The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  No, it wasn’t, if you had the money to pay a horde of people to organise everything.

  ‘Like to hear what I have in mind?’

  She let her fingers traverse the indentations of his back, then conducted a slow sweep to one hip. ‘Why is it I get the feeling you’ve already set a plan in motion?’

  ‘A ceremony in the gardens at my home, a celebrant, family and immediate friends.’

  It sounded remarkably simple. And romantic. Francesca could almost see it. A red carpet rolled out on the spacious lawn, glorious stands of trailing roses framing the gazebo. She even had a dress she’d never worn that would be perfect.

  She sensed the faint tightening of muscles beneath her straying fingers, felt the increased beat of his heart and was unable to continue teasing him. ‘OK.’

  ‘OK? That’s it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said gently. ‘There’s just one consideration.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I’m due in Milan, remember? Then Paris.’

  ‘My darling Francesca,’ Dominic declared with deceptive indolence, ‘I’ll not only be sharing your flight—’ he placed his lips against a particularly vulnerable part of her anatomy and felt her indrawn breath ‘—I’ll be standing at the rear of every function room wherever you appear on the catwalk.’ He suckled gently and felt her fingers rake through his hair. ‘And occupying your bed every night.’

  ‘Mmm,’ she murmured with satisfaction. ‘I was hoping for that.’

  His laugh was low and smoky. ‘Should I be brave and ask which has priority?’

  As if he needed to ask! Her lips curved to form a winsome smile. ‘It’s nice to share travel with a companion.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Uh-huh. And of course it will be reassuring to know you’re in the audience.’ The smile widened. ‘Although you should be warned that designers are temperamental creatures who won’t tolerate distractions.’

  ‘Guess I don’t get to go backstage.’

  ‘Not if you value your life.’

  ‘They’re likely to get physical?’ He was deliberately baiting her, and she responded in kind.

  ‘No, but I might.’ Too many women in various stages of undress wasn’t something she felt inclined to share with him.

  ‘You’ve left out something.’

  ‘I have?’ She gave a tiny yelp as he rolled onto his back and carried her with him. A slow, sweet smile lightened her features and she lifted her arms high in a graceful cat-like stretch. ‘Oh, yes. You get to share my hotel suite each night.’

  ‘Witch,’ Dominic accorded lazily.

  It was a while before Francesca could summon sufficient energy to talk.

  ‘A rooftop apartment in Paris, and a delayed honeymoon would be a nice way to bring my career to a close.’

  Something jerked at his insides, and he carefully controlled it. ‘You’re thinking of giving up modelling?’

  She hadn’t needed to give it much thought. ‘Professionally.’

  There was silence for a few seemingly long seconds. ‘Don’t you want to ask me why?’ Francesca queried gently.

  This was one time he found it difficult to coordinate the right words. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I want to have your child. Children,’ she corrected. ‘That is, if you—’

  Dominic didn’t allow her to finish as he brought her head down to his, and his mouth was an evocative instrument as he kissed her with such passionate intensity it melted her bones.

  When at last he lifted his head, she could only press her cheek into the curve of his neck, and a slight tremor shook her slender frame as he cupped her face and shifted it so that he could see her expression in the slim stream of moonlight arcing across the room.

  ‘You’ll make a beautiful mother,’ he said gently.

  She felt the prick of tears, and consciously banked them down, but not before he’d glimpsed the faint diamond-glitter drops on the edge of her lashes.

  His mouth possessed hers with a soft, evocative hunger that was so incredibly tender she could almost feel her whole body sigh in silent acceptance of a joy so tumultuous it transcended any rationale.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE limousine carrying Francesca, Gabbi and Katherine swept smoothly across the Harbour Bridge, then headed towards Beauty Point.

  It was a glorious summer afternoon, the sky a clear azure with only a nebulous drift of cloud to mar its perfection.

  Francesca lifted a hand and absently fingered the single strand of pearls at her neck. It held a pendant, a pearl teardrop surrounded by diamonds. There were earstuds to match. Dominic’s gift to his prospective bride.

