Her Wedding Night Negotiation

by Chantelle Shaw

  It was not the wedding night he would have planned, he mused as he kicked off his shoes and lay down next to his virgin bride. He’d never planned to marry again. Leah had forced his hand, and he had been angry. But he had discovered a vulnerability about her as well as a strong will, he thought ruefully, remembering her refusal to allow him to buy her clothes.

  The unsettling thought struck him that he liked her—which he had not anticipated.

  * * *

  ‘There’s Villa Rosa up ahead.’

  Marco pointed towards an enormous pink-walled house standing on a rocky headland. The undisguised pleasure in his voice captured Leah’s attention. Since they had boarded the helicopter in Naples, for the short flight to Capri, he had visibly relaxed.

  Her breath snagged in her throat as his mouth curved in a crooked smile. His eyes were hidden behind designer shades. Dark stubble covered his jaw, and he looked utterly gorgeous in a pale denim shirt open at the throat, so that she could see a vee of olive-gold skin and a sprinkling of black chest hair.

  She cast her mind back to earlier that morning, when she’d woken from a deep sleep and found herself in the bedroom of his plane which had still been heading to Italy. Her heart had jolted when she’d turned her head on the pillow and discovered Marco lying next to her. A blanket had covered both of them. He had been awake, and there had been a speculative gleam in his eyes when she’d peeped beneath the blanket and seen her relief that they were both fully clothed.

  ‘You fell asleep and I thought you would be more comfortable on the bed,’ he had explained. ‘I was tired so I joined you, because Nicky was asleep in the other bedroom.’

  Leah had felt herself blush as she’d recalled her erotic dream, in which her hands had been roaming over Marco’s body.

  ‘I hope you stayed on your side of the mattress,’ she’d muttered, not liking the wicked glint in his eyes.

  ‘I did—but you cuddled up to me and it was difficult to resist you.’

  She’d stared at him in horror. ‘Are you saying that we...?’

  ‘Dio, what do you take me for?’ he’d growled, the amusement disappearing from his eyes. ‘Your virtue remains safe.’ He’d sprung up from the bed and scowled. ‘If I had made love to you I guarantee you would not have slept through the experience. When I have sex with a woman I make sure that she is a willing participant—not comatose,’ he said bitingly.

  But now Marco was clearly in a better mood, and it was easy to understand why as the helicopter flew over the azure sea, sparkling like a precious jewel in the bright sunshine.

  ‘Those rock formations coming out of the sea are called faraglioni,’ he told her as they flew above three enormous limestone stacks. ‘Behind us on the mainland you can see Mount Vesuvius—which is still an active volcano, although it hasn’t erupted for many years.’

  Minutes later the helicopter landed in the grounds of Villa Rosa and Leah climbed out after Marco. There was a tense moment when they both turned to help Nicky. The little boy hesitated, his eyes on his father, but he put his hand in Leah’s.

  Marco gave a shrug, but she noticed a nerve flicker in his cheek. If only he had scooped Nicky into his arms and swung him down from the helicopter, she thought. She did not understand why he kept his son at an emotional and physical distance.

  They walked through a lush green garden, bejewelled with colourful plants and flowers: purple lavender, shocking pink bougainvillea and vibrant orange lantana. Marco led the way around to the front of the villa, where a steep driveway descended to the road. In every direction there was a panoramic view of the sea and Leah thought it must be the most beautiful place on earth.

  ‘There are roses growing around the front door,’ she said with a faint sigh.

  Indeed, white roses clambered over the pink walls and framed the entrance, exuding a delicate fragrance that filled the porch.

  ‘My great-grandfather commissioned the villa to be built here on the site of a Roman palace,’ Marco explained as he ushered her through the door. ‘He named the house after his wife and had the walls painted pink in her honour.’

  The interior of the villa was a sumptuous mix of classic and modern décor, with cool marble floors and vaulted ceilings. Tall windows allowed light to flood in and framed spectacular views of the Bay of Naples. Through a set of French doors Leah saw an infinity pool and a sunbathing terrace, tennis courts and another large garden filled with flowers.

