Reckless Nights in Rome (8 page)

She had no idea
that the lights made her dress virtually see through. She was
having the time of her life. And he would die a happy man to have
her smile at him just like that.

The music
segued into a slow romantic number.

With a firm
hand he tapped the man on the shoulder, who took one look at his
face and relinquished her.

Bronte slid
into his arms and it didn’t surprise him how good she felt there.
Weeping violins filled the air. He placed his hands on her hips and
she raised her brows as she stared up into his face. Her palms
rested reluctantly on his chest as she leaned away, her back
stiff.

“You appear to
attract drunken young men.” He made the observation with a wry
smile. Her breath hitched as he placed her hands around his neck
and pulled her close, hip to hip.

Emerald eyes
studied him, they held caution and a shy wariness he found
incredibly arousing.

Clearing her
throat she said, “He’s harmless.”

Those big eyes
stared into his and he couldn’t help it. With a soft murmur Nico
buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent as he swept
feather light fingertips from her shoulders to the small
indentation above her buttocks. He took his time, enjoying the feel
of the silky, fragrant skin. Her sensitive shudder told him she
felt it too. The power of their attraction both thrilled and
dismayed him. What would it be like to explore her, he wondered,
how would she feel under him?

Raising his
head, his heart took a stumble as those emerald eyes, drowsy now
with desire, stared into his. Bronte’s soft bottom lip quivered as
her breath hitched.

Something was
happening and he was torn between the need to run and the need to
explore.

“You have
amazingly soft skin.” His voice sounded rough to his own ears and
he cleared his throat. He wanted nothing more than to take her to
his suite and take his time making long, slow, love to her.

Bronte realised she
needed to take a step back.

The look in his
eyes was a heady mix of possession and predator. That mouth was
firm, tense even. The room spun, probably due to the fact she was
holding her breath. She inhaled in an attempt to kick-start her
brain.

She enjoyed the
sensation of his hands on her skin and the tingling at the base of
her spine. She enjoyed her cheek pressing to his chest and the feel
of the strong beat of his heart. The trouble was she was enjoying
it too much. The heat and scent of his body made her mouth water.
The hot tugs in her belly and breasts were so seductive.

However, she
was more than aware they were in the middle of a dance floor with
her friends and acquaintances surrounding them.

Lifting her
cheek from his chest, she looked around. Sure enough, she spotted
her brother’s gimlet eye on them. He stood next to Rosie who
watched them, grinning like a fool.

The music
changed to a fast number and she stepped back with a small smile of
apology.

“I need a
drink.”

He led her from
the dance floor, his eyes narrow and thoughtful and she wished she
knew what he was thinking. His hand kept hold of hers, then he drew
her firmly to his side in a possessive gesture that had her brother
eye him sharply and Rosie’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline.

Nico signalled
a waiter with a tray, who jumped to attention. He handed her a
glass of champagne.

Bronte smiled
her thanks, excused herself and moved slowly around the room to
mingle with the wedding party.

She needed the
time to pull herself together and had absolutely no idea what she
said to people. Her entire focus was on Nico, where he was and who
he spoke to. Every second she was aware of his dark eyes tracking
her every move.

She smiled,
chatted and kissed the bride and groom. The bride’s mother was a
little worse for wear and ordered her husband to dance with
Bronte.

Peter
Cavendish, an old friend of her late father, led her to the dance
floor.

“You look
lovely this evening, my dear.” His gravelly voice sounded happy and
relaxed now his speech was over. He told her he hadn’t slept for
weeks worrying about it. With a flourish that made her laugh, he
twirled her around in an energetic waltz. “Your parents would be
proud to see what you and Alexander have achieved, damn proud.”

She smiled
mistily up into his rugged face.

“They would
have just loved this, wouldn’t they?”

A weight lifted
from her shoulders. Life moved on. Ludlow Hall would never be the
same, but Peter was right, her parents would have been proud.

“Absolutely,”
he replied.

