Bedded For the Italian's Pleasure

by Anne Mather

  ‘So why is he marrying you?’ Rafe asked, unable to prevent himself, and Juliet caught her breath.

  ‘Because he loves me, I suppose,’ she said, wishing she sounded more convincing. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘I don’t need to.’ Rafe had reverted to sarcasm. ‘Oh, Juliet, when will you ever learn?’

  She gasped then. ‘You know nothing about it.’

  ‘Don’t I?’ His conviction disturbed her. ‘I’d say I know Cary better than you do.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Juliet knew she had to say something to defend herself. ‘So when was the last time you slept with him? I’d be interested to know.’

  Rafe scowled. ‘I don’t get into bed with reptiles.’

  ‘Nor do I.’ Juliet hated the smug look on his dark face. Their earlier civility seemed to have completely evaporated, and she despised herself anew for wishing things could be different. ‘Besides,’ she added, in an effort to be as objectionable as he was, ‘I didn’t think you were that choosy. Not judging by your current—what was it you called it—work-in-progress?’

  Rafe was incensed. ‘I hope you’re not implying that I’m sleeping with Liv Holderness?’

  ‘You’re not?’ Juliet managed to put just the right note of ridicule into her voice. ‘Well, she wants you to. The woman can’t take her eyes off your butt!’

  Rafe’s expression darkened with ominous intent, but then the humour of the situation brought an unwilling tilt to his lips. ‘Now, I wonder why you noticed that,’ he murmured softly. ‘Isn’t Cary enough for you?’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘That’s a disgusting suggestion!’

  Rafe was unrepentant, but he knew he’d already said more than he’d intended. All the same, it galled him that she couldn’t see through Cary’s lies. Dammit, the man was a walking contradiction.

  Abandoning any thought of continuing their conversation, he went to restore the painting and the sketch of Lady Elinor to their original positions. He had to keep his mind on his work and nothing else, he warned himself. In another day or so she’d be gone.

  Juliet, meanwhile, was fighting the urge to kick his provocative backside. He’d presented her with the perfect opportunity when he bent to straighten the canvases he’d moved earlier, his jeans outlining tight buttocks and long, powerful legs. Who did he think he was to speak to her like that? If it wasn’t such a ludicrous notion, she’d have to wonder if he wanted her himself.

  Which was so not true.

  ‘I’m going back upstairs,’ she said abruptly, deciding there was no point in trying to reason with him. ‘I’ve seen all I came to see.’

  Rafe turned, straightening. ‘Well, that’s something, I suppose.’

  Juliet’s lips tightened. ‘You just love making fun of me, don’t you?’

  Rafe’s mouth curled. ‘Honey, you don’t need me to do that,’ he retorted harshly, before the reality of what he was saying occurred to him. But hell, she was too naïve for her own good and, if he didn’t say anything, it was a fair bet that nobody else would. Particularly the old lady.

  ‘You know—’ her voice shook a little, but she carried on anyway ‘—you criticise Cary but, from where I’m standing, you’re not so different.’

  ‘Like hell!’

  ‘I mean it.’ She gained confidence from his angry rejoinder. ‘You both think you know everything there is to know about women, but you don’t.’

  Rafe shook his head. ‘Is that what you think this is about?’

  She held up her head. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Face it, Juliet, you know nothing about men. OK, you’ve been married and divorced and you should have gained some insight into the opposite sex, but you haven’t. If you had, I wouldn’t feel so bloody responsible.’

  Juliet’s eyes widened. ‘There’s no need for you to feel any responsibility towards me, Mr Marchese. I’m quite old enough to know what I’m doing, whatever you may think.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  He was dismissive and Juliet lost her temper. ‘You know what I think, Mr Marchese?’ she demanded. ‘I think all this sanctimonious talk about responsibility is just a cover for what you really want.’

  ‘Which is?’ His tone was icy.

