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Authors: Sara Wood

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BOOK: The Impatient Groom
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‘I can't avoid it,' he said tightly. ‘I live in it, day by day.'
‘I know,' she muttered. ‘And you're all so wrapped up in your noble past that you forget to live in the present—'
‘No. Sophia.' He'd taken three stirides and was in front of her before he knew what he was doing. Tormented by her beauty, he hardened his eyes so that he didn't betray
himself. ‘I honour the past, but I live for now. I wouldn't be a successful businessman otherwise,' he said harshly. ‘This matter between us is to do with trust. And you don't choose to trust me, do you?'
‘No. Because,' she said tremulously, her eyes shining with unshed tears, ‘I've realised that you put your dynasty above everything else.'
‘That's not true!' he denied vehemently. ‘Whoever told you—'
‘Oh, stop it, Rozzano!' she yelled, clapping her hands to her ears. ‘I won't listen to your slick lies any more!'
He could see that she had reached the end of her tether. Tomorrow she would be calmer. His eyes glittered. And he'd find out what devils had got into his bride.
Without a word, he picked up one of the pillows from the bed and flung it on the sofa. Grimly he gathered up the cream linen coverlet and settled himself down for the night. Conection. Until Sophia fell asleep. He had no intention of spending his wedding night any other way than that which he'd planned: making love to his wife.
Curled up in a self-pitying ball, Sophia waited for sleep. But, tired though she was, she couldn't relax. Her mind kept re-enacting in excruciating detail all the events of the day, which had been initially euphoric, finally a living hell.
It was a long time later when she heard him move. Holding her breath, she listened. His footfalls were approaching. Life leapt into her listless body, demanding that she should satisfy its urges, and she despaired that she would ever get over her physical infatuation for him. The bed depressed behind her.
‘Don't
touch
me!' she warned furiously, screwing herself up even tighter.
‘This is my bed,' he growled. ‘I'm damn well sleeping in it!'
Hastily she moved to the edge and lay there, hanging on to the mattress, her stiff body defying him to come anywhere near her.
She fell asleep in the early hours of the morning. He'd been tuned in to her breathing and recognised the deeper, slower inhalations as she gradually relaxed. Very carefully, he rolled over.
In the moonlight he could see the outline of her figure. The curve of her waist, the swell of her hip. His heart pounded heavily. Perhaps sensing the crackling tension of his body, she stirred and turned to face him, her eyes seemingly soft with love. Amazingly, she smiled and touched his mouth with an enquiring finger.
Hardly daring to breathe, he tentatively peeled back the sheet, expecting her to stop him at any moment. She didn't. Taut with longing, he let his eyes feed on the graceful curves of her body, and marvelled at its beauty. Still she made no move to discourage him. Hope surged through him. She loved him. Everything would be all right
Every bone and muscle in his body strained under the ruthlessness of his restraint. He wanted to fling himself on her, kiss her passionately, make her truly his wife... Instead, he softly feathered his fingers over her warm, satiny shoulders, at her gentle sigh, he put his face close to her neck and breathed in her fragrance.
Sophia accepted his hesitant kisses along the curve of her jaw, giving out little gasps of pleasure which made him groan with relief. His cautious hand moved to the curve of her breast. The nipple was already hard beneath his fingers. A shock of desire rocketed through him and
he could hold back no longer, clasping her fiercely in his arms, his mouth descending passionately on hers.
Sophia responded immediately, matching his passion as they tumbled over the bed, hungrily grasping one another and straining to press even closer. She twisted and turned against him, using her body to take the edge off her terrible need.
Then, and almost too late, she realised that she must never obey the desires of her heart or her body. Her head had to rule. Nothing else. He was worthless.
‘No! Stop!' she cried vehemently, managing to wriggle away. His eyes were brilliant and fierce, blazing with desire. She stared at him, forcing herself to deny him. ‘Leave me alone!' she said in a horrified whisper.
‘But... You can't do this to me!' he hissed savagely. ‘You can't encourage me and- I don't understand! I never thought you'd play the tease—'
Appalled, she hugged her throbbing body, her eyes dark with pain. A few moments later and he would have consummated the marriage. ‘You can't sleep in the same bed as me!' she ranted, half in anger, half anguished by her hopeless love for him. ‘I won't have you sneaking up and raping me in the middle of the night! I won't—!'
‘Basta!
If you think that of me—!'
His face twisted in torment, he swung his legs to the floor and dragged on his robe. In fear, she watched him striding up and down, seeing the scorching anger in every rigid step he took. His mouth had become hard and grim and she could see from the way his chest heaved that he was dangerously close to losing control.
‘So!' he spat, his eyes black with hatred. ‘I've done it again!'
Cowering beneath the sheet, she blinked in confusion. ‘What?'
He stopped, contempt pouring from his whole body. “You don't know. No one does. I don't make it a habit to tell the world about my secrets. Especially my humiliation—‘
‘You brought this on yourself!' she shot at him.
‘By marrying again?' He gave a harsh, humourless laugh. ‘Perhaps. But I didn't expect my
second
wife to ban me from her bed. At least,' he growled, ‘Nicoletta allowed me to make love to her on our wedding night and for a while after!'
Sophia stared. Her heart thudded loudly. ‘Did she disapprove of your infidelity? What did you expect?' she scathed.
Rozzano frowned as if puzzled.
‘My
infidelity? Far from it. Hers! She banned me because she didn't want children to spoil her figure,' he said contemptuously. ‘Unknown to me, she aborted her first child and wouldn't let me touch her after that.'
He was lying, though she couldn't fathom why. Pity, perhaps? ‘I think you've forgotten something. She did become pregnant again—that's why she died. You must have been together as man and wife...'
Her voice trailed away. He looked ashen, his eyes tiny pinpoints of pain.
‘No. She had an affair with Enrico,' he said hoarsely.
Sophia clutched at her breast in horror.
‘The child was his. A
mistake,
he told me. She tried to abort it in secret in some clinic in South America. Developed septicaemia. And died.'
The silence was crushing. He'd kept this secret locked up inside of him, pretending that everything was fine between Enrico and himself for the sake of...his wretched
family. Sophia drew in a long, despairing breath. How could she say what she felt? That her heart went out to him, that she couldn't imagine how he'd lived day by day, knowing his brother had indirectly killed his beloved wife?
‘I don't know what to say,' she whispered. ‘To love someone and be betrayed—'
‘I didn't love her by then,' he broke in curtly. ‘I'd discovered how shallow and grasping she was. Well, Sophia. It seems...' he grunted, bitter humour twisting his mouth. ‘...history repeats itself. This time, however, I refuse to let a woman destroy my life. Do what you damn well please. I won't attempt to make love to you again.'
 
