Public Marriage, Private Secrets

by Helen Bianchin

  ‘You choose to imagine that’s all it was? Sensual expertise?’

  No, she admitted wretchedly. It was so much more than that, and the knowledge blew her mind.

  ‘Yes.’

  The car slowed and he used a remote to open the gates, then again to open the garage. As he cut the headlights, the garage lights sprang on and the exterior door folded down.

  In one smooth movement he released his seat belt and turned towards her.

  ‘Liar,’ Raúl accused quietly as he cradled her face and covered her mouth with his own.

  Her initial protest died as he coaxed her lips apart and began exploring the soft tissues with gentle expertise.

  Warmth invaded her veins, firing her nerve-ends until she felt every cell bloom sensually alive, and with a faint sigh she simply gave herself up to the magic only he could create.

  The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, and she was barely aware of his hand caressing her thigh while the other shaped her breast.

  She was unaware of her hands reaching for him, sliding the buttons free from his shirt as she sought warm skin and taut musculature.

  ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Deep husky words filled with passionate intent as he slid free from the car, then crossed to the passenger side and drew her unresisting to her feet.

  A faint gasp left her throat as he slid an arm beneath her knees and swung her into his arms.

  ‘Put me down,’ she protested weakly as he entered the foyer and carried her upstairs to her suite, then closed the door behind them.

  Heat pulsed through her veins, setting her body on fire…for him, only him. The sane, sensible part of her issued a silent warning her emotional heart chose to ignore. She needed this, him, with every breath she took, and she defied rational thought as her hands sought to remove his jacket, loosen his tie, then tear hurriedly at the buttons on his shirt…aware he was equally bent on dispensing with her clothes.

  Skin, just skin…warm, fluid muscle and sinew. She revelled in the feel of him, the clean male musky scent mingling with the exclusive tones of his cologne.

  His hand trailed low over her stomach and sought her moist heat, the acutely sensitive clitoris…he sensed her intake of breath as he skilfully brought her to orgasm.

  Eroticism at its pinnacle…shameless and wildly primitive…and at that moment she couldn’t see, only feel, with the desperate need for fulfilment.

  More. She wanted so much more. Now. It had to be now, or she’d die.

  She linked her hands at his nape and in one agile movement straddled his hips, instinctively arching in against his arousal as he cupped her bottom to hold her there.

  His mouth sought hers as he invaded the inner depths, searching delicate tissues, savouring the taste and feel of her…teasing the highly sensitised heat as he moved her against the length of his arousal…until she closed the edge of her teeth over his tongue in silent urgency for his possession.

  Which he gave, positioning her as he slid in carefully, stilled, then thrust in deep…absorbing her cry as he held her there, aware her heartbeat thudded in unison with his own.

  It wasn’t enough… He wanted her in bed, under him, at his mercy as he drove her wild.

  A few steps was all it took, and he disengaged, tore back the bedcovers in one easy movement, then tumbled them both down onto the sheeted mattress.

  His mouth sought the sensitive curve at the edge of her neck, then traced a path to her breast, moistened the tender peak and drew it into his mouth. He heard the breath hitch in her throat as he tugged hard, and he softened his touch as her nails pressed into his biceps.

  Not content, he trailed light kisses to her waist, lingered at her navel, then with lazy appreciation moved slowly down to settle at the apex of her thighs.

  Her body quivered as he blew gently against the sensitive flesh, then sought the honeyed cleft, traced it with the tip of his tongue, bestowed an open-mouthed kiss… Then he sought the satiny entrance and delved deep, only to retreat and graze the clitoris until she shattered beneath his touch.

  With one easy movement, he shifted and began trailing soft kisses down one inner thigh to her knee and back again, before inching slowly to her breast.

  Her hands, which had been digging into the mattress, moved to clasp his hips…and it was he who felt the breath hitch in his throat as she enclosed his arousal, stroked him, then eased to cup him.

  ‘Careful, querida,’ he warned her gently as he nipped the swollen peak with the edge of his teeth…only to chuckle quietly as she grasped his head and dragged his mouth to her own in a kiss that took passion to new heights.

