Harlequin Presents--July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Natalie Anderson

  ‘Perhaps.’

  There was a silence that was so thick Emmie could almost hear the tiny dust motes moving through the air.

  Matteo moved to the door, his expression inscrutable. ‘Come. Valentina will be waiting for us with our dinner.’

  Emmie followed him out of the library, conscious of him walking by her side down the long, wide corridor...conscious of the brush of his arm against hers...conscious of the taste of him still lingering in her mouth. And conscious of the needs he had awakened that still hummed in her flesh.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DINNER WAS A beautiful meal prepared with fresh produce from the estate, and Emmie delighted in every dish that was brought to the table. Valentina’s cooking took the whole pasture-to-plate trend to a whole new level. Succulent asparagus in a creamy hollandaise, trout caught from the river and pan-fried, served with an Italian-style salsa, and to follow a delectable honey-flavoured panna cotta garnished with plump strawberries.

  ‘Your housekeeper could open her own restaurant,’ Emmie said, finally putting down her cutlery with a sigh of pleasure. ‘Seriously, that was one of the best meals I’ve eaten in ages.’

  ‘Don’t tempt her to leave me,’ Matteo said with a wry smile, pouring a fresh serving of mineral water into Emmie’s glass.

  Emmie leaned her head on one side to study him. ‘So, you can form deep attachments to people, then?’

  He made a harrumphing sound. ‘Valentina and I go a long way back, even before she came to work for me.’

  ‘She’s old enough to be your mother,’ Emmie mused.

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘So, she’s kind of a maternal figure to you?’

  ‘Si, and one I deeply admire. She was unable to have children of her own and her husband left her because if it.’ He picked up his glass of ruby-red wine but didn’t raise it to his lips. ‘She never got over it. She hasn’t had another relationship and instead has devoted her life to working for me.’ He took a token sip of his wine and put the glass back on the table.

  Emmie wondered if Valentina’s infertility was the most heart-breaking thing for her or the rejection of her husband. Was that why she had never married again? ‘That’s sad... I mean, that she hasn’t had the family she longed for. She must have been devastated when you lost your wife and baby.’

  Something flickered across his face. ‘Si, she was, but unfortunately she and Abriana did not get on well.’ His lips moved in a grim twist. ‘Valentina didn’t think Abriana was the right partner for me.’

  ‘Because you weren’t in love with her?’

  ‘That and other reasons.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Matteo gave his mouth another twist. ‘I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead. Abriana did her best under difficult circumstances.’

  Emmie secretly admired him for not spilling all about his late wife’s shortcomings. Too many of her clients spoke at length about how awful their previous partners were and it always rang alarm bells for her. The talking down of a previous partner often showed her far more things about the client than their ex. But Matteo had clearly respected Abriana even if he hadn’t loved her the way she had wanted him to. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Go ahead.’ His tone was bland but his gaze was watchful. Guarded.

  ‘Why didn’t you bury Abriana and Gabriel at the cemetery in the village? Why here, on the estate? And in that particular spot?’

  Matteo’s expression clouded and she got a glimpse of the pain he was so good at hiding most of the time. ‘Abriana loved that shady area away from the villa. She used to go down there with a book and read for hours.’ His broad shoulders slumped, as if weighted down by the burden of sad memories and painful regrets. ‘I didn’t think she would want to spend eternity in a cold impersonal graveyard amongst strangers, but rather somewhere she felt at peace.’

  His actions showed a deeper sensitivity than Emmie had given him credit for. ‘It’s a beautiful spot...so tranquil and serene.’ She picked up her water glass for something to do with her hands. ‘Do you go there often?’

  Another shadow passed through his gaze. ‘Every day when I am home.’ Another rueful twist of his mouth. ‘Abriana would find it amusing that I have spent far more time down there now than I did with her when she was alive.’ His attempt at wry humour fell a little short of the mark and it showed in his tone and on his features.

