The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (74 page)

Daddy
peppered her conversation with tremendous regularity, and she squealed as he lifted her onto his shoulders and ascended the tiled steps leading out from the pool.

Maria served tea in the
sala,
together with a nutritious evening meal for Nicki, whose bedtime was gradually being extended to conform with local custom.

Where Shannay predicted difficulties, none appeared to exist. Nicki had slipped happily into her new lifestyle, accepting the changes with surprising ease.

Instead
she
was the one having problems as ambivalent emotions invaded her being, causing increasing turmoil with every passing day.

‘Mummy’s turn tonight,’ Nicki declared as Shannay tucked her into bed and picked up a book of fairy tales, aware Marcello had taken a chair close by.

It was hard to shut him out as she endeavoured to focus on reading the story of the princess and the pea.

He was
there,
a physical entity impossible to ignore, and she was conscious of his hooded gaze, the sheer dynamic presence of the man.

Nicki listened with rapt attention, valiantly fighting sleep until her eyelids drifted down and her breathing settled into a slow even rhythm.

Shannay carefully closed the book, checked the bedcovers, the monitor and night-light, then she paused in the doorway before closing the door softly behind her.

Marcello followed, and she turned at the same time he did and brushed against him.

An automatic apology fell from her lips, and she moved quickly to widen the distance between them as they both traversed the gallery leading to the staircase.

‘Nicki is fortunate to have you as a mother.’

A flippant response rose in her throat, and didn’t find voice. Instead she uttered a quiet, ‘I can’t imagine my life without her.’

Dark eyes swept her features as they began descending the stairs. ‘There is a solution.’

Something took hold of her emotions and turned them upside down. ‘Such as?’ She paused as they reached the spacious foyer.

‘Stay.’

Shannay closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘With you? I don’t think so.’

‘It’s a large house. You would have an enviable lifestyle. And never need to be parted from Nicki,’ he added.

Shannay was suddenly icily calm. ‘Define
enviable?’

‘An unlimited expense account. Jewellery. Any vehicle you care to name. A personal bodyguard. Everything the wife of a very wealthy man can provide.’

She wanted to hit him. ‘You think I
care
about a collection of designer gowns, the Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos, jewellery?’ She paused for breath. ‘Attending the opera, the theatre, charity fundraisers in all their various guises, glittering first nights, that parties are my ultimate choice in entertainment?’ She was filled with pent-up anger, and unable to prevent it from spilling over. ‘Live in this mansion, give my time to charity committees and become the exemplary wife in and out of the bedroom? You think any of that is important to me?’

Marcello regarded her with a degree of amusement. ‘Not even the bedroom?’

‘No.’ And knew she lied.

His voice became dangerously soft. ‘Then, perhaps you’d care to elaborate?’

She tilted her chin a little and seared his dark eyes with her
own. If only it were possible to turn back the clock, to recapture the love they’d once shared. Except that didn’t form part of any equation she could envisage.

‘You think you can buy whatever you want. Everything has a price. Even me. You’re so wrong!’ Her eyes assumed a molten hue.

‘As to your suggestion …’ She was almost beyond words. ‘Forget it!’

She took a deep breath to help control her rising disbelief. ‘Not even for Nicki’s sake will I be trapped in a loveless marriage,’ she added with pent-up vehemence.

An eyebrow rose in mocking silence at her lack of hesitation.

‘You broke my heart once.’ Any hope it had healed went out the window the moment she heard his voice and saw his image on video camera as he stood in the entrance bay of her apartment building just a few weeks ago. ‘No way will I give you the chance to do it again.’

‘I see I didn’t make myself clear,’ Marcello drawled. ‘We not only share the same roof, we occupy the same room, the same bed.’

‘Let me get this right. You’re offering sex as a bonus?’

A muscle bunched at the edge of his jaw. ‘A normal marriage. The possibility of adding to our family.’

‘Forgive me.’ She was on a roll, and like a runaway train she couldn’t stop. ‘I’ve experienced your version of
normal,
and I hated the way it worked out.’

‘And nothing I say will convince you otherwise?’

