Claimed by the Italian: Virgin: Wedded at the Italian's Convenience / Count Giovanni's Virgin / The Italian's Unwilling Wife

Brilliant golden eyes searched hers. Her breasts felt heavy and her skin tingled as a shameful heat coiled deep inside her, intensifying as one of his hands slid down her body to rest against the curve of her hip.

She tensed. Did he know what he was doing to her? Did he care? Probably not! She was just some fluttery female he could bend to his will with the effortless expenditure of just a little of that overwhelming sexual appeal of his! And yet—

‘What do you mean?’ With a determined effort to get out of the danger zone she wriggled away, but he simply placed a strong lean hand on the small of her back and hauled her back again. Her breath was expelled in a gasp at the close contact with his powerful body, and her words were little more than a ragged whisper when she pressed on, with difficulty, ‘You said you wouldn’t be at the party, either.’

Hoisting himself up on one elbow, his eyes gleaming between their fringing of thick dark lashes, he smiled at her before lowering his proud head to take her lush pink mouth with his, stroking with a sensuality that made her whimper and quiver before he imparted, ‘We won’t attend a fake engagement party, my Lily. I want it to be a real one.’ And, as her eyes widened in bewilderment, he said. ‘I’m asking you to marry me.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

LILY stared at him in shock. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

Paolo simply smiled with sheer male complacency as he gently threaded his fingers through her silky-soft hair and positioned her to meet his exact requirements. He lowered his dark head and murmured against the moist softness of her lush pink mouth, ‘You will be my bride, Lily,’ with all the innate self-assurance of the alpha male who always got what he demanded, and for whom pleading or even merely asking nicely was foreign to his dynamic nature.

That type of arrogant domination shouldn’t turn her bones to water and her skin to fire, make her ache to submit, but it did. And, much as she deplored it, there was nothing she could do about it.

With helpless resignation she was excruciatingly aware of the coil of stinging heat deep in the pit of her stomach, the insistently urgent straining of her breasts beneath the thin cotton top she was wearing—aware, to her everlasting shame, that Paolo Venini only had to touch her and she was aroused to such a peak of sexual excitement, of loving and longing, that she forgot everything—who she was, who he was, her common sense and self-respect, everything she valued about herself.

Desperate to get the word no beyond the tight constriction of her throat, all she managed was a quivering moan of instinctive response as he parted her lips with his and began a totally erotic assault on her senses. His tongue plunged into the inner yielding sweetness with raw masculine urgency and his hands slipped beneath the soft fabric of her top, his groan of satisfaction telling her befuddled brain that the discovery she was braless did more than merely please him.

As deft hands pushed her top up, exposing her straining pink-crested breasts to his simmering gaze, Lily made a furious effort to pull herself together, fighting the need to surrender to this man she loved more than she’d thought possible.

Squirming away from him, shaking, her face flushed and troubled, she managed, ‘This is madness!’

At that a slow smile softened his sculpted features, and his golden eyes, hazed over with the smoke of desire, crinkled at the corners as he breathed, ‘If this is madness, then I like it. I like it more than I can say, cara! I can’t get enough of it!’

And he closed her to him again, and this time his kiss was filled with fiery passion, robbing her of breath and sanity. Only when they came up for long-denied air could Lily get out on a shaky gasp, ‘Why would you want to marry when you’ve already told me you hate the idea?’

She pushed self-protectively away from him, privately thanking her guardian angel for allowing her that much strength of mind. And he let her. He had to have some ulterior motive for that insane proposal. She hadn’t a clue what it was, knew only that it had to be cruel, because she was already hurting.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me!’ she managed unevenly.

And she despised herself for what he must see as the pall of disappointment that covered her expressive features as he took one of her hands and countered, ‘What is falling in love? Just a sanitising phrase to make the basic urge of lust seem more acceptable.’ He trapped her hand with lean bronzed fingers. ‘I freely admit to lust—you turn me on, you make me burn, you touch me on a deeper level than any woman has ever done, cara mia. I know you too are desperate for our lovemaking, the way you respond tells me this, but I also know you are not mistress material. You are sweet and innocent, and I would not demean you by asking you to share my bed without marriage.’

