, she gasped as he drove his tongue between her lips in a delving, erotic assault that set up a jangling response throughout her entire susceptible body. Suddenly she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life and with a hot, sweet longing that came dangerously close to an edge of pain.
‘There will be other nights,’ Cesario quipped, lifting his handsome dark head, his dark eyes sardonic, and setting her back from him before walking to the door.
Trembling, senses awakened and cruelly crushed again, Jess studied the space where he had been and thought what a disastrous note she had chosen to begin their relationship on. I don’t want you when
you’re intoxicated and unwilling… She cringed, despising herself for not being tougher. She had signed up for the marriage and cheating didn’t come naturally to her. It didn’t matter if Cesario loved Alice. It didn’t even matter if he was convinced that Jess was a sulky, uptight bride and a flirt at her own wedding. They had had an agreement and she had just welched on the deal, and nobody could have been harder on Jess than she was on herself while she finally struggled free of her gown, washed off all her fancy make-up and climbed into the big bed alone. There she lay with her eyes wide open because whenever she tried to close them the room revolved behind her lowered eyelids in the most nauseating way…
CHAPTER SIX
ALMOST unrecognisable in a stylish white linen skirt and top teamed with a bright turquoise jacket, sunglasses anchored firmly on her nose, Jess boarded Cesario’s luxurious private jet in teeming rain the following afternoon. He had left the hall that morning to fit in a business meeting in the City before his departure.
Jess was still suffering from a hellish hangover and she had barely slept during the previous night. At some point during those slow-passing hours she had grudgingly acknowledged the truth of Cesario’s criticism of her mood the day before. She had got the dream dress, the gorgeous groom and the fabulous ceremony, but she had not got the love, the caring or the happy-ever-after that brides looked forward to receiving. As a result, disillusionment and a horrid sense of being trapped had dogged her throughout her wedding day. It was as though the true cost of marrying Cesario di Silvestri had only really hit home after she and he had made their vows. But she had made an agreement with him and she would stick to it from here on in, she assured herself fiercely.
Cesario stepped onto the jet, his keen gaze shooting straight to the petite brunette seated in a comfortable tan leather upholstered seat. ‘Jessica…’
Tensing, Jess looked up warily, worried about the reception she might receive after events the night before. ‘Cesario…’
‘I think we can do without the sunglasses,’ he said wryly, with a nod in the direction of the rain streaming down the nearest porthole.
Jess breathed in deep and removed the tinted spectacles, knowing her eyelids were pink and puffy in spite of the make-up she had applied.
‘And please let your hair down. I love your hair, mia bella,’ Cesario confided as though that were the most normal thing in the world for him to say to her.
‘It’ll be a mess,’ Jess warned him, pink warming her cheekbones. Wanting to match his generosity in not holding onto any spite, she reached up and dragged the band out of her hair so that her curls tumbled free to her shoulders. ‘I couldn’t be bothered to do anything at all with it today, which is why I put it up.’
At that frank admission a slanting grin curved his wide sensual mouth. He bent down and fluffed her mass of curls round her anxious face with gentle fingers. ‘It doesn’t need anything. It looks great just as it is,’ he contended. ‘I like the natural look.’
But Jess didn’t think Cesario would recognise ‘natural’ unless it hit him in the face; he had probably never been exposed to the real thing. She suspected that more than one woman had gone to bed with Cesario fully made up and just as many had sneaked out of bed early the next day to ‘brush up’ before he got a first look at them. She had noticed the very high levels of grooming amongst the female wedding guests and had appreciated that just to pass muster in such company she would have to make much more effort than she was accustomed to with her appearance.
‘About last night,’ she began awkwardly.
‘Forget about it. Today we start again—fresh page, open book,’ Cesario pronounced smoothly, sinking down in the seat opposite her and buckling up for the take-off. She found herself covertly watching his every fluid movement. The smooth bronzed planes of his high cheekbones framed his straight, strong nose and the sensual perfection of his full-modelled mouth. By the time his lashes lifted to reveal his dark golden eyes as he tilted back his dark head to address the stewardess, Jess was staring helplessly: he was a heartstoppingly handsome man.
‘Tell me about where we’re going,’ she urged, keen to find out about their destination and talk to him for a change.
‘Collina Verde…it means “Green Hill”. It’s the country house where I spent my earliest years with my mother. It’s in the hills above Pisa and very beautiful,’ he murmured softly.
