Protecting His Defiant Innocent

by Michelle Smart

  She was glad she’d forgotten to open her shutters before she’d last left her apartment. She could see him clearly and he could see her too but there was a haze that softened it. Romanticised it.

  She swallowed her fear and forced herself to meet his eyes.

  The desire pulsating from his stare was a look she knew she would remember for the rest of her life.

  He shifted to remove his trousers and underwear, then knelt back so they faced each other, the tips of her breasts jutting against the hairs of his chest sending further tingles racing through her.

  She put her hands to his chest as she’d done before and explored him with her fingers then followed that exploration with her mouth. His skin was smoother than she remembered from the night before and as she tasted and breathed in his muskiness she could feel her excitement building.

  She heard the intake of air as she took his erection into her hand. It too was smoother than she’d expected but every bit as hard. It throbbed at her touch.

  When they’d both lost their heads the night before, everything had been so urgent and immediate she’d not seen his erection before he was inside her.

  Like the rest of him, it was magnificent, not at all ugly as she’d always imagined the male member to be.

  His hands wove into her hair again but he made no further gesture of encouragement or expectation, letting her take things at her own pace, letting her go as far as she wanted, as far as she dared.

  Dipping her head, she pressed her lips to the tip.

  His groan was the encouragement she needed and she opened her mouth and covered the head.

  And then he pulled away from her before she could take it any further.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said hoarsely, cupping her face in his hands. ‘That feels too good. I don’t want to come yet.’

  The thought sent more pulses through her. He must have read her thoughts for he covered her lips with his.

  ‘You can do it another time, querida, when I have more control over myself,’ he murmured heavily into her mouth. ‘But this time is for you.’

  It thrilled her more than anything to know she had the power to make Felipe lose his control.

  It thrilled her more to think of all the other moments they would share.

  She wasn’t after anything heavy or permanent, she reminded herself, knowing she needed to remind herself of this.

  She wasn’t in love with him, she was in lust. And if she felt as if she were under some kind of enchantment where all she could see and hear was Felipe then...

  And then he laid her back down and kissed her so passionately that she stopped thinking at all.

  Slowly, reverently, he made love to her.

  There wasn’t a part of her body left untouched or without the mark of his lips or the trail of his tongue. Every caress melted her a little more and soon she was nothing but a helpless mass of burning, sensual nerves.

  He seemed to know exactly what she wanted and needed, rough and biting in places, tender and gentle in others, between her thighs and there, right in the very centre of her pleasure, coaxing her with his tongue until the explosion she’d felt at his hand on their drunken night happened again but this time deeper, longer, more...

  When he snaked his way back up to kiss her deeply on the mouth, her head was spinning, her heart racing, the world around her gone to be just her and Felipe and her overwhelming need for his possession.

  This time when he slid inside her she was more than ready for him.

  The feel of him there, filling her, completing her...

  And then he began to move and she lost what little of herself she’d had left.

  It was too much. Overwhelming.

  There was nothing she could do to stop it, to stop herself riding the waves, Felipe with her, and before she knew what was happening she was no longer riding it but soaring high off it into a world that dazzled her with the brilliance of its colour and the brightness of its stars, a world made purely of pleasure.

  She didn’t know how long she spent there. The journey back to earth was gentle, like a feather falling slowly through the breeze.

  When she landed and opened her eyes, Felipe lay deliciously heavy on her, his breath hot on her neck.

  After a long, long time he shifted his weight and moved his head onto the pillow beside hers and gazed at her with the same dazed look she knew must be in her eyes.

  And then his gorgeous face widened into a grin and he laughed, though there was a shaky timbre to it. ‘That was...’

  ‘Better?’ she supplied in the same shaky voice.

  ‘No. It was incredible.’ The grin faded. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

  She palmed his cheek and slid a thigh between his. She’d never imagined it was possible to feel such closeness to someone. To feel as if she’d been one with them. ‘The only way you can hurt me now is if we never do that again.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THEY SPENT THE rest of the day in bed. By the time night fell, hunger of the more traditional kind took its hold and they ordered takeout. Francesca found a bottle of wine and they consumed it all it in her bed.

  She was quite certain she’d fallen into a dream. None of it felt real and yet the intensity of her emotions were incredibly vivid.

  She didn’t want to probe what it all meant. All she wanted was to enjoy it for as long as it lasted before she returned to her real life.

  Night turned into morning and she woke to crumpled sheets and an empty bed.

  Immediate panic clutched her throat and she jumped out of bed at the same moment Felipe entered her room carrying two take-away cups and a fat brown paper bag.

  ‘I couldn’t find any food in your kitchen so I’ve brought breakfast,’ he said with a grin, handing her one of the cups. ‘This is a nice neighbourhood you live in. I always thought Pisa was nothing but its famous tower but it’s surprised me.’

  She took in the faded jeans and black T-shirt with the album cover of a punk band printed on it.

