Prince's Arranged Bride

by Susan Stephens

  He was naked apart from his jeans, and his hard, muscled torso gleamed like a priceless bronze in the sultry haze, setting him apart from all the other men. It wasn’t simply the power in his body, Emily realised as their eyes locked again, or even his extra height. It was that bone-melting menace in his dark, angled stare.

  Prowling the floor around her, it seemed almost as if it was now Alessandro’s turn to draw an invisible barrier between Emily and the rest of the men, so that even amidst the crowd she was undeniably and unmistakably his.

  Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Involuntarily, she touched her tongue to her lips, and one of the young women, misreading her expression, took it for uncertainty. Leaving her partner on the outskirts of the crowd, she alone dared to breach the invisible circle her Prince had drawn around his wife.

  Taking Emily by the arm, she drew her across the sawdust-covered floor towards the huge open vat that stood at one end of the barn. Leading her up the steps, she brought her onto the high platform of seasoned oak.

  ‘Come,’ she said softly, in lightly accented English. ‘You must be the first to climb in, Principessa.’

  A low murmur of approval rose from the men, then died the instant Alessandro shifted his position and started moving towards her.

  ‘I’ll lift you in,’ he murmured, just as she was about to climb over the side.

  Convincing herself that the only reason she would allow him to do that was because there were so many people watching and she couldn’t refuse, Emily proudly inclined her head. There was something about the very special atmosphere surrounding them that made her acutely aware of the power of her femininity. It was a force she could use, or not, as she chose…

  But she had overlooked the fact that she had not felt Alessandro’s arms around her since they had danced together at their wedding reception. And now, thanks to her own reckless choice of clothes and the sensuous ambience in which they found themselves, she was intensely aroused.

  The touch of his hands around her waist was electrifying. She closed her eyes and told herself not to read anything into it. But Alessandro took delight in lowering her as slowly as he could, so that it seemed to Emily as if a lifetime of pleasure was encapsulated in the few seconds it took to sink down into the mountain of grapes. The silence around them had thickened and taken on a new significance, as if everyone in the barn was holding a collective breath. As she sank lower she could feel the swollen fruit bursting beneath her feet, until her legs were completely submerged to the very top of her thighs.

  When Alessandro vaulted over the side to join her a great cheer went up, temporarily diminishing the sensuous mood. It seemed his presence in the vat was the sign for everyone else to climb in, and a mad scramble ensued as tiny spaces were claimed; couples were so closely entwined it was impossible to see where one handsome youth ended and his pretty young partner began.

  In the melee, Emily was thrust up tight against Alessandro, her feet struggling for purchase on the warm, slippery juice and split skins. She was forced to cling onto him just in order to remain standing. Relaxing gradually, as he steadied her, she became aware of his heart thrumming rhythmically against her breasts and his naked chest like warm marble beneath her hands.

  The air was intoxicating, and stimulating, filled with the perfume of grapes and juice and heightened emotion. There was so much noise, so much covert—and not so covert—activity between the couples, that Emily felt shielded by it, free to indulge in her wildest fantasies, to become someone else altogether, someone far more daring and provocative than she could ever hope to be…

  Then, as if at some silent signal, the noise stilled as suddenly as it had begun. Out of the silence rose a moistly slow and regular beat. It was impossible to ignore and useless to resist, and, after missing only a couple of the moves, Emily found herself joining in with the rest and stamping her feet in a rhythmical pattern.

  As the pace increased the atmosphere became charged with a new and primal energy, and, clinging on to Alessandro, Emily felt her senses respond urgently. She softened against him, each of her muscles yielding in turn, until finally she was moulded into him, moving to his rhythm, their rhythm, to the insistent, unavoidable rhythm that consumed them both.

  As she abandoned herself time stood still and meant nothing. She no longer knew where she began and he ended. The only certainty was that she was safe in his arms, and it was to his eyes that her overheated glance flew for approval.