There was unhidden male appreciation in his warm golden gaze now. ‘Therefore, I have changed my mind about marriage. It would not be such a bad thing.’

With one fluid movement he reached for her again and tumbled her back onto the herb-scented grass, that tormenting hand slipping beneath her top to explore her unbearably sensitised breasts, sending a fireball of eroticism scorching through her.

His wickedly sensual mouth was a whisper away from her trembling lips as he murmured urgently, ‘Marriage. Think of it, my Lily. Being able to enjoy your delightful body, giving you pleasure with an easy conscience, caring for you, pleasing Mamma instead of having to present her with a broken engagement at some time in the future.’ His hand was now sliding down to the soft curve of her tummy, making her weak with longing—until he asked on a thickened growl, ‘What could be more convenient?’

Convenient!

For him!

Give Fiora what she wanted, make her happy. Allow him to slake his self-admitted lust until she bored him as, with his track record, she surely must.

And what about me? she wanted to howl, but didn’t. No point in letting him see how deeply he could hurt her. Allowing him to guess that she’d fallen in love with him. Adding several more cubic metres to that already massive ego of his!

His insulting proposal was all about doing his duty by his mother and slaking his newly discovered lust for someone he had termed an innocent. The way he’d talked about bedding her with an easy conscience made her pretty darn sure he’d never had sex with a virgin before.

And how did he know she was a virgin—an ‘innocent’? Was it that obvious? Was she that gauche?

Well, the novelty of bedding a virgin would soon wear off, Lily knew. Tears stung at the backs of her eyes. He had a low boredom threshold. She knew that, too. He would tire of her, as he’d tired of his first wife, and she’d be shuffled off, hidden away, forgotten. Broken?

Not even the short-lived ecstasy of being his novel new wife would compensate for that sort of hurt.

But not for anything would she let him guess at the emotions that were threatening to pull her apart. Give him the smallest hint of how she really felt about him and he’d move in for the kill! And, knowing how weak she was where he was concerned, she’d make a very willing victim!

Taking a deep breath, she called on every last scrap of her will-power and told him, more or less levelly, ‘I won’t marry you, Paolo. I’m flattered. I think. But it’s not going to happen.’

Steeling herself for another determined assault on her senses, she was left bewildered and perhaps, she thought, with more than a little self-disgust, disappointed as he slowly released her.

He was on his feet with enviable ease, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his cargo pants, his smile frighteningly assured. ‘Then, cara, I have two more days before the party to change your mind. Don’t stay out in the sun too long. Even at this time of year delicate skins can burn.’

Somehow Lily managed to avoid Paolo until dinner that evening. Cook had excelled herself, with lobster in a light sauce followed by caramelised grapes, but she was barely able to swallow more than a mouthful of each.

Forcing herself to keep up with Fiora’s lively chatter on the dreaded subject of the coming engagement party was the only way she could deflect attention from her lack of appetite. Inside she was wound up tight, fit to blow at any moment.

As for Paolo—well, she didn’t dare look at him. But she felt him watching her, and from his occasional lazy comments she knew he understood how she was struggling to avoid his gaze, and was mightily amused by it.

Because—

Because he knew as well as she did that he only had to exert a fraction of the sexual magnetism he possessed in spades to have her helpless, completely in his power, agreeing to anything he demanded of her—even a marriage she knew would end in bitter failure.

And it scared her silly!

She wanted him—wanted to be his wife more than she’d ever wanted anything before. The offer was there, but she couldn’t take it.

With the evidence of one broken engagement, one short-lived marriage and countless casual affairs behind him, she would be committing emotional suicide if she gave in to temptation. If he loved her she would be the happiest woman on the planet. But he didn’t. He’d said as much. And she wasn’t prepared to have her heart broken.

She wasn’t that recklessly stupid, was she?

Diving into a tiny gap in the on-going conversation around the table, Lily asked in a thin, tight voice she didn’t recognise as her own, ‘Fiora, could you spare Carla for a short while tomorrow morning? I need to go into Florence—without Paolo. I’d like to buy him a betrothal gift!’ She forced a smile to hide her dismay at yet another miserable lie, her heart rattling. ‘If she could drive me in, I could find my own way back.’

