An Awakening Desire

by Helen Bianchin

'Emma.' His voice held an invincible quality that threatened retribution, but she was damned if she'd meekly comply.

  'Give me one valid reason why,' she sallied with unaccustomed stubbornness, and saw his expression harden into a compelling mask.

  'You're coming with me, one way or another—so choose, Emma,' he declared with bleak implacability. 'On your feet—or hoisted over my shoulder.' He paused fractionally, then continued with deadly softness, 'I find it difficult to believe you'd appreciate causing a spectacle.'

  She looked at him in silence for several seconds, waging a mutinous war against his high-handedness. However, capitulation seemed the only advisable course if she was to retain a shred of dignity, and without a word she slipped out from the passenger seat.

  His hand closed round her arm with a steely grasp, and she gritted her teeth together against his strength.

  'You're hurting me.'

  'Believe me, I'm showing remarkable restraint.'

  They traversed the deep-piled carpeted foyer towards the elevator, and the doors whispered open within seconds of Nick pressing the call-button.

  Inside, and mercifully alone in the confines of the electronic carriage, she turned to face him.

  'What do you want from me?' It was a cry from the heart, and his features tautened until they resembled hewn stone.

  'The truth.'

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  'What is the truth, Nick?' Raw cynicism edged Emma's voice, lending it a mockery she'd never thought to possess.

  The elevator slid to a halt and they emerged into an empty corridor. Nick indicated a door to the right, and when they reached it he produced a key, inserted it into the lock, then gently pushed her inside.

  It was a suite, Emma discovered with a quick glance, and one commanding a top-of-the-range tariff, for the furnishings looked expensive and from this height there had to be a spectacular view over the harbour.

  'Would you like a drink?'

  Something seemed to snap inside her, and a burst of hysterical laughter emerged from her lips, 'Oh, by all means, let's observe the conventions.'

  He crossed the lounge to a small bar-fridge and extracted two glasses into which he poured what appeared to be a fairly potent mixture of spirits before placing one glass into her nerveless hand.

  'Salute.'

  She took a generous sip and endeavoured not to cough as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat. It tasted horrible, but it had the desired effect, for within seconds a delicious warmth invaded her veins, and she no longer felt quite so on edge.

  'Now,' Nick began silkily. 'Suppose you explain why you fled so swiftly from the villa, and Rome.'

  His voice was deceptively quiet, but his eyes were dark, gleaming depths of inimical anger, and she began to shake, the tremors of her body seemingly beyond her control as she opted for flippancy. Anything else was madness.

  'You don't mess around with the niceties, do you? Just aim for the jugular.'

  She watched in mesmerised fascination as he replaced his glass on a nearby table, and there was everything predatory about his movements as he shortened the distance between them.

  'I could easily have killed you when I telephoned the villa and discovered from my unusually flustered aunt that you had two hours previously boarded a flight out of Rome.' His voice hardened with frightening intensity. 'I returned at once, to find Annalisa distraught and confused. She quite wrongly attributed some of the blame for your exit on to her own head, imagining that you didn't want either of us and had consequently fled to avoid further embarrassment.'

  Emma closed her eyes, then slowly opened them to find he was within touching distance, and she fixed her attention on the V of his jumper, unwilling to meet his gaze.

  'I didn't mean for Annalisa to be hurt.' The words came out in a ragged flow of remorse.

  'She wouldn't have been, if you had stayed,' Nick went on with pitiless disregard. His eyes darkened until they resembled polished onyx, glittery with unabated anger.

  Emma took a backwards step as she glimpsed the icy rage apparent, and her eyes widened as he caught hold of her shoulders and dragged her close.

  Even as his head lowered she twisted her own in a desperate attempt to avoid the forceful pressure of his mouth, and she gave an anguished groan as her lips were crushed with bruising insistence, his touch hard and merciless, almost cruel, as he sought the sweet inner moistness she fought so hard to deny him.

  A shudder shook her slender frame, an almost convulsive reaction to the traitorous kindling of desire that swept like flame through her body, consuming all her inhibitions with galling swiftness.

  Sheer perversity kept her mouth tightly closed, and it was only when his hand slid to capture her nape, his fingers tightening ruthlessly in the riot of curls there, pulling the tender roots, that she gasped against the excruciating pain. Then she almost cried as he gained entry, filling her mouth and plundering its depths with such utter devastation that it became nothing less than a total ravishment of her senses.

  Nothing, nothing could be worse than this, she agonised mindlessly as she silently willed him to stop for fear she might slip into an engulfing, threatening void.

  Then suddenly she was free, thrust roughly away, and she dimly registered his husky, almost guttural exclamation of self-disgust a few brief seconds before he pulled her back into his arms, burying her head into the curve of his shoulder, and she felt his lips drift softly against her temple.

  'Forgive me,' he murmured gently. Fingers that seemed oddly shaky slid through her hair, and she felt a tremor run through his powerful body, heard the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath her cheek racing almost as fast as her own; then his mouth travelled slowly to seek the sensitive curve of her neck, brushing the deep pulsing cord before lifting his hands to cup her face.

