Married By Christmas Bundle: Anthology

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘I’ll be more comfortable on my own,’ Claudia insisted, trying not to think about the feel of his hands burning on her waist, or her tingling nipples brushing tantalizingly against his chest.

  ‘Comfort isn’t what you’re after—not the girl who was perched precariously on a boulder above the sea with a wild tide coming in,’ he drawled. ‘No, I think you were looking for a little excitement.’

  ‘Not the kind of excitement you’re talking about,’ she responded, already feeling her speeding pulse crank up an extra notch. ‘We’ve done that before, and it didn’t work out.’

  ‘Didn’t work?’ he purred, leaning close to her ear so that his breath mingled with the droplets of shower water that were still splashing on her neck. ‘Are you telling me you weren’t satisfied with my lovemaking?’

  ‘That’s not what I said,’ Claudia managed to say, feeling her cheeks blaze.

  ‘So you were satisfied?’ he said, tugging her closer still. ‘I thought so.’

  ‘We can’t go there again,’ she said, trying to pull away from him, but he was so effortlessly strong that physical resistance was futile. She had to rely on her wits, which were totally addled by the feelings of desire that were engulfing her.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked, slipping his hands under the hem of her top. She drew in her stomach muscles instinctively, letting out a long shuddering breath as his fingers skimmed over her skin. But then he took hold of the fabric, as if he was about to pull the top up and over her head.

  ‘No. Please don’t take my clothes off.’ Her voice was no more than a whimper, husky with blatant sexual desire. Even to her own ears it sounded more as if she’d said, Please, rip off all my clothes and ravish me right here and now.

  To her surprise, and sudden crushing disappointment that was totally out of the realm of sensible thought, he let go of her top, leaving her fully dressed. Then, in one fluid movement, he divested himself of his own T-shirt.

  ‘Oh!’ she gasped and stared at his naked chest. The sight of his golden skin, slick with water droplets, made her mouth run dry. She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by just how much she wanted to reach out and slide her hands over the muscular expanse of his chest.

  She closed her eyes and leant back against the tiled wall of the shower, inadvertently passing her head directly under the full force of the gushing water. She reached up to wipe her eyes, trying not to think about the magnetic lure of his perfect masculine form, when suddenly she heard a sound that could only be Marco undoing the zip of his trousers.

  Her eyes flew open in time to see him stepping free of the garment, so that he was standing next to her wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxers. The fine fabric was so wet that it clung to his proud, viral form intimately, leaving virtually nothing to her imagination.

  ‘You may want to shower with your clothes on,’ Marco said. ‘I find I’m more comfortable without them.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  A SLOW, sensual smile spread across Marco’s face as he watched Claudia’s reaction to him stripping off.

  A misty veil of steam surrounded her, softening her features in an utterly alluring way, but that didn’t hide the flash of pure desire that lit her golden eyes, or the rapid rise and fall of her breast as she started breathing even more quickly than she had been a moment before.

  He knew that it wouldn’t take much to shatter her control. If he pulled her roughly into his arms, giving free rein to the passion that was surging through his body, it would only be a matter of moments before she surrendered to him and to her own growing desire.

  But simply making love to Claudia was not his ultimate goal. He wanted to make her trust him, as he had trusted her before she’d betrayed him. And he wanted to make her desperate for him—physically. Sexually.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, taking her face in his large, warm hands and kissing her quickly on the mouth.

  A powerful feeling ripped through him, although he couldn’t have identified what emotion it was, and he suddenly found that the words he’d chosen with the intention of drawing her in were closer to the truth than he would care to admit, even to himself.

  ‘Why did you follow me to Wales?’ She repeated the question she’d asked on the beach one more time, staring up at him with wide eyes, filled with a mixture of confusion and undisguised sexual need.