She held her breath, fully expecting him to offer to drive her himself. He’d know the betrothal gift was pure fabrication and smell a rat. Know she was avoiding his company at all costs because she was terrified of his stated intention to make her change her mind about accepting his proposal before the guests arrived for the wretched party.

But all he said was, ‘Mario shall drive you, cara. Just tell him what time you wish to return and he will come for you. Spend all day exploring our beautiful city, if that is what you want. But as for a betrothal gift—all I need is your sweet self, you know that. However, if it pleases you to choose something, a small gift to mark the occasion, then I, of course, will be delighted.’

Louse! What was he playing at? He would know that her sudden desire to go into town was an avoiding tactic. That she didn’t trust herself when faced with his devastating brand of ‘persuasion’. She might love him, but she would never understand him in a million years!

She did look at him then, and the perfection of his features took her breath away. The slow, sexy smile he gave her worked its usual havoc. Her breath catching, she excused herself, pleading a slight headache, and headed for the sanctuary of her room, locking the door behind her. Just in case.

Florence was an assault on Lily’s already reeling senses. So much beauty, so much style, it was difficult to take in—especially as she felt in need of an enormous ball of string in order to find herself back in the square where Mario had dropped her off and had promised to collect her at five in the afternoon.

Footsore, but slightly easier in her mind after time alone, without the fear that Paolo might find her and work that special magic that could make her resolve melt like ice on a summer’s day, Lily made it back to the meeting place with half an hour to spare. Tables outside a trattoria provided an excuse to sit in the shade, and the espresso she ordered was more than welcome.

Dismissing the occasional feeling that she was being followed as paranoia, she knew what she had to do.

Just this evening and tomorrow to make sure she didn’t give Paolo the opportunity to use all his formidable powers of persuasion, and then hopefully the arrival of his mother’s guests on the following day would severely limit their time alone together.

And so she’d be at the fake engagement so-called celebration. She couldn’t carry out her earlier stated intention to boycott it because that would upset Fiora, and she didn’t want to do that, but after that she’d be off. She would have to manufacture some urgently pressing reason for an immediate return to England. She didn’t know what, but she’d think of something.

‘Signorina—you are ready?’

Blinking, Lily glanced at the slim young man in dark trousers and immaculate white shirt. Mario. Exactly on time. Suspicion solidified into certainty.

She rose, collected her bag. ‘Have you been following me, Mario?’

‘Certamente. The signor instructed it.’ He grinned widely, lifting narrow shoulders. ‘You are precious to him. No harm must come to you.’

Fuming, Lily stalked across the piazza to where the gleaming car was waiting, Mario trailing in her wake. So much for her hours of freedom! In spite of what Mario thought, this was not about caring, anxiety for her well-being. It was all about Paolo’s control. She had become his property, she realised with a sinking feeling. Followed. Watched. And no doubt he would demand a detailed report of what she’d been doing, she thought with ire.

But it wasn’t Mario’s fault. He had only done what he’d been told to do by the all-powerful Paolo Venini. So she was able to keep up a light-hearted conversation as they journeyed back through the Tuscan countryside, her mind working on another level as she formulated exactly what she would say on the subject of people with nasty suspicious minds who put minders on the tail of other people!

More than ever convinced that her only option was to return to England as soon as she’d done her duty by Fiora and been put on show at the wretched party, she decided, with deep reluctance, that she would have to compound her sins and lie again. Say Great-Aunt Edith was ill and really needed her.

It was utterly distasteful, but it was the only thing she could think of that Fiora would understand. She would be disappointed that her visit was to be cut short, the plans for the wedding put on hold for a while, but she would understand and sympathise with the need.

And it would be up to Paolo to confess that the wedding was off at a time of his choosing!

The high she experienced at having thought herself out of the mess lasted until the car drew to a well-bred halt in front of the villa.

