by Jennie Lucas
He took a rough breath. “I left without him knowing I’d overheard. I went to Rosalia’s room, to tell her what happened. I found her in bed with the captain of the show-jumping team.” His lips twisted. “I’d never even slept with her. I was still a virgin with this idealistic goal of marrying this perfect woman. But she’d never given a damn about me, just for the pretty trinkets I bought her. The next day, I got my revenge. I stopped my horse before the jump and went back to Spain. I used my small savings to buy Santo Castillo for my mother.
She lived for a year, and my father did not live long without her. But I never forgave myself
… for foolishly valuing a woman’s lies over what really mattered. My home. My family.”
“Oh, Stefano.” Annabelle reached for his hand, and he saw tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Standing beside the bed where she sat, he held her hand for long moments of silence.
His hand tightened over hers as he looked down at her.
“I know you think you can’t trust me, Annabelle,” he whispered. He lifted his chin.
“But you can. Being with you, for the first time since I was nineteen, I have found a woman I trust. A woman I believe in. I believe in you.”
Visibly trembling, Annabelle rose to her feet.
Pulling her into his arms, he nuzzled her temple. “Don’t leave tomorrow, Annabelle,” he whispered against her hair. “Stay here with me.”
He felt her hesitate, felt her start to melt in his arms. Then she pushed away angrily.
“How dare you use your charm on me!”
He blinked. “Charm?”
“You know you have power over me!” she raged. “You always make me do anything you want!”
Stefano liked the sound of that. He came closer to her. “Do I really have such power?”
“You know you do,” she whispered.
He hid a smile. Wrapping his arms back around her, he pressed his lips to her ear.
“Then before you make any decisions about leaving tomorrow,” he whispered, “listen to the rest of the argument in my favor….”
Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her with all the emotion he could not express in words.
He felt her hands try at first to push him away. But he held on to her forcefully, kissing her passionately, until her hands grew still, then gripped his shoulders as a sigh of pleasure escaped her.
Her lips were sweet magic, luring him with the promise that he could be the man she needed, if only for a while. A few weeks. A few months. A year?
Her small hands reached beneath his black shirt, stroking his bare chest. Teasing him.
With a growl, he turned on her and ripped her white shirt open, popping off the buttons. He pushed her against the bedroom wall.
Kissing down her neck, he stroked her breasts until her head fell back with a gasp of pleasure. He unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor, licking the valley between her breasts as if they were covered with sticky sweet jam.
But Annabelle was no longer a shy, timid virgin. She loved this game and reached for his shirt, yanking it up over his head. He pushed against her, his bare chest to her breasts, hungry to feel her heat, her warmth, her softness. He nipped at her neck, sucking and biting her until he knew he’d left his mark. He felt her nails in his back as he kissed her mouth, hard and deep. He felt her teeth bite his lower lip and he gasped. He nearly exploded right then and there.
His innocent mistress had become a fiery, fearless temptress.
Moving his hands down her naked belly, he undid her belt. Her oversize jeans dropped to the floor. Kicking them aside, he ripped off her panties.
He needed her. Right now. He barely got his jeans unzipped and grabbed a condom and he was roughly inside her, shoving her against the wall, plunging deep as she wrapped her legs around his hips with a hot gasp. She was so wet, three thrusts and she gasped out her climax in the same instant that he pumped deep inside her with a shout.
Afterward, they were so spent they collapsed onto the bed. There, he held her, stroking her without words in the early-evening shadows. He kissed her softly, gently, stroking her cheek as he gazed down at her. He could not get enough of looking at her face.
But within minutes, he was hard for her again. This time, after taking her like an animal, he intended to go slowly. Rolling Annabelle gently back against the soft pillows, Stefano slowly kissed down her neck, her breasts, all the way down her belly and thighs and knees to the hollows of her feet. He kissed and sucked and stroked every inch of her body with his lips and fingertips until she shook all over, begging wordlessly for him to take her.
Moments earlier, he’d done so with rapid, explosive violence. Now, he moved slowly, torturing her with an hour of teasing and touching and suckling. Only when she begged for release from her agony did he finally show mercy. But even then, he tortured her. He gradually thrust inside her, impaling her inch by inch, until she wept with need.
Then … he slammed inside her. Hard. Fast. Her fulfillment came almost instantly and she arched her back in a sharp cry like the sun bursting through dark clouds.
That was the moment. The best moment. Stefano watched her luminous face, and knew if he lost her, he would lose the sun.
He would convince her to stay. He would find a way.
Hours later, as the pale light of dawn crept through the blinds of his bedroom window, Annabelle woke up smiling from a delicious dream. Except it wasn’t a dream.
She was still in Stefano’s arms, lying against his naked body as he slept. She exhaled, exhausted to her toes. Sore. And yet so happy. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy.
They’d made love three times last night. Or was it four? She counted.
One. Shocking. Rough. Hard and brutal against the wall.
Two. She shivered. He’d tortured her with his sensual hands for hours, it seemed, before he’d finally thrust inside her.
