Bedded For the Italian's Pleasure

by Anne Mather

  He moved slowly at first, withdrawing almost to the point of separation and then slowly pushing into her again. She moaned as he did so, and he bent to silence her mouth with kisses. Then, caressing her, he repeated the exercise, and felt her muscles tighten around him with obvious intent.

  The response she’d shown when he’d first kissed her showed now in the urgency with which she arched against him. And, just as he’d hoped, her nervous breathing quickened to match his own. With a little cry, she wound her legs around him, and he sank so deeply into her that he was sure he’d touched her womb.

  But his own needs were becoming rampant and, as she bucked and jerked against him, he let his own feelings find release. He felt the drenching heat of her orgasm only moments before he shuddered in ecstasy, spilling his seed inside her in an agony of relief…

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BLOODY hell!

  Rafe opened his eyes to find himself slumped on top of Juliet’s supine body. He was lying between her legs, which were spread confidingly. His semi-arousal was still buried deep inside her, only needing the slightest encouragement to harden into urgent life.

  Which he mustn’t allow to happen!

  He stifled the oath that sprang to his lips and closed his eyes against the enormity of his transgression. Despite his determination not to do so, he’d made love to his cousin’s fiancée. All the contempt he’d felt for Cary’s behaviour was now heaped upon his own head.

  He opened his mouth to say something, to attempt some pathetic effort at an apology, and then realised Juliet was fast asleep. With one leg curled around one of his, and a hand lying limply on his thigh, she was dead to the world. Obviously exhausted, he thought guiltily, and totally unaware of the possible consequences of what they’d done.

  Well, for the moment, anyway, Rafe amended, realising that happy state wouldn’t last long. As soon as she opened her eyes, as soon as she discovered how he’d taken advantage of her inexperience, she’d be horrified. She might never forgive him. She might never understand how much he hated himself right now.

  How could he have done such a thing? All right. She was delicious: sexy, yet strangely innocent, and oh, so very sweet. Too good for Cary, he thought with an uncharacteristic surge of arrogance. Cary would never make her happy. He was much too selfish a man to care about anybody but himself.

  But was he any better?

  He didn’t have an answer, the question a chilling reminder that he was the one who’d seduced her, not his cousin. He might have come up here with the best of intentions. He might have meant to apologise for the way he’d behaved earlier. But what he’d actually done was take her to bed, which was the most treacherous kind of betrayal.

  He had to move. Apart from anything else, he was getting a cramp in his thigh. Lying here, hoping that she’d wake up and let him do it all again, was purely evil. If he had any sense he’d get out of there, before the old lady finished her game and started wondering what had happened to them. Somehow, he couldn’t see Lady Elinor approving of his actions, when she’d been at pains to ensure that Juliet and Cary shouldn’t share a room. Not that he felt much loyalty towards the old lady at the moment.

  Although he got to his knees without too much effort and could have easily grabbed his clothes off the floor and dressed in the sitting room, ridiculously, he lingered. He hated the thought of leaving Juliet alone. That would give her entirely the wrong impression. However base his actions had been, he still had some self-respect left.

  Not that he thought she’d regard his belated concern as any kind of comfort. Salving his conscience, maybe. What the hell was he hanging about for? Absolution? It wasn’t going to happen. She’d never forgive him. He might just as well grab his clothes and crawl back under his stone.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  He had one leg in his boxer shorts when Juliet’s drowsy words arrested him. Quickly shoving in his other leg, he hauled them up and turned around. ‘Um—I think I ought to go and see what’s going on,’ he muttered, wishing he had a more satisfactory explanation. He should have anticipated what he was going to say before he started getting dressed.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  Juliet pushed herself up on her elbows, the coverlet, which he’d edged over her, falling away to reveal her full, perfect breasts. Dear God, he thought, this wasn’t fair. He was only human. Didn’t she realise what looking at her was doing to him? Oh, yes, she must. Those sleepy eyes had dropped to the tented bulge beneath his shorts.