With a quick
peck on her cheek, he handed her to Alexander, who led her to the
bar.

“What would you
like?” He ordered a mineral water for himself and turned to her.
His green eyes were filled with concern and she suppressed a
sigh.

“Make that
two.”

Eyeing him over
the glass, Bronte braced herself for the lecture. She watched him
scan the room, his eyes narrowing when they settled on Nico who was
talking to Rosie.

He took a
breath and turned, his eyes sharp as a blade met hers.

“What are you
doing with Nico?”

She knew that
look and bristled. “Dancing.”

Alexander gave
a grunt, sipped his drink and ran a hand over the back of his neck
in a gesture she recognised.

“That wasn’t
dancing.” His eyes stayed on hers. “He’ll eat you alive.”

With a frown,
Bronte met his gaze dead on. “I thought he was your friend? The man
who saved the day?”

Alexander
pressed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

He appeared to
be a man at the end of his tether and Bronte felt alarm slide up
her spine. He looked exhausted. Burning eyes met hers and she was
shocked at his expression.

“He is not good
enough for you. You are so far above him ...”

Baffled, she
simply stared. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t be
fooled by the charm and the polish. Underneath it Nico is a street
fighter. He’s totally ruthless.”

“When did you
become a snob?”

“Being a snob
has nothing to do with it. I’ve seen him with women, he’s not a man
I want my sister involved with.” When she kept her eyes on his,
Alexander took a breath, it was clear to her he was struggling to
find the right words. “He is what he is because he grew up hard and
he grew up hungry. As a child Nico had a choice, to survive or die.
He not only survived, he conquered.”

“Surely that’s
something to be admired, to be proud of?” Her voice was soft with
sympathy for Nico the child.

Alexander
nodded. “It is. But he has no soft spots. No nurturing or space in
his heart for another.” His eyes stayed on hers. “He’s not for
you.”

She shook her
head. “He’s your friend. A friend you trusted your heritage
to.”

“I trust Nico
Ferranti with my life. But not with my sister.”

There were
times and this was one of them, when Bronte detested her brother’s
overprotective attitude.

“So, you’re
warning me off. Honestly, Alexander, do you really think I would be
stupid enough to fall for a man like him? I’m not in the market for
a long term relationship, am I? What could I offer a man like
Nico?”

“Christ,
Bronte, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“What if I hurt
him? Ever thought of that, or am I always the helpless victim in
your mind?”

Pain, a deep
sorrow, sparked in her brothers eyes. And it burst the balloon of
her anger. She was so tired of fighting with him over every little
thing. She rested her head on his shoulder and gave him a hug.

“I’m sorry, I
know you’re worried about me,” she told him with a gentle sigh.

His response
was to gently pull her hair.

“I’m leaving
tomorrow. You can contact me through the office, Julie has my
itinerary.”

She smiled into
eyes that forcibly reminded her of their late father.

“Sounds
exciting, Rome, Paris, Barcelona.”

“It’s work. A
spot inspection of a couple of resorts.”

The way he said
it, made her frown. “Trouble?”

“No.” Alexander
gave her hair another tug. “I wish you would wait to meet your
biological father until I can go with you.”

She flicked a
look at Nico who was now chatting with the groom.

“I thought you
were supportive?”

His smile
didn’t reach his eyes which held a mix of raw emotions.

“I am.” He
assured her with a hug and then leaned in. His nose bumped hers. “I
am, but surely I’m permitted to worry about my baby sister whom I
love very much by the way.”

It wasn’t a
sentiment Alexander Ludlow articulated very often.

Bronte knew how
hard it had been for him, coping with the loss of their parents,
turning their home into a hotel in the teeth of her fierce
opposition, never mind dealing with the fall out of her devastating
news and the end of her engagement. He’d been amazing. And she’d
been too tied up in herself.

With a small
cry she hugged him and they swayed together as she blinked back
tears that came to her all too easily these days.

“I love you
too.”

