Cinderella's Scandalous Secret

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Isla’s smile made something in his chest loosen. ‘I like your grandmother. She’s a straight shooter but has a softer side she takes great pain to keep hidden.’

  A family trait? Rafe brushed the thought aside. He had no problem with showing his softer side when the occasion demanded it but there was no way he was going to allow feelings to cloud his judgement—or at least not again.

  Rafe opened the passenger door for her and pulled down the seat belt once she was seated. ‘Thank you for being patient with her. That could have gone very badly.’

  Once they were on their way, Isla swivelled in her seat to look at him. ‘Was your mother like your grandmother? In temperament, I mean.’

  Rafe sometimes found it hard to think of his mother without feeling a sharp stab of pain at how her life had turned out. Estranged from her own mother, strung along for years by a man who’d claimed to love her but who wouldn’t give up his meal ticket marriage for her, only to die of cancer the year after she had been rejected by the man she loved. ‘Not in temperament, no. She was too soft. Gave too much of herself to other people—my father in particular.’

  ‘Did your father love her, do you think?’

  He gave a bark of cynical laughter. ‘My father is incapable of loving anyone but himself.’ He sighed and continued, ‘My mother wanted a different life but didn’t have the courage to fight for it. She went along with my father’s empty promises for years, hoping he would one day leave his dead marriage and formalise their relationship.’ His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. ‘She did it for me. Like most mothers, she wanted the best for me even if it meant sacrifice on her part. But she didn’t live long enough to see her wishes fulfilled.’ He forcibly relaxed his grip and added, ‘Nor will she get to meet her grandchild.’ He glanced at Isla but she was chewing her lip as if deep in thought. Or deep in worry. Was she comparing his mother’s situation with their current one? Seeing similarities that were not really there?

  He reached for her hand and placed it on his thigh. ‘Stop worrying, I am not like my father. I’ve made a promise to you and our child. I won’t break it.’

  She gave a fleeting movement of her lips that almost passed as a smile. ‘What was her name?’

  ‘Gabriella.’

  ‘If we have a girl we could name her after your mother if you like.’

  Rafe glanced at her again, his heart suddenly feeling as if it had slipped from its moorings. Her gaze was warm and soft with compassion and he realised with a jolt that his mother would have adored her. His mother would have admired her for her strength and courage, for her ability to speak her mind. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’

  Her smile was like a flash of sunshine on a cloudy day. ‘Of course not. It’s a gorgeous name—although we might have a boy.’ Her smile dimmed and she removed her hand from his thigh. ‘I don’t suppose you want to name him after your father?’

  Rafe gave her the side eye. ‘No.’

  There was a silence, broken only by the sound of the car tyres passing over the road.

  He glanced at Isla. ‘Your mother won’t get to meet her grandchild either.’

  She looked down at her hands, where her fingers were fiddling with her engagement ring. ‘No, but that’s probably a good thing. She wasn’t a born nurturer. If she hadn’t got pregnant with me, I don’t think she would have ever had kids.’

  Rafe hated to think of what Isla must have endured as a child for her to end up in long-term foster care. She deserved so much better. So much better. And he would do everything in his power to make sure she got it to make up for all she had missed out on. Her revelations about her background made him realise what an amazing strength and resilience she had. No wonder he had felt so drawn to her from the moment they’d met. His background was no way as difficult as hers but it had left its mark. ‘I have no doubt you’ll be a wonderful mother in spite of not having a good role model. Besides, you will have me to support you every step of the way.’

  Her gaze met his briefly before flicking away again. ‘My father once told me my mother trapped him by deliberately getting pregnant.’ Her voice was toneless, stripped bare of emotion, and yet he could feel it throbbing just beneath the surface. ‘He married her out of a sense of duty and because of family pressure, but he never loved her or me, when it came to that.’

  Rafe reached for her hand and brought it to his chest, laying it against his heart. No wonder she was baulking at his proposal. But he would make sure she had every reason to feel secure. ‘No one is pressuring me to marry you, Isla. I want you to be my wife and I want us to bring up our child together. Deep down, I think you want it too. Over time, the love we have for our child will only strengthen the bond between us.’

