The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (50 page)

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Authors: Helen Bianchin

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Collections & Anthologies, #Contemporary Women, #General

BOOK: The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections)
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The house was quiet, and she made her way upstairs,
deposited a collection of brightly-coloured carry-bags in the bedroom, then discarded her clothes, donned a bikini and retraced her steps to the lower floor.
The pool looked inviting, and she angled her arms and dived into its cool depths, emerging to the surface to stroke several lengths before turning onto her back and lazily drifting.
Long minutes later she executed sufficient backstrokes to bring her to the pool's edge, then she levered herself onto the ledge and caught up a towel. Standing to her feet, she blotted excess moisture from her body, then she crossed to a nearby lounger and sank back against its cushioned depth.
The view out over the harbour was sheer magic, for at this hour the sea was a dark blue, deepening almost to indigo as it merged in the distance with the ocean.
There were three huge tankers drawing close to the main harbour entrance, and in the immediate periphery of her vision hundreds of small craft lay anchored at moorings.
It was a peaceful scene, and she closed her eyes against the strength of the sun's warmth. It had a soporific effect, and she could feel herself drifting into a light doze.
It was there that Carlo found her more than an hour later, after several minutes of increasing anxiety when he'd failed to locate her anywhere indoors.
His relief at seeing her lying supine on the lounger was palpable, although he could have shaken her for putting him through a few minutes of hell.
He slid open the door quietly, and stood watching her sleep. She looked so relaxed it was almost a shame to have to wake her, and he waited a while, not willing to disturb the moment.
A soft smile curved his mouth. He wanted to cross to her side and gently tease her into wakefulness. Lightly trail his fingers over the length of her body, brush his lips to her cheek, then find her mouth with his own. See her eyelids flutter then lift in wakefulness, and watch the warmth flood her eyes as she reached for him.
Except as things stood, the moment her lashes swept open her eyes were unlikely to reflect the emotion he wanted.
‘A
YSHA.'
She was dreaming, and she fought her way through the mists of sleep at the sound of her name.
The scene merged into reality. The location was right, so was the man who stood within touching distance.
It was the circumstances that were wrong.
She moved fluidly into a sitting position. ‘Is it that late?' She swung her legs onto the ground and rose to her feet.
He looked impressive dressed in tailored trousers, pale blue cotton shirt, tie and jacket. She kept her eyes fixed on the knot of his tie. ‘I'll go shower and change.'
He let her go, then followed her into the house. He crossed to the kitchen, extracted a cool drink from the refrigerator and popped the can, then he prowled around the large entertainment area, too restless to stand or sit in one place for long.
There were added touches he hadn't noticed before. Extra cushions on the chairs and sofas, prints hanging on the walls. The lines were clean and muted, but the room had a comfortable feeling; it was a place where it would be possible to relax.
Carlo checked his watch, and saw that only five minutes had passed. It would take her at least another
thirty to wash and dry her hair, dress and apply make-up.
Forty-five, he accorded when she re-entered the room.
The slip dress in soft shell-pink with a chiffon overlay and a wide lace border on the hemline heightened her lightly tanned skin, emphasised her dark blonde hair, and clever use of mascara and shadow deepened the smoky grey of her eyes.
She'd twisted her hair into a knot atop her head, and teased free a tendril that curled down to the edge of her jaw.
Aysha found it easy to return his gaze with a level one of her own. Not so easy was the ability to slow the sudden hammering of her heart as she drew close.
‘Shall we leave?' Her voice was even, composed, and at total variance to the rapid beat of her pulse.
‘Before we do, there's something I want you to read.' Carlo reached for the flat manila envelope resting on the nearby table and handed it to her.
The warm and wonderful girl of a week ago no longer existed. Except in an acted portrayal in the presence of others.
Alone, the spontaneity was missing from her laughter, and her eyes were solemn in their regard. Absent too was the generous warmth in her smile.
The scene he'd initiated with Nina earlier in the day had been damaging, but he didn't give a damn. The woman's eagerness to accept his invitation to lunch had sickened him, and he hadn't wasted any time informing her exactly what he planned to do should she ever cause Aysha a moment's concern.
