An Awakening Desire

by Helen Bianchin

  To her consternation her mouth began to tremble and silly, ignominious tears welled in her eyes, distorting her vision. As if from a distance she heard his harsh curse, then gentle hands pulled her into his arms and cradled her head into the curve of his shoulder.

  In the darkness his features appeared carved into an expressionless mask.

  'It wasn't my intention to punish you. Myself, perhaps,' he mused wryly, letting his lips tease the delicately scented curls above her forehead before putting her at arm's length. 'Come, let us go inside.'

  There wasn't a single thing she could think of to say in response, and without a word she preceded him indoors, through to the wide, curving staircase that led to the upper floor.

  Emma didn't falter, uncaring whether he followed her or not, and on reaching her bedroom she closed the door behind her then crossed to subside weakly on to the bed.

  Dear God! Never in her life had she evoked such leashed violence. It was almost as if some diabolical force was intent on arranging a clash so horrendous she began to wonder if it wasn't born out of Hell.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Emma studiously ignored Nick over the next few days, pleading the need for a rest from sightseeing, and expressing a desire to relax at the villa itself in order to spend more time with Rosa.

  The gardens were alive with a variety of flowers and shrubs creating a riot of glorious colour, and Emma busied herself filling the numerous vases in the spacious foyer, the sala and the salone with freshly cut blooms.

  There was a guest list to compile, Rosa told her, for the party she and Enzo intended giving on Saturday evening, and a menu to be selected.

  Together they talked, reminiscing over the elderly couple's annual visits to Australia, the good times they'd all shared. And Marc. If Rosa suspected Emma's friendship with Nick was becoming more than platonic she sagely kept her own counsel, and Emma avoided even mentioning his name.

  Each morning Nick retired with Enzo into the study to explore the intricacies of the financial world and, as Rosa laughingly indicated, to test each other's mental skill.

  Annalisa busied herself writing letters to friends and her favourite boarding-school tutor, Sister Margherita, played tennis with her father and, on occasion, Emma, and sought to improve her butterfly stroke in the swimming pool.

  During the evenings they watched television or played a friendly game of cards, then relaxed over coffee before retiring to bed.

  A drive through the Alban Hills was arranged for Friday, and Emma rose early, then showered. She selected a cool white jumpsuit with the trouser cuffs rolled several inches above her ankles, a deep aquamarine belt at her waist and matching sandals, then she applied sunscreen cream and covered it with minimum make-up. The result was one of casual elegance and, satisfied with her appearance, she made her way downstairs to the sala where she helped herself to fresh croissants and plum conserve.

  Nick entered the room just as she was finishing her coffee, and she felt the tension begin to manifest itself inside her stomach, tightening her nerves into a painful knot.

  It was useless to curse and rage against fate; equally impossible at the eleventh hour to invent a plausible excuse and opt out.

  His presence created havoc and, attired in casual, dark blue cotton trousers teamed with a matching short-sleeved shirt, he excluded dangerous masculinity from every nerve and fibre.

  'Good morning.' His voice was a soft drawl, and dark eyes lanced hers, narrowing faintly as he glimpsed the defensiveness apparent. Then he crossed to the table with indolent grace and folded his lengthy frame into a nearby chair.

  At once her pulse-beat began hammering in chaotic confusion, and she strove valiantly to maintain her composure as she returned his greeting.

  'Are you waiting for me?'

  'There is no immediate hurry,' Nick told her with a negligible shrug. He appeared to study her, his gaze thoughtful and far too shrewd for her peace of mind. 'Annalisa will be down any minute, then we'll leave.' One eyebrow slanted in musing mockery. 'Do you want more coffee?'

  Her eyes flashed golden sparks, then became veiled as she deliberately lowered her lashes. 'Is that a polite reminder to suggest you join me?'

  'Do you imagine I need an invitation?'

  A frisson of inexplicable apprehension feathered its way through her body at the unwarranted implication, and she declined to answer.