  ‘I told you—I wanted to see you again.’ He lifted a hand to smooth a lock of wet hair back from her face and he felt a tremor run through her. But he knew she wanted to hear that it was more than just desire for her that had made him follow her. ‘I’ve thought about you every day we’ve been apart.’

  She was standing bolt upright in the shower, with water pouring down over her shoulders and across her breasts, but she seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings and was looking at him intently, hanging on every word.

  ‘After you’d gone yesterday I couldn’t get you out of my mind.’ He smiled and brushed his thumb gently across her cheekbone.

  ‘It’s a long way to come on a whim.’ Claudia looked up at him, wishing she knew for sure why he had come to the cottage.

  ‘In the circumstances, I think it was lucky I came,’ he replied.

  She thought back to the beach. An involuntary shudder ran through her. Despite her earlier denials, she knew she’d had a lucky escape from the incoming tide. And she had Marco to thank for that.

  ‘I could have been sucked down between those rocks when I fell,’ she said, remembering the panic that had filled her when the cold water closed over her.

  ‘No,’ Marco said. ‘The gap wasn’t big enough. Most likely you would have bashed your head on the rock. Knocked yourself unconscious.’

  She stared up at him in startled silence, suddenly too frightened to think about what might have happened.

  ‘It’s all right.’ Marco’s voice was suddenly gentle as his hand slipped round to the nape of her neck. ‘No harm done.’

  She watched him lean closer and bend his head towards hers. The steam from the shower made everything appear to be in soft focus, but she was acutely aware of every single movement he made. The way he was tipping his head slightly to one side, the way his sensual lips were slightly parted. The way his mouth was getting closer and closer to hers.

  Then, after a never-ending moment of anticipation, his lips brushed hers. Tantalizingly light, the delicate contact set her lips tingling with a yearning desire for more. Without realising what she was doing, she rose to her tiptoes and tried to kiss him properly.

  But Marco was in control of the kiss. His hands cradled her face, holding her securely—right where he wanted her to be. He pulled away slightly, teasing her, and a long low sigh escaped her. She closed her eyes, aching for him to kiss her again.

  At last his mouth closed over hers. A ripple of delight spread through her body and she felt herself dissolving into a pool of bliss.

  He kissed her slowly, his lips moving gently against hers. His tongue dipped with exquisite tenderness into her mouth, finding her own willing tongue and moving sinuously against it.

  It was the softest, sweetest kiss that Claudia had ever experienced, but that didn’t make it any less erotic. Marco was taking it so slowly that she was acutely aware of every tiny movement of his lips, every nuance in the way his tongue stroked hers. The effect on the rest of her body was incredible. She was trembling all over and her heart was racing. Every nerve ending in her body was tingling and desire was pulsing deep within her.

  Her eyes were still closed and there was no contact between them apart from the ongoing kiss and his hands cradling her face. But she could feel the heat radiating off his powerful body and she needed to touch him. She lifted her hands and pressed her palms against his chest.

  A shiver of delight ran through her as she felt his skin, hot and wet, under her hands. Then, she let her hands glide around his ribcage and slip up between his shoulder blades, so that he was encircled in her arms.

  A tiny step forward and she pressed hersel
f against him, revelling in the feel of his hard, almost naked body next to hers.

  Suddenly he pulled back from the kiss. Her eyes flew open and a small sound of protest escaped her. Marco was looking at her intently and there was a slight crease between his black eyebrows. His mouth was open a fraction and she watched, almost mesmerized, as he ran his tongue over his lower lip.

  Then he turned and opened the shower door. A blast of cool air passed over her, making her shiver, as Marco stepped out and reached for a towel.

  Ten minutes later Claudia opened the bathroom door carefully and peeked out. Luckily Marco was nowhere in sight, although she could hear his voice coming from the living area at the other end of the cottage as he talked to someone on his mobile phone.

  She clutched a towel tightly around herself and dashed up to the safety of the bedroom, where she quickly dressed in some dry clothes from her bag. Then she sat on the bed and thought about what had happened.

