So what was he going to do about it? Given the vast resources at his disposal, couldn’t he reach out to help her, even though so far she had stubbornly resisted any attempt to do so? She’d even refused his offer to provide a removal lorry and he’d heard through the grapevine that she had driven a large van rather dangerously around the village green.
She was certainly stubborn—and proud. It seemed she would rather struggle on independently than accept the assistance which he could provide. He found himself comparing her to the women he’d known in the past. He thought about Eugenia in particular—and her never-ending hunger for all things material. Yet as he looked into a pair of shimmering, bloodshot eyes he realised that Lily Scott couldn’t have been more different.
Her flowery dress revealed her bare knees and her shoulders were slumped dejectedly—and in that moment she looked so damned young and vulnerable that he felt an aching sense of destiny deep inside him. Walking over to the sofa, he sat down beside her, seeing the startled question in her blue eyes. Slipping his arm around her, he brought her up close. ‘Come here,’ he said.
‘Don’t,’ she whispered, but it was a word which lacked conviction because the truth was that it felt wonderful to be close to him again—to feel the heat of his powerful body next to hers. Only this time it wasn’t sex which had brought her here—but something nearly as potent. It was safety. And solace. It was the feeling that nothing could harm her as long as Ciro was near. She felt protected by him—as if he could throw a charmed and protective circle around her—and that was a dangerously heady feeling. She wanted to burrow her head up against his chest, like a little animal who had found itself a safe haven. But somehow she resisted and stayed right where she was.
‘Why didn’t you come to me for help, Lily?’ he demanded. ‘When I told you that you only had to call me.’
She shook her head. ‘You know why.’
He pulled her against him, so that her face was close to his neck and he realised that he was holding his breath—unsure whether she’d shy away. He felt the delicious warmth of her breath against his skin as a bitter truth washed over him. Yes, he knew why she hadn’t asked him for help. Because she thought he would ask for something in return. For sex. Briefly, he closed his eyes. Was that true? Had he made his benevolent offer out of the goodness of his heart, or because he wanted something much more fundamental from her?
Suddenly, he was angry with himself. After years of meeting women who just wanted to get into his trousers or his bank account, he had finally met one who didn’t. Who worked hard for a minimum wage and put the needs of her younger brother above her own. She hadn’t fallen into bed with him, even though her hunger had easily matched his. She hadn’t phoned him, or stalked him. She hadn’t engineered an ‘accidental’ meeting in order to save face.
She had behaved like a lady from the start, while he had responded by coming onto her with the finesse of a randy soldier who hadn’t been near a woman for months. He could feel the whisper of her breath on his skin, soft and rhythmical, like a warm balm. He remembered that first moment of seeing her, all warm and flushed from her baking—when the thunderbolt had hit him. He found he could imagine a child at her breast. His child. He could imagine Lily making an exemplary mother. She represented an innocent yet seductive world he had never known and suddenly he saw that it could be his. She could be his.
For a moment he stilled as a powerful wave of certainty washed over him and he tilted her chin upwards so that her bright eyes were looking straight at him. ‘I think I’m going to have to marry you,’ he said.
Blinking away the last of her tears, Lily looked at him in disbelief. For a moment she thought she must have misheard him, but the expression on his face was deadly serious. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’ she breathed.
‘Maybe I have.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t seem to have been thinking very straight lately—but maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to feel when you meet a woman who is like no other woman you’ve known.’
‘What are you talking about, Ciro?’
‘I’m talking about a solution to your problems. I think you’re going to have to marry me, Lily,’ he said, the tip of his finger tracing a path over her suddenly trembling lips. ‘Let me take care of you—and your brother. There’s no need for him to turn down his place at art school—as my brother-in-law, he won’t have to worry about a thing.’
Lily tried to tell herself this couldn’t be real. She tried to fight against it, more as a defence mechanism than anything. But his words were unbearably tempting—and not just because she recognised that he could change Jonny’s future by taking away all the doubts and uncertainty. It went deeper than that. Her thoughts were now taking her to a place which was dangerous as she acknowledged the impact this man could have on her emotions as well as her finances.
‘Tell me you don’t mean it,’ she said, trying to inject a note of humour into her voice. ‘Either you’ve had a knock on the head—or you’ve been drinking.’
He gave a low laugh. ‘Neither. I do mean it and do you know why? Because you thrill me, Lily. You thrill me in a way I’ve never been thrilled by a woman before. I admire your prudence and your pride. And in a crazy kind of way, I like the fact that you refused to go to bed with me the other night.’
‘Is that something which is unheard of, then?’
‘Yes,’ he answered simply. ‘No woman has ever turned down the opportunity to have sex with me. Only you. And your old-fashioned values appeal to something fundamental in me—something which I’ve discovered is important. You see, I’ve never come across such qualities in a woman before and I may never do so again. And that’s why I want you to marry me, Lily. Be my wife—and I will give you everything you need.’
Distractedly, she shook her head. ‘You don’t know what I need.’
‘Ah, but I do, dolcezza. You need a man who will take care of you. Who will provide for you and let your brother fulfil his potential. While you…’ He framed her face with his hands, seeing the wariness which had darkened her blue eyes. ‘You can give me exactly what I want.’