  It was then he entered her in a slow, deep slide that drew a soft moan from her throat as her muscles tightened, gripping him as she urged him to quicken the pace, demanding as he lost himself in deep, powerful thrusts that rocked them both as they soared high…so high. She simply held on as he took her to the edge, suspended her there, then tipped her over in a glorious free-fall that left them both dragging breath into their lungs.

  Sated, and deliciously replete, she held him close, murmuring indistinctly as she rested in his embrace. His, indisputably his.

  As he was hers…had been from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. She’d intrigued him…he who’d become jaded with the women of his acquaintance. Mostly sycophants who imagined being attractive arm candy and receptive in bed would gain them entry into his world…for a time.

  Gianna had been different. Alive, sparkling…unutterably sweet, and honest, with a dry wit he’d found remarkably refreshing. No hidden agenda, and equally at ease with his high-powered lifestyle. She’d taught him to lighten up, to laugh a little…and to love with his heart, his soul.

  He’d proposed, gifted her his ring, for marriage had been a given…just a matter of organising a day, a time.

  Her accidental pregnancy had delighted him, precipitating the wedding. But the unforeseen miscarriage had been followed soon after by Sierra’s damnably false innuendos…and Gianna had slipped to a place where he’d been unable to reach her.

  ‘Sleep,’ he bade her gently, and he watched her lashes drift down.

  ‘You should leave.’

  He pressed a light kiss to her temple and nestled her close in against him. ‘Later.’

  Except it was she who stirred in the early pre-dawn hours to the light trail of his mouth as he nuzzled the hollow at the base of her throat. She who uttered little protest as he made love to her again…a slow, gentle loving that was all her pleasure, after which he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the en suite bathroom, where he shared her shower, teasing her with the soap before gifting it to her to return the favour.

  Which she did, so caught up in the thrall of him and what they’d shared that she refused to think.

  This…this was heaven. The beautiful aftermath of good sex. Very good sex. Intimacy at its most rapturous, when the heart was gloriously alive…and free from intrusive thought.

  If only it could remain like this, Gianna pondered a trifle wistfully. To be able to go back to the place before it all went wrong…to view it from a different mind-set and avoid the pain and bitterness.

  A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat.

  So much for not thinking.

  ‘Don’t,’ Raúl chided gently.

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘It’s impossible not to.’

  He caught hold of her chin and tilted it so she had no recourse but to meet the darkness in his eyes. ‘There has never been anyone since you. No one.’

  No one? Not even…

  Dared she believe him…trust him? At the time of their marriage she would have given an unequivocal yes.

  Now, even discounting Sierra’s damning words to the contrary, it seemed almost impossible to comprehend a man with Raúl’s sexual energy could remain celibate for such a long period of time.

  There were so many layers to remove to reach the kernel of truth, she perceived.

  Sex…even very good sex�
�did little more than temporarily paper over the cracks.

  Which brought forth the question…had she been wrong three years ago? So distressed and emotionally traumatised that she’d chosen to believe Sierra’s accounting instead of trusting Raúl?

  It was something she’d agonised over countless times, only to reach the same conclusion…logic in favour of an unlikely truth.

  Did she possess the nous, the courage, to confront Sierra and shoot down each and every purported fact…and verify it as fallacy?

  She had the rest of her life in front of her…a successful business, a pleasant apartment, a good lifestyle.

  All of which she’d trade in a heartbeat…

  Oh, God.

  She closed her eyes, counted to ten, then slowly opened them again.

  Don’t let intimacy cloud an important issue, she cautioned herself silently as Raúl released her and closed the water dial.

  With ease he caught up a towel and hitched it at his waist, then he filched another and gently blotted the moisture from her body.

  Towelled dry, he drew her into the bedroom, straightened the covers, then slid beneath them and gathered her in.

  The remembered closeness of being held like this…the soft drift of his fingers as they trailed her spine…the way one hand cupped her head and the slide of his lips to her forehead…it was like coming home to a place where her body instinctively knew it belonged.