At least, thought Sophia towards the end of the week, he'd been true to his word. With an almost inhuman control of his features, he'd outlined the rules. One: as she'd suggested, they were to be affectionate in public. Two: during their honeymoon he'd pretend to be teaching her to ride. When they were out of sight of the house, he would leave her to her own devices. He would return after his ride and they would arrive back at the house together. Three: he would sleep on the sofa. Four: when they were back in Venice, they would discuss the future in detail.
With little sleep, little food that week and tension gripping every muscle in her body, Sophia felt dog-weary. It was their last day at the villa and she'd been powerwalking for over two hours, punishing her body in an attempt to blank out her mind.
Hearing the thunder of hooves, she rose from the tree stump where she'd been waiting, intending to mount her tethered palomino. Before she could do so, a sudden attack
of giddiness assailed Sophia and she swayed, clutching at a tree for support.
‘Are you ill?' came Rozzano's urgent voice, from far, far away.
Darkness was spiralling all around her. She felt his arms holding her up and gradually the fog cleared. ‘No,' she whispered. ‘I think I got up too quickly.'
She swallowed, shaken by his nearness. As usual when riding, he wore just breeches and boots and an opennecked white shirt. His body was slicked with sweat and tiny trickles of moisture were dripping from his tousled wet hair. He'd been punishing himself too, she mused vaguely.
‘You haven't been eating much. You need a good meal inside you,' he growled.
Weakly she leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree. ‘That's it. I didn't have any dinner last night, or breakfast this morning. I'll be all right once I've...'
Her voice had become a hoarse croak. His warm breath had sensitised her lips, making them open in an instinctive invitation.
They stood there for an eternity, it seemed, his body against hers, pressing her to the tree, his strength and warmth infinitely desirable. She felt too weak to fight the demands of her heart and went limp in his grasp.
For a brief second his mouth drove brutally into hers, bringing her back to pulsating life again. Then he had stepped back and was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if it were contaminates.
‘I'll ride back on my own today,' he rasped, his face consumed with anger. ‘I'll send a groom out for you—'
‘No.' Miserably she stumbled towards her pony. ‘I'll come.'
She attempted to mount and didn't seem to have the
strength. With a muttered imprecation, Rozzano strode forward and cupped his hands. Close to tears, she placed her small booted foot there, and he tipped her easily into the saddle.
They returned in silence. One day, she thought, I will surrender in a weak moment. And I'll hate myself for evermore.
As was their custom, they stood with their arms around one another chatting to the groom. The tension in her neck and shoulders screamed for Rozzano's magic touch to ease her muscles. The ache in her body begged for something more fundamental and primitive.
Somehow she kept up an inane chatter during the lunch he forced her to eat, and then at last she was free to wander in the garden alone. In the privacy of the summer house she opened one of the lace-curtained windows for air and curled up on the cushions of a huge cane chair beside it, trying to concentrate on her plans for the orphanage.
Until she heard Arabella, calling Rozzano's name.
 
He whirled around, his hackles up. He'd wanted to find Sophia, to know how she was, and here was Arabella—the cause of his problems! He leant against the summerhouse veranda and eyed her narrowly.
‘What the hell are you doing here?' he demanded in a hard tone.
She looked scared, but came towards him nevertheless. ‘I came to apologise.'
‘For what?' he scathed. ‘Seducing my brother on my wedding day? Or for being one of his mistresses for the past two years?'
‘I've been his
only
mistress for six months,' she defended. ‘I know what you think of me,' she went on more
quietly. ‘I did try to do what you said—to prevent scandal by pretending an interest in anyone other than Enrico. Letizia was fooled—she thought I had designs on you—'
‘She's your friend,' he said coldly. ‘How could you deceive her?'
‘I can't help who I love, Rozzano!' she declared passionately. ‘Can you?'
He clenched his teeth to deaden the pain. ‘No.'
‘I didn't set out to hurt anyone. But I am deeply sorry for what we did at your wedding. We were both rather drunk, but it was still unforgivable.' She hung her head. ‘I felt ashamed when you stood there, handing me my clothes as if you didn't even trust me to get dressed without supervision.'
‘If I hadn't come in and stopped you both,' he said in contempt, ‘you would have committed adultery in Alberto's house. How could you? You were guests at my wedding—'
‘Yes, but we're crazy about one another! Don't you know what it's like not to touch the person you love?'
BOOK: The Impatient Groom
7.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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