  ‘In—in the normal way, no,’ he said now, finding the conversation almost esoteric. ‘But it’s possible that—’ he had to say it ‘—that your fiancé might be looking for you.’

  ‘And that matters?’ She was so cool, he had the feeling he’d stepped into some alternative universe. ‘Oh, I get it,’ she went on contemptuously, dragging the offending coverlet back into place. ‘It’s OK to have sex with your cousin’s fiancée, so long as you don’t get found out, right? God help me, that I might get the wrong idea.’

  Rafe closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he’d never started this. He should have gone when he’d had half a chance. Before he put his foot in his mouth and made her think he regretted what had happened. He did, of course, though not for the reasons she thought.

  All the same, she was Cary’s fiancée. That should mean something to her, shouldn’t it? He might think the guy was a louse, but she’d got engaged to him. Where was this crazy conversation going? However attractive the idea, he couldn’t believe she was prepared to ditch Cary just because she’d had sex with him.

  But he had to find out before he blew his cover completely.

  ‘What are you saying?’ he asked now, reaching for his trousers. ‘Are you telling me that what we just shared changes the way you feel about Cary? We’ve known each other for two days, Juliet. Do you expect me to believe you’ve fallen madly in love with me in that time and you want to have my baby? It sounds very flattering, but are you really going to break your engagement so we can be together?’

  Juliet swallowed, the whole weight of her own deception descending on her shoulders. Of course, he was right. Anything else was pure fantasy on her part. Besides, it wasn’t what he wanted; that was obvious. So it was just as well she didn’t have a choice.

  ‘I—I can’t,’ she mumbled at last, knowing what he’d think and taking comfort from it. Far better that he believe she was a gold-digger than some pathetic twenty-something with more imagination than sense.

  There was a scornful expression on his face now. ‘I didn’t think so,’ he mocked, and she found she had to say something in her own defence.

  ‘No, you don’t understand—’ she began, but Rafe ignored her.

  ‘Don’t bet on it,’ he said, and paradoxically, he sounded bitter. ‘I understand very well what you want and it’s not the old lady’s illegitimate grandson!’

  * * *

  Rafe was working when someone knocked on the windows of his studio. He’d purposely drawn the blinds at the front of the building, pushing the rear service doors wide at the back to allow the pale sunlight to seep inside. He didn’t want to see anyone, he certainly didn’t want to talk to anyone, and he wondered who would have the gall to disturb him at barely eight o’clock on a Sunday morning.

  The irritating tapping came again, but he tried to ignore it. It could be no one he wanted to admit. According to the old lady, her guests were leaving this morning, and they’d have no reason to make a detour to Polgellin Bay.

  Unless Cary had found out…

  ‘Rafe! Rafe! Dammit, I know you’re in there. Have the decency to come and open this door and let me in.’

  Not Cary, then. Rafe scowled. He should have realised there was only one person who would come here to exact an explanation for the way he’d behaved the night before. And it wasn’t Lady Elinor.

  Throwing down the knife he’d been using to scrape a layer of paint from the canvas, he strode impatiently to the door. Yanking it open with an aggressive h
and, he glared coldly at the woman who was waiting outside.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Ooh, darling, so masterful!’ Without waiting for an invitation, Liv Holderness squeezed delicately past him and into the studio. She glanced about her. ‘Are you alone?’

  Rafe’s mouth hardened as he reluctantly closed the door. ‘What do you want, Liv? I don’t believe we had an appointment this morning.’

  ‘We didn’t.’ But Liv wasn’t perturbed by his ill humour. ‘I just thought you might want to tell me what last night was all about.’

  Rafe aped a look of surprise. ‘Last night?’ he echoed carelessly. ‘Didn’t you enjoy it?’

  ‘Not as much as you did, I’ll bet,’ Liv flashed back, with a distinct note of resentment in her voice now. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were going to be there?’