She met the heated gleam of his gaze as a shiver of awareness whispered over her skin. ‘And what might that be?’
He shrugged, as if he was silently acknowledging that his ideas were outmoded—that few men would have admitted to what he was about to say. ‘I want a conventional wife in a conventional role. Someone who will create a home for me. Who is waiting for me at the end of the day—not a woman fighting her way into some damned job every morning, who’s too tired for dinner when she gets home. I want someone who respects her body enough to cherish it, in the way that you do. I want you, Lily,’ he said simply. ‘I’ve wanted you since I saw you standing in the kitchen, making pastry. I remember walking towards you and thinking that any moment I would wake up and find that I’d been dreaming. But each step which took me towards you made me realise that I was wide awake. I saw some flour on your nose and wanted to reach out and brush it away. And then you looked into my eyes and I felt the thunderbolt. I’d heard other men speak of it before, but up until that moment I didn’t believe it existed. At least, not for me.’
‘What thunderbolt?’ she echoed in confusion, because her own memory of the day was that it had been bathed in glorious sunlight.
‘In Italy we say un colpo di fulmine. Literally, a bolt of lightning. It is what happens when you look at a woman and suddenly you are struck here. Here.’ And he laid his hand over his chest. ‘In the heart.’
Lily could feel the deep pounding beneath her palm, aware of the significance of what he was telling her—wanting to believe him and yet too scared to dare. Yet hadn’t she felt it, too—a powerful connection when she’d seen the dark stranger in the garden and her heart had clenched tightly? Hadn’t he seemed to symbolise everything she’d ever wanted in a man? He still did. But the main reason she had pushed him away was because she was frightened of the way he could make her feel.
She knew only too wel
l that feelings made you vulnerable. They left you open to heartbreak, and pain. She remembered how devastated she’d been by her fiancé’s sudden exit from her life and had vowed never to put herself in that position again. And Ciro’s proposal was nothing but a whim, she told herself fiercely. How could he possibly be offering her marriage when they barely knew one another? It was about control and desire. About getting her into his bed, no matter what the price.
Reluctantly, she wriggled away from the warmth of his embrace and met the speculative look which gleamed from between his narrowed eyes.
‘It’s an amazing offer,’ she said slowly. ‘But it’s also a crazy one—and I can’t do it. I can’t marry you, Ciro—and when you’ve had a chance to think about it, you’ll thank me for it.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
BUT Ciro didn’t thank Lily for turning down his proposal. On the contrary, her refusal to marry him fed a desire for her which was fast approaching fever-pitch, until he could think of nothing else. For the first time in his adult life, he had come up against something which eluded him. A woman who was strong enough to resist him. And it was driving him crazy.
He thought of Eugenia. Beautiful, high-born Eugenia, whom everyone had thought he would marry. He’d thought so himself, until he’d come to realise that her love of money and power eclipsed all the values he held so dear. He remembered the defining moment which had signalled the end, when a woman had been flirting outrageously with him at a dinner party. Eugenia had noticed, of course, but instead of showing indignation she’d hinted that she could be very ‘grown up’ about relationships, if he was prepared to be understanding. The implication being that he could always buy his way out of a difficult situation. That if he were ever to stray—then she would be prepared to turn a blind eye. She’d delivered the killer blow with a speculative smile. Just as long as he rewarded her with some expensive little bauble or trinket.
Eugenia’s vision of the future had resembled the sophisticated bed-hopping he had witnessed as a child and it had sickened him. Ciro had ended the relationship that same night and his desire for a decent and innocent woman had been born. The cynic in him had never believed he’d find her—but now he had. Lily Scott embodied everything he’d ever dreamed of in a woman. And she had turned him down!
He began to set about changing her mind. To work out what it would take to sway her. For a man who had never had to really try—Ciro now found himself having to make an exception. But then, rising to a challenge had always been an integral part of his make-up.
He sent her flowers—a tumbling mass of blooms which were scented and white. The bouquet was accompanied by a simple, hand-written note, which read: If I promise to behave myself, then will you have dinner with me?
She told him afterwards that the note had made her smile—but she said it in a way which suggested that her week had been light on humour. Over dinner that night he discovered that her brother had gone back to boarding school and was about to turn down his offer of a place at art school. He saw the way her face was working, as if she was struggling to contain her emotions, and he felt an overwhelming sense of frustration, knowing that he could solve her brother’s dilemma in a heartbeat. But he also knew he couldn’t help her unless she was prepared to accept his help.
She told him more about her life at the Grange and he realised how difficult it must have been, living with the avaricious stepmother who had become the mistress of the house. She opened up enough to tell him that Suzy had taken stuff which had belonged to her father, which by right should have gone to Jonny. He heard her voice stumble and that was when he discovered the story of her mother’s missing pearls. A beautiful and priceless necklace which had been in her family for generations.
‘Let me get this straight, Lily,’ he said slowly, staring into her bright blue eyes. ‘You’re telling me that your stepmother stole your pearls?’