Then crumbled into hopelessness as she saw Paolo, looking heart-stoppingly gorgeous in slim-fitting denims and a white T-shirt, emerge from the open doorway, an all too healthy Great-Aunt Edith smiling fit to split her face at his side.

Her last escape route had been well and truly blocked by that dramatically handsome grinning devil!

CHAPTER NINE

IT WAS almost as if he’d read her mind even before she’d worked out her escape strategy, Lily thought, near to hysterics as she advanced on suddenly shaky legs towards the now broadly grinning pair, asking baldly, ‘How did you get here?’

‘What a welcome, child!’

To her astonishment Lily found herself crushed against her great-aunt’s stout bosom in a rare show of open affection. ‘By private jet and helicopter! Just imagine—I felt like royalty! Paolo arranged everything!’

‘We couldn’t celebrate our engagement without her,’ came his unwelcome cool assertion.

Extricating herself from the bear-hug, Lily shot him a look of loathing. He gave her back a smile of simmering amusement, shot through with the satisfaction of a male who made things happen to get what he wanted.

No wonder he hadn’t raised any objections over her awayday—he’d just put one of his staff on her tail and set about finalising the arrangements for the transportation of her elderly relative, in doing so making sure she, Lily, was put into an even more difficult situation! Ruthless and manipulative wasn’t in it!

‘I’ve been so excited since dear Paolo phoned with the news of your engagement!’ Edith exclaimed warmly. ‘And I don’t think I’ve slept a wink since he invited me to come here and stay for the wedding!’

Oh, yes, he had her thoroughly outmanoeuvred.

‘Why don’t we go round to the terrace? Agata will provide us with cold drinks,’ Paolo slid in, velvet-smooth. ‘Mamma is resting before dinner. She might believe she is one hundred per cent fit, but she is still frail,’ he added, with a detectable note of warning aimed at her, Lily realised with helpless rage.

He had no need to remind her of Fiora’s delicate health, Lily thought darkly. She had grown genuinely fond of his mother, and if it hadn’t been for her own unwillingness to distress her unduly she would have left Italy the moment she’d acknowledged she’d done the unthinkable and fallen in love with a man who was so wrong for her—valid excuse or not!

Fiora’s continuing recovery from her life-threatening illness was his strongest bargaining tool. And now he’d brought her great-aunt in on the act, giving him another. She could kill the manipulating devil!

Her eyes boring into his broad back as they walked round to the side of the immense villa, she barely registered Edith’s, ‘I hope I didn’t tire her. We had such a long and interesting chat after I arrived. Forgive me if I kept her too long.’

Arrested by the anxious note, Paolo turned, his smile warmly sincere as he swiftly reassured her. ‘You are Lily’s family, Edith—and Mamma prizes family relationships above all. Her retirement had nothing to do with your more than welcome presence, I promise. Carla, her companion, and I always insist that she rests each afternoon. Meeting you, having you here, makes her happy. And happiness is the best medicine, yes?’

Another none too subtle warning for her, Lily fulminated as they passed beneath the long pergola, festooned and dripping with wistaria, and headed for the steps that led up to the broad terrace.

As soon as she got her great-aunt on her own she would have to confess that the engagement—as far as she was concerned—was a total sham. Explain what had led up to this sorry situation. She wasn’t looking forward to it. There was no one more upright and straightforward than her relative, and she would rightly deplore the deceit and make no bones about saying so!

But the opportunity was lost when Paolo left them to go in search of the housekeeper. Edith immediately turned to her, her eyes over-bright with emotion, and declared, ‘I can’t tell you how happy your news has made me, child! Such a weight off my mind! I must confess that I have worried about your future well-being for some time now. No—hear me out,’ she demanded, as Lily opened her mouth to protest. ‘I won’t be around for ever, and who knows what has become of your feckless father. I hated to think of you being left alone in the world.’

She gravitated to a table in the shade and ordered, with just a hint of her old asperity, ‘Sit. Don’t hover, child. I have worried about you,’ she stressed. ‘Working all hours for little reward save that of knowing you were helping people who needed it. No opportunity or time to meet a suitable young man or embark on a financially rewarding career. I blamed myself for being so bound up in Life Begins and not giving a thought to your future. Not doing nearly enough for you.’