  She hadn’t seen him in jeans before and had had no idea he liked punk music.

  ‘I also bring news—those men who were following you have been caught.’

  ‘Have they? When? How?’

  ‘I have a lot of contacts. One of them runs the foreign department for a country that will remain nameless. They in turn contacted Caballeros’ president and made certain threats about foreign aid budgets. I got confirmation an hour ago that the men have been taken into custody. One of them was an employee in the Governor’s house, the other two his cousins. The Governor has been warned that if anything untoward happens to you on Saturday night then he might find himself kicked out of office.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Unfortunately corruption is everywhere. I have a feeling that the President will be sharing the bribe.’

  ‘Threats, blackmail, bribery and corruption,’ she said in awe. ‘So that’s how to run a country.’

  He laughed but his eyes were serious. ‘It happens to degrees everywhere but Caballeros is more extreme than others. Don’t think it means Saturday will be plain sailing. We’re still going to take every precaution.’

  ‘I know you will.’ From Felipe she expected nothing less. The threat those men had posed hadn’t scared her as much as they should have simply because she’d known he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

  ‘Does this mean you don’t have to stay and protect me any more?’ she asked with a flutter of her lashes, although her heart was skipping all over the place in panic.

  His eyes blazed as he opened the paper bag and offered first pick of the contents to her. ‘It wouldn’t do to take chances, would it?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘And you did promise me a tour of the castello.’

  ‘I did.’ She nodded solemnl
y. ‘I’d be much safer there so maybe we should stay at the castello until we have to go back.’

  ‘You’re not afraid of the ghosts?’

  Placing a hand to his chest, she pressed her lips to his neck. ‘With you there to protect me, the ghosts wouldn’t dare haunt us.’

  * * *

  Later that morning, they set off to the castello in a shining sports car Felipe had had delivered to them. Francesca had spoken to her mother, thinking she would drop in to check on her on the way, but had been relieved to hear she’d gone out for the day with her sister, Francesca’s Aunt Rachele. It would have been hard explaining what she was doing with Felipe and she could hardly ask him to wait in the car.

  Her mother was one of the strongest, most stoical people she knew. She’d nursed her husband through years of ill health and had buried her eldest child whilst making sure her roots were touched up first, but for the first time ever Francesca heard her mother’s voice and thought how old she sounded.

  Her poor mamma was suffering.

  Thank God her mamma’s younger sister lived with her. The two women rattled around the rambling villa on the Pisa Hills, driving each other slightly mad, but both would be lost without the other. It helped to know her mother had Rachele there.

  Francesca hadn’t mentioned she would be taking a guest to the castello.

  Although she had no right of inheritance to the estate, tradition had always dictated that immediate members of the family had their own rooms and could have full use of the castello. Pieta hadn’t changed that and she had her own key to the family wing.

  Located on the Tuscan hills twenty short miles away from Pisa, Francesca felt the familiar curls of excitement in her belly when she caught her first glimpse of it, and couldn’t resist staring at Felipe to watch his reaction.

  He turned to her for a moment with a raised brow. ‘Now, that is what you call a castle.’

  She laughed. ‘Wait until we get closer. You’ll see how dilapidated it is.’

  Encircled by a high wall Felipe estimated to be at least twenty feet high that had sentry towers at each corner, the castle dominated the countryside. Geometrically perfect, he couldn’t begin to count the number of arched windows.

  As they got closer, he began to see what Francesca meant about generations of Pellegrinis letting it fall into disrepair. Closer inspection revealed a crumbling fascia; what would once have been vibrant stonework faded into blandness.

  He drove them into a courtyard where only three other cars were parked. At the furthest point his eye could see, scaffolding had been erected. He guessed this was the latest part of the renovations Pieta had embarked on.

  ‘Where are all the builders?’

  ‘The renovations have been halted for a couple of weeks out of respect,’ she explained with a sad shrug. ‘There’s staff here, I’ve let them know to expect us.’

  ‘Does your family know you’ve brought me here?’

  ‘No. They only come here to visit the cemetery. Papa and I were the only ones who liked staying here.’ Her gaze cast off into the distance. ‘Do you mind if I go to the cemetery?’

  ‘Of course not. I’ll come with you if you like.’

  Leaving their stuff in the car, they set off to the salmon pink chapel that, unlike the rest of the castle, was in wonderful repair, proving Francesca’s assertion of a family rooted in the past. She’d been the first to break free of the expectations built over generations. He admired her more than he could say.

  The cemetery itself was chillingly beautiful, row upon row of highly glossed tombs and gravestones, all lovingly tended.

  They stood in silence, hands clasped and heads bowed at the spot where Pieta lay buried next to his father. Vases of flowers sat in abundance.

  What must it be like, he wondered, to be a part of a family that loved each other so dearly and protected each other almost mercilessly? And it didn’t just extend to their bloodline. Natasha, Pieta’s widow, was as much a Pellegrini as if she’d been born one. From everything Francesca had said, she’d been embraced into being a part of them.