  Soon her clothes were drenched and she was coated all over with the sweet, sticky juice. She noticed that some of their companions were already beginning to peel away, clambering out over the sides of the vat in untidy, exhausted groups. She noticed too how a haze of passion seemed to linger behind each departure, hovering in the air around her and in the lingering exchange of slanted glances as couples retired silently into the shadows, arms intertwined and bodies fused in tense expectation.

  Quite suddenly she was alone with Alessandro.

  Leaning against the side of the great vat, his arms outstretched and resting lightly on the rim, he studied her calmly. Emily felt as if even the air she breathed was saturated with sensuality. She was trembling as he moved towards her, remained quiescent when he swept her into his arms, and felt bereft, even for those few moments of separation, after he had lowered her down over the side of the vat…

  Vaulting over to join her, Alessandro twined his fingers through hers and drew her quickly down the steps with him, across the floor of the barn towards another door she hadn’t noticed before. From there he took her across a small cobbled yard, made shady by a roof of densely intertwined grapevines, and, unlatching another door, he brought her inside the facing building, and shot home a sturdy black bolt.

  They were locked in together, closed off completely from the outside world. Streamers of sunlight strung from the roof trusses high over their heads brightened the honey gold air humming around them, and as Alessandro mounted some open wooden steps with Emily in his arms she registered hazily that he was carrying her up to the hayloft.

  Alessandro brought her to a mezzanine level, where the floor was hidden beneath a deep, soft carpet of sweet-smelling hay. Setting her down gently, he sat beside her and drew her onto his lap, stretching out his long legs as he eased back against the bales of hay.

  Emily felt as if she might drown in his eyes, as if the depth of expression had been there all the time, waiting for her, if only she’d had the courage to see it. There were no divisions between them now, only the gasping, pleading murmurs escaping her lips that left Alessandro under no illusion as to how much she wanted him and how hard it was for her to wait.

  Pausing only to snatch apart the grape-stained ties of her blouse, he dragged the fabric away and plunged his tongue between her breasts to lick the sticky juices off. Feasting on sweetness, his questing mouth found first one succulent extended nipple and then the next, while Emily, meshing her fingers through his hair, could only beg him not to stop.

  ‘I have no intention of stopping, cara mia,’ Alessandro husked, holding her firm beneath him. ‘Not until every last drop of juice has been licked from your body.’

  And as he moved back to his task Emily found her pleasure increased when she could watch her body responding to his touch. The sound of her own rapid breathing, coupled with the deeper, throaty sounds of contentment from Alessandro, added a piquancy to her enjoyment she could never have anticipated as he fulfilled his pledge with devastating thoroughness. And, in spite of her impatience, Alessandro continued to prepare her with the utmost care, as if he knew how inexperienced she was.

  When at last his hands reached down to throw back her skirt, she thrust up her hips in desperate haste, willing to go to any lengths now to make it easier for him. But he broke away, swinging to his feet as he reached for the buckle on his belt. Then, dropping back to his knees by her side, he took her face between his warm hands and kissed her very slowly, so that she was in no doubt how deep his feelings ran.

&nb
sp; ‘Don’t be frightened,’ he murmured, reaching to strip off the rest of his clothes.

  Emily gave an involuntary gasp and looked away. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Alessandro naked, and aroused. ‘No,’ she gasped instinctively, pulling back.

  ‘No?’ he queried softly, reaching up inside her blouse. His slow, seductive strokes soothed her, and then he took each engorged nipple-tip between his fingers and tugged a little. Smiling down at her, he murmured, ‘Are you quite sure about that, Emily?’

  The only answer possible was a series of small gasps—gasps that became cries of delight as he replaced the touch of his hands with his mouth.

  ‘Do you still want me to stop?’ Alessandro taunted her softly, whispering the words against her neck, so that she shivered with pleasure and pressed against him all the more.

  ‘No,’ Emily moaned, wanting only his touch and his kisses, not his questions.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She reassured him frantically with every persuasive phrase she could think of. He would be a wonderful lover, she was sure of it, and that certainty increased her desire for him until it filled her whole world.

  ‘So, you’re not scared of me now?’ he pressed gently.