  At that moment the door opened and Rosa entered the room. 'Good morning, Emma. Nick.' Her gaze moved from the slim auburn-haired girl to her nephew, sensing the electric tension apparent and choosing to ignore it. 'I trust you both slept well?'

  'Yes, thank you,' Emma responded with undue politeness. A downright lie, but it was hardly to her advantage to admit the truth. Summoning a smile, she excused herself lightly. 'I'll just put the finishing touches to my make-up and collect my bag. I won't be long.'

  If she'd had a choice she would have elected to sit next to Annalisa in the rear of the car, but any thoughts she might have entertained in that direction were quelled in an instant by the implacability evident in Nick's expression as he held open the front passenger door and saw her into her seat.

  The sky was a clear azure, and at this early hour the sun's heat had yet to reveal its intense beat. Beneath Nick's drawling commentary they explored the charming Alban Hill towns where vineyards on the slopes above Lake Albano and Lake Nemi were purported to produce most of the white wine consumed in Rome.

  'Marino, Rocca de Papa and Frascati are famous for their grape-harvest festivals in the autumn,' Nick relayed, and Emma gazed at the neat rows of vines with their plump grapes almost ready for picking. There were white and pink splashed houses, some fresh-painted and others which bore an aged sienna hue.

  All told, it was an artist's dream, and one which she couldn't help but admire. It's beautiful,' she stated simply, unwilling to accord the exotic, but startlingly rustic scenery with extravagant superlatives.

  'The lakes are splendid,' Nick murmured gently, sparing her a warm, musing glance. 'We will stop further on and visit one of the vineyards where it is possible to sample wine direct from the barrel.'

  There was an element of shared intimacy, something that went beyond apparent friendliness. The man projected an aura of quiet strength and indomitable will; a lethal mixture of silk and steel from which escape was becoming increasingly more difficult.

  Maybe she should just give in and allow him to lead her in whichever direction he chose, without thought for anything other than now.

  Yet something held her back, some intrinsic element of integrity that baulked at acting in such a capricious fashion, even in today's era, where selective promiscuity was the norm. And deep down she was afraid. Afraid the dreams and esteem interwoven with her memory of Marc might crumble into obscurity beneath the sensuality and sexual expertise of the man who wanted to usurp his place.

  With determined effort Emma dragged her mind back to the present and concentrated her attention on the scene beyond the windscreen. The views were breathtaking, with wooded hills providing a startling contrast with the deep blue of the lakes. It was a glorious vista of vivid colour, and she gave a small gasp of surprise when Nick pointed out a ruined castle and acquiesced with indulgence when Annalisa begged if they could stop so she could explore it.

  'Of course.' He brought the car to a halt and slid out from behind the wheel, then crossed round to open the passenger door.

  The ruins were a mixture of rubble and outer walls, with some evidence of apportioned rooms. There was a feeling of unreality walking the same ground that emperors and soldiers had trod several centuries before. If one closed one's eyes it was almost possible to imagine the clanking of swords and the rollicking laughter of the Sybarites.

  Back in the car, Nick drove for several kilometres, then stopped within sight of Lake Albano so they could have a picnic lunch.

  Annalisa helped spread the checked cloth on the grassy bank beneath the spreading branches of a shady tree, then chattered innoc
uously as Nick extracted the hamper from the boot and deposited it within easy reach.

  'Lovely!' the young girl exclaimed as she began unpacking an assortment of covered containers. 'Maria has packed chicken and ham, two kinds of salad, some fruit and lots of fresh-baked crusty bread rolls.'

  'And wine,' Nick smiled, retrieving a bottle from its cooled container. He selected three glasses and filled one with lemonade for his daughter, then poured wine into the remaining two, handing one to Emma before lifting his own in a silent salute.

  'What will you have, Emma?' Annalisa asked as she busied herself with plates and cutlery.

  'I'll help you.'

  Dividing the food, she passed one plate to Nick, another to Annalisa, then placed a small selection on to her own.

