Claimed for the Italian's Revenge

by Natalie Rivers

  Suddenly tears welled up in her eyes and she knew she was about to burst into tears. It was awful—truly awful—to have to think about her escape from Primo at the same time as thinking about her father’s death.

  She blinked desperately, determined not to let Marco see her cry again. That was what had made things so complicated in the first place. She didn’t want to talk about her father’s illness any more—she couldn’t bear it. And she also knew that if she got upset again she might end up telling Marco everything—about her stepmother and Vasile blackmailing her. That was the last thing she wanted.

  Deep down inside she knew that someone as self assured and strong as Marco would never understand what she was doing for her father. He’d be convinced there must be another way to save him. He was used to being in control of his life and he had power and money.

  But Claudia had no power. And the only way to get money was to marry and release her trust fund. There was nothing she could do to change that, without causing great distress to her father on his deathbed. And she would never, ever do that.

  She turned and paced across the room, determined to think about something else. She went to the window and pressed her nose to the glass, cupped her hands round her face to block out the light from the lamp and stared out into the night.

  Then a sound from behind her made her turn round.

  ‘Come and join me,’ Marco said, setting down two fresh glasses of wine on the coffee table.

  ‘I was looking at the fog,’ she said, reluctant to sit with him. As soon as she’d laid eyes on him, her earlier feelings of attraction had started to resurface. ‘It’s still so thick you can’t see a thing.’

  Marco crossed the room and joined her at the window. He had not put his sweater back on and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His movements were fluid and athletic, but everything about his stance made her think about the sheer strength contained within his powerful masculine form.

  ‘It’s as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist,’ Marco said. ‘The cottage is completely cut off. For a city dweller, that’s a strange feeling.’

  As soon as he’d said the words a shiver ran through her. It truly was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  Then, to make matters worse, he lifted both hands to gently cradle her head, letting his fingers slip between the silky tresses of her hair. A whisper of electric desire tingled between them, but Claudia felt herself tense and she tried to step away.

  ‘It’s…it’s just that my life is so complicated,’ Claudia stammered. ‘I can’t do this…I mean I can’t get involved with you again.’

  ‘Everyone’s life is complicated,’ Marco said. ‘But there’s one simple fact that matters right now—tonight we are here, alone, unable to leave even if we wanted to.’

  Claudia lifted her face to meet his gaze and, as she looked into his eyes, the familiar feeling that she was the only woman in the world came over her. And in a way that was true. Cut off from everything by the thick fog, they were alone. He was the only man, and she was the only woman.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MARCO stood by the window, watching Claudia walk away from him. Even dressed in her shapeless garments she still looked as hot as hell. When she bent down to pick up her glass of wine, a renewed blast of desire fired through his body.

  He wanted her badly.

  He frowned, his eyes following her as she walked over to the fireplace and started looking at the Christmas ornaments that had been arranged on the mantelpiece.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said suddenly. She picked up a couple of little figures and carried them across the room to show him. ‘My grandmother had these exact same ornaments!’

  Marco watched her walking towards him, captivated by the bewitching sway of her hips and the gentle bounce of her full breasts beneath the wool of her sweater as she moved.

  ‘I suppose it’s not so much of a coincidence really,’ Claudia was saying. ‘I guess Grandma and Gwen went shopping at the same local craft fairs.’

  ‘They’re interesting pieces,’ Marco said, forcing his raging libido under control. ‘I haven’t seen anything like them before. Do you think they were made locally?’

  ‘Probably,’ Claudia said, holding the figures in her cupped hands next to her breast, in a totally natural gesture of happy affection. ‘Oh, they remind me of my Grandma. And her decoration box.’

  A strange feeling tightened inside Marco as he looked at her. He’d heard her talk about her grandmother before. But, now that he knew what kind of person Claudia was, it was strangely discomfiting to hear her talk with such animation about her past.

  ‘Tell me about the box,’ Marco said, interested in spite of the voice inside his head telling him he didn’t need to hear any more of her childhood tales.

  ‘There’s nothing much to tell,’ she said. ‘It contained the tree ornaments that Grandma had collected over the years. She had a different story to tell about each one.’ She smiled, momentarily lost in her thoughts. ‘I loved to imagine my own mother helping her to hang those decorations on the tree. And every year Grandma would buy just one more—usually from a local craft fair.’

  ‘Did you help your grandmother to decorate?’ Marco asked.

  Claudia looked at him and hesitated, wondering whether she wanted to share any more personal memories with Marco. He seemed to have remembered every detail of every single thing she’d confided in him that summer four years ago.

  She found her gaze fixed on his gorgeous face. He really was breathtakingly good-looking. And when he looked at her like that, giving her his undivided attention, it felt as if she was somehow more important than usual. He seemed genuinely engaged in what she had to say. And the very fact that he remembered what she’d told him so long ago was proof that he listened properly and was interested.

  ‘My father and I used to visit her every year before Christmas and help her decorate,’ she said, asking herself what harm could it do to tell him—he already knew so much about her.