  Emma closed her eyes against his dark, chiselled profile, and her mouth began to tremble of its own volition as his lips trailed over her cheekbones, the delicate length of her nose, then each closed eyelid in turn before claiming her mouth.

  This time there was only gentleness in his touch, an incredible tenderness that was almost a benediction, as he traced the bruised outline with his tongue before sliding up to caress an ear lobe, taking it gently between his teeth, and she could almost sense his smile as he murmured teasingly, 'Cara … Bellissima. Or perhaps you would prefer amante—inamorata?

  Lover. Even thinking about those hours she'd spent in his arms brought a fresh flood of ignoble colour to her cheeks. Her voice seemed locked in her throat, unable to emerge, and after a few miserable seconds she let her lashes sweep slowly down, veiling their expressive depths.

  'Emma?'

  She not only couldn't speak, she couldn't bear to look at him.

  'Dio,' Nick groaned emotively. 'How can you be so blind?' He shook her gently, and she felt his hands slip up to cradle her face. 'Look at me.'

  Her eyelids quivered, then slowly flickered upwards in obedience, and she glimpsed the wealth of emotion apparent, the sheer depth of feeling that was solely for her.

  'The past two weeks have been hell.' He lifted a hand and raked weary fingers through his hair, ruffling it into attractive disorder, and Emma glimpsed the tension etching his features, the bleakness evident in his eyes.

  'I picked up the telephone at least once every night. There were so many words I wanted to say—simple, yet desperately important words, like—I love you. Instead, I was swayed by a pair of haunting gold eyes which alternately begged and pleaded with me, and I replaced the receiver before the call could connect.'

  She wasn't capable of uttering so much as a word, and she watched with captivating fascination as Nick lifted a hand and brushed gentle fingers across her. cheek, then along the edge of her chin, tilting it as he forced her to retain his gaze.

  'I knew you needed time away from me, time in which to be able to evaluate your own feelings and gain some kind of perspective. I was sure of my emotions. Sure of yours.' A faint smile lifted the edges of his mout
h, then twisted with a degree of cynicism. 'Does that sound presumptuous? God knows, I've suffered the tortures of the damned—wanting, needing you.' His expression became infinitely serious as he caressed the fine bones of her face. 'I want to be in your life, part of your future. I know I want you as my wife.' He paused, his eyes becoming deeply intent, and his hands slid down to her shoulders, his thumbs creating havoc as they moved absently back and forth along the delicate hollows at the edge of her collarbone. 'I want to kiss you until there isn't a vestige of doubt in your mind as to who I am. Hold you, love you. Never let you go.'

  A shaft of exquisite longing began to unfurl deep inside her, radiating slowly until it encompassed her whole body.

  'Marc—'

  She lifted a hand and placed her fingers against his lips, silently begging him to listen, to understand what she had to say.

  'Marc was—' she faltered slightly, searching for the right words. 'My very dear friend. It never occurred to either of us to question the quality of our emotions; we simply accepted our shared togetherness, the happiness we had, our mutual enjoyment of each other, and thought it was love.' Her mouth trembled a little, and her voice shook. 'Perhaps that's why I hated you so much,' she revealed with a trace of sadness. 'For showing me the difference.' Her eyes became wide and clear, almost luminous as she held his gaze. It made me afraid. Not only of you, but of myself.' Her fingers wavered as she felt his lips move, and she shook her head in silent negation.

  'I imagined the warmth I shared with Marc was all there was to—sexual pleasure. Sensual ecstasy was something I believed to exist only in the imaginative female mind.' Her eyes roved over his features, seeing the rugged strength apparent, the depth of emotion evident, and gathered sufficient courage to continue.

  'After that—night, with you, I felt like a traitor. To Marc, to myself.' A slightly hollow laugh emerged from her throat in a gesture of self-deprecation. 'I was filled with guilt in every conceivable form. And shock. Disbelief. All of those emotions. What was worse was being made painfully aware of a deep, abiding passion that daily became more impossible to ignore.'

  Emma felt his mouth open beneath her fingers as he gently caressed each one in turn, then he removed her hand to thread his fingers through her own.

  'So you ran away,' Nick declared softly, and she shivered beneath the latent sensuality evident in his eyes.

  'I couldn't stay.'

  'If I'd followed my baser instincts, I would have taken you to Milan with me and kept you chained to my side day and night,' he revealed with brooding, almost wry amusement. 'For most of that first week at the villa I had to content myself with being the ideal companion, convinced you preferred Annalisa's company to that of my own.' He slanted her a teasing smile. 'The only thing that gave me some hope was evidence of your increasing awareness of me, although I began to wonder if I would ever break through the silken threads of your self-made cocoon, and I was torn between using tender loving care and brute force. Fearful that if I lost control, I would merely succeed in frightening you with the strength of my desire. And you, my sweet Emma, were preoccupied with fighting your own inner battles. The result of which was a number of volatile clashes.'