  Her gift to him was simplistic, but meaningful. A secret smile curved her lips, and her eyes softened as she imagined his reaction.

  Her fingers sought the slim gold chain, and failed to find it. A slight frown creased her forehead. It must be directly beneath the pearls. She remembered taking it off before she showered...and had a mental image of lifting the pearls from their flat jeweller’s box.

  She’d left the chain on the bedside pedestal.

  ‘We have to go back.’ The words slipped out before she was even aware she’d voiced them.

  ‘But we’re almost there,’ Gabbi protested. And at the same time Katherine expressed in consternation, ‘Francesca, we’ll be late.’

  Somehow she didn’t think Dominic would mind. Although first she needed to instruct the driver, then she had to make a call from the car phone. When both were achieved, she sank back against the cushioned seat.

  ‘Are you going to tell us what this is all about?’ Gabbi asked curiously.

  ‘I left Dominic’s gift at my apartment.’

  ‘You could have given it to him later,’ Gabbi rationalised.

  ‘Yes,’ Francesca agreed, ‘I could. Except it wouldn’t be the same.’

  Thirty minutes later the limousine drew to a halt at the apex of Dominic’s driveway, and Francesca slid out from the rear seat to stand still as Gabbi and Katherine ran a last-minute check on the exquisitely pale champagne gold sheath dress with its cream antique lace overlay Francesca had chosen to wear for her wedding.

  Gabbi grinned and gave her approval. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

  Rick was waiting inside the house, and he came forward the instant they entered the lobby.

  ‘Francesca.’ He caught hold of her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘Very much OK,’ she assured gently as she leaned forward and brushed his cheek with her own. She made an attempt to lighten the situation. ‘That is, if Dominic is still waiting out there for me.’

  ‘With considerably more patience than most men would be able to summon in similar circumstances,’ Rick accorded drily.

  ‘Then let’s not keep him waiting any longer, shall we?’ Francesca suggested lightly.

  The gardens were beautiful, the flowers and shrubs clipped to perfection, and the lawn a carpet of green.

  There were a few guests seated behind members of her immediate family, but she hardly saw them. Her focus was centred on the white-painted gazebo and the tall, dark-suited figure who stood watching her progress as she walked the length of red carpet with Rick at her side.

  Francesca looked into Dominic’s eyes and saw everything she needed to know laid bare. Her own eyes misted, and there was a slight quiver to her lips as she summoned a slow, sweet smile.

  A few more steps and she’d be able to place her hand in his, feel its warm strength and accept what he offered for the rest of her life. There was no lingering doubt or apprehension, only love.

  Dominic gathered her in close and kissed her with such passion it was all she could do to keep a hold on her sanity.

  It could have lasted seconds or minutes, she had no recollection of the passage of time.

  Minutes, she decided, as she heard the sound of faint amusement from those assembled behind her.

  ‘Mr Andrea, it’s usual to kiss the bride after the ceremon
y.’

  ‘Believe me, I intend to do it then, too,’ Dominic drawled with musing indolence.

  The celebrant chuckled, then cleared his throat. ‘Shall we begin?’

  ‘Could you wait just a moment?’ Francesca requested. ‘There’s something I need to do first.’

  She turned towards Dominic, caught his faintly raised eyebrow, and smiled as she lifted both hands to her neck. Seconds later she placed the long thin gold chain holding Mario’s wedding ring in the palm of his hand.

  Would he realise the significance of her action? Know that by gifting him Mario’s ring she was willingly giving Dominic her heart? All of it.

  Francesca wasn’t aware she was holding her breath until his mouth curved into a warm smile, his eyes liquid with comprehension, and she released it shakily, only to catch it again as he lifted her left hand to his lips and kissed the bare finger awaiting the placement of his wedding band.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said gently.

  ‘I thought it would mean more to you than anything else I could gift you,’ she responded softly, adding with a faintly wicked smile, ‘At this moment.’