  Emmie put her glass back down and reached for his forearm where it rested on the table. She gave his firm flesh a gentle press. ‘I’m sure she would appreciate the respect you pay her and Gabriel.’ Her own voice betrayed her see-sawing emotions. She was not normally a teary person—facing down death at a young age had taught her that tears couldn’t change difficult circumstances. But Matteo’s situation was so tragic, and the self-recrimination he flayed himself with was painful to witness. Her heart ached for Abriana who had died so young, and for little Gabriel, who had never felt the shelter of his mother’s arms in the two-hour span of his tiny life.

  Matteo placed his hand on top of hers. ‘Grazie.’ His voice was deep and husky, his eyes dark and tortured.

  Emmie bit down on her lower lip, trying to contain her feelings, but the sting of tears at the back of her eyes made her vision blur. ‘Did you get to...to hold him? To hold your son before he...?’ She found she couldn’t say the word, that dreadfully final word—died.

  Matteo’s dark gaze shone with moisture and her heart twisted again. ‘Si, I held him.’ His throat moved up and down over a tight swallow. ‘But not while he was alive. I got there too late. It is my biggest regret, and I cannot escape it, no matter how much I try.’ He suddenly scraped back his chair and stood. ‘Will you excuse me? Valentina will show you to your room. It’s been a long day and I’m sure you’re ready for bed. Goodnight.’ A shutter had come down over his features like a curtain on a stage, his tone polite but formal, distant and unreachable.

  ‘Goodnight...’ Emmie could barely get her voice above a mumble and, right at that moment, she didn’t trust her legs to get her out of the chair. She sat in silence for endless minutes, staring sightlessly at the remains of their meal and the flickering candle on the table, wondering if Matteo would ever come to a point when he would forgive himself and finally move on with his life. Or would he be chained to the past with shackles of regret and self-blame for ever?

  * * *

  Matteo strode out of the villa and into the moonlit garden, desperate for air, desperate to escape the pain of his failure to protect his own flesh and blood. It was a gut-wrenching pain that tortured him daily and never more so than when he was home on the estate. Every time he visited the graves of his wife and son, he revisited his failure. To think their lives had been cut short because he hadn’t been there when they’d needed him was an inescapable reality. He should have been driving Abriana to that appointment. She hadn’t been a confident driver and she had spoken to him about having ‘baby brain,’ when she lost concentration at times. How could he forgive himself for not doing all he could to keep she and the baby safe?

  He was shocked at how much he had revealed to Emmie in the short time he had known her. She had a way of getting under his guard with her active listening and gentle questioning, making him want to tell her more. Making him want to relieve himself of the burden of carrying this load of guilt that never seemed to lessen even though eight years had passed. But Emmie Woodcroft was not a grief counsellor, she was a professional match-maker, and he needed her to do her thing so he could keep the estate secure.

  But his attraction to her was proving harder and harder to resist. Emmie had asked him to kiss her and he had done so with such ardour it had shaken him to the core. She stirred in him a ferocious lust that stormed through his body like a red-hot fever. Her mouth was sweet, yet dangerously tempting. Everything about her was dangerously tempting. But his ardour was more than matched by hers for him. It had
been electrifying to hold her in his arms, to explore her soft and yielding mouth with his own. His body still hummed with the need she had awakened. It was distracting to have her here, to say the least, especially when she was supposed to be finding him a wife.

  A wayward thought drifted into his mind... You could have a fling with her in order to convince her to marry you.

  The more he thought about it, the more attractive the prospect became—and all the more deliciously tempting. There was a definite spark between them, a hot, bright spark he hadn’t felt quite as intensely with anyone else. Emmie Woodcroft, with her luscious mouth and spine-tingling touch, made him hard as stone and aching with forbidden longing. But perhaps, after offering her a short fling, Emmie might be more open to the idea of marrying him, thus helping him fulfil the terms of his father’s will.

  For, if he didn’t marry soon and gain an heir, he would lose the estate for ever. And that didn’t bear thinking about.

  * * *

  Emmie was sure she would never be able to get to sleep that night but she drifted off more or less as soon as her head landed on the satin-covered pillow. But some time during the wee hours she heard a sound that had her sitting bolt-upright in her bed. She shivered even though the room wasn’t cold. The moon shone in from the windows, and she strained her ears to listen out for a repeat of the sound.