  His eyes darkened measurably for a few long seconds, then became vaguely rueful as he leaned his head down and bestowed a long, lingering kiss to her softly parted lips, deepening the caress with an evocative skill that stirred her senses and dispelled any lingering doubt.

  Slowly she lifted her arms, linking her hands together behind his neck as she gave herself up to the elusive alchemy of his touch, and it was a long time before he slowly lifted his head.

  Emma stood enraptured and totally bemused as he slid his hands from her waist up to close over her shoulders, helpless beneath an emotive maelstrom from which she never wanted to emerge.

  'When will you marry me?'

  She began to smile, a mischievous sparkle lightening her eyes to a brilliant shade of topaz. 'I wasn't aware I had been asked.'

  She was lightly shaken for her temerity. 'Sweet fool,' Nick growled huskily. 'There can be no doubt that you will.'

  Her expression sobered a little, her gaze becoming remarkably steady as she met the dark intensity apparent in his own, the latent passion evident, and she was aware of a matching aching need, a longing so tumultuous it was almost impossible to contain. 'A few months—'

  'Next week,' he insisted with quiet certainty. 'I refuse to wait any longer.'

  'You're joking!' The words left her lips in an incredulous gasp, and he shook his head, chiding gently, 'Don't make unnecessary obstacles, cara. Your need to be with me is almost equal to my own.'

  'But we can't get married so soon' Emma declared shakily, her mind racing with a multitude of complexities.

  'Yes. Believe it.'

  She seemed momentarily lost for words, and he offered quietly, 'I want you with me, by my side every day and in my bed all night long.' His hands slid up to caress her face before slipping to cradle her head. 'To wake in the morning and see you there, know you are mine.' His voice was a soothing, slightly inflected drawl that carried the weight of his conviction. 'Could you live in Italy, do you think?'

  It didn't matter where, as long as he was there, and she said so, her heart in her eyes. 'Yes. Milan—anywhere. Being together is all that matters.'

  'Grazie,' Nick said gently. 'Annalisa will be ecstatic.'

  'I will have to tell—'

  'Your parents, Marc's,' he intervened quietly, 'will approve and agree when presented with a fait accompli. Be delighted for your future happiness with a man who regards you as the reason for his existence.' He paused, his eyes softening as he caught sight of her bemused confusion. 'There will be no difficulties, I promise.'

  And there weren't. It was exactly as Nick had predicted, and Emma floated through the ensuing week on a euphoric cloud, finding it incredibly easy to fall in with every arrangement that was made.

  The simple ceremony at the register office was quiet, with immediate family present, and afterwards there were only the closest of friends invited to a buffet dinner held in the privacy of her parents' home.

  Hamilton Island, part of the Whitsunday group of islands in tropical North Queensland, had been chosen for a few days' holiday prior to their departure from Sydney for Rome. One of the more recently developed tourist resorts, Hamilton Island was advertised as an idyllic paradise, and it was exactly that.

  Emma surveyed their luxurious unit with its panoramic view over the wide, sweeping pool to the sparkling blue ocean, then she turned back towards the man at her side.

  'It's beautiful, so peaceful. Almost heaven,' she declared quietly.

  'Almost, amante?' Nick teased huskily, pulling her close, and she looked up at him glimpsing the faint edge of tension beneath the surface, a waiting expectancy that was carefully hidden, yet there none the less.

  Slowly, and with infinite care, she lifted her arms and linked them together at his nape.

  'I love you,' she vowed simply. 'With everything I have to give—for as long as I live.'

  His eyes flared with naked desire, then became dark with a deep, slumbrous warmth as he lowered his head down to hers, and she opened her mouth generously beneath the incredible gentleness of his own, glorying in his passivity as she initiated the kiss, exploring in a manner she would never have dreamt of doing in the past.

  Fire swept through her veins, delicious and intoxicating, and she moved closer against him, exultant as she caught the faint, almost imperceptible catch in his breath before his mouth hardened, possessing hers with hunger and raw, aching need.

  It was a long time before he reluctantly lifted his head, and the wealth of passionate intensity evident brought a faint tinge of delicate pink to her cheeks.

  His smile was blatantly sensuous, the depths of his eyes filled with lazy amusement.

  'What would you suggest, Emma Castelli?' he drawled softly. 'A stroll along the beach, a swim in the pool?'

  She tilted her head to on
e side, contriving to give each suggestion some thought. 'You choose,' she offered demurely, and a soft, husky laugh left his throat.

  'Such compliance.'

  The temptation to tease him was irresistible. 'Perhaps we could explore the complex——'

  'Witch! The only exploration I want to conduct is of you.' He trailed idle, almost chiding fingers along the edge of her jaw, then traced the outline of her mouth, his forefinger moving back and forth across the soft fullness of her lower lip in a gentle, caressing gesture.

  An exquisite melting sensation consumed Emma's body, rendering her malleable, totally his.

  'Do you need an invitation?' she whispered, becoming lost in the wealth of passion evident in his gaze, and without a word he swept an arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms, then he walked slowly towards the bedroom.