  Her body was still humming in reaction to his kiss. She had not intended it to happen—but it had been wonderful. For a few minutes she had forgotten all her worries and been carried away on a wave of happiness. It was as if she had gone back in time, and she and Marco were still together.

  Suddenly an intense feeling of sadness washed over her. She shivered and hugged herself. What she’d thought she’d had with Marco had not been real. She could never get it back, because it had never truly existed in the first place. If Marco had cared for her at all, he could never have treated her so heartlessly.

  She still didn’t really know why he had followed her to Wales. Deep down inside, she longed to believe that he had realised that she meant something to him after all. In the shower he’d told her that he’d missed her, and maybe that meant something.

  But it had been so hard to get over losing him—a large part of her was too frightened to even hope for anything ever again. It was safer to tell herself it could never happen.

  Suddenly, her mobile phone started ringing.

  ‘Claudia, darling,’ Francesca said. ‘I’m calling with the arrangements for the wedding. Do you have a notepad handy?’

  A cold, heavy feeling sank in Claudia’s stomach and she pulled a pen and notepad out of her bag.

  She had more important things to worry about than her broken heart. In a few days time she had to marry Primo Vasile. She was already losing her father to his illness—she would not let Vasile send him to prison. She couldn’t lose him any sooner than she had to.

  Marco slipped his phone back into his pocket and smiled grimly. His legal team in Turin had finished securing all the necessary documents that proved the embezzlement of huge amounts of money from the Hazelton-Vasile pension fund. The evidence they’d obtained was substantial—more than enough to provide a watertight case against the perpetrators of the crime.

  Everything was falling into place nicely. Within the next few days all Marco’s old enemies would be completely obliterated.

  The unmistakable sound of another mobile phone ringing upstairs drew him out of his thoughts. He realised that it must be Claudia’s phone and walked to the doorway of the living room, wondering who was calling her.

  Suddenly he was hit by a powerful memory of the night he’d left Claudia—the night he had discovered she’d betrayed him.

  He stared blindly up the stairs, remembering the last day they’d spent together, here at this very cottage in Wales. He’d enjoyed her company so much, had felt so moved by the way she had opened up to him that the blow of her betrayal had been even harder to take.

  It was shocking to think that she’d been prepared to delve so deep into her childhood memories to create such a convincing smokescreen. She’d talked about her mother, who had died when she was so young, and about her beloved grandmother with such feeling. It was repellent to realise that she’d simply been utilising her personal memories to dupe Marco.

  Then another thought occurred to him with a sickening jolt and suddenly he knew the reason why she’d had to go back to her early childhood memories.

  Twelve years ago Primo Vasile, with Francesca Hazelton’s help, had viciously destroyed Marco’s family. They’d taken everything that was precious from Marco and his innocent younger sister, Bianca—including the family home. Just days after the De Luca family business crumbled, Claudia’s family had moved on to the De Luca estate. Her father, although he had not been directly involved with the takeover, was Vasile’s business partner—and her stepmother was Vasile’s partner in crime.

  So Claudia had not been able to discuss her teenage years with Marco because, when she was thirteen years old, she had gone to live in the home that Vasile had cheated Marco’s family out of.

  Marco had always known that they shared this link—but, at the time of their relationship, he had genuinely believed she was unaware of it. He had been eighteen when his family had been destroyed and he had made it his business to know who was to blame. Claudia had been a child at the time and there was no reason for her to be aware of the family who had lived in her home before.

  But now, thinking about the way she had focused all her childhood tales on her earlier years, he realised it was yet another way she had duped him.

  A creak from above caught his attention and he looked up to see Claudia making her way down the wooden staircase.

  He forced the memories to the back of his mind and studied her. She had changed into fresh clothes—a bulky jumper that did nothing to show off her feminine shape and dull, loose-fitting trousers. It didn’t matter to him—in his mind’s eye he could still see her in soaking wet, skin-tight jeans that clung to every intimate curve and a transparent T-shirt that showed her nipples jutting towards him in red-hot invitation.

