by Lynne Graham
‘You must be imagining it.’
He cupped one side of her face with his hand, the slight roughness of his palm making her insides coil and tighten with lust. ‘Maybe.’ He gave a quick on-off smile and dropped his hand from her face. ‘So, the wedding. How does this weekend sound?’
Artie only just managed to suppress a gasp. ‘This weekend? What’s the rush?’
‘I’m not a fan of long engagements.’
‘Funny. But how am I going to find a dress in time? Or are you expecting me to turn up naked?’
Argh. Why did you say that?
A dark glint came into his eyes. ‘Now, there’s an idea.’
Artie pursed her lips, hoping her cheeks were not glowing as hot as they felt. ‘I can safely say I will never, ever be naked in front of you.’
He glided a lazy finger down her burning cheek, a smile in his eyes. ‘Have you been naked in front of anyone?’
Artie stepped back, annoyed with herself for not doing so earlier. She had to keep her distance. It was dangerous to stand so close to him. She had so little immunity to his sensual power. She had to remember he was a powerful magnet and she was a tiny iron filing.
‘I’m not going to discuss my private life with you. It’s none of your damn business.’
‘We have to know a few things about each other otherwise no one will accept our marriage as the real thing.’
Artie frowned. ‘What? Are you going to pretend you’re in love with me or something? Who’s going to believe it? We’re total opposites.’
‘Ah, but don’t they say opposites attract?’ His smile melted her bones—she could feel her legs trembling to keep her upright.
Artie compressed her lips and iced her gaze. ‘This may come as a surprise to a man with an ego the size of yours but I’m not attracted to you.’
He gave a deep chuckle. ‘Then you’re going to have to call on every bit of acting power you possess to convince my grandfather otherwise. Think you can do that, cara mia?’
The Italian endearment almost made her swoon. She hoisted her chin. ‘Do you, Mr Hardened Cynical Playboy, think you can act like a man passionately in love with his bride?’
His gaze held hers in a smouldering lock that made the backs of her knees tingle. ‘That will be the easy part.’
CHAPTER FOUR
ARTIE STOOD IN FRONT of the cheval mirror in her bedroom and checked her appearance. She had decided against wearing her mother’s wedding dress and chosen a cream satin ballgown of her mother’s instead. It was a classic design with a tulle underskirt that emphasised her neat waist, and a close-fitting bodice that hinted at the shape of her breasts without revealing too much cleavage. She hadn’t wanted to taint her mother’s beautiful wedding gown with her charade of a marriage. Her parents had married for love and lived happily together until Artie insisted on going to a birthday party against their wishes when she was fifteen.
She bit down on her lip until it hurt. Why had she been so adamant about going to that stupid party? Where were those supposed friends of hers now? Only a handful came to visit her in hospital. None had come to the castello once she had been released. None had come to her mother’s funeral. She had stood beside her father’s wheelchair as her mother was lowered into the family plot at the castello with her heart in pieces, guilt raining down on her heavier than what was coming from the dismal sky above. How could one teenage decision have so many unforeseen consequences?
Artie plucked at the skirt of her dress, her stomach an ants’ nest of nerves. Today was her wedding day. The day she married Luca Ferrantelli in a paper marriage to save her family home. Would this be another decision she would later regret? Or would the consolation of getting the castello back into her possession wipe out any misgivings? She glanced at the engagement ring on her hand. The longer she wore it, the more she loved it. She felt strangely connected to Luca’s grandmother by wearing her ring. But would the old lady spin in her grave to know Artie was entering into a loveless union with her grandson?
Rosa came in carrying a bouquet of flowers she had picked from the garden. ‘You look beautiful, Artie.’ She handed her the simple but fragrant bouquet. ‘You’re not wearing a veil?’
Artie brought the flowers up to her nose and breathed in the heady scent of roses and orange blossom. ‘This isn’t a proper wedding.’