  There was another small silence.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you straight away about the pregnancy,’ Isla said. ‘In hindsight, it looks so selfish of me but I really thought I was doing the right thing under the circumstances.’

  Rafe gave her hand a gentle squeeze and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her bent knuckles. ‘You have to learn to trust me, tesoro mio. Now, I have a surprise for you. It will be waiting for you when we get home.’

  * * *

  Home. Isla wondered if she would ever look upon Rafe’s villa as her home, especially with his guard dog housekeeper Concetta on site. But when they returned to the villa there was no sign of the housekeeper.

  Rafe took Isla’s hand and led her to one of the downstairs rooms overlooking the garden and water feature. He opened the door and waved his hand for her to precede him. She stepped inside the room and gasped when she saw the array of art materials, including an easel, worktable and drop sheet covering the parquet flooring. He had even had a small sink installed so she could wash her brushes without leaving the room. ‘Oh, Rafe, it’s amazing. How on earth did you do all this?’ She swung around to look at him. ‘Thank you so much.’

  He smiled. ‘I thought it best to give you a room downstairs, given your pregnancy. I don’t want you climbing up and down those stairs too much. If I’ve forgotten anything or you need any other supplies, write me a list and I’ll get them for you.’

  Isla picked up one of the top-notch brushes and ran her fingers through the soft bristles. He was assuming she would be here right to the end of her pregnancy and beyond. She wanted to be angry with him for railroading her into formalising their relationship, but how could she feel anything but grateful for the way he was handling the situation? She realised she wanted to stay with him. To be married to him and provide a safe haven for their child, even if it meant she was a little short-changed on the thing she wanted most of all—love. She glanced at him. ‘Everything’s wonderful. I could never afford brushes like this. I can’t wait to get started on your grandmother’s portrait.’ She put the brush down and came over to him. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’

  He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his eyes dark and smouldering. ‘A kiss will be enough.’

  Isla stepped up on tiptoe and, linking her arms around his neck, planted her lips on his. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to respond, but then the heat from his lips seeped into hers and suddenly their mouths were pressing against each other in the hungry drive for deeper contact. Lips parted, tongues partnered, desire leapt and danced like roaring flames.

  Rafe’s arms went around her and hauled her closer, her pelvis pressed against his growing hardness. The intimate contact sent her senses into a tailspin, the need for his possession so rapid, so sudden, so overwhelming it swept through her like an unstoppable tidal wave.

  He groaned at the back of his throat and pressed her harder against his erection, the desperation in his kiss matching hers. Her tongue played with his in little cat and mouse movements that escalated the passion flaring between them.

  One of his hands came to her breast, cupping it through her clothes, but it wasn’t enoug
h. She wanted skin-on-skin. She ached and burned for his intimate touch. ‘Please, Rafe, touch me.’ Her voice came out breathless and laced with longing.

  He found the zipper at the back of her dress and slid it down until the dress was in a puddle at her feet. Isla stepped out of the circle of fabric, feeling no shame at being in just bra and knickers with her ripening belly on show.

  His eyes devoured her shape, his hand caressing the mound of her abdomen in a worshipful fashion. ‘You’re so beautiful, so curvy and gorgeous I can hardly stand it.’ His tone was rough around the edges, his gaze burning with incendiary heat.

  ‘Make love to me.’ It was part demand, part plea but she was beyond caring how she came across. Need was gripping her so hard it was close to pain.

  He framed her face with his hands, breathing deeply. ‘I’m not making love to you on a drop sheet on the floor. We’ll finish this upstairs in bed.’

  Shame suddenly found Isla like a spotlight homing in on a target. Rafe was still fully dressed and here she was, standing in her underwear like a desperate wanton practically begging him to make love to her. It was yet another reminder of the power imbalance between them. He wanted her but far less than she wanted him. She pulled out of his hold and turned to snatch up her dress off the floor. ‘Why do you always do that?’ Her voice was so sharp it could have sliced through concrete.