  'Isn't this nice?' Annalisa grinned engagingly as she bit into her chicken leg. 'What are you going to wear for the party, Emma?' Her eyes became round with intense interest. 'Zia Rosa and Zio Enzo always have grand parties. The ladies wear masses of jewellery and try to outdo each other. And very important people come. Don't they, Papa?

  'Indeed they do, piccina,' Nick agreed gently. 'Zio Enzo is a very clever financial entrepreneur who maintains an active interest in several business ventures.'

  'Just like you,' his daughter agreed solemnly. She finished her chicken and filled a split roll with slices of ham, then munched it appreciatively before washing it all down with lemonade. 'I think,' she declared, standing to her feet with graceful agility, 'I will go and pick some flowers to take back to Zia Rosa.'

  They may not stay fresh for long inside the car,' Nick warned, only to receive a blithe smile in return.

  'But water will revive them, and besides, Zia won't mind. It is the thought that counts.'

  Emma lifted her glass and sipped its contents, unsure whether Annalisa had deliberately contrived an excuse in order to leave the two adults on their own.

  'More chicken?'

  She glanced up and met Nick's gleaming gaze. 'No, thanks.'

  'Wine?'

  Shaking her head in silent negation she placed her empty plate down on to the checked cloth and selected a paper napkin to wipe her fingers.

  Sitting so close, she could see the tiny lines fanning out from the edge of his eyes, sense their clear, unwavering regard for an infinitesimal second before she lowered her eyes to the deep grooves slashing each cheek. She hadn't meant to look at his mouth, but her eyes were drawn to the sensual curve of their own volition. Her pulse tripped its beat and gathered speed until she could feel it pounding at the base of her throat.

  'I think I'll go and help Annalisa,' she declared unevenly, and he looked at her with a steady regard, holding her gaze for what seemed an age.

  'Do I pose such a threat that you must run away?'

  His words jolted her composure, and in the need to retain it she blurted out, Threat?' Her voice sounded husky and strangely vulnerable. 'You'd have to be impossibly arrogant to suppose that.'

  'Impossibly, Emma?'

  A prickle of apprehension slithered icily down to the base of her spine, warning her to desist before she found herself engaged in a verbal battle. He had the most damnable way of deploying words, calculated without doubt to pull her off balance.

  'I'm in no position to judge,' she returned evenly, determined not to give him the satisfaction of rousing her to anger.

  'Would you like to be?'

  Even as she registered the implication of his words, a silent, screaming refusal roared through her brain, almost deafening in its volume. 'No.'

  His soft laughter sent a multitude of sensations spiralling through her body, and before she had a chance to move he reached forward and brushed his lips against her cheek; then his mouth fastened over hers in a kiss that was brief and punishingly hard.

  'That wasn't fair,' she accused him shakily, silently hating him. She almost died when his head descended once more, although this time there was a wealth of seduction in his touchy a gentleness that was bewitchingly sensual as his lips caressed hers, settling with unerring ease over their delicate curves, savouring, tasting in a manner that made her gasp with outraged indignation.

  Too late she realised her mistake, for his mouth became demanding, possessive as he invaded the soft inner sweetness to create a ravishment of her senses.

  Slowly, he began a deliberately flagrant exploration before slipping to nuzzle the delicate hollows at the base of her throat. Next, he trailed the pulsing cord at the edge of her neck up to her earlobe before slipping across to reclaim her mouth.

  Emma was melting inside, warmth slowly encompassing her body, sending the blood coursing through her veins until her whole being was consumed by a deep, throbbing awareness. She dimly registered Nick's quick, indrawn breath before his mouth hardened, its pressure becoming relentless as he plundered at will, introducing her to a degree of sensual mastery she hadn't dreamed existed.

  Emma became conscious of an almost mindless ecstasy that combined a beautiful melding of sheer sensation with elusive alchemy, and she experienced a terrible sense of loss as he gently disentangled her arms and released her.

  She could only look at him as gentle fingers lifted her chin, and her lashes swiftly lowered as he traced the outline of her trembling mouth. Pride alone was responsible for the way she slowly let her lashes sweep upwards to focus on a point slightly beneath his eyes.