Rosa frowned. ‘But it’s still a legal one. You might as well look like a proper bride. And make that handsome groom of yours sit up and take notice.’ She went to the large wardrobe and pulled out the long cardboard box where Artie’s mother’s wedding dress and veil were stored on the top shelf. She placed the box on the bed and lifted the lid and removed the tissue-wrapped heirloom hand-embroidered veil that had been worn by both Artie’s mother and grandmother. Rosa shook out the veil and then brought it over to Artie. ‘Come on. Indulge me.’
Artie rolled her eyes but gave in, allowing Rosa to fasten the veil on her head, securing it with hair pins. Rosa draped the veil over Artie’s face and then stepped back to inspect her handiwork. ‘You will knock Luca Ferrantelli’s socks off, sì?’
Artie turned back to look at her reflection. She did indeed look like a proper bride. She glanced at Rosa. ‘Tell me I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. My second biggest, I mean.’
Rosa grasped one of Artie’s hands, her eyes shimmering with tears. ‘You have already lost so much. You can’t lose the castello as well. Sometimes we have to do whatever it takes to make the best of things.’ She released Artie’s hand and brushed at her eyes and gave a rueful smile. ‘Weddings always make me emotional. Just as well I didn’t get married myself.’
‘Would you have liked to?’ Artie was surprised she hadn’t thought to ask before now. Rosa was in her sixties and had been a part of the castello household for as long as Artie could remember. They had talked about many things over the years but not about the housekeeper’s love life or lack thereof.
Rosa made a business of fussing over the arrangement of the skirt of Artie’s gown. ‘I fell in love once a long time ago. It didn’t work out.’
‘What happened?’
Rosa bent down lower to pick a fallen rose petal off the floor. She scrunched it in her hand and gave a thin-lipped smile. ‘He married someone else. I never found anyone else who measured up.’
‘Oh, that’s so sad.’
Rosa laughed but it sounded tinny. ‘I saved myself a lot of heartache. Apparently, he’s been divorced three times since then.’ Her expression suddenly sobered. ‘Your parents were lucky to have found each other. I know they didn’t have as long together as they would have liked but it’s better to have five years with the right one than fifty with the wrong one.’
But what about six months with a man who had only met her a matter of days ago? A man who was so dangerously attractive, her blood raced every time he looked at her?
* * *
Luca stood in the castello’s chapel, waiting for Artie to appear. His grandfather had been too unwell to travel, but Luca planned to take his new bride to meet him as soon as their marriage was official. Luca had organised for a priest to officiate rather than a celebrant, because he knew it would please his grandfather, who was a deeply religious man—hence his disapproval of Luca’s life in the fast lane.
As much as he wanted his grandfather to meet Artie as soon as possible, he was quite glad he would have her to himself for a day or two. They would hardly be convincing as a newly married couple if they didn’t look comfortable and at ease with each other.
She was a challenge he was tempted to take on. Her resistance to his charm was potently attractive. Not because he didn’t respect and honour the word no when a woman said it. He could take rejection and take it well. He was never so emotionally invested in a relationship that he was particularly cut up when it ended.
But he sensed Artie’s interest in him. Sensed the chemi
stry that swirled in the atmosphere when they were together. Would it be risky to explore that chemistry? She was young and unworldly. What if she didn’t accept the terms of the deal and wanted more than he was prepared to give? He couldn’t allow that to happen. If she fell in love with him it would change everything.
And if he fell in love with her…
He sidestepped the thought like someone avoiding a sinkhole. Loving her would indeed be a pitfall. For her and for him. Love was a dangerous emotion. Whenever he thought of the possibility of loving someone, his heart would shy away like a horse refusing a jump. Too dangerous. Too risky. Too painful.
The back of Luca’s neck started to tingle and he turned to see Artie standing in the portal. He suppressed a gasp, his eyes drinking in the vision of her dressed in a stunning cream ballgown and off-white heirloom veil. The bright golden sunlight backlit her slim frame, making her look like an angel. As she walked towards him carrying a small bouquet of flowers he had to remind himself to breathe. The closer she got, the more his heart pounded, the more his blood thundered. And a strange sensation flowed into his chest. Warmth spreading over something hard and frozen, melting, reshaping, softening.