  Rafe frowned. ‘Do what?’

  Isla stepped back into her dress and worked the zipper up as far as she could. ‘I remember a time when nothing would have stopped you making love to me, no matter where we were.’

  He came over to her and reached for her hand but she whipped it out of reach. ‘Cara, what’s wrong? Why are you being so tetchy? I’m simply thinking of you.’

  She bit her lip and turned her back, annoyed at how close to tears she was. That would be the ultimate humiliation—to end up in floods of tears again. ‘I know you don’t want me as much as I want you, but you don’t have to rub it in every flipping chance you get.’

  He came up behind her and placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders, slowly turning her to face him. His expression was still etched in a frown. ‘You think I don’t want you? Why do you think there’s been no one since you left?’ His voice was rough with an emotion she couldn’t name. ‘I want you so badly it gnaws at me night and day. Every day since you left it’s tortured me.’

  Isla swallowed. ‘Really?’

  His frown faded and he gave a lopsided smile, his hands coming up to cradle each side of her face. ‘No one turns me on like you do.’ He pressed a kiss to her mouth, once, twice, three times. ‘But I’m worried about hurting you or the baby.’

  ‘You won’t hurt me, Rafe,’ Isla said, winding her arms around his waist. ‘It’s perfectly fine to have sex when you’re pregnant. In fact, the hormones right now are making me crazy for you.’ It touched her that he had only been thinking of her and the baby, putting his own desire on hold for her sake and that of their child. It made her feel ashamed for jumping to the conclusion that he didn’t want her as much as she wanted him. And the thought of him being celibate all this time made her feel even more special. The magic they had shared had left an impression on him that he hadn’t wanted to erase by sleeping with someone else. She didn’t have the words to describe how much that meant to her.

  The most recent memory of a woman’s touch on him was hers and hers alone.

  He dropped another kiss on her lips and then he gathered her up in his arms.

  ‘Eek! What are you doing? I’m way too heavy,’ Isla protested.

  His hazel gaze smouldered with desire. ‘I’m taking you upstairs to bed. Any further objections?’

  Isla looped her arms around his neck and smiled. ‘Not a single one.’

  * * *

  A short time later Rafe lowered Isla until her feet touched the floor of the master bedroom, sliding her body down the hard length of his. Every inch of the journey down his body set her senses on fire. He held her against him, one firm arm around her waist and his other hand gently cupping the side of her face. His eyes were as dark as a forest—earthy brown and leafy green and shadow black, with glints of desire as brilliant as slivers of sunlight. ‘Are you sure about this?’ A battle played out in his gravel and treacle tone—a battle between desire and concern.

  Isla placed her hands on either side of his face, her need for him a pulsing ache between her thighs. Her appreciation of his tenderness about her condition made it all but impossible to remember why she had hated him. How could she hate such a man? A man who made her feel such magical sensations. Who made her feel alive in a way she had never felt before. ‘I want this. I want you. Now.’

  He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, the movement of his lips slow and drugging at first, but then the intensity changed like a switch had been turned. Heat exploded between their mouths, their tongues colliding in passion, hot streaks of longing firing through her like arrows of flame.

  Isla’s hands went to the waistband of his trousers, desperate to hold him, to feel the heat and power of him. To feel his blood pounding for her. Only for her. But he held her off by walking her back towards the bed, sliding down the zip on her dress, his warm firm hand caressing her naked back in one long, smooth stroke that made every nerve sit up and take notice.

  His smouldering gaze threatened to incinerate the wallpaper off the walls, his touch on her body creating an inferno of lust. ‘Let’s not rush this. I want to savour every moment.’ His deep voice was another stroke down the length of her shivering spine. Low and deep and seductive.

  ‘I want to rush. I was ready half an hour ago. Stop torturing me, damn it.’ Isla set to work on his shirt, tugging it out of his waistband and doing her best to undo the buttons, which were not cooperating with her haste-driven fingers.