  Rafe grimaced. He’d been asked that question before by someone he was trying hard not to think about, and he didn’t appreciate Liv coming here and reminding him of the fact.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ he said flatly. ‘Believe it or not, I only received my invitation after you’d gone home.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘It’s true.’ Rafe was struggling to keep his temper. ‘Now, if that’s all you’ve come to say—’

  ‘It’s not.’ Liv drifted round the studio, picking up a photograph here, a brush there, causing Rafe no small amount of aggravation. ‘Why did Lady Elinor invite you? Do you know?’

  Rafe sighed. ‘In polite circles, it’s usual to have an equal number of men and women around the dinner table—’

  ‘Don’t patronise me, Marchese!’

  ‘Then don’t you pretend you give a damn why I was invited. I was there. That’s all there is to it. If your old man didn’t like what was said, take it up with Cary, not me.’

  Liv seethed. ‘As a matter of fact, Bobby enjoyed the evening. He and your grandmother get along very well.’

  Rafe’s lips twisted. ‘Why wouldn’t they? They’ve known one another for a lot of years.’

  ‘You mean, they’re nearer in age than Bobby and me.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘No, but you meant it.’ Liv huffed. ‘Anyway, as you appear to know so much about me, why don’t you tell me why I’m here?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Rafe propped his jean-clad hips against a workbench, crossing his arms over his paint-smeared T-shirt and regarding her with mocking eyes. ‘I wouldn’t presume to know how your mind works.’

  ‘Jerk!’

  ‘I’ve been called worse.’

  And recently, he reflected, once again stung by how easily the memory of Juliet could knock him off balance, could cause an actual knot to form in his stomach.

  Liv stopped in the middle of the floor and turned to face him, and for an uncomfortable moment he thought she’d guessed what was on his mind. But all she did was stare at him mutinously before saying, ‘All right. So tell me why you left the party without even joining the rest of us for a final drink?’

  Rafe’s jaw compressed. ‘I prefer not to drink when I’m driving. I don’t have a chauffeur to take me home.’

  ‘We could have taken you home,’ pointed out Liv, as if the idea had just occurred to her. ‘But as you know, we didn’t get the chance to offer.’

  ‘Sorry.’ But he didn’t sound it.

  Liv frowned. ‘So why did you walk out like that? I know Lady Elinor wasn’t pleased.’

  ‘Wasn’t she?’ Right then, Rafe hadn’t cared what Lady Elinor had thought of his behaviour. ‘I was tired, OK?’ he muttered irritably. ‘I’ve had a lot of work to do lately. Not a concept I imagine you’d know anything about.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Liv wasn’t impressed with his excuses. ‘So your departure had nothing to do with—what’s her name—Juliet?’

  Rafe managed to keep his expression blank with an effort. ‘Juliet?’ he echoed, as if the thought was new to him. ‘No. Why would it?’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Liv was incredulous. ‘You spent most of the evening with her!’

  ‘Excuse me!’ Rafe was proud of the indignation in his voice. ‘We spent—perhaps—half an hour together in the library, looking at the paintings.’ He frowned, pretending to consider. ‘Then I think she went up to her room, and I read for a while until you’d finished your game.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really,’ he said, hoping God would forgive him for the lies he was telling. It wasn’t good enough to assure himself he was only doing it to protect Juliet. The truth was, he was trying to save his own skin. ‘Now, if you don’t mind—’

  Liv heaved a deep sigh. ‘So what do you think Lady Elinor had in mind when she practically pushed the two of you together? I mean, I know Cary had some sucking-up to do, but making him play cards while his fiancée was alone with another man doesn’t seem fair to me.’

  ‘When you get to know the old lady better, you’ll realise that fair play’s no part in her vocabulary,’ said Rafe drily. ‘Now, do you mind getting out of here? I’ve wasted enough time as it is.’

  * * *

  Juliet and Cary got back to London in the late afternoon. Although she knew Cary would have preferred to hang around until later in the day, she reminded him of their bargain and with ill grace he’d been forced to give in.

  He had gone to see his grandmother before they left, perhaps hoping that she would agree to prevail upon Juliet to stay longer. But Hitchins had apparently cut his visit short and the old lady hadn’t seemed sorry to see him go.

