Dante's Dilemma (a Dante Legacy Novella) (8 page)

“But he’s kissed you before.” Rom surveyed her dress with grim distaste. “I hope not this roughly.”

“He has kissed me before. And those other times weren’t bad. I mean, it wasn’t like when you and I…”

She trailed off and glanced at him, her gaze full of the memories from the times they’d been together. Everything about her softened, radiating a feminine warmth that twined around and through him. Drew him toward her and urged him to take her in his arms again.

He couldn’t resist teasing. “Like when you and I… what?”

“It wasn’t like when we kissed,” she confessed in a low voice. A frown creased her brow. “It didn’t repulse me before. But this time I found it disgusting.”

He forced himself to ignore his baser desires and focus instead on Julietta and her needs. “Tito’s kisses didn’t repulse you until tonight?” A combination of satisfaction and regret coursed through him. “Is this the first time he’s kissed you since you and I met?”

Julietta nodded. “And when he did, I hated it. It wasn’t his fault,” she hastened to add. “We’re to be married and he wanted—” She broke off self-consciously.

Rom schooled himself to calmness. Anger wouldn’t help the situation. Nor did he have the right to protect her from Tito. At least, not yet. “He wanted to touch you.”

She shot him a direct look. “Yes. The same way you touched me. With you, I didn’t mind.”

Rom lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t mind?”

A hint of a smile chased away the last of her tears. “Not even a little.”

“Perhaps you enjoyed it?” he pressed.

Her smile grew, taking on a mischievous slant. “Perhaps. Perhaps I enjoyed it a lot.” Then her smile faded. “But with Tito it felt wrong. I panicked, and we struggled for a moment.” She released a tired sigh. “That’s when my dress ripped.”

She dragged the ruined wreath from her hair and tossed it aside. Stray sprigs of yellow flowering mustard and a few red poppies remained snared in her wayward curls, along with a twig or two of oak. Captured within the moon’s embrace, she looked like a tattered wood nymph.

Rom carefully untangled one of the twigs and, unable to help himself, wound the spill of curls around his hand. With a sigh of pleasure, she followed the gentle tug and slipped into his arms, nestling against him. His arms closed tight around her, and he wrapped her in a protective hold. She fit against him with such perfection, with such overwhelming “rightness.” No wonder she’d reacted the way she had to Tito’s embrace. He’d react the same way if another woman touched him with a lover’s caress. He’d find it abhorrent. Sacrilegious.

“You’re right,
amata mia,”
Rom said quietly. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and inhaled the scent of her, drawing it in and making it as much a part of him as his own breath. Everything about her marked him, her essence imprinting on each of his senses. “None of this is Tito’s fault.”

“It’s because of The Inferno, isn’t it?” She dropped her gaze to her hand and rubbed a spot in the middle of her palm, the same spot he’d caught himself rubbing. “I didn’t believe you before. When we first met, and you told me we were soul mates and all that nonsense about The Inferno, I thought you made it up in order to seduce me.”

“Perhaps, if I were the type of man to seduce innocent women.” But he wasn’t, not when he’d watched his mother suffer from the consequences of such an act. “What changed your mind about me?”

“This.” She held out her hand, and he took it in his, pressing a kiss into the heart of her palm. “I felt it from the moment we first touched, just as I still feel it now. I can feel
you
. And that feeling is in my blood and in my bones. It races through me with every single beat of my heart. It terrifies me until I listen to what it’s saying.”

“And what is it saying?” he asked tenderly.

“To trust you.”

His arms tightened around her, and he closed his eyes, tipping his head against the rough bark of the orange tree at his back. “You humble me with your faith. I swear I’ll do everything in my power to deserve it.”

Her mouth brushed his jawline, the touch as soft and fleeting as the sweep of a butterfly’s wings. “Well, at least I know you’re not trying to seduce me.”

His laugh held a painful edge. “Don’t make me out to be a saint, Julietta. That’s one accusation no one’s ever leveled at me.” He traced her torn bodice with his fingertip. “And I am trying to seduce you. It’s all I’ve thought about since we first met. It’s taking every ounce of self-control to keep from ripping this the rest of the way off and making you mine in the most basic and natural way possible.”

Her heartbeat fluttered beneath his fingers. One look reassured him the quickening of her pulse didn’t come from fear… but desire. He could see it in her heated gaze, watch the sweep of it shift her expression from concerned to ardent. Considering what had just happened with Tito, Rom wouldn’t have been surprised if she distanced herself from him. Instead, she shifted even closer.

“Okay, maybe you are trying to seduce me. But that’s not all you want from me. I realize that now.” Her hand covered his. “Just as I know you won’t do anything to dishonor me.”

His amusement faded, and pain sliced through him. “No, I’d never do that. How could I, when I know how my mother has suffered because of one passionate mistake? She’s spent a lifetime of penitence paying for a single night of love. And while both the man and woman may lose their honor, a woman loses far more than that, especially when there are consequences.”

“You mean a baby.” Julietta captured his face between her soft hands, gazing at him with eyes deep and dark and filled with a woman’s perception. “It isn’t just the man and woman who suffer. You’re the consequence. You suffered, as well. You’ve never been accepted for yourself, have you?”

He shook his head, her sensitivity unnerving. He’d never had anyone see inside him with as much clarity as she possessed. It stripped him of all protection, cut through all barriers, and exposed his true self at the core, both good and bad. “I’ve always been the bastard of Santa Lucia. I’m both the reason men warn their daughters about certain men…and the type of man fathers keep their daughters hidden from.” He whispered the admission, not realizing until that moment how deep the wound went, or how much it had festered through the years. “I’m the last to be hired for a job. The first to be suspected of any mischief or theft or villainy. I’m the man who’s watched with constant suspicion. I was born without honor and therefore must work to earn even the most grudging respect.”