  His eyes flared, then became incredibly dark.

  Francesca turned a radiant face towards the celebrant. ‘We’re ready.’

  It was a simple ceremony, and afterwards Dominic kissed his wife with such incredible gentleness the men among the guests shifted uncomfortably and the women were seen to blink rather rapidly.

  The food was superb, with catering staff serving at tables set out on the wide terrace with its panoramic view of the harbour. The cake was cut and photographs were taken.

  Francesca barely remembered tasting a morsel, and she merely sipped from a flute of champagne.

  She was supremely conscious of Dominic seated at her side, the touch of his hand, the way his body brushed against her own. His eyes, those dark, almost black depths, liquid with emotion whenever she caught his gaze, tugged at an answering need deep inside her.

  A musing smile curved her lips as he leaned his head close to her own.

  ‘I guess it wouldn’t do to leave early.’

  She turned her head slightly and brushed her lips against his. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Damn,’ he cursed lightly.

  Her lashes curled upwards, revealing a wicked gleam in those stunning liquid brown eyes. ‘Another hour won’t kill you.’

  His mouth curved in answering humour. ‘It might.’ His lips feathered close to her ear. ‘I have this pressing need to...’ In a voice as soft as the finest silk he proceeded to explain what he meant to do the instant they were alone.

  Her body began to melt, curving into his like warm wax. ‘I think we should mingle,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Otherwise we’re in danger of shocking the guests.’

  His mouth drifted over hers, savoured briefly, then he caught hold of her hand.

  Together they circled the tables, lingering, laughing, until it was time to change, collect their bags and slip into the limousine that would transport them to a city centre hotel.

  ‘This is...’ Francesca paused in the centre of a sumptuous penthouse suite. ‘Overwhelming.’

  Dominic closed the door, then walked to where she stood. ‘You overwhelm me.’ He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek. He didn’t care that they were slightly unsteady as he glimpsed the emotion evident in her wonderfully luminous eyes. For him. Only him.

  ‘I love you,’ he said gently. ‘Today. All the tomorrows.’ He traced the curve of her mouth with his thumb, felt its soft fullness, and wanted the sweetness inside. ‘I can promise never to willingly hurt you. You have my heart, my soul.’

  She ached so much, so deeply, that her eyes hurt with the strength of her emotions. ‘I didn’t think love could happen twice.’ She had to blink to keep the prickle of threatening tears at bay.

  He smiled and drew her close, his breath catching as her arms lifted to his shoulders then crept to encircle his neck.

  Her lips touched his, opening like the petals of a rose as he took possession, deepening the kiss until she lost recognition of everything except the man.

  He filled her senses and made her want as he offered the promise of heaven on earth. More. He delivered. And then some.

  But then, so did she. Willingly, wantonly. Gifting him more than her body. Everything.

  Tonight there was none of the urgency, little of a driven need. Just a long, slow loving that took them to the heights several times and beyond. They slept a little, then woke to exult in each other again until the sunlight chased away the shadows of night.

  Francesca lifted a hand, pushed back her tangled hair, then she met his eyes and smiled. ‘I love you.’

  Her pulse-beat had returned to normal after a passion so incredibly tumultuous every nerve-end still hummed with acute sensation.

  ‘Do you know how much it means to me to have you say that?’ Dominic queried huskily.

  His hand began to drift as his fingers traced a lazy pattern across her stomach, explored her navel, then moved to tease the whorls of hair at the apex between her thighs.

  The scent of her drove him crazy. Her skin was so delicate, so fragile, he almost felt afraid to touch her. Yet she shared his hunger, and exulted in his possession, until he forgot who he was in the need to gift her not only his body but his mind. It was frightening to give up so much power, to lay oneself so open and bare. Yet he doubted she would ever use the advantage against him.

  His head lowered to her breast and he began grazing a tender nipple with the edge of his teeth.