  ‘Scared?’ Emily scoffed faintly, turning her face away so that he could not see how brazen he had made her…how she longed to be full of him, stretched by him, pleasured endlessly only by him.

  ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are,’ he pointed out softly. ‘At one time it was quite usual for women to save themselves for their husbands—’

  ‘Don’t tease me,’ she warned huskily.

  ‘I’m not teasing you,’ Alessandro assured her, kissing the top of her head while his hands moved over her with long, calming strokes.

  ‘I’m not very experienced,’ Emily admitted, wanting more as she moved sinuously against him. ‘And I’m twenty-eight,’ she breathed provocatively, as if the time had come for him to remedy the situation.

  ‘As old as that?’ he growled, attending to her breasts.

  Emily let out a soft cry as he began to suckle greedily whilst rolling the other nipple between a firm thumb and forefinger. He knew exactly how to tantalise her to the point of reason and beyond, until her body, her mind, her whole being craved only one thing.

  ‘So what if you’re not experienced?’ Alessandro demanded, stopping to gaze at her. ‘I think I know what you need…’

  ‘Alessandro—’

  ‘“Alessandro,”’ he mocked softly, positioning her beneath him. She felt his breath fan her neck, and sighed as the shivers raced and competed with every other sensation delighting her senses.

  ‘What’s wrong, Emily?’ he demanded, easing her thighs apart. ‘Is it time to stop teasing you?’

  ‘Alessandro,’ Emily whispered putting her finger over his lips, ‘don’t hurt me…’

  ‘I would never hurt you—’

  ‘I don’t mean that…I mean don’t do this unless—’

  ‘Unless?’ He drew her hand to his lips to drop kisses on her soft palm. ‘Tell me, Emily,’ he insisted softly.

  ‘I know this is just a marriage of convenience—’

  He leaned back a little and stared at her thoughtfully. ‘Is that all it is for you, Emily?’

  ‘What is it for you?’ she persisted, still craving reassurance.

  ‘Our marriage is anything we choose to make of it,’ Alessandro said, kissing each fingertip in turn. ‘And in answer to your question, I would never hurt you…not intentionally.’

  A starburst of emotion clouded her thoughts as he kissed her lips. His hands were growing more demanding, so she couldn’t marshal her thoughts except to know that Alessandro was so skilled a lover…And she was lost.

  Tugging off her skirt, he tossed it away and then returned his attention to her nipples. He began teasing them again with light passes of his fingertips, watching with satisfaction as she moaned and writhed beneath him.

  Holding him captive with her fingers meshed through his hair, Emily savoured the touch of his mouth and his tongue, the nip of his teeth on her own swollen lips as his hands moved over her body transporting her to a fierce, elemental place where thought was nothing more than the slave of sensation. And now when he held back she played him at his own game, rolling away, luring him on.

  But Alessandro was too fast and caught her easily, bringing her back beneath him and holding her firm between powerful thighs that seemed banded with steel. And now all that lay between them was a tiny white lace thong.

  He had brought her to a highly aroused state, and Emily knew that it pleased him to see her so eager for his possession. Coaxing her thighs apart, he encouraged her to lift them for him, his amber eyes glittering with satisfaction as he used one hand to secure her arms above her head and the other to trace with a tantalisingly light touch the damp contours of the swell between her legs. She felt as if her whole being was concentrated in that one small area, as if every sensation she had ever experienced was magnified and centred there. Long, shuddering sighs told him how good it was, that it was the most intense sensation she had ever experienced, while Alessandro’s murmurs to her in his own foreign tongue encouraged and enticed her all the more as he trailed his fingertips across the pouting site of her arousal.

  When he tugged the thong off and she lay naked beneath him, wanting him so badly, there was a part of Emily that still held back at the thought of what such a powerful man might do to her. But even now Alessandro could sense her fear, and his hands were skilful and persuasive, making her forget everything but her desire for him. And when he dipped his fingertips between her wet swollen lips, the last of her doubts was erased by an intensity of sensation she could never have imagined. Crying out shamelessly, she begged him to take her then, but he refused to be hurried, only tempted her with the tip of his erection, pulling back just before she had a chance to draw him inside her. And then, releasing her hands, he gave her absolute freedom to decide the pace.