Then, putting on robes, they’d snuck down to the kitchen for sandwiches, giggling like children trying to stay quiet and failing miserably before they returned to his bedroom with a tray.
After the brief repast of sandwiches and wine and strawberries in bed, they’d slept in each other’s arms before she’d been woken by the touch of his hand.
Three. He’d kissed her, deep and hot, then as she’d moaned with pleasure he’d rolled her over to take her from behind, plunging inside her, wrapping his hands around her body to hold her breasts as he thrust inside her like a stallion covering a mare. He was so deep inside her, touching her womb, stretching her to the hilt, she’d exploded almost at once.
Sweaty and sticky, they’d fallen back against the twisted cotton sheets. Laughing at the way their bodies seemed to stick together, they’d decided to take a shower.
Inside the enormous glass shower of his en suite bathroom, they’d washed each other’s hair, scrubbing each other’s bodies until they were pink with heat and fragrant with soap.
He’d lightly massaged her shoulders and she’d closed her eyes, leaning back against him with a sigh as the hot steam surrounded them. Then abruptly, he’d turned her to face him.
Four. He’d fallen to his knees before her. Lifting one of her knees over his shoulder beneath the warm spray of water, he’d licked and suckled between her legs until she’d had a fourth explosion of shattering pleasure.
Afterward, she’d been exhausted, utterly spent. He’d tenderly toweled her off and carried her back into his bed, cradled in his arms.
He’d set her, damp and naked, gently on the white sheets, and she’d briefly had a glimpse of his dark eyes in the moonlight. He’d looked obsessed, almost haunted.
For an instant, she’d wondered if he could be falling in love with her, too. If a miracle could happen and Stefano would tell her, You’re the only woman I want. For the rest of my life.
Then the moment had passed. Stefano had pulled away, kissing her softly in bed and pulling her against his naked body as they slept the few remaining hours
before dawn.
Now, as Annabelle blinked in the early dawn light, the smile slowly slid from her face.
Today was their very last day.
The last morning she would wake up in Stefano’s arms. Tonight, after the gala, she would leave for London.
Today was the last day Stefano would be hers.
And even today, he wouldn’t truly be hers, she realized with a sinking heart. Within an hour or two, guests would start to arrive for the late-morning pre-polo breakfast. Annabelle closed her eyes, imagining beautiful, sultry socialites swathed in diamonds and miniskirts, and no doubt experienced in the ways of luring and pleasing a man.
Annabelle swallowed, blinking back tears. She’d never know again how it felt to be Stefano’s woman, to have him kiss her, to have him hold her in his strong arms as his dark eyes burned through her soul.
It had taken her thirty-three years to fall in love. Now, there’d be no more warmth. No more fire. No more Stefano.
Unless …
Unless what? a cold voice mocked. Do you think if you tell him you love him, he’ll miraculously say he loves you, too?
Annabelle took a deep breath. Maybe.
Forget it, the voice mocked. All he’d feel would be pity.
I don’t know that. His eyes tell me he could love me. His body tells me he could love me. We might have a chance.
If you want to keep your dignity, the voice said scornfully, you’ll stay silent. You’ll walk away.
Stefano stirred in bed beside her, yawning. Still half-asleep, he instinctively pulled her close to his chest, wrapping her tightly in his arms. And how was it possible he already wanted her again? She could feel him hard behind her. Smiling in spite of her turmoil, she turned around in his arms.
She found his dark eyes looking down at her. His whole face shone with contentment.
“Buenos días, querida, “ Stefano said huskily. He leaned forward to kiss her.
She pulled away.
“I have to tell you something,” Annabelle said, entwining her hands in his. She licked her lips. “For all my adult life, being a photographer has been the only thing that made me feel alive and safe.” She looked back at him. “Until I met you.”
Stefano gripped her shoulders. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”
She stared at the floor. Her eyes stung as if pricked with needles.
Tell him, her heart pleaded.
Don’t tell him! her brain ordered.
“Forget about London,” Stefano said. His dark eyes glowed in the early gray light.
“Forget your assignment in Argentina. Don’t leave, querida,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”
Annabelle’s whole body trembled. She didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that her choice at this moment would change the rest of her life.
Pushing away from him, she sat up in bed and rose unsteadily to her feet. Feeling dizzy, she paced five steps, then turned back to him. “Before we talk about that, there’s something I need to tell you first,” she said unsteadily.
“Sí?” He looked up at her.
Shivering, she grabbed her short silk robe with the colorful dragon and tied the silk sash around her waist. Pacing past the window, she glanced through the blinds. The delivery trucks were gone. Instead, she saw two polo players, and three young women in hats walking across the field toward an enormous white tent. Some of the guests were apparently so eager for the day’s events that they’d arrived unfashionably early.
Annabelle took a deep breath. “It will feel odd to have strangers here.” Her lips turned down grimly. “Your guests are starting to arrive.”
His voice was low. “I know.”
Annabelle turned away. “I should really get ready. I have a lot to do today….”
He stopped her with his stark question.
“Annabelle, what did you want to tell me?”
She didn’t turn around. “Why should I tell you?” she whispered. “What more is there to say?”
Except I love you. I love you.
