His Virgin Bride: The Fiorenza Forced Marriage / Bought: For His Convenience or Pleasure? / A Night With Consequences

As he led the way to the front door of the grand old house Emma could smell the pungent clove-like scent of night stocks from the massive herbaceous border running along one side of the property. The purple and white pendulous blooms of sweetly scented wisteria hung in a fragrant arras from the trellis on one of the walls, and the melodious twinkle of the wind chimes hanging in the summer house carried over the garden on the slight breeze, setting an atmosphere that was as intoxicating as a mind-altering drug.

‘Why don’t we take a nightcap out to the arbour?’ Rafaele said once they were inside. ‘It is too nice a night to be indoors.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ Emma said, wondering if he had somehow read her mind. She had been thinking how nice it would be to sit out in the garden, breathing in the fragrant air and looking up at the peepholes of stars and planets in the dark blue blanket of the sky.

A few minutes later she followed him out to the summer house, minus her heels, the soft, slightly damp carpet of the springy lawn tickling the soles of her bare feet.

Rafaele handed her a cognac and patted the swing seat beside him. ‘You look like a nymph or a sprite,’ he said with a smile.

Emma returned his smile with a warm one of her own. ‘I love nights like this,’ she said, curling her toes as she sat on the seat next to him. ‘I love the sounds and smells of a garden late at night. It’s like another world out here.’

He placed his foot against the frame of the arched doorway to set the swing in motion. The gentle rocking motion brought their bodies closer together on the seat. Emma could feel the strong length of his thigh within a breath of her own, her shoulder brushing against his upper arm. Her skin tingled as he laid his left arm over the back of the seat, his fingers within touching distance of the nape of her neck. It would be so easy to turn and face him, to reach up and stroke her fingers over the lean planes and angles of his face, to explore the contours of his sensual mouth.

‘You have not touched your cognac,’ he said, looking at the glass she was cradling in her hands.

‘I haven’t got much of a head for alcohol,’ Emma confessed. ‘The wine we had at dinner has already addled my brain.’ And my common sense, she thought wryly as she placed her untouched glass on the nearest ledge.

The long silence was measured by the sound of crickets chirruping in the background, the soft plop of a frog landing in the lily pond sounding like a distant gunshot.

Rafaele turned to look at her. ‘Did you ever bring my father out here?’ he asked.

Emma couldn’t read his expression, his face was in shadow, but she sensed tension in the question. ‘Yes…a couple of times,’ she answered. ‘He found it peaceful and the fresh air was good for him after being confined indoors for so long.’

Another silence slipped past.

In spite of the darkness Emma could feel the slow burn of his gaze as it held hers. ‘What are you thinking about, Emma?’ he asked.

She self-consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I was thinking how we’re probably going to be eaten alive by mosquitoes,’ she said with a rueful tilt of her mouth.

The white slash of his smile cut across his shadowed face. ‘Or what about gnats?’

She screwed up her mouth at him. ‘Do gnats bite?’

‘I am not sure,’ he said as he set his glass to one side before turning back to face her.

Emma sat very still as he lifted his hand to her face, his index finger tracing over the curve of her top lip. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t even speak, so mesmerising was his feather-light touch. She watched as in slow motion his head came down, his mouth so close she could feel the warmth of his breath skating over her lips. She sucked in a sharp little breath as his lips pressed against hers, once, twice, and then the third time with increasing pressure.

His mouth was like a brand, searing her lips with the imprint of his, stirring her senses into a frenzy of heady excitement. The first slow and yet determined stroke of his tongue against the seam of her lips sent her pulse skyrocketing, the rasp of his masculine jaw with its stubbly growth against the tender skin of her face making her feel utterly feminine in a way she had never felt before.

He explored every corner of her mouth in a leisurely fashion, the drugging movements of his mouth on hers making her forget all about her reasons for not getting involved with him. Desire began to pulse hot and strong in her veins with each thrust of his tongue against hers, the erotic promise in his kiss unmistakable.

His teeth nibbled at the fullness of her bottom lip in tiny, tantalising tug-and-release bites that made her legs turn to water. Her feminine core melted, she could feel the dew of desire anointing her intimately, her breasts swollen and aching for the attention of his hands and lips and tongue.

He pulled her to her feet, her legs hardly able to keep her upright as his mouth lifted off hers to blaze a fiery trail of kisses along the sensitive skin of her neck, each hot blast of his breath inciting her need of him to fever pitch. She was melting in his arms, discovering a passionate facet to her personality she would never have believed had existed until now. Where was her self-control? Where was her level-headedness and cool composure? They seemed to have been swept up in the conflagration of her senses under the sensual mastery of his touch.