  Rafe laid his hand over hers, stilling its frenzied movements. ‘That was our mistake in the past. We rushed headlong into an affair and didn’t take the time to get to know one another first. I want things to be different now. I want to know you in every sense of the word.’

  A tremor of shame rippled through Isla. The portfolio of saucy photos flashed through her mind. He didn’t need to know everything about her. There were some things that were best left in the shadows. She couldn’t allow him to ever find out about her chequered past. Would do everything in her power to prevent it. She found it hard to hold his gaze and looked at his mouth instead. ‘Kiss me, Rafe.’

  He bumped up her chin with his finger, meshing his gaze with hers. ‘I want to make this work. Us, I mean. Our marriage. And it can only work if we work together.’

  She traced his mouth with her finger. ‘I want it to work too.’ Her voice came out whisper-soft. ‘More than anything.’

  His gaze intensified. ‘You won’t regret it, cara mio. I’ll make sure of it.’ His mouth came back down and sealed hers in a kiss that reignited the flames of need in her body.

  Her arms went around his neck, her lower body pressed against the hardened heat of his, her mouth moving in unison with his. He deepened the kiss with a slow and deliberate glide of his tongue, calling hers into a playful dance that had distinctly erotic overtones. Need pooled hot between her thighs, her legs feeling like the bones had dissolved.

  Rafe laid her on the bed in just her knickers and bra and trailed his hands down the length of her legs to remove her shoes, the sound of them thudding one by one to the floor heralding what was to come. His glittering gaze held hers in a sensual lock that made her inner core pulse with longing. He stood at the end of the bed and shrugged off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and tugged off his socks. He stood with the proud bulge of his erection lovingly contoured by his dark briefs.

  ‘Aren’t you going to take those off?’ Isla’s voice was husky.

  His eyes roamed over the curves of her breasts, still encased in her bra. ‘You go first.’

  She
sat up and pulled one strap over her shoulder, then the other one in a slow striptease that made his eyes flare with heat. She kept her gaze locked on his while she reached behind her back for the hook fastening, releasing the bra and tossing it to one side, her naked flesh exposed to the feasting of his hungry gaze.

  ‘And the rest.’ His voice had a note of commanding authority that made the back of her knees tingle like sand trickling through an hourglass. No one else’s voice could have such a potent effect on her. No one else could render her to such a quivering mess of need.

  Isla peeled her knickers down her thighs, past her knees and over her ankles, tossing them in the same direction as her bra. Her body in all its lush ripeness was exposed to his gaze but, instead of feeling uncertain or shy, she felt empowered. His child was growing in her womb, a product of the passion they had shared. A passion that was as unstoppable as the rising and setting of the sun. And just as hot.

  Rafe stepped out of his briefs and came to her on the bed, his hand resting on the swell of her abdomen, his eyes holding hers. ‘You are so damn beautiful. So sexy it takes my breath away.’

  Isla placed her hand over his, her own breathing a little chaotic. ‘You won’t hurt me or the baby, Rafe. I want you inside me. I want to feel you. I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘I’ve missed you too.’ He leaned down and spoke the words against her mouth, then joined her on the bed, drawing her into the circle of his arms.

  Isla caressed the hard length of him, moving her fingers up and down his shaft in the way she knew he loved. The agony and the ecstasy were played out on his darkly handsome features—little flinches of muscles and flutters of eyelids a sign of his enjoyment at her touch. He smothered a groan and covered her mouth with his, the meeting of their tongues sending an arrow of need straight to her core.

  He moved from her mouth down her neck, taking his time over each delicate scaffold of her clavicles, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He moved closer and closer to her breasts, his slow pace both pleasure and torture. Then finally, finally his mouth came to her breasts and subjected them to a sizzling caress of teasing lips and gently tugging teeth. Her nipples peaked to tight buds, her sensitive flesh relishing the stroking glide of his tongue. He left her breasts to work down her body, over the mound of her belly and down the other side to the heart of her.