Shannay drew herself up to her full height and glared at him with a look that would have seared a lesser man to a crisp. ‘No.’ With that she turned on her heel and began retracing her steps.

The thought of sitting opposite him calmly forking food into her mouth didn’t appeal. Besides, she wasn’t hungry.

Instead, she’d retrieve a book, go settle somewhere and read.

It would have been a good plan if she’d been able to concentrate on the written word.

After a while she tossed the book aside and turned on the television, only to channel-hop in a bid to find something of interest.

A cooking programme looked good, although it only served to remind her that she’d deliberately missed dinner.

OK, so admit you’re mad at him.

To think of agreeing to his so-called proposal is an insult.

It hadn’t been his wealth and position that had attracted her to him in the first place. Dammit, she hadn’t even known who he was!

The next few weeks couldn’t pass quickly enough, then she’d return
home
with Nicki and resume an ordinary life.

She must have slept, for she came sharply awake at the sound of a child’s cry, followed by a heart-wrenching sobbing.

Ohmigod …
Nicki.

Shannay raced through the connecting
en suite
to find Nicki sitting up in bed drenched in tears, and she scooped her onto her lap and held her close.

‘Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’

The words had barely emerged from her mouth when Marcello entered the room, crossed to her side and queried quietly,

‘A bad dream?’

Concern shadowed her features. ‘She’s never woken like this before.’ She pressed a cheek to Nicki’s temple. ‘Tell Mummy, darling.’

Gradually the sobs reduced to intermittent hiccups, and Shannay was hardly aware of Marcello’s absence until he pressed a damp face-washer into her hand, which she proceeded to use.

‘There,’ she murmured gently. ‘That’s better.’

Marcello hunkered down and took hold of his daughter’s hand, only to mask his feelings as Nicki looked at him with large sorrow-filled eyes.

‘I don’t want Bisabuelo Ramon to die like Fred.’

He spared Shannay a quick, enquiring glance, then smoothed a hand over Nicki’s head on hearing the brief explanation. ‘Sometimes when people and animals are very very sick and medicine can no longer help them get better, they go to a special place where they’re no longer in pain.’

‘Like Fred.’

His smile held gentle warmth. ‘Yes, just like Fred,’ he agreed softly.

‘I talked to Fred all the time when he was sick.’

‘As you do when we visit Ramon,
si?’

An earnest look entered her childish features and pierced his heart. ‘Can we see him tomorrow?’

‘Of course.’

‘Every day?’

‘Every day, I promise.’

‘I like him a lot.’

‘And he loves you very much.’

Nicki turned her head and looked at her mother. ‘I think I’ll go back to sleep now.’

The simplistic logic of children, Shannay perceived as she preceded Marcello out onto the gallery and quietly closed the door behind her.

He was close … too close, and she was conscious of the black T-shirt moulding his muscular frame, the jeans he’d quickly dragged on at the sound of Nicki’s first cry.

Did he still sleep naked between the sheets?

Shannay tried to ignore the image that rose too readily to mind … and failed miserably.

How was it possible to crave the touch of a man she professed to hate?

It didn’t make sense to be so
drawn,
to want to lean in against him, lift her mouth to his and savour all he chose to gift her.

Marcello caught the darkness in her eyes, the way her lower lip trembled a little … and lowered his head to her own, tasting the sweetness that was hers alone, heard the soft sigh whisper in her throat, and chose a gentle exploration that teased and tantalised, until she reached for him, holding his head fast as she angled her mouth into his own.

It felt good.
He
felt so good. The way his hands slid over her shoulders to rest at her waist as he drew her slender frame in against him, and she sensed his hunger, knew it met and matched her own.

His mouth became flagrantly sensual, deepening with devastating effect as he swept her steadily beyond rational thought to a place where nothing else mattered … except the need for more, so much
more.

The long oversized T-shirt she wore proved no barrier to his questing hands as they sought the hemline and settled on silken flesh.

One hand cupped her bottom while the other slid to caress her breast, shaping the soft fullness as he brushed a thumb back and forth across the tender peak, feeling it swell and harden beneath his touch.

