'Shall I tell Annunziata to
spare herself the trouble of preparing another room, Janina mia?'
His hand slid tantalisingly down the line of her throat, stroking the
smooth line of her shoulder before continuing downwards to
discover and explore softer curves. He frowned a little as his fingers
encountered the barrier of denim, and Juliet gave a little choking cry
as yet another button gave way under his seeking hands.
'No!' She snatched at the gaping edges of the waistcoat and held
them across her breasts protestingly.
'Why not?' he demanded softly. 'I may not be about to offer you
marriage like my ill-advised young brother, but you will not find me
ungenerous, I promise you. Why defer something that we both
know is inevitable?'
Juliet shook her head violently. She lifted her chin and stared at
him, her eyes blazing with defiance.
'I don't doubt you have it all worked out, signore,' she said with
only the faintest tremor in her voice to suggest she was not in
complete control of the situation and her own emotions. 'But one
thing you seem to have left out of your calculations is the fact that I
find both you and your insulting advances totally abhorrent!'
The silence that followed her reckless words was electrifying. In
spite of her bravado, Juliet felt a frisson of nervousness run the
length of her body as she met his glance. There was anger there, but
she had been expecting that— anger and something else that she
could not immediately analyse.
'So you find me abhorrent, do you, cara?' he said at last, each slow
word dropping like a stone into the tension between them. 'That's a
lie, and you know it as well as I do, and if it weren't for the fact that
Annunziata will be serving our lunch at any moment, I would prove
that it was a lie here and now—to the ultimate satisfaction of us
both,' he added, his insolent appraisal raking her from head to foot.
He rose and before she could guess his. intention, leaned down,
jerking her to her feet beside him. Then, while she was still off
balance, his other arm went round her, pulling her against the
warmth of his body, making her totally aware of his vibrant
masculinity.
For one long earth-shaking moment he held her, letting her
recognise the potency of his strength against her weakness. Then
his hand went up to tangle in her hair while his mouth descended
slowly and inexorably on hers.
Juliet couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, although at one point she
thought she heard herself give a slight whimper. But if Santino
heard it, he was plainly unmoved by it. His grip didn't slacken, nor
did his relentless onslaught on her mouth. It was only the sheerest
effort of will that kept her arms at her sides, when every instinct,
every throbbing nerve ending in her body was shrieking at her to
slide her hands up around his neck, to draw him closer still if that
was possible—to tacitly acknowledge that he had the surrender he
was seeking.
When at last he let her go, she could taste blood, and her hand came
up almost of its own volition to cover her swollen mouth. Santino
looked down at her and his eyes glowed oddly—like those of a
mountain lion who has sighted his prey, she thought
half-hysterically, and found herself praying that he would not touch
her again.
As if in answer to her prayer, he stepped away to a low table near
one of the window embrasures where bottles and glasses stood on a
tray. He lifted one of the bottles and uncorked it, turning to where
Juliet stood as if she had been turned to stone, his dark face cool
and mocking.
'An aperitivo , cara,' he said, the faint amusement underlying his
voice stressing the ambiguity of his words. 'To give us an appetite
for the delicious meal to come.'
For a moment Juliet stared at him as he stood there, parodying the
courteous host, then a long, slow shudder went through her and she
turned away, forcing her unsteady legs to take her across the room
to the stairs, and the
spare herself the trouble of preparing another room, Janina mia?'
His hand slid tantalisingly down the line of her throat, stroking the
smooth line of her shoulder before continuing downwards to
discover and explore softer curves. He frowned a little as his fingers
encountered the barrier of denim, and Juliet gave a little choking cry
as yet another button gave way under his seeking hands.
'No!' She snatched at the gaping edges of the waistcoat and held
them across her breasts protestingly.
'Why not?' he demanded softly. 'I may not be about to offer you
marriage like my ill-advised young brother, but you will not find me
ungenerous, I promise you. Why defer something that we both
know is inevitable?'
Juliet shook her head violently. She lifted her chin and stared at
him, her eyes blazing with defiance.
'I don't doubt you have it all worked out, signore,' she said with
only the faintest tremor in her voice to suggest she was not in
complete control of the situation and her own emotions. 'But one
thing you seem to have left out of your calculations is the fact that I
find both you and your insulting advances totally abhorrent!'
The silence that followed her reckless words was electrifying. In
spite of her bravado, Juliet felt a frisson of nervousness run the
length of her body as she met his glance. There was anger there, but
she had been expecting that— anger and something else that she
could not immediately analyse.
'So you find me abhorrent, do you, cara?' he said at last, each slow
word dropping like a stone into the tension between them. 'That's a
lie, and you know it as well as I do, and if it weren't for the fact that
Annunziata will be serving our lunch at any moment, I would prove
that it was a lie here and now—to the ultimate satisfaction of us
both,' he added, his insolent appraisal raking her from head to foot.
He rose and before she could guess his. intention, leaned down,
jerking her to her feet beside him. Then, while she was still off
balance, his other arm went round her, pulling her against the
warmth of his body, making her totally aware of his vibrant
masculinity.
For one long earth-shaking moment he held her, letting her
recognise the potency of his strength against her weakness. Then
his hand went up to tangle in her hair while his mouth descended
slowly and inexorably on hers.
Juliet couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, although at one point she
thought she heard herself give a slight whimper. But if Santino
heard it, he was plainly unmoved by it. His grip didn't slacken, nor
did his relentless onslaught on her mouth. It was only the sheerest
effort of will that kept her arms at her sides, when every instinct,
every throbbing nerve ending in her body was shrieking at her to
slide her hands up around his neck, to draw him closer still if that
was possible—to tacitly acknowledge that he had the surrender he
was seeking.
When at last he let her go, she could taste blood, and her hand came
up almost of its own volition to cover her swollen mouth. Santino
looked down at her and his eyes glowed oddly—like those of a
mountain lion who has sighted his prey, she thought
half-hysterically, and found herself praying that he would not touch
her again.
As if in answer to her prayer, he stepped away to a low table near
one of the window embrasures where bottles and glasses stood on a
tray. He lifted one of the bottles and uncorked it, turning to where
Juliet stood as if she had been turned to stone, his dark face cool
and mocking.
'An aperitivo , cara,' he said, the faint amusement underlying his
voice stressing the ambiguity of his words. 'To give us an appetite
for the delicious meal to come.'
For a moment Juliet stared at him as he stood there, parodying the
courteous host, then a long, slow shudder went through her and she
turned away, forcing her unsteady legs to take her across the room
to the stairs, and the
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