His lower body ground against hers, leaving her in no doubt of his arousal. It was thick and hard against her, making her body tremble all over with a clawing need for fulfilment.

His mouth came back to hers with renewed fervour, the pressure of his kiss increasing as his erection burned with insistent force against her traitorous flesh. She could feel the hollow ache of her body, the tight walls of her womanhood preparing for the onslaught of his thickened presence. She felt as if she would die if he didn’t bring to completion what he had started. Her body was crying out for release from this sensual torment. There was no part of her that wasn’t sizzling from the heat of his touch. He was like a fire in her blood; somehow he had circumvented her firewall of common sense and turned her into a desperate wanton, a slave to the passion he had awakened.

Rafaele lifted his mouth off hers to look down at her with eyes dark with desire. ‘Let’s take this inside—or shall we get it over with right here on the floor?’

Emma flinched as her conscience gave her an unwelcome but timely nudge. No wonder he thought she was his for the asking. She had practically melted in his arms. Shame flooded her cheeks and to disguise it she stepped out of his hold, her expression full of cold disdain. ‘You might not have liked him much, but at least your father had much more class than you,’ she said with a cutting edge to her tone. ‘He would never have dreamed of insulting me the way you have done.’

His eyes became diamond hard. ‘What is wrong, Emma? Are you expecting a little more finesse? I thought you would be used to doing it rough since you have been servicing my father. He would not have been too fussy about where he had you. Or maybe he got sentimental in his old age and whispered sweet nothings in your ear.’

‘That’s a disgusting thing to say!’ Emma said, her face fire-engine red.

‘What about it, Emma?’ he said. ‘How about we get down and dirty while we are married? You are up for it, I can tell.’

She gave him a paint-stripping glare. ‘I wouldn’t dream of tainting myself with the likes of you.’

His smile was deliberately taunting. ‘I can afford you, Emma. If it is more money you want I have plenty of it. I have ten times the wealth of my father.’

‘I want nothing from you,’ she bit out. ‘I would rather die.’

‘You are such a transparent liar,’ he said. ‘If the way you kissed me is anything to go by I can almost guarantee it will not be long before we end up sharing much more than this villa.’

‘I did not kiss you,’ Emma said through tight lips. ‘You kissed me. You took me completely by surprise.’

His eyes began to glint. ‘Ditto. You totally rocked me. I had no idea how passionate you are behind that schoolmarmish façade you are so fond of displaying to the world. But it is all an act, isn’t it, Emma? That is how you got my father’s attention, wasn’t it? You reeled him in like a minnow on a line.’

Emma felt like slapping him, but in truth she was frustrated at herself for falling under his sensual spell so incautiously. How could she have been so stupid? He had wined and dined her, setting the scene for seduction, and she had fallen for it so readily. It made her feel so foolish but also very hurt.

Deeply hurt.

He had no feelings for her. He despised her. How could she have been lulled into thinking anything else? Tears suddenly blurred her vision and desperate to keep them hidden, she pushed past him with a hastily muttered goodnight.

‘Emma?’ He caught up to her in a couple of strides and tipped her face to one of the fingers of light coming from the villa. He frowned as he dabbed at a rolling tear with the blunt pad of his finger. ‘Tears?’ he asked, sounding surprised.

Emma shoved his hand away and glared at him. ‘You must think I’m so naïve,’ she bit out. ‘You think you can just crook your finger and have me dive head first into your bed, don’t you?’

‘It was just a kiss, Emma,’ he said in a dry tone.

‘It was not just a kiss!’ she railed at him.

‘What was it then?’

‘It was a blatant attempt to seduce me, that’s what it was,’ she said with a livid grey-blue glare.

‘If I was serious about seducing you, Emma, you would be flat on your back by now and letting the neighbours know in no uncertain terms how much you were enjoying it,’ he said with a smug little smile.

Emma opened and closed her mouth at his audacity. ‘I can’t believe you just said that!’

‘I said it because it is true,’ he said. ‘I am not going to play games with you, cara. I am prepared to bed you any time you like. But that is all I am offering, so you had better be clear on that. No strings, just good old-fashioned bed-wrecking sex. Take it or leave it.’

She threw him a caustic look. ‘I’ll leave it, thank you.’

‘Fine, but if you change your mind just let me know,’ he said. ‘I think we could be dynamite together.’