He gave himself a mental slap. No emotions allowed. This was a business deal. Nothing else. So what if she looked as beautiful as an angel? So what if his body roared with lust at the thought of touching her? This wasn’t about him—it was about his grandfather. Giving him the will to live long enough to have treatment that could cure him or at least give him a few more precious years of life.
Artie came to stand beside him, her face behind the veil composed, and yet twin circles of pink glowed in her cheeks. Her make-up highlighted the flawless, creamy texture of her skin, the deep brown of her eyes and the thick ink-black lashes that surrounded them. Her lips shone with a hint of lip gloss, making him ache to press his mouth to hers to see if it tasted as sweet and luscious as it looked. He could smell her perfume, an intoxicating blend of fresh flowers that reminded him of the sweet hope of spring after a long, bleak winter.
‘You look breathtaking,’ Luca said, taking her hands in his. Her small fingers moved within the embrace of his and a lightning rod of lust almost knocked him off his feet. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested a paper marriage. Maybe he should have insisted on the real deal. The thought of consummating their marriage sent a wave of heat through his body. But his conscience slammed on the brakes. No. No. No. It wouldn’t be fair. He wasn’t the settling-down type and she had fairy-tale romance written all over her. Which, ironically, was why she was perfect for the role of his temporary bride. No one else would satisfy his grandfather. It had to be her.
‘I—I’m nervous…’ Her voice trembled and her teeth sank into the plush softness of her bottom lip.
Luca gently squeezed her fingers. ‘Don’t be.’ His voice was so deep and rough it sounded like it had come from the centre of the earth. He didn’t like admitting it, but he was nervous too. Not about repeating the vows and signing the register—those were formalities he could easily compartmentalise in his brain. He was worried his promise to keep their relationship on paper was going to be the real kicker. He gave her hand another light squeeze and smiled. ‘Let’s do this.’
And they turned to face the priest and the service began…
* * *
‘I, Artemisia Elisabetta, take you, Luca Benedetto, to be my husband…’ Artie repeated her vows with a slight quaver in her voice. ‘I promise to be true to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health.’ She swallowed and continued, conscious of Luca’s dark gaze holding hers, ‘I will love and honour you all the days of my life.’
She wasn’t a particularly religious person but saying words she didn’t mean made her wonder if she was in danger of a lightning strike. The only lightning strike she had suffered so far had been the tingling zap coursing through her body when Luca first took her hand. Every cell of her body was aware of him. Dressed in a mid-blue morning suit, he looked like he had just stepped off a billboard advertisement for designer menswear. She could smell the lemon and lime of his aftershave—it teased her nostrils, sending her senses into a tailspin. How could a man smell so damn delicious?
Eek! How could a man look so damn attractive?
Double eek! How could she be marrying him?
Luca’s hand took her left one and slipped on the wedding ring as he repeated his vows. ‘I, Luca Benedetto, take you, Artemisia Elisabetta, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health.’ He paused for a beat and continued with a rough edge to his voice, ‘I will love and honour you all the days of my life.’
Artie blinked back moisture gathering in her eyes. He sounded so convincing. He even looked convincing with his gaze so focused on her, his mouth smiling at her as if she was the most amazing woman who had ever walked upon the face of the earth.
It’s an act. Don’t be fooled by it. None of this means anything to him and neither should it mean anything to you.
‘You may kiss the bride.’
The priest’s words startled Artie out of her reverie and she only had time to snatch in a breath before Luca’s hands settled on her hips and drew her closer, his mouth descending inexorably towards hers. The first warm, firm press of his lips sent a jolt of electricity through her body. A jolt that travelled all the way down her spine and fizzed like a sparkler deep in her core. He lifted his lips off hers for an infinitesimal moment as if time had suddenly paused. Then he brought his mouth back to hers and sensations rippled through her as his lips moved against hers with increasing pressure, his hands on her hips bringing her even closer to the hard heat of his stirring body.
