Latin Lovers: Italian Playboys: Bought for the Marriage Bed / The Italian GP's Bride / The Italian's Defiant Mistress

‘Undoubtedly, but I cannot help thinking there must be more to it than that.’

‘W-what do you mean?’ She gave him a wary glance, her hands twisting in knots in front of her.

Marc watched the play of emotions on her face, the shadow of worry in her eyes and the way her smooth forehead adopted that slightly anxious look that he found so incredibly engaging. He had spent the whole time he was away thinking about her, wondering what it would be like to sleep with her, to have her long blonde hair splayed over his chest, her slim limbs entwined with his, her body satiated by his. It was as if, knowing she was forbidden to him, his body had decided to crave her relentlessly. He could feel it now, the steady throb of desire pounding through his veins, making him hard just looking at her.

He wanted to hate her, needed to hate her in order to keep her at a distance, but in spite of all his efforts his hatred was slipping away to be replaced by something much more dangerous.

‘I sometimes feel as if my brother was talking about someone else entirely. It just does not add up.’

Nina was at a loss to know what to say in response. She thought of chipping back with a Nadia-type retort but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

‘Have you nothing to say, Nina?’ he asked after another long silence.

She lifted her gaze to his, deciding the only way out of this was a complete change of subject. ‘You said you wanted to discuss our journey to Italy. When do we leave?’

‘We will leave the day after the ceremony. I will get Lucia to pack for you. She will accompany us to help with Georgia.’ He reached for his discarded cup and refilled it from the pot before turning back to her. ‘I should warn you that my father will not welcome you with open arms. He is an ill man who is still grieving. I will try to protect you from any unnecessary unpleasantness but I cannot guarantee things will be easy.’

‘I understand.’

‘The ceremony will be conducted at ten a.m. tomorrow,’ he said. ‘It will be a low-key affair as befits the circumstances.’

Marc watched as she made a movement towards the door as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of him. He considered calling her back but thought better of it. It was asking for trouble to spend too much time alone with her. He was already treading a very fine line and it wasn’t going to take too much to push him over.

As the door closed softly behind her, he wondered if he was more than halfway there already.

CHAPTER NINE

MARC stood at the foot of the stairs the next morning and watched as Nina came down dressed in full bridal regalia. She gave him a defiant look from beneath her veil as she traversed the last steps.

‘You look very nice,’ he said, giving her a wry look. ‘Going somewhere special?’

She twitched her train out of his way as she moved past him. ‘Nowhere special, I just felt like dressing up.’

She was certainly dressed up, Marc thought with an inward frown. She looked absolutely stunning, just as a real bride should look. Why had she done it?

Nina stood silently beside Marc half an hour later as the brief ceremony was performed. ‘You may kiss the bride.’

Her eyes widened in alarm at the celebrant’s words, her palms sticky with sudden nerves as Marc turned towards her, his hands reaching out to lift the gossamer of her veil from her face.

‘I don’t think—’ Her hastily whispered protest was cut off by the descent of his firm mouth towards hers.

She closed her eyes and did her best not to respond to the feel of his lips moving over hers, but it was hard, if not impossible, to ignore the warmth of his mouth heating her in places she didn’t want to be heated. She felt every nuance of his mouth, his firmness against her softness, the way his skin rasped hers as he moved to gain better access.

She could feel her mouth swelling beneath the insistent pressure of his, her tongue moving forward inside her mouth as if seeking the probing warmth of his.

She felt something begin to unfurl deep and low in her belly but before she could identify what it was he lifted his head to look down at her, his dark gaze inscrutable.

She swallowed and turned back to the celebrant, who was smiling at them with indulgent approval.

For better or worse she was now married to Marc Marcello.

The reception was little more than a brief lunch with some of Marc’s colleagues at a private function centre and as soon as it was over Nina changed into one of her sister’s outfits, a silky sheath of a dress which clung to her rather too lovingly. She stood in front of the mirror in the powder room and tried to adjust the fabric so it didn’t reveal too much of her cleavage, all the while doing her best to ignore the nervous flicker of unease in her eyes.

She ran her tongue over her lips experimentally. Her mouth looked the same but it somehow felt different. Her lips felt highly sensitive now, as if the brush of Marc’s mouth on hers had triggered something under her skin, making her want more of his touch. Recalling the way his kiss had felt, his warm sensual mouth and the looming threat of his tongue about to slip between her lips, still made her stomach tilt alarmingly. Even now she could imagine how it would feel to have the rough maleness of his tongue searching for hers to mate with, arrogantly, demandingly—devastatingly.

She remonstrated with herself for craving something she could never have. What was wrong with her? What quirk in her personality made her ache for his desire, his approval, for a smile of affection or even a kind word?

She had no right to desire such things, certainly since it had been her own deception that had brought about their marriage. What would he do if he ever found out?

Once she made her way back out to the last of the lingering guests Nina found herself being escorted to where Marc’s car was waiting, Georgia already settled in her baby seat in the back.

He drove to his house in Mosman, seemingly content not to engage in conversation during any part of the journey.

Nina used the time to get her head around the fact she was now his wife. His legal wife, she reminded herself with another deep lurch of her stomach. In name only, though. The mental reassurance restored some order to her insides, but then she thought about his kiss and her belly did another somersault.

‘I have given Lucia the rest of the day off,’ Marc said as he pulled into his driveway. ‘There is a meal already prepared for later.’

Nina had never felt less like eating in her life. The thought of being alone with him in the big house with only her tiny niece as chaperon unsettled her terribly.

‘I think Georgia needs feeding and changing,’ she said once they were at the front door.

Marc held the door open and she slipped past him, holding Georgia like a shield.

‘I have a couple of calls to make,’ he said. ‘Let me know if you need a hand with anything. I will be in my study.’

She was halfway through feeding her niece a little while later when Marc came into the kitchen. She looked up to see he had changed out of his suit and was now dressed in casual trousers and a long-sleeved dark T-shirt which hugged his broad chest, highlighting his superb physical fitness.

Nina tore her eyes away to concentrate on Georgia.

‘Would you like me to take over so you can change before dinner?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m almost done,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t seem all that interested in this anyway.’ She put the spoon down and got to her feet, reaching for a cloth to wipe up a spill.

‘She looks tired,’ Marc observed as Georgia began to rub at her eyes.

‘Yes.’ Nina twisted the cloth in her hands, lowering her gaze to avoid his studied look. ‘Nina …’

She turned away and scrubbed at the bench once more. ‘I think I’ll give dinner a miss, if you don’t mind.’ She tossed the cloth in the sink and turned back to reach for Georgia in her baby chair.

Before she could unbuckle the clasp Marc’s hand closed over hers and she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

She edged her hand out from under his and straightened to her full height but he still towered over her, his body far too close for her to breathe with any comfort.

‘Even if you do not choose to eat I have things I wish to discuss with you,’ he said.

‘W-what sort of things?’

‘Ground rules, that sort of thing. I do not want you under any misapprehensions as to our arrangement.’ ‘I can’t imagine what you mean by that.’ ‘Can you not?’