  CHAPTER NINE

  GIANNA drifted awake, reluctant to leave what she perceived to be an exquisite dream, only to fail as she became slowly aware of her sprawled position in the bed when she usually woke curled on her side.

  She yawned, stretched a little…and felt the sexual pull deep within. For a brief moment she stilled, then groaned.

  Raúl.

  Ohmigod, they hadn’t…

  She lifted her head and saw the empty space he’d occupied, became aware the scent of his cologne still lingered and weathered the memory, in detail, of what had transpired through the night.

  Hell.

  The time? She picked up her watch and did a double-take to see it was almost nine.

  She never slept in—well, let’s qualify that. She hadn’t had reason to sleep late for a long while.

  Time to rise and shine, shower, dress and greet whatever the day might hold, she decided as she gathered up fresh clothes and headed for the en suite bathroom.

  Twenty minutes later she entered the dining room to find Raúl and Teresa enjoying breakfast.

  ‘Good morning.’

  Gianna met Teresa’s warm smile with one of her own, and returned the greeting while studiously avoiding Raúl’s thoughtful gaze.

  ‘Do help yourself and join us.’

  The chiffonier held juice, cereal, yoghurt, fresh fruit, coffee, and she made her selection, then crossed to take a seat at the table.

  It was impossible not to be supremely conscious of Raúl’s close proximity. Nor to dismiss the vivid memory of his recent possession. After a long absence from sexual activity she could still feel his imprint deep within…a constant vivid reminder in her mind. Could anyone tell?

  Hell, she hoped not—especially Teresa, who would undoubtedly read more into it than Gianna was prepared to admit, even to herself.

  And Raúl? Was it her imagination, or did she glimpse an indolent gleam in his dark gaze as he focused it on her for a few overlong seconds before returning his attention to the food on his plate?

  ‘I feel quite well this morning,’ Teresa announced with a pleased smile. ‘Sufficiently so to accept a dear friend’s invitation to lunch. Miguel will drive me.’ She turned towards Gianna. ‘It would be lovely to have you join me.’

  Her response was immediate. ‘It’ll be a pleasure.’

  ‘Adriana is delightful,’ Teresa continued. ‘A true friend of long standing. You have met her, of course.’

  So she had, at various fundraising functions in Madrid before and after her marriage to Raúl. An exotic beauty, who had chosen to age gracefully, and whose generosity to select charities was legend. Disadvantaged and terminally ill children won Adriana’s unstinting time and support, Gianna recalled.

  Raúl finished the last of his coffee, placed the cup onto its saucer before leaning back in his chair and engaging Teresa’s attention.

  ‘There is something you should hear before it becomes public knowledge,’ he began quietly, and Gianna’s eyes widened in consternation.

  He wasn’t…surely? Yet on some level she realised Teresa would learn the news soon enough, and better for it to come from Raúl than for his mother to hear it secondhand.

  ‘Last night, it was assumed our attendance together indicated a reconciliation, and an announcement was made to that effect.’

  Teresa’s eyes, which had initially brightened, assumed a thoughtful expression. ‘Which is not true?’

  Raúl took hold of Gianna’s hand and threaded his fingers through her own, felt their slight pull, and tightened his grip a little. ‘It’s what I hoped we could work towards, given sufficient time.’

  Teresa turned towards Gianna. ‘How do you feel about this?’

  Oh, my. Blatant honesty wasn’t an option. Consequently she aimed for ambiguity. ‘There are some unresolved issues.’

  ‘I love you both dearly,’ Teresa offered with genuine affection. ‘Nothing would please me more than to see you reunited.’

  ‘Gracias, Madre. If you’ll excuse me?’ Raúl rose to his feet and brushed his lips to Teresa’s temple. ‘I’ll be in the office.’

  Gianna offered a slight smile, only to have her eyes widen as he crossed to her side and rested his hand briefly on her shoulder. ‘Enjoy your lunch.’

  It was such a light gesture, and one that could be interpreted merely as a kind courtesy. So why did it feel as if pink coloured her cheeks in damnably sensitive reaction?