  The night was silent for so long, she thought she must have dreamt the sound or maybe even uttered it herself. But then, just as she was about to settle back down, she heard it again—a low, deep howl of pain that tore at her heartstrings. She pushed back the covers and grabbed her wrap and hastily put it on over her nightgown, tied the waist ties and padded out to the corridor. The sound had come from Matteo’s suite a little further down the long, wide corridor, and before she could stop and think about what she was doing, or why she was even doing it, she went towards his closed door and gave it a soft rap with her knuckles.

  ‘Matteo?’

  There was no sound other than the rustling of bed linen, as if he was thrashing about. Emmie turned the handle and pushed the door open a fraction, the moonlight shining a wide, silver beam across Matteo’s rumpled bed, where he was lying in a state of agitation, although he was obviously still asleep. Emmie had had nightmares for years after her cancer scare, so recognised the signs immediately.

  She padded over to the bed and gently stroked him on the shoulder. ‘Matteo. Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.’

  He suddenly sat up and one of his strong hands flashed out and gripped her by the wrist. His hold was almost cruelly tight and a flicker of fear whipped through her. His hair was tousled, his upper body naked, the lower part covered by the sheet. Was he completely naked under that sheet? The thought sent a delicious thrill through her body. The ripped and coiled muscles of his abdomen made her fingers itch to caress them, to see if they were as hard as they looked.

  Matteo blinked as if to clear his vision but his hold was still painfully tight around her wrist. ‘What are you doing in my bedroom?’ His voice was a low growl, his eyes dark and brooding, the generous peppering of ink-black stubble around his jaw making him look menacing, almost dangerous.

  Emmie tried to ignore the leap of her pulse, the hot spurt of longing that smouldered in her core and the crackling of dark sexual energy that sparked in the air. ‘I heard you call out... I—I was worried about you.’ She tugged at his hold, wincing slightly. ‘Could you relax your grip a bit?’

  A flicker of shock passed over his features and his fingers fell away from her wrist. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was hoarse, his expression tortured with self-loathing. ‘Did I hurt you?’ He snapped on the bedside lamp and Emmie quickly covered the noticeably red marks on her wrist with her other hand.

  ‘No. Not at all. I’m fine, really.’

  ‘Let me see.’ His voice brooked no resistance and she meekly raised her wrist for his inspection. He swallowed deeply and ever so gently cradled her wrist in his hand, as if it were a fragile piece of blown glass. One of his fingers traced over each of the red marks, and then he lifted her wrist to his mouth and pressed a barely touching kiss to her skin. She shivered as his lips caressed each mark, her heart beginning to thrum with excitement, her lower body stirring with feminine longing.

  Matteo’s eyes met hers and the atmosphere tightened with an almost audible click. He released her wrist to stroke his hand down the curve of her cheek. ‘You shouldn’t have come in here.’ His voice contained a note of reprimand that somehow made her flesh tingle all over again.

  ‘Why?’

  His eyes drifted to her mouth. ‘I think you know why.’

  Emmie stroked her hand down his face, her soft skin catching on his stubble, making another frisson of delight course through her body. ‘What do you think might happen?’ She was a little shocked at how flirty she sounded, so recklessly flirty.

  His eyes moved between hers in a back and forth fashion, every now and again flicking to her mouth as if drawn there by an irresistible force. The same irresistible force that was drawing her gaze to his mouth, aching for him to press it to her own. ‘You might regret this in the morning.’ His voice was still pitched low and deep, so deep it sounded like the rumble of distant thunder.

  Emmie trailed her index finger across his top lip, slowly outlining the firm contour before moving to his fuller lower lip. ‘What is there to regret between two consenting adults who desire each other?’

  One side of his mouth tilted, his eyes glinting. He placed his hands on her hips, drawing her closer to him on the bed. ‘Nothing, if both adults agree on the terms.’