One of his hands left her hip to cradle one side of her face, his touch gentle, almost reverent, and yet his mouth was pure sin. Tempting, teasing, tantalising. She opened to him and his tongue touched hers and her insides quaked and throbbed with longing. She pressed closer, her arms going around his neck, her senses reeling as his tongue invited hers in an erotic dance. Every nerve in her lips and mouth awakened to his kiss, flowering open like soft petals to strong sunshine. She became aware of her body in a way she never had before—its needs, urges, flagrantly responding to the dark primal call of his.
Luca angled his head to change position, his tongue stroking against hers, a low, deep groan sounding in his throat. It thrilled her to know he was as undone by their kiss as she was. Thrilled and excited her to realise her own sensual power. Power she hadn’t known she possessed until now.
The priest cleared his throat and Luca pulled back from her with a dazed look on his face. Artie suspected she was looking just as shell-shocked as him. Her mouth felt swollen, her feminine core agitated with a roaring hunger he alone had awakened.
Luca blinked a couple of times as if to reset his equilibrium. ‘Well, hello there, Signora Ferrantelli.’ His voice was rusty, his gaze drifting to her mouth as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened between them moments before.
Artie licked her lips and tasted the salty sexiness of his. ‘Hello…’
Luca spoke briefly to the priest, thanking him for his services, and then led Artie to where Rosa had set up refreshments in the garden. She sensed him pulling up a drawbridge, a pulling back into himself. He stood without touching her, his expression inscrutable.
‘Right. Time to celebrate. And then tomorrow we’ll go and visit my grandfather.’
A wave of ice-cold dread washed over her. ‘But can’t we leave it a while? I mean, wouldn’t he expect us to be on our honeymoon and—?’
‘I can’t afford to leave it too long before I introduce you to him,’ Luca said, frowning. ‘He’s in a vulnerable state of health.’
Artie chewed at her lip and lowered her gaze. ‘I understand all that but I need more time to get used to being your…wife. I’m worried I’ll do or say something that will make your grandfather suspicious.’
>
Luca gave her a smouldering look. ‘If you kiss me like you did just then, any doubts he has will disappear.’
Artie could feel her cheeks firing up. ‘I was only following your lead. I haven’t been kissed before, so—’
‘Really?’ His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
She pulled away from him and hugged her arms around her body. ‘Go on, mock me for being a twenty-five-year-old virgin. I must seem like a pariah to someone like you who changes lovers daily.’
Her conscience rolled its eyes. I can’t believe you just told him you’re a virgin.
He scraped a hand through his hair, making it tousled. ‘Look, I kind of figured from your father that you were lacking in experience but I didn’t realise you’ve never had a boyfriend, even as a teenager. Did your father forbid you from going out or something?’
Artie averted her gaze. ‘No. I was busy looking after him after the accident that killed my mother and seriously injured him. There wasn’t time for dating.’
His deep frown brought his dark eyebrows together. ‘Why were you the one looking after him? Why didn’t he employ a nurse or carer?’
Artie turned slightly so she was facing the view over the estate. Luca’s penetrating gaze was too unsettling, too unnerving. How could she explain her reasons for taking care of her father? How could she explain the guilt that had chained her to his side? The guilt that still plagued her and had led her to marry Luca in order to save her family’s home? The home that was the only thing she had left of her family. ‘It was my choice to look after him. I was happy to do it.’
Luca came up behind her and placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders and turned her to face him. He expression was still etched in a frown, his hazel eyes gentle with concern. ‘You were just a child when the accident occurred. It was unfair of your father to allow you to sacrifice yourself in such a way. But what about school? Surely you would have had plenty of opportunity to mix with people your own age?’
