The Italian's Ruthless Marriage Command (HQR Presents)

by Helen Bianchin

  Taylor registered the woman’s slightly awed expression, and knew just how she felt.

  ‘No. She’s good to go.’

  Dante offered a faint smile. ‘Thank you.’

  The Mercedes was out front in a no parking bay, sans any ticket. Who would dare, in the circumstances, Taylor perceived as he saw her seated, then crossed to slip behind the wheel.

  ‘I really don’t need to see a doctor.’

  ‘It’s a given.’ He shifted transmission and eased the car onto the road. ‘No argument.’

  ‘Would it make any difference if I did?’

  He shot her a burning glance. ‘None whatsoever.’

  So she suffered the doctor’s thorough check-up, the change in dressings, the booster shots. Sutures were vetoed in favour of butterfly strips, and an hour later they reached home.

  ‘I need to change.’ Dried blood on a T-shirt was not a good look, and there were splotches on her jeans. ‘I can manage,’ she assured as Dante ascended the stairs at her side.

  ‘I’m sure you can.’ His voice was even. ‘But you won’t.’

  Taylor spared him a quick glance as they entered their suite, and she opened her mouth, only to close it again as she noted the dangerous bleakness in his eyes.

  ‘The jacket first, hmm?’ He carefully slid each arm free, then tossed it onto a nearby chair. The T-shirt came next, and was eased over her head with equal care. ‘Sit down, and I’ll remove your boots.’ A minute later he undid the button at the waist of her jeans, slid the zip down and slipped them off.

  Being attired in briefs and bra added to her air of vulnerability, and her eyes dilated as he shrugged out of his jacket, discarded his tie, then freed the top few buttons of his shirt.

  ‘Aren’t you going back to the office?’

  ‘No.’ He reached for her, drew her close, then lowered his mouth over hers.

  ‘Dante—’

  ‘Just—allow me this, hmm?’

  He was gentle, so incredibly gentle it almost made her weep, and his hands slid over her slender form, shaping the soft curves, the hard planes…as if he needed the reassurance her only injuries were visible ones.

  When he was done he tucked her head against his chest and held it there.

  ‘What possessed you to take on a drugged-up miscreant on your own?’

  A shudder shook his large body, and the breath stopped in her throat for a few long seconds as she absorbed his reaction.

  Dante d’Alessandri…in shock? Because of her?

  ‘He wasn’t listening to the officer, and when two others attempted to get close, he went into a rage.’

  ‘And this encouraged you to risk your life?’

  Taylor shifted her head back to look at him. ‘I didn’t think so at the time.’

  He shaped her head, tilting it. ‘Cara.’ His eyes were dark, so dark they were almost black. ‘Dio Santo…what am I to do with you?’

  ‘Next time—’

  ‘There won’t be a next time.’ His voice was velvet-encased steel.

  ‘I won’t go alone,’ she concluded, and glimpsed something in his expression she didn’t even dare begin to believe as he traced the contours of her face, her lips with fingers that trembled a little.

  If she did, he vowed silently, it would be over his dead body.

  ‘Promise,’ Taylor added, and saw him incline his head. ‘And I’ll be up-front and tell you where, when and why.’

  ‘Wise.’

  ‘I think I should put on some clothes.’

  ‘Not quite yet.’ His mouth touched hers, then sought the sensitive inner tissues, explored them, then he used his tongue to make love to her mouth with such eroticism she was in serious danger of melting into a puddle at his feet.

  When at last he lifted his head, she could only look at him in a state of dazed confusion.

  ‘The thought of losing you is more than I could bear,’ Dante vowed softly.

  Her mouth moved, but no words came out. Warmth coursed through her veins, flooding her body, and she was barely conscious of drawing breath.

  ‘Each time we made love.’ He paused as he took in the look of wonder encompassing her expressive features. ‘Per meraviglia…how could you not know?’

  Still the words remained locked in her throat. ‘I thought you were very good at sex,’ she managed at last.

  ‘Believe me…it was never just sex. I wanted you. Your heart and soul…all of you. Everything you are.’

  She’d given it to him, generously, with a trusting heart…and imagined it meant little to him? Santo cielo.

  ‘Taylor. Inamorata. I love you.’ The words emerged as a selfless groan, and his eyes…

  She thought she’d die from the way he looked at her. It was there…everything she’d ever imagined, hoped and prayed for.

  Love. The enduring, everlasting kind. Naked and unmasked.

  For her.