  The tug of renewed desire arrowed through her body, and she trailed her fingers across his back, exploring the muscular ridges, aware of the strength and the power, and wondered for the nth time how she had existed, believed she’d lived, before meeting this man who was now her husband.

  Almost as if he read her mind his head lifted and he settled his mouth over hers, soothing, gentling, marking her as his own as surely as if he’d branded her flesh with fire.

  The strident peal of the telephone sounded loud in the silence of the room, and Dominic shifted, then reached for the receiver.

  ‘Our wake-up call?’ Francesca hazarded as Dominic replaced the handset.

  ‘We have fifteen minutes to shower and dress before room service deliver our breakfast.’

  She looked at him with mock solemnity. ‘It was your idea to book an early-morning flight to Athens.’

  His eyes held a wicked gleam. ‘Ah, but I had the foresight to organise a stop-over en route.’

  A smile tugged the edge of her mouth. ‘How thoughtful.’ The temptation to tease him a little was irresistible. ‘Shall we hit the shower separately or together?’

  ‘You really want me to answer that?’

  She slid out from the bed and walked unself-consciously towards the adjoining bathroom. When she reached the door she turned and shot him a tantalising smile. ‘Can’t stand the heat, huh?’

  She’d barely made it to the shower cubicle when firm hands fastened around her waist, lifting, turning her until she was positioned astride his hips.

  A laugh bubbled up in her throat, then died as he bestowed upon her a brief, hard kiss before lowering his mouth to settle at the acutely sensitive pulse at the base of her throat.

  She shuddered as sensation spiralled through her body, and she arched up against him, groaning out loud as his teeth closed over one swollen nipple, teasing, suckling, until she was almost driven to the brink of sanity.

  Francesca cried out when he shifted his head and rendered a similar salutation to the twin peak.

  His eyes were impossibly dark when they finally met hers, and she felt herself drowning in those dark depths, seriously adrift as his mouth lowered to possess hers in a kiss that echoed the deep, pulsing thrust of his powerful body.

  She rose with him, wrapping her arms round his neck as she held on and gloried in their shared passion.

  And afterwards she buried her lips in the hollow of his neck, t
oo enervated to move as her racing heart slowed and steadied to its normal beat.

  His hand travelled slowly up and down her spine, soothing as he pressed his lips to her hair.

  It was heaven to rest against him like this, to feel that what they shared meshed the physical and spiritual in a rare coupling that few were fortunate to attain.

  She felt him burgeon inside her, sensed the increased urgency, and rode with him one more time, slowly, gently, as if they had all the time in the world.

  A hard double knock on the outer door brought them both back to the reality of the day, and a faint curse escaped Dominic’s lips as he carefully lifted her down onto her feet.

  ‘Breakfast.’ He reached for a towelling robe and tugged it on, then he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her faintly swollen mouth. ‘Stay there. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  She could imagine him crossing the suite, opening the door, signalling for the waiter to deposit the tray.

  The thought of cereal and fruit, scrambled eggs and toast gave her an appetite, and she reached for the dial, set it to warm and released the lever.

  Seconds later the glass door slid open and Dominic stepped into the stall, removing the soap from her fingers as he lathered every inch of her skin. Then he held out the soap. ‘Your turn.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Francesca denied, laughing softly. ‘You’re on your own.’ She reached up and pulled down his head for one brief, soft kiss. ‘Too many challenges and we’ll not only miss breakfast, we’ll miss the plane.’ She shot him a dazzling smile. ‘Besides, I’m food hungry.’

  He let her go, with a devilish smile that hinted her escape was only temporary.

  As the giant jet taxied down the runway Dominic reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips.

  ‘No regrets?’

  Francesca looked at those strong features, the raw emotion evident in his eyes. She lifted shaky fingers to his cheek, then trailed them to the edge of his mouth, and stifled a gasp as he drew the tips in between his teeth. ‘Not one.’

  He reached for her, uncaring of the fellow passengers sharing the first-class cabin, or the hostess who was waiting to serve them.