  ‘Your stepmother didn’t join you?’

  ‘She always said that Wales was much too far away from civilisation. And she was allergic to Grandma’s dog,’ Claudia replied, suddenly feeling indescribably glad that Francesca had never made her presence felt in her grandmother’s home.

  Up until that moment she’d always taken it for granted that her stepmother had wanted nothing to do with her real mother’s home or family. But the sudden unpleasant thought that Francesca might easily have insisted on coming to Wales shook her. Would those childhood memories hold the same treasured place in her heart if Francesca had stamped them with her indelible mark?

  ‘My stepmother didn’t approve of Grandma’s decorations or her taste in fairy lights,’ Claudia said, unable to resist a little dig at Francesca. ‘According to her rules, lights should be white. Or occasionally another single colour designed to blend in with her theme for Christmas.’

  ‘So now you hate white lights?’ Marco asked, his lips quirking with amusement.

  ‘No, of course not. I suppose it’s just that they remind me of the way my stepmother took over Christmas. Each year she’d have a new theme. Top designers would come in and decorate—I was never allowed to help. Everything was brand-new, and at the end of Christmas she’d just throw it all out.’

  ‘So now you don’t like new decorations either?’ Marco said with a glint in his eye.

  ‘I don’t have anything against new decorations,’ Claudia said, refusing to rise to his provocation. ‘It’s wonderful choosing a new tree ornament or garland for your home. But it’s lovely to keep the old ones too. And each one has a memory of the Christmas when you first had it.’

  She looked up at Marco and was startled to see his gaze was still locked on her. There was a strange expression in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read, and suddenly she wished she hadn’t been quite so open with her memories after all.

  ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ she asked, saying the first thing that
came into her mind.

  Unfortunately, saying that suddenly reminded her that by Christmas she would be married to Vasile. A cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, but she turned to put the ornaments back in their place and tried to ignore it.

  ‘I’m having a quiet Christmas this year,’ Marco said shortly.

  Something in his voice made Claudia think he found the question intrusive.

  A flash of irritation sparked within her. How hypocritical of him to be happy prying into her life but resent it when she showed an interest in his. It was hardly a personal question.

  ‘Will you spending it with Bianca?’ she asked. ‘I hope she’s doing well for herself—you haven’t told me anything about what she’s up to these days.’

  She felt a prickle of sadness over her lost friendship with Bianca—she was sure that Marco had something to do with his sister dropping her so completely. She wanted to say that she missed Bianca but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. It would sound too much like she had missed Marco.

  ‘She’s fine. She lives in America,’ Marco said abruptly, striding across the room to throw another couple of logs on to the fire. ‘That should do for a while,’ he added, picking up the poker.

  He’d moved so quickly and unexpectedly that Claudia felt a sudden gust of air pass across her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. For a moment she was reminded of the raw energy of the natural elements—a raging sea or a torrential storm.

  The energy that crackled off Marco was physical and entirely masculine. It suddenly made her think of making love.

  ‘There’s lots of wood in the basket.’ There was a tremor in her voice and she didn’t even try to tear her eyes away from Marco’s exquisite physique as he prodded the logs, making the fire hiss and spark. ‘There should be enough to last all evening.’

  She watched him replacing the poker in the wrought iron stand, mesmerised by the sight of his muscles rippling beneath his bronzed skin as he moved. Her fingers itched to touch him but, as he stood up, she fled across the room to an armchair, never taking her eyes off his magnificent form.

  He picked up his glass of wine. Then he sat down on the sofa and turned his gaze on to her.

  As their eyes met, a bolt of electricity zinged between them. He’d seen the way she was looking at him, knew exactly what she was thinking

  He turned the tables on her, letting his eyes draw a trail from the tips of her toes all the way up her body.

  She shivered and drew her legs on to the chair, curling up as if it would protect her from his sexual gaze. But the truth was she didn’t want protection. She wanted Marco to make love to her. She was here with him now, and for just one night she could shut out the rest of the world.

  Marco looked at Claudia’s long lean legs folded beneath her and felt his heart start to thud with desire. He thought about those supple limbs wrapped tight around his hips, urging him on as he thrust powerfully into her willing body, and suddenly he was as hard as iron.

  A blast of anger ripped through him and he cursed himself for wanting her so badly.

  He looked at her, curled seductively in the chair, watching him provocatively from beneath a curtain of long hair. The expression on her face told him that she was hot for him.

  She lifted her chin slightly as a spark of awareness passed between them. Then she pushed her hair back over her shoulder and his eyes were drawn to the alluring lift of her breasts beneath her sweater.

  ‘That top suits you,’ he said, looking at the outline of her nipples beneath the soft material.

  ‘Really? It’s old and kind of shapeless—I think it’s been washed too many times,’ she said. She dropped her gaze and ran her hand over the sleeve, but he’d caught sight of a glimmer of pleasure in her eyes.

  However, the sweater covered up far too much of her body for the way he was currently feeling. The open neck fell quite low on her slender form, showing the full length of her elegant neck and revealing part of her collar-bone. Suddenly it seemed like the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

  The beguiling way the exquisite shape of the bone disappeared under the wool drew his gaze like a magnet.

