The Italian Billionaire's Pregnant Bride(46)

Kathy knew that was true. But even though intelligence told her that they needed time alone together as a couple, the habit of constantly fretting about her baby was hard to unlearn and resist. Clearing her mind of those anxious thoughts, she reminded herself of the very sensible pair of nannies also placed in charge of their daughter’s care, not to mention the doctor engaged to make daily visits as a safeguard. She rested her hands on the worn stone balustrade, which was still warm from the heat of the day. The silence was bliss after all the hoopla of a big wedding. It was early evening and a soft mist of light lay across the lush valley over which the palazzo presided. Nothing she could see reminded her of the twenty-first century: the rolling hills were covered with dense woodland, vineyards and dotted here and there was the indistinct silvery foliage of olive groves. The view was utterly breathtaking.

She walked below the massive arched portico and wandered wide-eyed into a huge circular reception hall ornamented with faded frescos and towering columns. Like the view, it was an amazing sight and the prospect of living amid such grandeur made her laugh. From somewhere she could hear faint strains of music and she recognised a popular song. Slim hips swaying to the beat, hair glittering like burnished copper and falling back from her high cheekbones, she executed a couple of dance steps.

Sergio fell still and watched her. Kathy met his intent dark eyes and stopped dancing. Although she was pink with embarrassment she gave him an irrepressible grin.

‘You have so much life that it bubbles out of you, bellezza mia,’ he murmured thickly. ‘You also look astonishingly beautiful.’

‘Who’s playing that radio?’ she stage whispered.

‘Apart from the security outside the house, we should be totally alone here.’ Sergio pushed open a door on a big bare room that had scaffolding erected along one wall. A workman’s radio was playing in one corner. He switched it off and strolled back to her.

‘Thank you. Your first objective at all times,’ Kathy instructed cheekily, ‘is to make me happy.’

Sergio was much amused. ‘And the reward is?’

‘Keep me happy and you get an easier life, because you should know by now—I don’t suffer in silence.’

Sergio slid out of his jacket and let it fall.

‘Oops,’ Kathy gasped. ‘I think this is a very male take on what makes a woman happy.’

Sergio tugged loose his tie and backed her in the direction of the splendid stone staircase.

‘Although you could be on the right track,’ Kathy conceded half under her breath, her attention locked to him as he unbuttoned his shirt. ‘Of course we could play chess first…’

Sergio was thrown enough by that possibility to frown.

Kathy smiled like the cat that had got the cream. ‘Just checking how keen you were. If you’d agreed, I wouldn’t have been impressed.’

‘Maremma maiale…I couldn’t concentrate,’ he confided.

Her attention rested on the muscular slice of bronzed, hair-roughened torso visible between the parted edges of his shirt. She did not believe that she could have concentrated, either. A delicious frisson of anticipation was already running through her slender body and self-consciousness claimed her, for she wasn’t yet used to feeling like that.

Sergio was infinitely more at ease with the ambience. With infinite cool and casualness, he laced his fingers with hers and walked her up the stairs. ‘I am not really familiar with shy women—’

‘I’ve never been shy in my life!’ Kathy objected, kicking off her shoes there and then on the landing as if she was making a statement.

‘Except with me.’ Unimpressed by her claim, Sergio lowered his arrogant dark head and let his expert mouth travel a sensual path from her ear lobe to the extended length of her neck and the tiny pulse beating like mad at the centre of her delicate collar-bone. ‘And it’s okay. I find it unbelievably sexy, delizia mia.’

The master bedroom suite was set behind huge double doors and on the same massive scale as everything in the palazzo. Kathy took one look at the gilded four-poster bed and scrambled onto it, bouncing back against the heaped pillows with an ecstatic whoop of appreciation. ‘Oh, that’s amazing—I’ve always wanted a bed like this!’

‘And although I almost didn’t recognise it until it was too late, I always wanted a girl like you in it,’ Sergio informed her huskily.

Her ready smile lurched a little and she was quick to lower her lashes to conceal her expression, as she knew that someone like her could not aspire to dream-girl status. She was so different from Grazia in looks, style and experience. As Grazia had cruelly pointed out, she would always be the girl he had idolised as a teenager. There was a history there, a pull of familiarity, background and youthful attachment that Kathy knew she could never hope to equal.