‘Don’t talk like that!’ Lily cried emotionally. ‘You’ll be around for ages yet! And you did everything for me,’ she protested with vehemence, distressed at what she was hearing, adding with heartfelt sympathy, ‘It can’t have been easy.’ At a time when most women would have been thinking of slowing down, taking things a little easier, Edith had taken in a baby that had been as good as abandoned. ‘You gave me family, a feeling of belonging, a happy and secure childhood.’

‘It was never difficult, child. Never!’ Edith’s eyes grew moist with rare sentiment. ‘And now I need no longer worry. News of your forthcoming wedding has taken a huge weight off my shoulders, believe me! Such a strong, caring man—so much wealth …’ She waved an expressive hand at their surroundings. ‘Mind you, were he as poor as a church mouse I would still heartily approve. Whatever his financial situation he would make any woman a fine husband. As it is, his generosity means that we can safely leave the future of Life Begins in capable hands, so that’s one more anxiety laid to rest.’

Paolo didn’t rejoin them. Agata, bringing iced fresh orange juice, imparted that the signor sent his regrets. He had work to do and would see them at dinner.

Leaving her great-aunt in her room, exclaiming over the amenities and deciding which of her two dresses was more suitable for the coming dinner, Lily set out to look for him. Fit to spit tacks. What right had he to go behind her back and bring her unsuspecting great-aunt into this mess of his?

He was good at humiliating her—wasn’t he just? She’d thought she’d been so clever—avoiding him and his threatened ‘persuasion’—but all the time he’d had all the aces up his sleeve, had been laughing at her. No wonder he’d allowed her to go out of her way to avoid him!

Marching straight into the room he used as a study, she found him standing by the tall window using his cellphone. Shifting from foot to foot, she waited until he had finished the call, refusing to let herself be impressed by his dark male magnificence, her eyes still spitting sparks of rage when he turned to her and smiled.

‘How dare you?’ She launched straight in, practically bouncing up and down in her need to go over there and slap him.

‘Cara?’ One perfectly shaped dark eyebrow arched in a query Lily found totally exasperating.

‘You know what I’m talking about!’ Bright spots of anger flared on her cheeks. ‘You know what you’ve done. Now there’ll be two old ladies to disappoint instead of one! Have you any idea—? Do you know what she said to me? She said knowing my future’s secure—huh!—has taken a huge load off her mind!’

Eyes glittering, she was almost incoherent with rage that he had put her in this dreadful situation. ‘You use people like pawns to get what you want. You never consider their feelings,’ she accused wildly.

With difficulty Paolo stopped himself from grinning from ear to ear. Little Lily Frome was a bewitching delight. A small bundle of hissing fury!

It took courage to stand there and bad-mouth him, he acknowledged with renewed admiration. Used as he was to everyone—especially the bed partners who were now definitely history—treating him as if he were some kind of god, bending over backwards to please him, feeding him servile flattery, Lily in confrontational mood made him feel fully, vitally alive for the first time in years.

‘I do what needs to be done. Haven’t you heard the saying that the end justifies the means?’

As Lily watched him move towards her she felt stifled. The air locked in her lungs. Her small hands fisted. ‘The end’—he meant marriage.

To her!

Not because he loved her. As if! But because it would be convenient. Not wanting to disappoint his mother because he adored her, and after the tragedy that had taken his brother, his sister-in-law and their unborn child, he would do anything to make her remaining years contented. And, hey, bedding a virgin would be a novel experience. He could teach her everything he knew about sexual pleasure. Until he grew bored!

Thanks, but no thanks! She might love him, warts and all, and lust after him until it became a burning ache she could barely contain, but she had too much self-respect to allow herself to accept his insulting proposal.

And he was now close. Too close. Even so, she found the will to jerk her chin up at a defiant angle and meet his eyes.

Big mistake!

The smouldering mesmeric quality, the glittering golden lights, made her feel light-headed. He always had that effect on her, she mourned in silent self-contempt. And when he took one of her hands and uncurled her fingers she could do nothing to stop him.