He eased his mouth free from her own and traced a path down the arched line of her throat to settle in the hollow at its base, before seeking the sensitive curve at the edge of her neck.

An open-mouthed kiss there sent a shivery sensation arching through her body, and her fingers sought and freed
the snap fastening of his jeans in the need to explore warm muscle and sinew.

With one quick movement she tugged his T-shirt high and slid tactile fingers over the hard musculature beneath his ribcage, then slipped to trace his navel, before easing low over his arousal to cup his scrotum … and squeeze a little.

A husky growl sounded close to her ear, and strong hands slid beneath her knees as he carried her down to the master suite and used the heel of one foot to close the door before easing her down the hard length of his body to her feet.

Feverish hands rapidly dispensed with what clothes remained, and Shannay uttered a sharp cry as Marcello lifted her high and wrapped her thighs round his waist before lowering his mouth to her breast.

Sensation radiated from her central core, and she gasped out loud as he took the tender peak between his teeth and rolled it gently, taking her from intense pleasure almost to the edge of pain.

It was she who sought the curve at the edge of his neck … and suckled there, deliberately marking him before soothing the bite with the tip of her tongue.

He shifted slightly, and slowly lowered the most vulnerable and sensitive part of her anatomy over his swollen arousal, held her there, then gently rocked her until she groaned out loud in frustration.

‘Now.’ It was a muttered agonised plea he refused to heed, and she dug her fingers in his hair and tugged a little.

‘Please.’

In one smooth movement he slid her down and onto him, then inch by tortuous inch until he filled her.

Oh, dear heaven, it felt so good. Joined with him, awash with coalescing sensation as passion escalated and demanded more.

It was then he moved to the bed and carefully eased her down onto the sheets, and she tossed her head in abject denial as he withdrew, then began a tracery of feather-light kisses over each breast in turn, pausing to savour there before moving lower over her abdomen.

She wanted his mouth on hers … except he had a different destination in mind, and she cried out as he sought the moist heat, laving the clitoris into vibrant, erotic life, sending her high with sensual spasms so intense she cried out as each wave consumed her body and reached right down to her soul.

Then, and only then did he enter her again, surging to the hilt in one powerful thrust, and she became boneless, so caught up with witching abandon she no longer knew who she was … only aware she never wanted this shameless rapture to end as she arched her body and took him again and again until they reached the brink, then soared together in glorious ecstasy.

It took a while for her rapid breathing to slow and return to something resembling normal, and she held on as he carefully rolled onto his back and took her with him, cradling her close, his lips buried against her temple.

It was then he felt the moistness on her cheek, and he smoothed a gentle hand over her hair, tucking some of it behind her ear as he searched her tear-filled eyes.

‘I hurt you?’

She didn’t trust herself to speak, and she simply shook her head.

He lifted a hand and brushed her cheek with his thumb, then he caressed her lips with his own, softly and with such tenderness fresh tears spilled and ran down each cheek in warm rivulets to pause at the edges of her mouth.

Light fingers traced her spine, soothing her as she buried her face into the curve of his neck.

She didn’t want to move. Didn’t feel as if she
could.

Soon, she silently vowed, she’d disentangle herself from his arms, catch up her abandoned T-shirt, then quietly retreat to her room.

But for now she’d simply enjoy the aftermath of good sex. Very good sex, she amended silently, and felt the faint pull of unused muscles, the sheer euphoria of sensual fulfilment.

There was a part of her which yearned to be held through the night, to be comforted by the beat of Marcello’s heart beneath her hand, her cheek. To move in the night and be gathered in close against him.

She must have dozed, for she drifted awake to the realisation of a warm body curved round her own, a steady heartbeat against her back … and memory surfaced in a slow, unfolding image.

No.
It was a dream, surely? Like one of many which haunted her mind in the dark hours of night.

Yet this was no dream. The arms which held her were real. And she froze for a few interminable seconds, then carefully, slowly, she began to ease herself free. Only to feel those arms tighten as warm breath teased her hair.