He'd gone to extraordinary lengths in an attempt to remove Aysha's doubts. Now he needed to tell her,
show
her.
‘Read it, Aysha.'
‘Can't it wait until later?'
He thrust a hand into a trouser pocket, and felt the tension twist inside his gut ‘No.'
There was a compelling quality evident in those dark eyes, and she glimpsed the tense muscle at the edge of his jaw.
She was familiar with every one of his features. The broad cheekbones, the crease that slashed each cheek, the wide-spaced large eyes that could melt her bones from just a glance. His mouth with its sensually moulded lips was to die for, and the firm jaw-line hinted at more than just strength of character.
‘Please. Just read it.'
Aysha turned the envelope over, and her fingers sought the flap, dealt with it, then slid out the contents.
The first was a single page, sworn and signed with a name she didn't recognise. Identification of the witness required no qualification, for Samuel Sloane's prominence among the city's legal fraternity was legend.
Her eyes skimmed the print, then steadied into a slower pace as she took in the sworn affidavit testifying Nina di Salvo had engaged the photographic services of William Baker with specific instructions to capture Carlo Santangelo and herself in compromising positions, previously discussed and outlined,
for the agreed sum of five hundred dollars per negative.
Aysha mentally added up the photographic prints Nina had shown her, and had her own suspicions confirmed. Carlo had been the target; Nina the arrow.
Her eyes swept up to meet his. ‘I didn't think she'd go to these lengths.'
Carlo's eyes hardened as he thought of Nina's vitriolic behaviour. ‘It's doubtful she'll bother either of us again.' He'd personally seen to it.
‘Damage control,' Aysha declared, and saw his eyes darken with latent anger.
‘Yes.'
It was remarkable how a single word could have more impact than a dozen or so. ‘I see.'
She was beginning to. But there was still a way to go. ‘Read the second document.'
Aysha carefully slipped the affidavit to one side. There were several pages, each one scripted in legalese phrased to confuse rather than clarify. However, there was no doubt of Carlo's instruction.
Any assets in whatever form, inherited from either parents' estates, were to remain solely in her name for her sole use. At such future time, Carlo Santangelo would assume financial responsibility for Benini-Santangelo.
There was only one question. ‘Why?'
‘Because I love you.'
Aysha heard the words, and her whole body froze. The stillness in the room seemed to magnify until it became a tangible entity.
Somehow she managed to dredge up her voice,
only to have it emerge as a sibilant whisper. ‘If this is a trick, you can turn around and walk out of here.'
Her eyes became stricken with an emotion she couldn't hide, and his expression softened to something she would willingly give her life for.
He caught both her hands together with one hand, then lifted the other to capture her nape.
‘I love you.
Love,'
he emphasised emotively. ‘The heart and soul that is you.' He moved his thumb against the edge of her jaw, then slowly swept it up to encompass her cheekbone. His eyes deepened, and his voice lowered to an impassioned murmur. ‘I thought the love Bianca and I shared was irreplaceable. But I was wrong.' He lowered his forehead down to rest against hers. ‘There was you. Always you. Affection, from the moment you were born. Respect, as you grew from child to woman. Admiration, for carving out your own future.'
His hands moved to her shoulders, then curved down her back to pull her close in against him.
It would be all too easy to lean in and lift her mouth to meet his. As she had in the past. This time she wanted sanity unclouded by emotion or passion.
Aysha lifted her hands to his chest and tried to put some distance between them. Without success. ‘I can't think when you hold me.'
Those dark eyes above her own were so deeply expressive, she thought she might drown in them.
‘Is it so important that you think?' he queried gently, and she swallowed compulsively.
‘Yes.' She was conscious of every breath she took, every beat of her heart.
Carlo let his hands drop, and his features took on a quizzical warmth.
What she wanted, she hardly dared hope for, and she looked at him in silence as the seconds ticked by.
His smile completely disarmed her, and warmth seeped into her veins, heating and gathering force until it ran through her body.
‘You want it all, don't you?'
Her mouth trembled as she fought to control her emotions. She was shaking, inwardly. Very soon, she'd become a trembling mass. ‘Yes.'