  For the first time he thought of his father with regret rather than indifference. He’d been someone who’d flitted in and out of their lives. Standing here now, he felt the loss of what his childhood could have been and wished that he could grieve for him the way a father should be grieved for.

  He thought of his mother, now living a life of comfort and luxury but as remote in his adult life as she’d been in his childhood. He admired her enormously, knew the admiration was mutual. But how could they forge a true relationship when the foundations had never been properly built?

  And then he thought of Sergio, who he’d mourned as if he’d lost a true brother.

  ‘Shall we go to the castello now?’ Francesca asked, her sombre voice cutting through his private reverie.

  He pulled his lips in and nodded.

  Being with Francesca felt different from anything he’d known before. Their time together was limited. He wanted to make the most of it before they said goodbye for good.

  * * *

  The family rooms were in the south of the castello, where renovation work had yet to begin. Francesca led him down a wide corridor that was so dark it brought to mind the horror films he’d watched on occasion as an unsupervised child. He could quite see why tales of it being haunted had been so believable to the impressionable Pellegrini children.

  Francesca’s room was something else.

  ‘You slept in here as a child?’ he asked with amazement.

  ‘Yes. Not exactly child-friendly, is it? I loved it, though. I used to feel like a princess sleeping in this room.’

  ‘Aren’t the Pellegrinis descended from royalty?’

  She shrugged. ‘We haven’t used the titles for generations. It’s silly. How can you call yourself a prince or a duke if the title isn’t recognised as meaning anything any more?’

  Amply proportioned, the room had what would once have been vibrant gold and green wallpaper lining the walls but, like the castello’s fascia, it had faded into blandness. The ceiling, like the surrounding corridors, was of dark wood panels, laced with gold leaf. The same wood had been used to carve the enormous four-poster bed and headboard, and all the furnishings. Deep red velvet curtains hung on the tall windows, matching the inviting bedspread.

  ‘If I ever get around to buying a home, I’d be tempted to have a bedroom like this.’

  ‘Buy your own castello; you can afford it.’

  ‘It would have to be warmer than this.’ The early autumn sunshine that blazed down so brightly outside hadn’t penetrated the thick stone walls. Given the choice, Felipe liked to be outdoors in the sun. He didn’t like to think how cold the castello would be in the depths of winter.

  ‘I told you it was draughty.’ Throwing herself onto the bed, she rolled onto her belly and rested her chin on her hands. ‘Shall I call a member of staff and get them to light the fire?’

  ‘If you’re cold I’ve got a much better method of warming you.’

  Her eyes gleamed. ‘I am freezing.’

  And with that he proceeded to warm her more effectively than a dozen blazing fires.

  * * *

  Their time in the castello passed far more quickly than Francesca wanted. The live-in chef, thrilled to have something to do, produced delicious meals for them and in between eating and making love they explored the castello and its grounds. The only areas other than the chapel that had been maintained through the generations were the busy vineyards and cellar.

  Felipe also had to spend time preparing for their return to Caballeros, liaising with his staff, approving plans...she didn’t want to know the details. She would leave that to the professionals. Leave it to him. She had no concerns about that at all. Indeed, it was kind of wonderful not having any concerns. Ex
cept...

  ‘This all feels so strange,’ she said to him while they paddled in the lake on the Friday afternoon. The cool water sloshed around her ankles, making her wish they’d been here the month before when the water had been warm enough to swim in. The seasons were changing. The leaves on the trees were thinning. Soon they wouldn’t be green but autumnal reds and browns and yellows.

  And she was changing with it.

  She had to keep reminding herself there was no future for her and Felipe. These few days were the most they could have. She had her future to think of, the future she’d fought so hard to get. She was so close to qualifying she could almost touch it.

  But a thought kept pushing itself to the fore.

  Why did a relationship have to compromise her career or her independence?

  Hadn’t she made that promise to herself to feel life and embrace all it had to offer?

  What was to say that once she’d established her career and was ready to settle down she would meet a man for whom she felt a tenth of what she felt for Felipe?

  She’d never imagined she could feel such closeness to someone, a closeness that stretched far beyond desire.

  She hadn’t even known him for a week but it felt as if he’d been a part of her life for ever.

  ‘What does?’

  Francesca forced her mind back to the conversation.

  It didn’t matter how deeply her feelings had developed or how her outlook on life had changed, nothing could come of it. It didn’t matter how tenderly he treated her now, Felipe had given no indication that his own feelings or outlook had changed. For him, their time together in Pisa was a short, sweet interlude before he resumed his real life, and she would be wise to remember that.

  ‘This...doing nothing. I feel like I should be studying case files or working on one of the boring draft proceedings Roberto gave me. I can’t remember when I last went this long without studying something.’

  ‘Who’s Roberto?’

  ‘The senior lawyer Pieta put me under.’

  ‘And why is it boring?’