  ‘It’s all that bastard Rafe’s fault,’ Cary muttered as they accelerated up the track to the main road. ‘If he hadn’t had so much to say for himself last night, the old girl might have begun to see the sense in what I was saying.’

  Juliet shook her head. She had a headache, actually, and she wasn’t in the mood for Cary’s tantrums, but that particular accusation caught her on the raw. ‘If Rafe hadn’t interfered, as you put it, you’d have been in even deeper trouble,’ she retorted tersely. ‘You’re not subtle, Cary. I think it was obvious to anyone who knew about that letter from the developer that you’d read it.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, I do.’ Juliet was impatient. ‘Why do you think she asked you to make up a foursome for bridge and not Rafe? She wanted to punish you, that’s all. You just want to hope she’s forgotten all about it by the time you make your next visit.’

  Cary snorted. ‘Oh, yeah. My next visit. And when I turn up without you, what do you think she’s going to say about that?’

  Juliet sighed. She so didn’t need this. ‘Cary,’ she said levelly, ‘you knew this was a one-time occasion. And you must have realised that Lady Elinor would be disappointed when we—well, broke up, as she’ll see it.’

  Cary chewed on his lower lip, cursing when another driver blew his horn at him because he’d attempted to overtake without signalling. ‘I don’t suppose—that is, you wouldn’t consider—?’

  ‘Repeating the exercise?’ Juliet gave him a disbelieving look. ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘Why not?’ Cary warmed to the idea. ‘We’ve pulled it off this time, haven’t we? No one suspects we’re not a couple, do they?’

  ‘No.’ Juliet had to concede that. ‘But there’s no way I’d do anything like this again.’ She turned to stare blindly out of the car’s window. ‘I hated doing it. I felt—dirty.’

  ‘Oh, please.’ Cary was angry and he wasn’t in the mood to consider her feelings. ‘You enjoyed it. Don’t pretend you didn’t. You ought to be grateful to me. People in your situation rarely get a second chance to make something of their lives.’

  Juliet gasped. ‘Do you really think pretending to be your fiancée is making something of my life?’

  Cary was silent for a moment and she thought he’d seen the sense of what she was saying and decided to back off. But then he spoke again.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be pretence,’ he ventured carefully, and Juliet’s jaw dropped.

&
nbsp; ‘What?’

  ‘Hey, don’t look so shocked.’ Cary’s scowl was dissolving into a smile of smug anticipation. ‘I’m proposing here.’ He laughed delightedly. ‘Dammit, why didn’t I think of it before? I need a wife and you need an occupation. How convenient is that?’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  RAFE turned down the track towards Tregellin and drove resignedly towards the house. He hadn’t visited the old lady since the disastrous evening of the dinner party over two weeks ago, and he wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for Josie’s frantic phone calls.

  ‘You’ve got to come, Rafe,’ she’d begged, just this morning. ‘I’m getting really worried about her. That cold she had weeks ago has come back and she’s not looking after herself the way she should.’

  ‘So call Charteris,’ said Rafe, as he’d advised before, still smarting from the shock of finding his and his mother’s paintings lining the library walls, and his subsequent encounter with Juliet. The old lady had a lot to answer for and quite honestly he didn’t feel any obligation to concern himself about her.

  Yet here he was, just a couple of hours later, making a special trip out to Tregellin to see her. He could tell himself he was doing this for Josie until he was blue in the face, but the truth was, he did care what happened to the old lady. She was his grandmother, after all, however much they both might deplore the fact.

  He parked in the usual place, and stood for a few minutes looking out at the estuary. It wasn’t cold, but it was raining, a fine drizzle that soaked his hair and ran in cool rivulets over his forehead and down his cheeks. Swiping a hand across his face, he collected the things he’d brought from the back of the Land Cruiser and strode round to the rear of the house.

  Josie was in the kitchen, as usual, and when Rafe opened the door Hitchins came to snuffle eagerly about his legs. ‘Hey, small stuff,’ he greeted the dog, depositing the bags he’d been carrying on the table and bending to pick up the Pekinese. ‘What’s happening?’