  Emmie licked her lips, her heart going like a hyper-active jackhammer in her chest. The smell of him was intoxicating, the press of his hands on her hips sending her senses into a tailspin, the thought of being intimate with him driving her wild with desire. ‘The no-strings thing?’ She injected her tone with playfulness, keen to show him she wanted nothing more than this stolen moment in time. Their relationship couldn’t go anywhere. How could it? She couldn’t give him what he most wanted and needed. ‘I’m okay with that.’

  Matteo pressed the thick pad of his thumb against her lower lip, then he moved it back and forth in a slow caress that sent buzzing sensations through her flesh. The wizardry of his touch was mesmerising. She had no thought of resisting him, no thought of putting a stop to this madness—all she could do was relish the throbbing energy that vibrated between them. ‘I can’t afford to be distracted right now,’ he said but she got the feeling he was saying it for his own benefit rather than hers.

  ‘I know, so why don’t we just enjoy the moment?’ Since when had she been a living-in-the-moment girl? Never. But this felt right. It felt necessary. It felt important enough to put all other counter arguments to one side. Emmie wanted him. Wanted to be wanted by him. Wanted to experience a stolen moment in his arms so she could feed off the memories later. She hadn’t been touched by a man other than a doctor or nurse since she’d been diagnosed all those years ago. Why shouldn’t she indulge in this moment of madness? This passion had unexpectedly flared between them and she desperately wanted to explore it, even though it was completely out of character for her to do so, especially with a client.

  But Matteo Vitale was not just a client—he was the first man who had made her feel powerful as a woman. He awakened in her a sensuality she hadn’t known she possessed.

  His frown deepened a fraction. ‘What happens in Umbria stays in Umbria. Is that what you’re saying?’

  Emmie moved her mouth closer to his, so close she could feel the warm waft of his breath against her lips. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

  Matteo made a rough sound in his throat and closed the distance between their mouths in a drugging kiss that made her gasp in delight. His lips moved with urgency against hers, his tongue demanding entry, and she opened to him with another whimper of pleasure. Their tongues met like
two hot flames from separate fires, causing a combustion of sensual energy that flared throughout her body in molten heat. His taste was both familiar yet exotically strange—a taste she was rapidly developing a hunger for like an addict does a forbidden drug. It sent her blood racing through her veins at breakneck speed, making every inch of her skin tingle with the need to feel his hands gliding over it.

  He pressed her down to the bed, half-covering her with his weight, his mouth still clamped to hers in a hungry kiss that spoke of a man only just holding on to control. How could she ever have thought she could resist him? The need he stirred in her was almost frightening. It was like a storm rampaging through her flesh—a storm of need and aching want that begged to be assuaged no matter what the consequences.

  Matteo lifted his mouth off hers to blaze a trail of red-hot kisses down her neck, his lips moving against her sensitive skin, sending a shower of shivers down her spine. ‘I want you so badly.’ His voice was a low, primal growl of male need that sent her heart rate soaring.

  ‘I want you too.’ Emmie could barely speak louder than a whisper, so intense was her need to feel his possession.

  He peeled away her wrap and slid a hand under the V-neck of her nightgown to access her naked breast, his touch sending her into raptures. Her nipple hardened like a pebble, her skin tingling as his warm hand cupped her breast. He bent his head and kissed the skin of her upper breast, his tongue moving against her in a teasing flicker that made her back arch off the bed. He took her nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, sending sparks of fire through her tender flesh. ‘So beautiful...’ His voice was sexily husky, his teeth grazing her skin as he moved to her other breast, subjecting it to the same exquisite torture.

  Emmie stroked a hand down the marble-hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, her heart thudding like a tribal drum. She could already feel the rise of him against her thigh and desperately wanted to touch him. He made a growling sound of pleasure and it emboldened her to pull away the sheet that was draped over his hips. She took him in her hand and gazed down at his magnificence, her own body preparing in its secretive, sensual way. The liquid dew of arousal formed between her thighs, a persistent throb of want that intensified with each heart-stopping moment. ‘You’re so...so big...’ Her voice caught as another frantic wave of longing swept through her.