Moth to the Flame(16)

He sat down beside her on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front

of him, his lips twisting cynically as he looked at her. 'And in more

than one way, cara,' he said softly, and laughed at her small,

indignant gasp.

Her hand swung up to. strike him, to smash the sneer from his face,

but he was too quick for her. Cruel fingers seized her wrist and held

it until she gasped again, this time in pain.

'I think not, bella mia,' he said between his teeth. 'Or I should be

forged to exact retribution in a way that I promise you you would

not like.'

'Simply being in the same room with you, s ignore, is quite

punishment enough, believe me,' she said bitterly, nursing her wrist

where the marks of his fingers showed red against the whiteness of

her skin.

'Veramente?' His brows rose mockingly. 'Then I shall have to think

of something to make your enforced sojourn in my home slightly

less of a penance to you, Janina.'

'And to yourself, no doubt,' she said tartly.

He smiled. 'Oh, I don't regard you as a penance, Janina,' he said.

'For a man, there must always be compensations in the presence of

a beautiful woman.' He reached out a lazy hand and took her wrist

which she was still rubbing, raising it in one sensuous movement to

his lips. 'You bruise easily, cara,' he murmured. 'That is something I

shall have to remember.'

For a moment she was speechless, stunned by the obvious

implication in his smiling words, then with a little choked cry she

snatched her wrist away, trying to ignore the long tremor that had

invaded her body at the pressure of his mouth against her flesh. For

a second she was tempted to put the length of the sofa between

them-he was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his

body, his thigh brushing hers as he lounged very much at his

ease-but she knew that any such action would merely result in her

looking foolish and undignified. But at the same time she would

have to make it more than clear that she was not his plaything, no

matter what role the other women who accompanied him here might

fulfil.

'I'd prefer you not to touch me,' she said at last with what she

gauged to be the right amount of ice in her voice.

'Why not?' he said, sounding faintly amused. 'There are no cameras

or gaping crowds of avid clothes buyers here for you to pamper and

perfume your body for, and yet your skin feels like silk and smells

of sun-warmed roses. As your sole audience, I'd thought it might

have been for my benefit.'

'Well, it isn't,' she replied stonily, hating herself for the faint

involuntary blush that was creeping up. under her skin at his words.

Jan, she thought rather bitterly, would never have blushed no matter                       
       
           



       

how personal the compliment might have been.

He laughed softly, but there was a faintly curious expression in his

eyes, as if her reaction had bewildered him, and she tensed slightly.

She certainly didn't want to arouse any suspicions about her identity

now at this stage in the game. Even now it might not be too late for

him to track down Mario and Jan and prevent their marriage.

She made herself relax back against the cushions, smile a little

even.

'I'm a creature of habit,' she said, forcing herself to speak lightly. 'I

assumed the perfumes and lotions were there to be used. Was I

wrong?'

'On the contrary, cara.' He laced his fingers behind his head and

leaned back, very much at his ease, the tawny eyes almost

slumbrous as they studied her. 'I hope my choice of wardrobe for

you was-adequate?' His gaze came to rest on the deeply slashed

neckline of the skimpy waistcoat.

Juliet lifted a casual shoulder as if oblivious of his regard. 'I'll

manage. After all, it won't be for very long, will it?'

'Who knows?' he murmured. 'Perhaps the charms of Roccaforte will

appeal to you so much that you will decide to extend your stay.'

The charms of Roccaforte or its owner? she asked herself silently,

her temper flaring under the sting of his arrogant presumption.

'I doubt it,' she said coolly. 'You can't imagine that I would willingly

spend any more time in your company than necessary, signore?'

He laughed, apparently unmoved by the hostility in her tone. 'You

would be surprised at the lengths to which my imagination can take

me, bella. Although at times it does require a little practical

assistance.'

Before she could anticipate his intention, he leaned forward and

unfastened the top button of her waistcoat. 'I'm sure that was what

the designer intended,' he added, his voice wickedly amused.

Her immediate impulse was to refasten the errant button and hide

once again that provocative view of the shadowy cleft between her

breasts that it afforded, but again she was forced to hesitate. Such

an action would once more be uncharacteristic of Jan, she was

forced to admit to herself. That kind of teasing byplay would be

second nature to her. She wouldn't be sitting, her back ramrod-stiff,

her cheeks flaming, every unsteady pulse beat in her body

reminding her of the way his fingers had rested momentarily against

the softness of her skin.

This is madness, she told herself flatly. She'd been kissed

before;-held, touched, so why had this man the power to inculcate

such a response from such a fleeting' contact? It didn't make sense.

All she knew was this desperate, almost searing consciousness of

his close proximity and the havoc it was playing with her logic, her

reason, even her sense of decency. She even found herself

wondering what it would be like if he kissed her-if that firm mouth

would lose the slight sneer it wore so often and soften into

tenderness just before it descended on hers...

With a desperate effort she tore herself away from the danger of

that particular reverie.

'Don't fight so hard against your instincts, cara,' the mocking voice

at her side advised her coolly. 'Mario is lost to you anyway, so there

is nothing to be gained in withholding your body from me.' He

reached out a hand and took her stiffly averted chin, forcing her

head round so that she was facing him. '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