  ‘Thank you,’ she managed with ease, and wondered if she was the only one to glimpse the momentary amusement apparent in his dark eyes before he turned and walked from the room.

  ‘There are a few items of jewellery I very much want you to have,’ Teresa began gently. ‘They were to be bequeathed to you in my will, but now that you are here I can gift them to you personally.’

  Distress clouded Gianna’s eyes, and she placed a hand on Teresa’s arm. ‘Please,’ she protested, ‘I can’t accept anything.’

  ‘Nonsense. It would mean so much to me, knowing you have them.’ She withdrew a slim jeweller’s case and set it on the table. ‘Open it, my dear.’

  ‘Teresa…’

  ‘They’re yours,’ she said simply. ‘Allow me the pleasure of gifting them to you.’

  Gianna’s fingers trembled a little as she released the clasp, and her eyes widened at the sight of a beautiful diamond bracelet in an antique setting.

  ‘The bracelet was handed to my mother by her mother, and my great-grandmother before her. A gift, I believe, to her by a member of the Spanish aristocracy.’

  ‘I can’t possibly…’

  ‘Yes, you can. There are matching ear-studs, and a dress ring.’

  Collectively, they had to be worth a small fortune, and Gianna’s features creased with concern.

  ‘You have Cristina…’

  ‘Cristina will receive her share. But these,’ she declared as she retrieved the bracelet, ‘are special, and they are for you.’

  ‘Raúl…’

  ‘The gift has his approval.’

  There was little she could say except, ‘Thank you. I shall treasure them.’

  ‘I know. The very reason I chose them to gift to you.’

  Gianna rose to her feet and bestowed a gentle kiss to Teresa’s cheek, then enfolded her in a careful hug. ‘Thank you.’ Any minute soon she’d lapse into tears.

  Perhaps Teresa sensed emotions so close to the surface, for she smiled and stood to her feet.

  ‘Let’s take a walk through the grounds. It’s a lovely day, and the gardens are so pretty at this time of year.’

 
; True, Gianna acknowledged as they took the lift down to ground level and stepped out into the sunshine.

  Beautifully groomed lawns, a paved walkway, attractive stone fountains, and carefully tended garden borders featuring carnations, chrysanthemums, gerbera daisies, lilies and lovely asters.

  It was pleasantly warm, the skies a clear blue, and there was a relaxing timeliness in listening to Teresa explain the history of the island.

  ‘I adore being here. It’s so peaceful away from the tourist area. A fresh breeze drifts in from the ocean, and there are luxury amenities to be had within easy distance. I have a few friends here, and the pace of life is less frenetic than in Madrid.’ She cast Gianna a smile. ‘There was a time when I enjoyed a busy social existence. The parties, the theatre, various charities to whom the Velez-Saldaña conglomerate chooses to lend its support. The luncheons, dinners the fundraising committees.’ She paused to point out a fabulous display of roses. ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’

  Indeed they were…deep reds, brilliant yellows and luscious pinks.

  ‘Now I prefer a quiet life, sharing as much time as possible with my son, a few special friends…’ Teresa paused and offered a genuine smile. ‘And you,’ she added gently.

  Gianna found it impossible to still the sudden lump that rose in her throat.

  A short time, Raúl had imparted. A few months, at most.

  The medics had to be wrong. To believe this wonderful gracious lady’s diminishing health would take her from this earth before her rightful time seemed a tragedy.

  ‘I admire you,’ Gianna opined gently.

  Teresa didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Someone said it before me…first you cry. My dear, I did that in the beginning.’ Her dark eyes sparkled with humour. ‘It served no purpose. Instead I chose to make each day count.’ A light laugh escaped her lips. ‘And I do, believe me.’

  Gianna paused and gave Teresa an impulsive hug, then stood at arm’s length. ‘I want you to know how much I care for you.’ She blinked against the threat of tears…and won. ‘You’ve always been there for me. Even in the not-so-good times. Thank you,’ she said simply.

  Teresa was silent for several long seconds. ‘You are as much my daughter as if you were born to me,’ she declared gently.