  'That shouldn't have happened.'

  'Why ever not?' Nick queried gently. 'We shared a few kisses, that was all.'

  All? If his kisses affected her so tumultuously, how could she cope with his lovemaking? She felt helplessly out of her depth, unable and unwilling to say anything that would highlight the complex state of her emotions. At last, when the silence between them seemed to have stretched into an eternity, she rose slowly to her feet and began tidying their picnic things back into the hamper.

  Nick helped her, and by the time everything was stowed in the boot Annalisa had returned carrying an armful of flowers which were reverently placed in damp newspaper in the boot.

  They headed north for a number of kilometres to a nearby village where Nick indicated they would stop to sample wine in one of the many vineyards dotted across the meandering hillside.

  'A small family establishment which has been handed down from generation to generation,' he explained as he drew the car into the courtyard and brought it to a halt in front of an aged stone house. Their claim to fame is an excellent vintage dry white, the fermentation process being a closely guarded secret known only to selected family members,' he revealed as they walked towards the cellars.

  They were welcomed with enthusiastic conviviality, and Emma accepted a glass of wine and sipped it tentatively, surprised to find the bouquet was exception-al, the taste sharp to her relatively untutored palate.

  'Excellent,' Nick declared, letting his gaze sweep towards Emma. 'Don't you think so?

  'Yes.' Even so, she couldn't finish it, and after a few minutes he took the glass from her hand and with a gesture that was vaguely intimate he lifted it to his lips and drained the contents in one long swallow.

  She looked at him in surprise, glimpsing the warmth apparent in the depths of his eyes, and she was unable to prevent the agonising shaft of sensation that slowly unfurled inside her stomach. Then Annalisa drew her attention to the huge barrels of wine lined up against one wall, and she dragged her thoughts away from the compelling man at her side.

  It was almost seven o'clock when they returned to the villa, and after sharing a cool drink in the salone, during which Annalisa imparted a resume of their day for Rosa's benefit, Emma excused herself and made her way upstairs to shower and change before dinner.

  Rosa and Enzo's party promised to be a glittering formal affair, and Emma dressed with care.

  The dress she'd elected to wear was a deep cobalt-blue silk with draped bodice, delicate straps and a softly draped skirt that flowed with every movement she made. Slim-heeled shoes completed the outfit, and she viewed her mirrored re
flection with detached satisfaction before selecting a diamond and sapphire pendant and matching earstuds from her jewellery case; then she clipped on a bracelet that had formed part of her wedding gift from Marc.

  There were only the final touches of her make-up to attend to, and she chose to highlight her eyes with a careful blending of shadow and mascara, then added a thin film of gloss over her lipstick. Givenchy's L'Interdit was her favourite perfume, and she sprayed the atomiser generously over the valley between her breasts, at her nape, the hollows at the base of her throat, her wrists and ankles before giving her appearance one final scrutiny in the cheval-glass mirror.

  A slim, attractive-looking young woman gazed solemnly back, and Emma smiled, pleased with her total look. She was armed and ready to do battle with the indomitable Nick Castelli, and any other male guests who might attempt to indulge in a harmless flirtation!

  A slight mirthless laugh escaped her lips. There was nothing harmless about Nick. His resolve to infiltrate her emotions was nothing less than daunting, and it took every ounce of courage to turn and walk calmly down the stairs.

  'Ah, there you are,' Annalisa declared with delight as Emma entered the salone, and her warm, hazel eyes glowed with genuine admiration. 'You look beautiful. Doesn't she, Papa?'

  'Indeed she does,' Nick agreed appreciatively, and Emma met his dark, enigmatic gaze with equanimity.

  'Thank you,' she returned gracefully. The sight of him attired in a dark, formal evening suit did strange things to her equilibrium, and she accepted the glass of wine Enzo proffered, sipping its contents in the vain hope that alcohol might restore some sense of calm.