She closed her eyes. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode.
She heard him rise from the bed and walk toward her.
“Whatever it is,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders, “you can tell me.”
Annabelle tried to hide the tremble that went through her at his words. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
He was standing in front of her, naked and so brutally strong, even as his dark eyes shone with tenderness. She looked up into his face, and could no longer keep silent.
Slowly, she lifted her chin.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Stefano sucked in his breath. Drawing back, he searched her face. Fear and hope coursed through Annabelle like a storm, leaving her knees weak.
“You love me?” His voice was husky and low.
Unable to speak, she nodded. “And I need to know … how you feel about me.”
He blinked, then looked down at the floor.
“I care about you, Annabelle,” he said. “More than I’ve ever cared about any woman.”
His last words were quiet. But she could hardly hear anything over the loud thrumming of blood rushing through her ears.
Suddenly, she was freezing. The air in the bedroom was icy. She was surprised she couldn’t see her breath. The soft woven rug felt sharp as rocks beneath her feet.
He didn’t love her.
The mocking voice had been right. It was happening again. Every time she loved someone, they hurt her. Every time she gave someone her heart, they crushed it into dirt.
She felt like she was going to faint.
“You care for me?” she whispered. “I just told you I’m in love with you!”
Stefano’s fingers tightened around hers.
“Yes,” he said sharply. “I care. It’s all I can offer you right now.” Looking down at their intertwined hands, he took a deep breath. “And it’s the most I’ve ever offered any woman. I care for you. I want to be with you. And as long as we are together, I will be faithful.”
“Faithful?” She tossed her head, looking at him coldly. “For how long? A day? A week?”
He lifted his head, and his dark eyes glittered like a January midnight. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “But as long as we are together, querida, you will have all of me.”
Staring at his handsome, tortured face, Annabelle wanted to fall to her knees and weep. Of course it had ended this way. Of course it had.
She folded her arms, willing herself to feel as numb as everyone believed her to be.
But bitter anguish seeped through her soul like acid.
“All of you would mean love. Commitment. A promise. What you offer me is a long series of one-night stands. That is all a man like you can offer any woman!”
With a harsh intake of breath, Stefano stumbled back from her words, as if she’d shot him with a rifle.
Heartsick, stricken with tears, Annabelle turned to go.
“Wait. Don’t go.” His voice was low and hoarse. “It’s all happened so fast. I never expected this. I need more time. You have to give me more time.”
“No. I don’t.” Turning away, she started toward the door, desperate to escape before she collapsed into humiliating sobs.
“Wait!” He raced across the room. Gripping her shoulders, he looked down at her fiercely. “Just wait, damn it!”
“I don’t need to wait,” she whispered. “I already know how this ends.”
“You don’t!”
“And I hate feeling like this, feeling I can’t live without knowing if—if—”
“If what?” he ground out.
She exhaled. “If loving you will kill me.”
Stefano paced in front of her. He stopped, his jaw clenched. Furiously, he raked his dark hair back with his hand.
“What do you want from me, Annabelle?” he said. “Should I give you a list of pretty promises to keep you here with me? I’m telling you the truth! Should I lie and
tell you I love you, when I don’t even know what I feel right now?”
Annabelle choked out a gasp.
Should I lie and tell you I love you?
Turning with a sob, Annabelle went to his wardrobe and grabbed the tattered linen suit she’d worn the first day he’d made love to her.
Dropping her robe, she yanked on her underwear and suit and shoes as fast as her trembling body would allow her.
“What are you doing?”
Grief ripped through her. “Leaving.” Tears fell unheeded down her cheeks. “Right now.”
“You can’t leave! You’re the official photographer today. It’s part of your cover story for Equestrian—”
“I don’t care,” she choked out. “I can’t stay another minute!”
“You’re being ridiculous!”
“I know,” she choked out. “See what you’ve made of me?”
“Annabelle!”
But she didn’t listen. She ran down the hall to her bedroom. Leaving her equipment and camera bag, she grabbed her wallet, passport and car keys and fled down the stairs.
She could hear his heavy footsteps behind her. She could hear his shout. But her vision was misty with tears as she went to her old Land Rover in the garage. Starting the engine, she roared out of the garage.
Stefano ran in front of her truck, stopping her. Their eyes locked through the windshield.
“Don’t go. I know you think I will hurt you, you think I will betray you, but … you’ve changed me,” Stefano said hoarsely. “Can’t you believe that?”
She looked at him.
“No,” she whispered, and she drove away.
Chapter Eleven
By The time her Land Rover approached the French city of Châtellerault that afternoon, Annabelle had cried until she had no tears left.
A loud honk from a passing truck made her focus her attention on the road. Sweat broke out on her forehead. She’d just nearly had an accident. Had she wanted to crash?
Had she?
Her heart pounded. She saw an exit and pulled off the motorway. Parking beside a gas station, she turned off the ignition and cried, leaning her head against the steering wheel.
She wished she could talk to someone who’d give her a reason why she shouldn’t crash her truck into a tree right now. Her heart yearned for Stefano. But he was lost to her now forever.