  ‘You have a beautiful neck,’ he said. ‘And your collar-bone is divine.’

  She turned to look at him, surprise flaring in her eyes and a pretty flush returning to her cheeks. But he knew she was pleased by his compliments.

  ‘Let me see,’ he said, demonstrating with a gesture how he wanted her to pull the sweater aside.

  Her hand moved as if by instinct to mirror his, but she paused, her fingers resting against the base of her throat, and looked at him.

  He met her gaze with his own, wondering if she was going to behave coyly. But then she tipped her head to one side and pulled the neckline of the sweater lower, revealing her finely structured collar-bone.

  ‘It’s delectable,’ he murmured, hearing his own voice drop an octave as another surge of desire rushed through him. ‘I want to run my tongue along it, then taste the hollow at the base of your throat and feel your pulse beating.’

  He stood up and walked towards her, his heart pumping powerfully as he saw her throat move when she swallowed nervously. He took her hands with his and pulled her slowly to her feet.

  Then, before she had chance to protest, he led her back across the room and pulled her down so that she was sitting astride him on the sofa. He was ready to make love to her—his desire burning through him like molten lava. It was all he could do to contain his rising sexual need—but he was going to take things slowly.

  Another flash of surprise showed on her face as she found herself straddling him, but he slipped his arms around her quickly and leant forward to press his open mouth against her neck.

  An uneven sigh escaped her and Marco knew that he had rediscovered one of her sensitive areas. She had always loved it when he’d nuzzled and kissed her neck.

  He enjoyed it too—she was so responsive to him that he gained as much pleasure as he knew he was giving.

  Her hands were gripping his shoulders and he felt her fingers tighten reflexively as he dipped his head lower and traced her collar-bone with his tongue. The skin was smooth and warm beneath his mouth and the small sounds of delight she was making stirred his senses even more.

  He let his hands slip under the hem of the sweater and slowly slide up to cup her breasts.

  A deep moan of appreciation escaped her and Marco closed his eyes for a second, lost in his own moment of satisfaction. It was too long since he’d felt the glorious weight of her breasts in his palms, too long since he’d massaged their softness with his hands.

  He reached behind her to unhook her bra, then his hands moved back to her breasts. He lifted them slightly, adjusting the position of his hold so that he could close the forefinger and thumb of each hand around her nipples. He rolled them gently and felt a shot of sexual excitement power through him.

  ‘Oh!’ He heard the involuntary quaver of arousal resonate through Claudia’s voice and an answering shudder of pure arousal shook him.

  ‘I need to see you,’ he said, releasing her breasts just long enough to pull the sweater up and over her head. He threw it aside impatiently with her bra, then paused, momentarily transfixed by the magnificent sight of her naked breasts.

  Her creamy skin glowed in the flickering firelight and her breasts were full and perfectly shaped. They were rising and falling with the rapid rate of her breathing, making them even more alluring to him.

  His gaze focused on her nipples and he felt his mouth watering with the need to close his lips around them and caress them with his tongue. They were pert and ready, jutting invitingly towards him.

  He leant forward and took one hard pink nipple into his mouth.

  Claudia moaned again, feeling her world start to dissolve into absolute bliss.

  Wonderful sensations spiralled out from her breasts. Marco’s mouth felt gloriously hot against her flesh and his expert tongue was teasing her nipple in a
way that sent darts of pure sexual energy shooting through her. He held her other breast in his hand, massaging the nipple between his finger and thumb.

  The pleasure he was giving to each breast combined within her, intensifying the rapturous response that consumed her whole body. She arched her back, letting her head fall backwards, and pushed her breasts towards him. Her entire body was glowing with rekindled desire and, deep down in her most feminine place, an insistent throbbing need was building.

  Then Marco pulled back from her and she felt herself sway with the sudden loss of contact and sensual stimulation.

  She opened her eyes and found herself gazing into the dark depths of his eyes. In the warm firelight they looked almost black, but maybe that was just pure arousal. She was breathing deeply and, with every breath, she was ultra-aware of her aching breasts rising and falling, straining almost of their own volition towards him.

  She yearned to feel his mouth work its magic on her again, feel his hand caressing her. But he continued to hold her gaze. And with each passing moment she was more aware of her breasts, until they began to tingle and sing almost as if he was still touching her. Her breathing deepened further and suddenly she saw a smile flash across Marco’s face.

  ‘You are so sexy,’ he said. ‘And I’m going to take this slowly—take every ounce of pleasure.’

  A flutter of excitement started inside her, but she didn’t have time to think about his words because at that moment he leant forward and pressed his open mouth against her neck.

  A mixture of ticklishness and breathless arousal skittered through her and once again she was overtaken by the intensity of feeling Marco was able to elicit from her so naturally. It seemed as if he was perfectly in tune with her body and knew exactly how to touch or caress her to give her extraordinary pleasure. And with every second that passed she was growing more and more aroused.