impression—especially at a gathering like this, where celebrities and influential guests could literally be picked off like cherries from a tree …
‘She has a very kind heart,’ his chauffeur observed— unnecessarily, Marco thought.
‘Her conduct so far definitely seems to bear that out,’ he commented. ‘In any case, I think I will go and join her. The pair of you should go and get yourselves a drink. It is a particularly hot day, no?’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘And stop grinning like I’m the butt of some kind of joke I don’t know about! ’
‘Yes, boss.’
Shrugging irritably, Marco turned away to stride down towards the bank of pine trees, where he’d already caught a glimpse of Grace’s very fetching red and white dress and the bright banner of a child’s auburn hair.
His elusive lady had missed her catch and dropped down onto one knee, laughing out loud as the small girl standing a few feet away from her clapped her hands together and squealed in delight, ‘I caught you out again! I thought you’d get better but you’re really not very good at this at all, are you?’ she taunted.
‘That’s why they called me butter-fingers at school,’ Grace replied good-humouredly. And then in the next instant her cornflower-blue eyes widened when she saw that Marco stood watching them. Now he was the lucky recipient of her bright, engaging smile. ‘Hi, there,’ she called out, ‘did you have a good time chatting with your friends?’
He had the same incredulous reaction he probably would have had if he’d been singled out for special attention by the Queen of England herself. Warring with a great desire to grin back at her like some infatuated schoolboy, instead he shaped his lips into a sardonically tinged smile. ‘I was not “chatting with my friends” as you so ingenuously put it, Grace. You do not “chat” with a prominent executive of the Banco de Portugal as if he were a long-lost buddy you last saw in the school playground!’
‘Obviously not, if he takes himself as seriously as you do.’
Dumbstruck by her audacity, Marco nonetheless saw the funny side of Grace’s lightning-quick irreverent reply. Before the idea had even formed in his mind he was striding across the perfectly mown grass to take hold of her by the waist and haul her to her feet. ‘You deserve to be severely punished for that,’ he told her, a husky catch in his voice.
The laughter in her eyes immediately died. It was replaced by the kind of fearful look that shocked Marco to his boots. She was genuinely terrified, he saw. He instantly released her. Inside his chest his heart was thumping as hard as a blacksmith’s hammer striking an anvil.
‘I was only joking,’ he stared back into her apprehensive glance ruefully shaking his head. ‘Are you okay? Do you always react like this when a man makes a harmless jest?’
‘No.’ She forced a smile, but distinct wariness had replaced the joyful laughter of only a few moments ago.
Marco felt as if he’d just lost something precious.
‘You took me by surprise, that’s all,’ she finished.
Her soft golden hair had been tousled by her energetic game with the girl and lay across her pale satin shoulders in inviting buttery curls. God help him, but he ached to drive his fingers through those silken strands and then lift them away from her beautiful face so that he could kiss her passionately—just as he’d dared to do earlier, when they’d been heading towards the fountain to listen to the music. Only this time he would not be in any hurry to relinquish those petal-soft lips for anyone or anything .
‘I apologise if I frightened you. That was definitely not my intention. I came to find you to tell you that the buffet is ready and I think we should go and eat. Will you come with me?’
He despised the uncertainty he heard in his voice—uncertainty that Grace would agree to go anywhere with him after that look of dread on her face when he had hauled her to her
‘She has a very kind heart,’ his chauffeur observed— unnecessarily, Marco thought.
‘Her conduct so far definitely seems to bear that out,’ he commented. ‘In any case, I think I will go and join her. The pair of you should go and get yourselves a drink. It is a particularly hot day, no?’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘And stop grinning like I’m the butt of some kind of joke I don’t know about! ’
‘Yes, boss.’
Shrugging irritably, Marco turned away to stride down towards the bank of pine trees, where he’d already caught a glimpse of Grace’s very fetching red and white dress and the bright banner of a child’s auburn hair.
His elusive lady had missed her catch and dropped down onto one knee, laughing out loud as the small girl standing a few feet away from her clapped her hands together and squealed in delight, ‘I caught you out again! I thought you’d get better but you’re really not very good at this at all, are you?’ she taunted.
‘That’s why they called me butter-fingers at school,’ Grace replied good-humouredly. And then in the next instant her cornflower-blue eyes widened when she saw that Marco stood watching them. Now he was the lucky recipient of her bright, engaging smile. ‘Hi, there,’ she called out, ‘did you have a good time chatting with your friends?’
He had the same incredulous reaction he probably would have had if he’d been singled out for special attention by the Queen of England herself. Warring with a great desire to grin back at her like some infatuated schoolboy, instead he shaped his lips into a sardonically tinged smile. ‘I was not “chatting with my friends” as you so ingenuously put it, Grace. You do not “chat” with a prominent executive of the Banco de Portugal as if he were a long-lost buddy you last saw in the school playground!’
‘Obviously not, if he takes himself as seriously as you do.’
Dumbstruck by her audacity, Marco nonetheless saw the funny side of Grace’s lightning-quick irreverent reply. Before the idea had even formed in his mind he was striding across the perfectly mown grass to take hold of her by the waist and haul her to her feet. ‘You deserve to be severely punished for that,’ he told her, a husky catch in his voice.
The laughter in her eyes immediately died. It was replaced by the kind of fearful look that shocked Marco to his boots. She was genuinely terrified, he saw. He instantly released her. Inside his chest his heart was thumping as hard as a blacksmith’s hammer striking an anvil.
‘I was only joking,’ he stared back into her apprehensive glance ruefully shaking his head. ‘Are you okay? Do you always react like this when a man makes a harmless jest?’
‘No.’ She forced a smile, but distinct wariness had replaced the joyful laughter of only a few moments ago.
Marco felt as if he’d just lost something precious.
‘You took me by surprise, that’s all,’ she finished.
Her soft golden hair had been tousled by her energetic game with the girl and lay across her pale satin shoulders in inviting buttery curls. God help him, but he ached to drive his fingers through those silken strands and then lift them away from her beautiful face so that he could kiss her passionately—just as he’d dared to do earlier, when they’d been heading towards the fountain to listen to the music. Only this time he would not be in any hurry to relinquish those petal-soft lips for anyone or anything .
‘I apologise if I frightened you. That was definitely not my intention. I came to find you to tell you that the buffet is ready and I think we should go and eat. Will you come with me?’
He despised the uncertainty he heard in his voice—uncertainty that Grace would agree to go anywhere with him after that look of dread on her face when he had hauled her to her
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