  ‘You have a lovely home,’ she murmured, glancing around an elegant but relaxing lounge, which was furnished with big, comfortable-looking sofas. Brightly coloured cushions and rugs added interest to the room, and on a low table was a framed photo of Nicky which must have been taken recently.

  Next to it was a photograph of a beautiful woman. The picture was a professional shot and the woman staring directly into the camera was evidently a model. She was stunningly attractive, with long golden hair and slanting brown eyes.

  ‘My ex-wife,’ Marco said when he saw Leah staring at the photo. He picked it up and held it out to his son. ‘Your mamma was pretty and kind and she loved you very much, Nicky,’ he said softly.

  Was Marco still in love with his first wife?

  Leah could not explain why her stomach dipped. According to Ashlyn Bonucci he had been devastated when Karin had left him, which suggested that he hadn’t wanted his marriage to end.

  They climbed a sweeping staircase and Nicky ran ahead into his toy-filled bedroom. Further along the corridor Marco opened a door and ushered Leah into an airy room decorated in soft blue tones.

  ‘This is your room. If you want anything press the bell and one of the household staff will come.’ He paused on his way out of the door. ‘I will be hosting a dinner party this evening. It was arranged a few weeks ago—before I knew that I would be blackmailed into marriage,’ he said drily. ‘But it will be a useful introduction for you to my social circle. I suggest you wear the red velvet gown.’

  When Marco had stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him, Leah gave in to a childish urge and poked her tongue out at him. Obviously she was relieved that he did not expect her to share his bedroom, she told herself.

  Remembering his instruction about what she should wear to dinner she realised she didn’t have a choice. It would have to be the velvet dress because she had ignored his order to buy multiple outfits suitable for her role as his wife.

  Suddenly her legs felt wobbly and she sank down onto the bed. She’d done it! She had met the stipulation in her grandmother’s will and emailed the executors a copy of her marriage certificate. Her inheritance had immediately been paid into her bank account, and she’d transferred thirty thousand pounds to the boss of the building firm her mum had taken the money from.

  Tori was safe from prosecution and—vitally—had agreed that she needed professional help to overcome her alcoholism.

  When Leah had been in Cornwall she’d visited a rehabilitation clinic which had excellent reviews. The Haven offered an intensive therapy program at a residential facility, followed by ongoing support to help its patients live their lives free from addictive substances. The fees were significant, but Leah had told Tori that a legal loophole had allowed her to claim her inheritance without marrying. The lie was better than admitting that she had negotiated a marriage deal with a man she hardly knew.

  She inspected her bedroom and discovered a charming en suite bathroom. Her faithful holdall had been brought to her room, and she unzipped it and unpacked the few clothes she’d taken to New York. A door next to the bathroom led into a walk-in wardrobe, and her jaw dropped when she discovered racks of clothes there in her size. There were outfits for daytime and evening, as well as exquisite lingerie and nightgowns.

  Leah recognised the dresses were the same ones she’d tried on at the shop on Fifth Avenue. But she hadn’t bought them. The only explanation was that Marco had given his credit ca
rd to the personal stylist and paid for the clothes.

  Her temper was simmering as she opened yet another door, expecting to see more storage space. Instead she found herself in an adjoining bedroom. It was a much bigger room than hers, and the colour scheme was an opulent mix of black, gold and rich burgundy. At one end of the room stood an enormous bed with a leather headboard. Her heart missed a beat when she saw a large mirror on the ceiling above the bed. Clearly the master bedroom had been designed for seduction and sex.

  ‘You should be careful, cara. If you persist in barging into my bedroom I might think that you want our marriage to be real after all,’ Marco drawled. ‘Do you like my mirror?’

  She swung her startled gaze away from the bed and saw him sprawled in a black leather armchair. Heat swept through her and burned hottest in her feminine core as she pictured them lying on those black satin sheets, their naked bodies reflected in the mirror above them.