  ‘The opportunity to oust Cary from his rightful place as your grandmother’s legitimate heir,’ she retorted recklessly and then almost collapsed with fear when his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

  ‘Take that back,’ he began grimly, but as she pressed her other hand to her throat, his expression grew even more menacing. ‘Dios,’ he muttered, his eyes darkening until they were almost black. ‘That ring!’ He’d noticed her pretend-engagement ring, and now he reached out and pulled her hand towards him. ‘Where did you get it?’ he grated, his thumb pressing the stone painfully into her finger. ‘Did Cary give it to you?’

  Juliet swallowed, all her earlier bravado doused by the anguish in his face. ‘I—Lady Elinor—g-gave it to me,’ she stammered, his hard fingers burning into her flesh. She moistened dry lips. ‘I’ve—I’ve only borrowed it.’

  ‘Borrowed it?’

  Rafe stared down at her with disbelieving eyes and she found herself stammering out an explanation even though he had no earthly right to expect one. ‘We—Cary hasn’t bought me a ring—yet,’ she went on unsteadily. ‘And your—your grandmother said that with the Holdernesses coming for dinner this evening I—I should be wearing one.’

  ‘And she gave you this?’ Rafe knew he shouldn’t question the old lady’s actions, but he couldn’t deny the swirl of resentment that was building inside him.

  ‘It’s only borrowed,’ Juliet said again, not understanding his attitude. But something was wrong here, and when she tried to pull away Rafe lifted her hand to study the glowing stone in closer detail.

  ‘You really think Cary will allow you to return this?’ he asked harshly. ‘Forgive me if I say I doubt that. I doubt that very much.’

  Juliet shook her head. ‘Surely that’s Lady Elinor’s business, not yours. It’s her ring.’

  ‘It was my mother’s,’ said Rafe flatly. A bitter smile crossed his dark face. ‘The old lady gave it to her on her twenty-first birthday.’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Juliet was horrified. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘No.’ Rafe believed her.

  ‘She—I—Lady Elinor said she’d been given the ring when she was a girl and I never dreamt—’

  ‘Forget it.’ Abruptly Rafe released her, backing off until there was at least an arm’s length between them. ‘I shouldn’t have reacted as I did. The old lady got the ring back when my mother—when she died. I didn’t want it and I guess she feels she has the right to do what she likes with it now.’

  ‘But…’ Juliet’s tongue circled her upper lip. ‘I’ll give it back,’ she said impulsively. ‘I don’t really need a ring—’

  ‘And have her blame me for ruining her evening? I don’t think so.’ Rafe was sardonic. ‘It’s not that important. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

  But it was important and Juliet had the feeling that she knew why Lady Elinor had been so pleased when she’d chosen this particular ring. She’d known Rafe would see it, would recognise it. That was why she’d asked her if he’d seen the ring last night. But Juliet wanted no part of any plan to hurt him.

  Shaking her head again, she moved blindly towards the door. She wanted to get out of the studio, out of Polgellin Bay, out of Cary’s life and away from Lady Elinor’s machinations. The situation was so much more complex than she had ever imagined and she’d had enough.

  ‘I’ll see you upstairs,’ she said, glancing back at him, and then let out a startled cry when her foot encountered an unexpected obstacle. She’d been so eager to reach the door that led onto the stairs that she hadn’t been looking where she was going, and before she knew it she’d stumbled into the canvas he’d placed against the wall when they came in. The canvas teetered, and she grabbed for it, more intent on saving it than herself. And as she did so
a handful of sketches fluttered from behind it, spreading themselves decoratively across the floor.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AFTERWARDS, she wasn’t sure whether it was the sight of the sketches or the fact that she was still unbalanced that had caused her to sway towards the wall. Certainly, the images of Liv Holderness nude body had made her feel slightly faint. Dear God, they were having an affair. Why else would she be reclining on his couch completely naked? No wonder she behaved with such a proprietary air towards him. Didn’t he care that she was a married woman?

  But then, he hadn’t cared that she and Cary were supposed to be engaged either, she reminded herself, a feeling of dizziness making her feel really sick. How dared he criticise Cary? Compared to Rafe…

  But her head was swimming and the heat in the room made her feel as if there was no air. She turned bewilderedly, her face mirroring her confusion, and with a muffled oath Rafe lunged across the floor.