Carlo pushed both hands into his trouser pockets, and she was mesmerised by his mouth, the way it curved and showed the gleam of white teeth, the sensuous quirk she longed to touch.
‘I knew marriage between us could work. We come from the same background, we move in the same social circles, and share many interests. We had the foundation of friendship and affection to build on.'
The vertical crease slashed each cheek as he smiled, and his eyes... She felt as if she could drown in their depths.
‘In the beginning I was satisfied that it was enough. I didn't expect to have those emotions develop into something more, much more.'
She had to ask. ‘And now?'
‘I need to be part of your life, to have you need me as much as I need you. As my wife, my friend, the other half of my soul.' He released his hands and reached out to cup her face. ‘To love you, as you
deserve to be loved. With all my heart. For the rest of my life.'
Aysha felt the ache of tears, and blinked rapidly to dispel them. At that precise moment she was incapable of uttering a word.
Did she realise how transparent she was? Intimacy was a powerful weapon, persuasive, invasive, and one he could use with very little effort. It would be so easy to lower his head, pull her close and let her
feel
what she did to him. His hands soothing her body, the possession of his mouth on hers...
He did none of those things.
‘Yes.'
He heard the single affirmative, and every muscle, every nerve relaxed. Nothing else mattered, except their love and the life they would share together. ‘No qualifications?'
She shook her head. ‘None.'
‘So sure,' Carlo said huskily. He reached for her, enfolding her into the strength of his body as his mouth settled over hers. Gently at first, savouring, tasting, then with a passionate fervour as she lifted her arms and linked her hands together at his nape.
Aysha felt his body tremble as she absorbed the force of his kiss and met and matched the mating dance of his tongue as it explored and ravaged sensitive tissue.
His hands shaped and soothed as they sought each pleasure spot, stroking with infinite care as the fire ignited deep within and burst into flame.
It seemed an age before he lifted his head, and she
could only stand there, supported by the strength of his arms.
‘Do you trust me?'
She heard the depth in his voice, sensed his seriousness, and raised her eyes to meet his. There was no question. ‘Yes,' she said simply.
‘Then let's go.'
‘OK.'
‘Such docility,' Carlo teased gently as he brushed his lips against one temple.
Aysha placed a hand either side of his head and tilted it down as she angled her mouth into his in a kiss that was all heat and passion.
His heart thudded into a quickened beat, and she felt a thrill of exhilaration at the sense of power, the feeling of control.
Carlo broke the contact with emotive reluctance. ‘The temptation to love you now,
here,
is difficult to resist.'
A mischievous smile curved her mouth. ‘But you're going to.'
His hands slid to her shoulders and he gave her a gentle shake. ‘Believe it's merely a raincheck,
cara.'
He released her and took hold of her hand.
‘Are you going to tell me
where
we're going?'
‘Someplace special.'
He led her outside, then turned to the side path leading to the rear of the grounds.
‘Here?' Aysha queried in puzzlement, as they traversed the short set of steps leading down to the gazebo adjacent the pool area.
Lights sprang to life as if by magic, illuminating
the gazebo and casting a reflected glow over the newly planted garden, the beautiful free-form pool.
Her eyes widened as she saw a man and two women standing in front of a small rectangular pedestal draped with a pristine white lace-edged cloth. Two thick candles displayed a thin flicker and a vaporous plume, and there was the scent of roses, beautiful white tight-petalled buds on slender stems.
‘Carlo?'
Even as she voiced the query she saw the answer in those dark eyes, eloquent with emotive passion. And love.
‘This is for us,' he said gently, curving an arm across the back of her waist as he pulled her into the curve of his body. ‘Saturday's production will fulfil our parents' and the guests' expectations.'
She was melting inside, the warmth seeping through her body like molten wax, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
An hour ago she'd been curled up on a soft-cushioned sofa contemplating her shredded emotions.
‘OK?' Carlo queried gently.
Her heart kicked in at a quickened beat, and she smiled. A slow, sweet smile that mirrored her inner radiance. ‘Yes.'
Introductions complete, Aysha solemnly took her position at Carlo's side.
If the celebrant was surprised at the bride and groom's attire, she gave no indication of it. Her manner appeared genuine, and the words she spoke held a wealth of meaning during the short service.

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