Jess recalled him telling her that he had grown up without a mother and scolded herself for having made no attempt to learn more about his background. After all, it was on the basis of such little nuggets of information that most relationships were built and life would be easier for both of them if she made the effort to be more interested. ‘What happened to your mother?’
Cesario compressed his lips, his dark eyes taking on a grim light. ‘She died from an overdose when I was seven years old.’
Jess was taken aback by that uncompromising admission. ‘That is so sad. It must’ve been very hard for you to handle that loss at such a young age.’
‘I blamed my father. He had had a string of affairs and they were living apart by then,’ Cesario mused wryly. ‘But he had a great line in self-justification: he said it was in the blood and that I would be exactly the same.’
Jess was too craven and too tactful to dare to comment on that issue. ‘What was it like for you when you had to live with your father instead?’ she asked curiously.
His dark eyes gleamed like polished bronze and he gave her a wry half-smile. ‘Dio mio. He wasn’t cut out to be a family man any more than he was fit to be a husband. He resented being tied down. He was very competitive with me and it got worse as he aged and had to face that his youth was gone. Nothing I achieved was ever quite good enough.’
In recognising that he came from a much less happy and secure background than her own, Jess had plenty to think about during that flight. After a light early supper they landed in Pisa at the Galileo Galilei airport. Though it was by now early evening, it was a good deal warmer than it had been in London and the sun was still shining by the time the waiting limousine wafted them in air-conditioned comfort deep into the Tuscan landscape. She had expected lovely countryside but she sank into another dimension of appreciation entirely at her first glimpse of the most distant rolling hills and the serried green ranks of the grapevines, softened here and there by the silvery clouds of foliage that distinguished the olive groves. All the buildings, fashioned of pale apricot-coloured stone, seemed ancient and the medieval towns and villages on the hilltops were impossibly picturesque.
Collina Verde sat on top of a hill ringed by woodland, and although its sheer size made it imposing it was a less formal property than she had expected. A fortified farmhouse composed of several rambling buildings, it sat with its castellated roof below a blue and gold evening sky and enjoyed the most breathtakingly timeless view she had ever seen. She got out of the car, still entranced by the outlook of the mountains and the valley below, and enjoyed the light breeze that lifted her hair back from her brow and cooled her warm skin.
‘It is lovely,’ she remarked, and then a chorus of familiar barks sounded and she jerked round in disbelief to see her six dogs pelting frantically across the paved courtyard towards her in noisy welcome. ‘My goodness, how on earth did they get here?’ Her attention flipped to Cesario. ‘You arranged this?’ she queried in visible disbelief.
‘With the help of your mother. I know you planned to leave them behind with your rescue animals and I’m sure they would have been well looked after but I know how attached to them you are,’ Cesario advanced, considering himself to be well rewarded by the shining look of appreciation etched in her face.
‘I’m just…stunned!’ Jess confided, hunkering down to be engulfed in a wave of wet noses, scrabbling paws and noisy greetings.
Cesario had suspected that the white outfit would have a limited shelf life with his bride and his worst expectations were fully met by the time Jess straightened again to head for the front door, her pa
ck of dogs prancing round her. Her skirt had acquired dusty paw prints and damp patches and her top was speckled with dog hairs but she gave him a huge smile that let him know that, while the designer wardrobe worth many thousands had failed to impress, his gesture in flying her pets out to Italy had won him his highest yet approval rating.
‘I mean, I know you’re not a doggy person,’ Jess pointed out breathlessly. ‘Which is why it was such a particularly kind and thoughtful thing to do—’
‘And not what you expect from me, piccola mia?’ Cesario completed silkily.
‘Well, no, it wasn’t,’ Jess agreed without hesitation. ‘But I was wrong.’
Cesario was honest enough to feel a shade guilty, for all he had done was issue instructions to his staff, who had taken care of all the official hassle required to transport the dogs abroad on pet passports.
‘Hugs gets so upset when he doesn’t see me,’ Jess explained, fondling the nervous wolfhound’s ears while it gazed up at her adoringly. ‘And Magic gets frustrated when he can’t communicate.’
Cesario frowned, studying the Scottish terrier currently playing dead on the ground with four paws stiffly extended so that his tummy could be tickled. ‘How does he communicate?’