  He lifted his gaze to her face as she walked down to him and, as their eyes met, a crackle of tension passed between them. Her step faltered and she took a breath, as if she was gathering herself to speak. One glance at her body language and Marco knew that things were about to get interesting.

  A buzz of anticipation ran through him and he realised he was looking forward to the exchange.

  ‘I’d like you to leave now.’

  Claudia’s voice sounded clear and determined to her own ears, but her words had no effect on Marco. He continued to stand there, simply looking up at her with an intensity that made a shiver run down her spine. He was wearing fresh jeans and a luxurious midnight-blue sweater which hugged his body snugly and made her achingly aware of his superb athletic physique.

  ‘I’m not ready to leave,’ he replied. A powerful wave of energy was emanating from him and for some reason Claudia sensed danger. But his arrogant tone grated across her nerves and suddenly she was galvanised into action.

  She walked down the stairs and slipped past him into the living room. As she went by him she couldn’t help noticing that his black hair was nearly dry and was sexily dishevelled. It looked as if he’d simply rubbed it with a towel and pulled his fingers through it. Her own fingers suddenly tingled with the need to reach out and touch it, but she ignored the urge and made herself scan the room for his belongings.

  ‘Here’s your coat,’ she said, picking up the leather jacket that he’d left lying across the back of the sofa. The leather was soft and supple in her hands and a tantalizing waft of his masculine scent filled her senses, but she ignored the disconcerting distraction and thrust the jacket towards him. ‘Now, please just go.’

  ‘Very polite,’ Marco said, with an infuriating lift of his eyebrow as he caught hold of the jacket just in time to stop it falling to the floor. ‘But, as I said, I’m not ready to go yet.’

  ‘I don’t care if you’re ready.’ Claudia was rapidly losing her temper. ‘I didn’t invite you to join me here. I didn’t even tell you I was coming to Wales—you found that out by underhand means. Is it surprising you’re not welcome?’

  ‘I was welcome enough in the shower,’ Marco said, taking a step towards her.

  ‘I told you to get out,’ Claudia said, feeling her che
eks blaze as his eyes swept down across her body. Her clothes covered her well, but she knew he was remembering the many times he’d seen her naked.

  ‘But you didn’t mean it,’ he said. ‘In fact you soon made me feel very welcome indeed.’

  ‘Well, you’re not any more.’ She spun round and marched to the front door of the cottage, which was in the far corner of the living room, and flung it open with a defiant flourish. Then she turned back to face him.

  She gasped, startled to find him right behind her. He had followed her across the room as silently as the black cat she had imagined in the shower.

  But, for once, his attention wasn’t on her. He was staring out through the open door. Something in his expression made her turn round and follow his line of vision.

  Her eyes opened wide with shock and it was her turn to stare.

  A thick blanket of fog surrounded the cottage. And the rest of Wales, as far as she could see, which was only a few feet into the dense whiteness.

  ‘That’s incredible,’ Marco said, stepping past her and walking a few paces into the fog. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ Claudia replied, momentarily forgetting her bad temper. The fog muffled their voices and the sound of his footsteps on the gravel as he walked further away into the thick white bank. ‘I’ve seen fog rolling in off the sea—but that is extraordinary.’

  She’d never seen fog so dense. In fact, she realised with a spike of alarm, Marco was starting to disappear from view.

  ‘Come back!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ll get lost.’

  ‘I can’t even see my car,’ he said, turning to walk back to her. The light from the doorway was bouncing back off the white wall of suspended moisture, making an eerie glow around him. ‘I know it’s only a few feet away.’

  ‘You can’t drive in this,’ she said. It was impossible to see anything. The fog was too dense, and the light shining from the house didn’t help at all. In fact the fog seemed to be acting like a mirror, reflecting the light straight back at them.