Alexander drew
back, picked up his drink as his eyes searched the room. Bronte
followed his gaze and found her own captured by Nico, watching them
like a hawk.

Not once did Nico’s
eyes leave her as she circulated and half an hour later Bronte’s
nerves were shot to pieces.

“Oh, boy,”
Rosie whispered in her ear. “Let me know what happens if I don’t
see you later. I mean it. Give me a ring.”

“How are you
getting home?”

Rosie gave her
a look that was full to the brim of sheer mischief.

“Alexander’s
taking me.”

“Good God, be
careful with him, he’s my only brother.”

Rosie simply
gave her a bland look.

“Don’t you
worry about him. He’s big enough to look after himself. He
barbecued my ear about your blind date with Anthony.”

“You deserved
it,” Bronte told her.

“You should
have told me he hurt you, just wait until I see his sister.”

“I handled it
myself. He was nursing his thumb the last time I saw him.”

“Ah, the
Alexander technique. Apparently he’s now walking with a limp.”

“Brothers,”
Bronte said in disgust. “When is he going to learn I can fight my
own battles?”

“Not him. It
was Nico.”

Bronte turned
shocked eyes on her friend.

“Nico hurt
Anthony?”

With big eyes,
Rosie nodded. “And he didn’t leave a mark. Alexander’s very
impressed.”

Stunned, Bronte
simply shook her head.

She turned and
rammed straight into Nico who took her arm and led her back to the
dance floor without a single word.

The look he had
in his eyes for her had the butterflies in her stomach morphing
into bats.

The band was
playing another slow number and he slid her into his arms as if
she’d always belonged there.

Her breath
hitched again as he placed her hands around his neck.

They fit
perfectly and moved together, swaying in time to the music.

When the band
struck up a fast number, he spun her out and spun her back with a
delighted smile as she laughed into his face.

Then her breath
caught as she recognised the raw desire in his eyes.

Alexander’s
words swirled in her mind.

She was playing
with fire and she knew it. But wasn’t it about time she lost the
good girl image?

“Nico ... I
...”

His finger
stilled her mouth, those amazing eyes burned into hers as he rubbed
his thumb over her bottom lip. An erotic, almost illicit little
thrill shimmied up her spine.

“That is the
first time you have said my name,” he said, his voice deep with an
emotion she didn’t recognise.

When she raised
an eyebrow, he rubbed her lip.

“Say it again.”
Heat flooded her cheeks and she stared up at him, confused. “Say it
again. Please, Bronte,” he murmured in her ear, his breath sending
tingles of desire across her cheek.

“Nico.”

Nico’s gut tightened brutally as her voice,
soft and low whispered his name.

Tension
travelled up his spine, into his neck and it took him all of four
seconds to work out why.

He wanted her
too much, it was almost a need. The experience was unexpected and
unwanted. Once he kissed her, he told himself, these feelings would
pass.

In a slow
rhythm his fingertips stroked between her shoulder blades, down the
smooth curve of her back and he permitted himself to enjoy the
sensation of her soft skin. While his libido warned him to take it
easy or it would surge even harder into life. He bent his head.
With the scent of neroli and warm female surrounding him, he gave
into temptation and nibbled the delicate flesh of her earlobe.
Bronte shuddered in his arms with a little gasp, as his tongue
licked and his lips kissed the erratic pulse under her ear.

“You are so
beautiful,
cara
.”

Low and husky,
throbbing with desire, his voice sent arousal shimmering through
Bronte’s blood.

Her mind spun.
Oh yes, it had been too long since a man’s cheek caressed hers. She
couldn’t understand the language he murmured under his breath, but
the sentiment and his physical desire for her was clear. His
erection pressed into her soft belly. He was a big man and she
shuddered. For the first time in a long time, she gave herself
permission to relax, enjoy the moment, the sensations and the
wonderful dreamlike state as he spun her round.

It took her a
couple of heartbeats to realise he’d steered them to the side of
the hall.

Nico opened a
door behind a screen and whisked her into another room.