  She frantically tried to dismiss the erotic images in her mind and make her temper flare in response to his arrogance.

  ‘I’m not here for...for what you’re thinking,’ she choked. ‘I didn’t realise that my room is connected to yours. I want an explanation for those clothes in the wardrobe.’

  Marco stood up in a lithe movement and crossed the room with long strides, halting in front of her before she had time to retreat back through the door into the safety of her own room. The spicy scent of his cologne teased her senses, but she refused to be overwhelmed by his potent masculinity.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded.

  ‘I have explained to you that people will expect my wife to wear haute couture,’ he said, sounding bored. ‘Think of the clothes as your uniform while you are married to me.’

  ‘I’ll pay back every penny of what they cost out of my inheritance.’

  Leah bit her lip, aware that without Marco she would not have the means to do so—or to help her mum.

  ‘I can’t tell you how relieved I am to finally be able to claim the money my grandmother left me. I’m grateful for what you have done for me. I intend to keep to my side of our deal, and I’ll start working on lesson plans for Nicky straight away.’

  Marco gave her a brooding look. ‘There is a room next to the playroom which you can use as a classroom. Give me a list of anything you need—books and so on—and I will arrange for them to be delivered.’

  He moved back across the room, and Leah released a breath which she hadn’t realised until then that she’d been holding.

  ‘I intend to hire a nanny for Nicky,’ he said. At her look of surprise he went on smoothly, ‘Your role is to be his teacher. I don’t expect you to care for Nicky all the time. For one thing you will have duties to fulfil as my wife—being my social hostess and accompanying me to business functions,’ he explained drily when she frowned. ‘However, I’ll have to ask you to look after Nicky until I have found a suitable nanny.’

  She nodded. ‘Of course. But what about you? It doesn’t sound like you plan to spend much time with him.’

  A shadow flickered across Marco’s face. ‘Nicky will respond better to a nanny. You have seen how he shies away from me,’ he said grimly.

  ‘That’s because you’re a stranger to him.’ Leah could not hide her frustration. ‘You and I both know what it was like to lose a parent when we were children. Put yourself in Nicky’s shoes. His world was destroyed when he lost his mother. He was thrown into a new life in a strange country with you—the father he doesn’t know. You’ve asked me to help Nicky overcome his problems. I’m beginning to think that you are the biggest problem.’

  * * *

  She should not have blamed Marco, Leah thought, much later that night. His stern features hadn’t revealed a glimmer of emotion when she’d suggested that he was to blame for his strained relationship with Nicky, but she’d sensed that he had been hurt.

  He was an impossible man to understand.

  She hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the day. Exploring the villa and its grounds had taken up the morning, and Nicky had nodded enthusiastically when she’d suggested swimming in the pool after lunch. She knew he couldn’t swim, and one of the staff had found a pair of inflatable armbands for the little boy to wear.

  Leah hadn’t packed swimwear when she’d left Nancarrow Hall in a hurry. But in her wardrobe she had discovered a selection of gorgeous bikinis. They were much skimpier than anything she would have chosen, and she had felt self-conscious when she’d realised that Marco’s study overlooked the pool and he might have been watching her and Nicky through the window.

  He had come into Nicky’s bedroom as she was reading him a bedtime story that evening. She’d left him to say goodnight to the little boy and gone to her room to change for the dinner party. Now, butterflies danced in her stomach as she applied more make-up than usual and bundled her hair into a reasonably neat chignon before stepping into the red velvet gown.

  When she walked into the drawing room Marco said nothing for several long seconds while his eyes roamed over her. He looked stunning in a dinner suit and black silk shirt, and Leah’s heart thudded as he strolled towards her, holding a rose with a short stem in his fingers.

  ‘Sei bellissima,’ he said, tucking the rose into her hair. ‘But you are nervous,’ he murmured when he stroked his thumb over her bottom lip and felt a betraying quiver.