  She swayed a little from the emotional impact, then gave a soundless gasp as he placed an arm beneath her knees and carried her to the bed, then joined her to regard her with concern.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she assured with a shaky smile. ‘Just a little off balance from—’ she faltered a little, then continued ‘—hearing what you said.’

  ‘Words, cara?’ he queried gently as he released the clip on her bra, then removed her briefs.

  ‘Indulge me. I need to be here. Do this,’ he vowed huskily. ‘For both of us.’

  With infinite care, he used his mouth to make love to her, caressing her lips, every inch of her face, the soft hollow at the base of her throat, each breast, their sensitive peaks, before tracing the scar at her ribs, her hip, then he trailed a path to her mouth and kissed her with such incredible gentleness her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  He lifted his head, saw them and groaned, ‘Cara…don’t.’

  ‘You—undo me,’ Taylor managed shakily. ‘Always. Even before.’

  Gentle fingers brushed her cheek, and his eyes darkened to the deepest chocolate and became liquid with emotion. ‘Define before.’

  ‘The first time I met you at Casey and Leon’s engagement party you made me wonder what it would be like to be made love to by a man such as you,’ she admitted honestly. ‘We lived continents apart, and I wasn’t even on the same page as the women you dated.’

  He captured her hand, lifted it to his lips, kissed each finger in turn…and watched the flecks in her eyes turn green.

  ‘Then fate played a shocking hand.’ It hurt to think of Casey and the tragic loss of two lives too young to leave this earth.

  ‘Yet that same fate led us to this,’ Dante reminded quietly. ‘Love…and our future together.’

  ‘With Ben.’ All of a sudden her eyes widened. ‘Ben. He needs to be collected from kindergarten.’ She started to rise, only to sink back as Dante rose from the bed.

  ‘I’ll go.’ He lowered his head and kissed her. ‘Tonight, cara, we pick it up from here.’

  An hour later Taylor was seated in the informal lounge when Ben came bounding into the room with Dante merely a step behind him.

  ‘Taylor! Are you OK?’ He came to a stop at her side, his eyes large in his face as he saw the sterile strip taped to her throat, and another on her hand. ‘Dante said you were hurt.’

  She made light of it as she hugged him close, then she patted the arm of her chair. ‘Tell me about your day. How did the finger-painting go? And where’s yours? I want to pin it in my office so I can look at it when I work.’

  It was enough to distract him, and afterwards they went down to the pool and she watched while Dante supervised Ben’s swimming practice.

  He was an incredible man. Powerful, passionate…and hers.

  Soon she’d tell him how much she loved him, and she held the knowledge close as they sat through dinner.

  ‘If you want to catch a few hours on the computer,’ Taylor began as they quietly closed the door to Ben’s suite after settling him to sleep. But Dante stilled the rest of her words by the simple exped
iency of placing a finger to her lips.

  ‘We have something to finish, hmm?’

  ‘We do?’ It was fun to tease a little, secure in the knowledge that love bound them together…not convenience, or circumstance.

  Love, the enduring kind.

  He led her down the hall into their suite, closed the door, then drew her into his arms.

  ‘Now, where were we?’

  ‘Oh, I think here is just fine.’ It felt so good to rest against him, to feel the beat of his heart, the potent warmth of his body, the touch of his lips as they brushed her temple…knowing how he felt about her added another dimension, one she’d do everything in her power to retain close to her heart.

  ‘Is it so difficult to say?’

  Taylor lifted her head and met the gentle softness apparent in his dark eyes, the wealth of love…just for her. ‘No. I’ve searched for the right words, but none of them seem adequate.’ She edged the tip of her tongue over her lower lip in an involuntary action. ‘I love you,’ she managed simply. ‘The heart and soul of you. You’re my life. Everything,’ she added. ‘All of it.’

  ‘Grazie.’ It slipped from his lips with heartfelt gratitude, and she smiled.

  ‘Prego.’ The simple acknowledgement resulted in an appreciative, musing gleam as he grazed his lips across her forehead, then trailed down to the edge of her mouth.

  ‘Per sempre,’ Dante vowed fervently. ‘Forever, by the grace of God.’

  Taylor melted into a thousand pieces, adoring him with all her heart. ‘I think,’ she said shakily as she framed his face and drew his mouth down to hers, ‘we’re about done with words.’

  His soft laughter curled round her heartstrings and tugged. ‘You think?’

  Her mouth met his with a hunger that obliterated every last vestige of doubt.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-2962-8

  THE ITALIAN’S RUTHLESS MARRIAGE COMMAND

  First North American Publication 2009.

  Copyright © 2009 by Helen Bianchin.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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