  ‘Stupid woman,’ he muttered, his arm sliding about her waist, stabilising her with the muscled strength of his body. ‘Why the hell didn’t you look where you were going? I can just imagine what your fiancé would have thought if you’d reappeared sporting a black eye.’

  Juliet was trembling so badly, she could hardly find the words to defend herself. And the truth was, without his support she might still have slid bonelessly to the floor. His heavy breathing revealed the effort he’d made to reach her before she lost consciousness, and it was hard not to feel grateful for his help.

  ‘I should think Cary’s opinion is the least of your worries,’ she managed at last, trying to steel herself to break away. ‘Does Lord Holderness know you’re making nude sketches of his wife?’

  Rafe sighed. He’d known this was coming, of course, and he cursed himself for leaving the sketches lying about. ‘No,’ he admitted at last, resisting her feeble efforts to get free of him. Then, deciding he had no choice but to trust her, ‘I’m painting her portrait for her husband’s birthday. It’s supposed to be a surprise, so I’d be grateful if you’d keep it to yourself.’

  Juliet caught her breath, and this time she managed to turn and face him. ‘You expect me to believe that?’ she demanded. ‘My God, you must think I came down with the last shower of rain!’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ said Rafe doggedly, and when she would have turned away he caught her wrist and brought her back to him. ‘I don’t lie,’ he told her harshly. ‘If I was having an affair with Liv Holderness, do you think I’d be here alone with you?’

  Juliet took a deep breath. ‘I asked to see your work,’ she said.

  ‘And I was reluctant to show you.’

  ‘Because of Liv.’

  ‘No, because of this,’ he muttered thickly and, pulling her into his arms, he lowered his head to hers.

  He’d taken advantage of her weakness, she told herself later. That was why she didn’t stop him when he parted her lips with his tongue. With the unmistakable pressure of his erection pushing against her stomach, it was far too easy to give in to emotions that had been heightened by their argument. And when she felt his thumbs pushing against the undersides of her breasts, she knew an urgent need to push her hips against his.

  Her senses were reeling, and somehow the knowledge that she was supposed to be Cary’s fiancée got lost in the sensual pleasure he was arousing in her. The force of her own desire overcame any latent outrage. She wanted him to kiss her. Dear God, she wanted him to do so much more than that.

  As his mouth ravaged hers, as his tongue pushed deep into her throat, Rafe felt the wild excitement building inside him take possession of his reason. He wanted her, he thought. He wanted her with an urgency he couldn’t ever remember feeling before. They were alone here. Could he really rely on neither Liv nor Cary interrupting them? He would like to take her on the couch and wipe the images of Liv’s naked body out of her mind.

  ‘I want to make love to you,’ he said, his lips finding the moist curve of her neck, his teeth nipping her flesh with sensual urgency. Juliet moaned low in her throat and Rafe’s hands shook a little as he peeled her shirt off her shoulders. Her skin was so soft, the narrow straps of her camisole barely concealing the tender peaks of her breasts.

  He trailed a finger from her jawline, down across her throat to the dusky hollow just visible above the neckline of the camisole. Then he bent and followed his finger with his tongue, licking her and tasting the slightly salty tang of her damp skin. They were both sweating, he thought. Dammit, his shirt was sticking to his back. He’d never felt such emotional overload, never felt the blood thundering so thickly through his veins.

  ‘You taste so good,’ he said, and her hands groped blindly for his face, hot fingers cradling his cheeks, her thumbs moving sensuously against his lips. He couldn’t help himself; he opened his mouth and bit on the soft pad until she whimpered, and then he tipped the straps of her camisole off her shoulders and buried his face between her breasts.

  Juliet was incapable of resisting. Her body felt hot and alive, alert to every sensual move he made. With his leg braced between her thighs, that sensitive part of her was wet and wanting. His erection pressed against the crotch of her pants, hard and throbbing with a life of its own.

  Rafe was aching with the need to be inside her. All he could think about was burying himself in her wet heat and letting her muscles squeeze him until it hurt. He deepened the kiss, backing her up against the wall beside the canvases, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her, pushing his tongue even further into her mouth.