  ‘This is not my world,’ she whispered.

  The grandeur of the villa, the discreet but obvious signs of huge wealth, even the designer dress she was wearing, made her feel like an imposter.

  ‘It is for the next year.’ Marco lifted her hand and pressed his lips against the gold wedding band beside the tourmaline ring on her finger. His eyes glinted. ‘You made your bed and now you must lie in it, cara.’

  In fact the dinner party was not the ordeal Leah had dreaded. If any of Marco’s guests were surprised when he introduced her as his wife, they were far too well-mannered to comment. It helped that she was able to chat to them in Italian, and during the evening she had felt her confidence grow.

  There had been a moment when she’d glanced across the table and found Marco watching her. She’d imagined what it would be like if their marriage was real. Would they both be impatient for the party to end so that they could spend the rest of the night making love in that decadent bedroom with the mirror above the bed?

  Now it was almost midnight, and Marco and the household staff had retired for the night. But Leah’s body clock hadn’t adapted to the different time zone and she could not sleep. She slid out of bed and knelt on the window seat. The night was clear, and a full moon dappled the sea with its silvery gleam.

  Suddenly a cry that sounded like an animal in pain rent the air. It was a chilling noise, and Leah’s blood froze when it came again, raw and agonised, from the other side of the connecting door. Could Marco be ill?

  Biting her lip, she stood by the door and listened. He was shouting in a harsh voice that grew louder and more urgent.

  ‘Karin! Come back!’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘IT’S JUST A dream. Wake up, Marco!’

  A hand on his shoulder...shaking him. A soft voice... Leah’s voice.

  Marco opened his eyes and saw her pretty face close to his as she leaned over the bed. He realised that she had switched on the bedside lamp. He shoved his hair off his brow with an unsteady hand. His mind was still trapped in the nightmare of Karin driving away with his son.

  ‘Nicky...’

  ‘I looked in on Nicky about half an hour ago. He’s fast asleep. Lucky him. My internal clock can’t work out if it’s day or night and I’m wide awake.’

  Leah spoke in a light voice and Marco realised that she was trying to distract his thoughts from the dream.

  He sat upright and met her concerned gaze. Her green eyes were deep enough to drown in, and he wanted to lose himself in her and forget the images in his h
ead, the fear that he could still taste in his mouth.

  ‘Do you want a drink?’ She picked up the glass of water from the bedside table and held it to his lips.

  The simple, caring gesture shocked him. Tenderness had not been a feature of his childhood—his mother had married his father for money and had dutifully produced the next De Valle heir. The only time Marco had received anything like affection had been at boarding school, when the matron there had been briskly sympathetic after he’d broken his collarbone playing rugby.

  When he’d met Karin, sex had lured him into believing that physical intimacy was love—but he’d quickly realised his mistake.

  He leaned back against the headboard and watched Leah set the glass back down. As she perched on the edge of the bed her blue satin negligee rode up to reveal her slim thighs. Marco was wide awake now, and his hunger for her was a ravenous beast.

  ‘I’m guessing your nightmare was about the accident,’ she murmured. ‘Would it help to talk about it?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk.’

  He watched her eyes widen with the awareness that had simmered between them all evening. When she’d looked at him during dinner the naked longing in her eyes had made him instantly hard. If they had been alone he would have been tempted to sweep away the china and glass so that he could make love to her on the polished mahogany dining table.

  A pink stain ran under her skin and the pulse at the base of her throat jerked erratically. ‘I should go,’ she said in a low voice.

  But she remained sitting there on his bed as he leaned towards her. She flicked her tongue over her lips and Marco’s gut clenched. Her skin was the colour of pale cream, dusted with tiny golden freckles. He wanted to taste each one.

  Out in the hallway the clock struck midnight. The witching hour—and he was bewitched.

  She shivered when he ran his finger over the narrow strap of her nightgown. ‘Pretty,’ he growled as he slid the strap a little way down her arm and brushed his lips over her bare shoulder.