Quickly, she shook her head. ‘Oh, I’m sure she didn’t think of it as theft. She just took them up to London and—’
‘Are you expecting to ever see them again?’
She bit her lip. ‘Well, no,’ she admitted.
‘Then that’s theft,’ said Ciro as a cold kind of rage filled him.
He spent the next two days in London and when he returned, he phoned Lily and asked if she’d like to go to a concert in the grounds of a nearby abbey. Her voice lifted as she accepted—almost as if she had missed him as much as he had her.
Ciro felt an immense glow of satisfaction as he got ready for the evening ahead and even the English weather seemed to be on his side. It was one of those magical summer nights, with a huge moon, and they could hear heartbreakingly beautiful strains of violin music drifting through the warm air as they walked towards the venue.
He fed her chocolate and sips of champagne and, during the interval, pulled a slim leather box from the depths of the picnic basket, where it had been nestling in a napkin.
‘What’s this?’ she questioned as he handed it to her.
‘If I were to tell you, then it would only spoil the surprise. Go on—open it.’
Lily fiddled with the clasp, the odd note in his voice making her feel suddenly nervous. She flipped up the lid, dazedly sitting back on her heels as she stared at the contents in disbelief. For there, reposing against folds of satin with a fat and creamy gleam, lay the familiar strand of pearls which had belonged to her darling mother. For a moment, her hands were shaking so much that she let the box slip from her hands and it was Ciro who retrieved it. Ciro who carefully removed the pearls and then looped them around her neck, his warm fingers brushing briefly against her skin.
‘Oh, Ciro,’ she whispered. Her hand reached up to touch them and for a moment she remembered her mother wearing them, looking so beautiful and elegant in those long-ago days before the cruel illness had ravaged her. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she met his compassionate look and it took a moment before she had composed herself enough to speak. ‘Where did you get them?’
‘Where do you think?’
‘From Suzy?’ And when he nodded, she blinked at him in surprise. ‘She gave them to you?’
He resisted the temptation to tell her that he’d paid well over the odds for the necklace. That Suzy Scott had recognised how much he wanted them and an envious look had hardened her eyes as she’d realised why. She had asked for a sum which had been astronomical by anyone’s standards but he had paid it instantly, because the thought of bartering with such a woman had filled him with distaste.
‘Yes, she gave them to me.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And I’m giving them back to their rightful owner.’
‘Oh, Ciro.’ She tried to find words to thank him but nothing would come—only a convulsive kind of swallowing as she realised the significance of what he’d done. What a wonderful and thoughtful gesture to have made.
‘And I know it’s shameless of me to strike at a moment of such high emotion, but I can be completely shameless at times.’ He picked up her hand and began to brush her fingertips against his lips. ‘Which is why I’m asking you again to marry me.’
‘Ciro—’
‘I could give you a hundred reasons why it makes sense—starting with the fact that I want to help your brother achieve his dreams by funding his place at art school.’
‘That’s another pretty shameless statement,’ she said, shivering as she felt his tongue slide slowly against her middle finger.
He met the darkening of her eyes. ‘But there are plenty of others. Top of the list is probably my insane desire to kiss you.’
She swallowed, gathering up the courage to tell him the truth. ‘I think that might be near the top of my list, too.’
He moved her fingers away from his mouth and bent forward, his lips grazing hers and feeling her body shiver with desire as he pulled her close. Lacing his fingers in the thick chignon of her hair, he kissed her as he couldn’t ever remember kissing a woman before—hard and deep and passionate. He heard the throaty moan she made as she wrapped her arms
around his neck and felt the wild thunder of his heart. He stopped only when his lungs were so deprived of air that he felt almost light-headed and then he drew his head away and looked down at the hectic glitter of her eyes.
‘But first I need you to marry me,’ he said unevenly.
And Lily knew she was all out of excuses. That it would be madness to say no—even if she wanted to. She could feel the smoothness of the pearls against her skin and she could feel her heart lifting with gratitude for what he’d done. A man like Ciro would be easy to love, she thought. Oh, so easy.
‘And I need you to marry me,’ she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I’M SCARED,’ said Lily.
Staring at her ghostly image, she looked up to meet Danielle’s eyes, which were reflected back at her in the silvered opal mirror. ‘I know it’s stupid, but I am.’
‘Because?’ asked Danielle patiently.
Lily touched her fingers to the exquisite veil which flowed down over her shoulders and the woman in the mirror mimicked the movement. Would it sound crazy to admit to feeling lost in Il Baia—this vast Neapolitan hotel of Ciro’s, where she and Danielle had been staying in the days leading up to today’s ceremony? Or to try to explain that the beautiful city of Naples and strange language were a complete culture shock to someone who’d spent most of her life in and around Chadwick Green? It was as if the reality of Ciro’s wealthy life and powerful influence had only just sunk in and she wondered whether she would be equipped to deal with it. In the passion of the moment, it had been all too easy to say yes to his proposal of marriage—but here in the sumptuous confines of his life, she wondered how she would cope with being his wife.
She shrugged and the delicate silk of the bodice whispered over her shoulders. ‘I can’t imagine living here in Naples.’
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