“Even in Florence?”

“It’s easier there,” he conceded. “My relatives are more forgiving, but only up to a point.”

“And what point is that?”

“They respect me and my talent. But they’ll never allow their customers to know I’m the one who crafted their jewelry. That person must have an impeccable reputation so the elite of Florence will trust and favor us with their patronage.”

She stared in distress. “They told you this?”

He nodded. “Before I left for Santa Lucia. I was told that while I may design and fashion Dante jewelry, I must give my cousin Donato credit for every piece I create, including your engagement ring.”

“You sound so matter-of-fact about it,” she marveled. “Aren’t you angry?”

“Not angry.” He hesitated, thinking about the letter from San Francisco offering him the opportunity for a new life, and chose his words with care. “Determined. I’m determined to change my circumstances.”

She frowned over his words. “I never considered the possibility of changing my circumstances. I’ve always accepted the direction I’ve been told to take, trusting my parents to know what’s best for me.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, considering such a wondrous possibility. “It will be incredibly difficult to pick a different path at this point.”

“Yes, it will,” he limited himself to saying.

He refused to force her decision, no matter how desperately he might wish to. It was her life. And though he believed they belonged together, were meant for one another, the final choice had to be hers. Forging a new life in a new country wouldn’t be easy—especially since he hadn’t even told her about the possibility of moving to America. They both needed to be totally committed to each other and to whatever direction they took from this point on.

Rom brushed her hair from her face and feathered a kiss across her mouth. Her lips clung and parted beneath his with a natural eagerness that humbled him. He anticipated reticence, especially after the incident with Tito. Instead, he encountered unstinting generosity. He took it slow, loath to do anything to alarm or panic her. Not that she acted the least alarmed or panicked. In fact, she wriggled closer with unmistakable eagerness and returned his kisses with a sweet intensity that threatened his sanity.

Unable to resist, he swept aside the ruined pieces of her bodice to uncover the softness within. He wanted to erase all memory of Tito’s touch. To replace it with his own. To exchange misery for joy. She had the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen, round and plump and succulent as a ripe peach, tipped with nipples as tasty as the sweetest spring berries. She tilted her head back so her hair rained across her shoulders to the ground, surrounding them in a carpet of curls.

At the first touch of his mouth, Julietta sighed in pleasure. Her hands forked into his hair, and she held him close. She smelled so amazing, like a flower whose scent drove him wild, its petals softer than anything he’d ever felt before. She shifted against him, and he soothed her with a gentle stroke to her waist and hip. Her dress rode high on her legs, and he allowed his fingertips to drift across skin like satin. Her thighs parted ever so slightly, and he followed the warmth to its core.

Soft cotton covered her, and that stopped him. There was something so innocent about cotton, as innocent as the woman he held.
Nonno’s
warning returned, along with the memory of all his mother had suffered as a result of allowing The Inferno to sweep aside common sense and reason. Gently, he smoothed her dress over her legs and tugged the edges of her bodice together to cover her breasts.

“I promised I wouldn’t dishonor you, and yet, that’s what I’m on the verge of doing.” He shifted her to one side in order to give them both some breathing space. The torn neckline of her dress gaped, exposing the fragile length of her collarbone and the sweet curve of her breast. “We need to stop now before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.” Serena stepped from shadow into moonlight. “Get away from my sister, you bastard. Before I scream the place down.”

“Serena!” Julietta shot to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Attempting to track you down before anyone notices you’re missing. And what do I find?” She pointed an accusing finger in Rom’s direction. “You, cheating on Tito with this one.”

Julietta held out a beseeching hand. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Resentment crept into Serena’s voice, taking on a darkness that matched the shadow-draped night. “Tito is offering you the perfect life. He’s handsome. Wealthy. He’ll take care of our family.
Che ti passa per la testa?
What’s the matter with you? What more could you possibly want?”

“Love,” Julietta instantly replied.

Serena groaned.
“Ma va!
You really have lost your mind.”

“Is it crazy to want a man who loves me?” She sensed Rom’s approach, providing a powerful bulwark at her back. She leaned against his strength, fumbling to hold her ripped dress in place. “I don’t love Tito, any more than he loves me. I love Rom.”

Serena frowned. “What happened to your dress?” She gasped, her gaze shifting to Rom, outrage adding fuel to her fury. “Did he do that to you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, he didn’t.”

“I don’t believe you. He was trying to take advantage of you. To… to—”

“It was Tito,” Julietta interrupted, her voice unnaturally loud within the quiet confines of the orange grove. “Tito tried to take advantage of me. Tito ripped my dress.”

Serena shook her head. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that.”

“Not deliberately,” she conceded. “If I hadn’t fought him, my dress wouldn’t have gotten ripped, so I guess it wasn’t totally his fault.”

“So, that’s what Tito meant when—” Serena broke off, and Julietta couldn’t help but wonder what she’d intended to say. She gestured toward Rom. “And this one? Don’t pretend you weren’t cheating on Tito with him. I saw enough to know better.”

Rom stepped in at that point, taking charge with a natural authority. “This isn’t the time to discuss it. Serena, please tell everyone Julietta isn’t feeling well and has left. I’ll make sure your sister gets safely home.”

Serena folded her arms across her chest. “I think I’d better take my sister home while you tell everyone we’ve left.”

Julietta shook her head. “No.” She didn’t often stand up to her older sister. She tended to be the one who went along with others’ needs and desires, the easygoing sister. Until Rom. Until The Inferno had struck. Until she’d found something worth the fight. Now she refused to bend. Now she’d stand strong. “Rom will take me. Please offer my apologies to everyone.”