  Juliet felt consumed by his hunger. She wound her arms about his neck, pulling him against her, welcoming the carnal rush when his body pinned hers to the wall. She wriggled impatiently, wanting him to touch her everywhere. And particularly that place between her legs that ached for his possession.

  ‘God, keep still!’ Rafe muttered hoarsely. He was aware he’d never been so close to losing control in his life. If she didn’t stop moving about…

  But suddenly, Juliet was stiffening. It was as if the sudden harshness of his words had broken the spell of madness that had gripped them both. ‘What did you say?’ she demanded unsteadily, her palms now flat against his pectoral muscles, pushing him away, when only moments before she’d been writhing in sexual need.

  ‘Dammit, Juliet—’

  ‘Let me go!’

  Rafe gritted his teeth. ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘I do mean it. Let me go!’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake—’

  Juliet clenched her teeth. Her shoes weren’t stilettos, like Liv’s, but he was barefoot, and when she ground her heel into his instep he howled with pain. She felt a moment’s remorse as he recoiled and grabbed his foot, hopping on one leg as he sought to restore some feeling to it, but it did give her the opportunity to step away from the wall and straighten her clothes.

  ‘What did you expect?’ she asked him bitterly. ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you were trying to do. You thought that by seducing me you could deflect my contempt for the way you’re treating Liv’s husband. You—you assaulted me. You are totally—totally reprehensible!’

  ‘Oh, grow up!’ Rafe was feeling particularly aggrieved at this moment. Apart from the fact that he was suffering the after-effects of her attack, there was a distinct feeling of frustration in his groin. ‘My kissing you had nothing to do with those sketches of Liv Holderness. For pity’s sake, it’s what I do. I’m supposed to be a painter!’

  Juliet sniffed. ‘All the same—’

  ‘All the same, nothing.’ Rafe decided he had nothing to lose by telling the truth. ‘You didn’t practically cripple me because I kissed you. You just realised you were enjoying yourself and you felt guilty for deceiving Danger Mouse upstairs!’

  * * *

  Rafe was still in a black mood long after Liv had departed.

  What he told himself was to his relief Juliet had mentioned nothing of what had passed between them in the studio and she and Cary had left soon afterwards. Liv,
however, had been suspicious, but wary, keeping any opinions she might have about their prolonged absence to herself. She knew him well enough to guess that something had happened, but she had more sense than to try and open that particular can of worms today.

  Nevertheless, his mood had meant that working was difficult, and with a brief word of apology Rafe had suggested they postpone their appointment until after the weekend was over. ‘I’ve got a headache,’ he had said, by way of an excuse, though what he really had was a hard-on that refused to go away.

  A cold shower took care of it eventually and he was just stepping out of the cubicle when the phone rang. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it about his hips, and then strode with some impatience to answer it.

  His foot pained him as he paced across the floor and that didn’t improve his temper. ‘Yes,’ he said shortly, hoping it wasn’t a client, and then stifled an oath when he heard Lady Elinor’s imperious tones.

  ‘Raphael! Raphael, is that you?’

  Rafe’s jaw tightened. ‘As this is my phone in my apartment, I’d say it was a better than average chance that it’d be me,’ he responded tersely. ‘What do you want, old lady? I thought you’d be too busy to talk to me today.’

  There was a long silence and Rafe wondered if he’d been too curt with her. Dammit, it wasn’t her fault that he was in danger of screwing up his life. He didn’t know what it was about Juliet, but she pushed all the wrong buttons. Or were they all the right ones? Either way, it would be safer if he didn’t see her again.

  ‘You sound as if you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet,’ said Lady Elinor eventually, and he realised, that whatever it was she wanted, she was prepared to humour him to get it. ‘Have you seen Cary?’

  Rafe expelled a sharp breath, the images her words had evoked causing an unwelcome tightness in his gut. ‘Why would you ask that?’ he queried, wondering if Juliet had said something, after all. But no. She and Cary had hardly had time to get back to Tregellin, always assuming that was where they had been heading.