  But once he was inside her Alessandro reclaimed control, increasing the pressure to fill her completely, stretching her beyond anything she could ever have imagined, until pleasure blanked out every thought but her craving for fulfillment. Holding her firm, he murmured reassurances, repeating her name when her sobbing cries marked the onset of the powerful spasms he had set up with such care.

  Could anything ravish his senses more than this? Alessandro wondered, as he savoured the sight of Emily bucking beneath him.

  Only one thing, perhaps, he realised as he plundered the moist, hidden depths of her mouth to taste her sweetness—and that would be the sight of his beautiful wife holding their child at the moment of its birth.

  ‘I don’t know if I like them,’ Emily protested as Alessandro held out a linen cloth sagging with the weight of warm green figs plucked straight from the tree.

  He made a sound of encouragement as he gave his collection a little shake. ‘But ripe figs don’t travel well,’ he insisted. ‘I promise you, Emily, you have never tasted anything like this before.’

  It was so hard to resist him…No, impossible, Emily realised as she gazed up into golden eyes whose beloved intensity had become so familiar to her over the past few days at Monte Volere. Did they only burn with fire like that when he looked at her? she wondered, smiling up at him as she picked out one of the plump ripe fruits and raised it to her lips. Even that innocent gesture seemed redolent with meaning now. She heard herself sigh, felt her body quiver with awareness…anticipation. She seemed to be in a permanent state of arousal…

  After taking her to his bed in the homely old manor house Alessandro had introduced her to physical love in a way that made her want him all the time…every moment of every day, waking and even sleeping…so that she reached for him unknowing in the middle of the night, and then woke to find him making love to her again.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded softly as she sank her teeth into it.

  Savouring the mouthful of intense, perfumed sweet
ness, Emily made a sound of contentment deep in her throat. ‘It’s the second best thing I ever put in my mouth,’ she admitted, flashing him a glance.

  Alessandro threw his head back and gave a short, virile laugh. ‘Wait until you taste the wine from my vineyards,’ he murmured provocatively. ‘There are several contenders that should be considered before you make your mind up.’

  ‘I won’t change my mind,’ Emily promised, slanting him a look as she linked her arm through his, relishing his strength and his body warmth through their light, summer-weight clothes.

  ‘Ah, but my wine contains the essence of life,’ Alessandro declared, laughing at her puzzled expression. ‘You’ll see what I mean when you drink it.’

  He wasn’t joking, Emily realised later, as she watched him select a bottle from the rack. She was even more surprised to see him moving about the well-equipped kitchen with a familiarity that suggested he was accustomed to fending for himself.

  ‘Who taught you all this?’ she demanded softly, linking her arms loosely around his waist as he whipped up an omelette. Leaning her face against his strong, muscular back, she inhaled his warm musky male scent…Being with him like this felt so wonderful…so right.

  ‘Maria Felsina,’ he said, reaching for the olive oil. ‘Before she became a most sought-after dressmaker, specialising in traditional clothes, she lived with our family. She was the one who greeted me when I returned home from school for the holidays—from university, too. We spent more time together here at Monte Volere than at the palace. This is the one place where I can relax and be myself.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Emily agreed. ‘Even at the grape-treading I noticed the way the people accepted you as one of them.’

  ‘I am one of them,’ Alessandro said simply. ‘We all call Ferara home.’

  ‘Did you see much of your parents when you were a child?’

  ‘My parents were swept up in their duties at Court—’

  ‘I hope you will find time for your own children—’ Emily stopped, aghast, wondering how such words could shoot out of her mouth having made no connection first with her brain. She had no plans to have children, and was quite sure that Alessandro felt the same. Her cheeks were still on fire when he turned to look at her, and there was an expression on his face that seemed to confirm it would have been better to keep her opinions to herself. ‘That is, when you have children eventually yourself—some time in the future,’ she said, stumbling over the words.