The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding Page 3

  ~ ~ ~

  Nico glanced at the woman beside him more often than was wise. Finally, he put aside the report he’d read six times without gleaning a single piece of useful information. Brows drawn together in puzzlement, he allowed his gaze to rest on Amanda Davies.

  She’d done nothing whatever to attract him, the opposite in fact. Regardless, he had never been so painfully aware of a woman. It was exasperating, given her relationship to the man who had almost killed Carita.

  In another time, not so far in the past, she would have been considered an enemy. He would have been justified in taking her in revenge for the injury done by her brother to his sister and to family honor. He could have picked up Amanda Davies and put her into his bed, could have stripped her naked and buried himself in her softness, taking her in the most personal and intimate sense of the word.

  He shifted in his chair. The idea had far too much appeal for comfort.

  Not that he would ever dream of such barbaric retaliation.

  Still, what would she have done if this were the old days, he wondered? Would she have cried, pleaded, or screamed in a fighting rage? Or would she have submitted to the inevitable, knowing it was his due? Would she have melted into his arms, giving kiss for kiss in willing recompense for the injury done to his family by hers?

  What would she taste like? How would she feel beneath him, with her gentle curves, her instant responses and faint shivers at his touch?

  Dio, he must turn his thoughts elsewhere. As stirring as the fantasy might be, he was a civilized man, not some feudal lord from ages past.

  Yet he did think, now and then, that human society had grown too polite, too prudent. People had allowed honor to become no more than a word, a tarnished concept of little value. They ignored the passionate sense of fairness in their soul, the urge to return injury for injury — or seduction for seduction.

  It made life rather flat.

  He should be able to work now that Amanda Davies was asleep. Her tears, the difficult breaths and attempts to stop them had affected him as no noisy sobs ever could. Not that it was her intention, he saw that easily enough. She felt no need to burden others with her emotions, it seemed, but preferred to keep them to herself.

  Did she hide her joy in the same way?

  What a pity if it was so. Joy, like sorrow, was better shared.

  Not that it was any of his concern. He didn’t need or want the job of blotting the wetness from under her eyes, or perhaps kissing away her tears. Though he had been on the point of offering his handkerchief or perhaps his shoulder when she finally slept, it had been merely to gain much needed peace. That was all.

  Yes, he should be able to work now. He needed to catch up after his lengthy absence from the Florence office, to pull together facts and figures from his marathon round of conferences and conventions. It would surely be easier as she rested after the blow she’d received and the battle with her emotions and her fears.

  Surely.

  He tried, he really did, as afternoon melted into evening. He flipped report pages, studied statements and looked at spreadsheets until he was half blind. He rested with his head back against his seat, and then tried again.

  It was useless. Finally, he gave it up.

  Instead, he succumbed to instinct. He allowed his gaze to rove over Amanda Davies once more, from the unconscious grace of her long legs in their inexpensive hosiery to the enticing curves of her breasts under her plain white blouse, from her softly sculpted mouth to gold-tipped lashes that had dried in spikes from her tears.

  What would it take to break through the cool reserve she wore like armor, to make her gaze at him with longing, clamp her legs around him, writhe against him as she moaned his name? If driven to the teetering edge of desire, would she accept his whispered demands or defy him even then?

  It was a challenge he might have accepted under other circumstances.

  That was her appeal, no doubt, her lack of interest in him as a man, her self-possession and the challenge it represented. He was jaded with having women offer themselves so blatantly no effort was required of him, no chase necessary and therefore no thrill of conquest.

  He avoided the women who hovered on the edges of society, hoping to sleep their way to a permanent place in it. He also steered clear of the eager young things paraded by ambitious mothers. Sometimes he saw this or that woman for a few weeks or months, took them out to dinner or escorted them to galas or charity events. But they were widows, divorcees or career women who knew his situation and had no wish to change their own.

  Marriage of the kind he had once expected seemed so unlikely he’d ceased to think of it. Work and duty were his solace, the two things which consumed him.

  That was why it perplexed him to be so aware of Amanda Davies. She was nothing like the women he knew. She did not defer to him, nor did she signal in any way that she might be open to invitation. The unseen barriers she erected intrigued him. He wanted to know why they were necessary, also what lay behind those defenses, whether only carefully monitored responses or the passionate siren he suspected.

  He would never find out. She was not the kind to indulge in fast sex or casual affairs. Something more than her libido would have to be engaged before she went to bed with a man. She would, without doubt, require friendship, deep affection, possibly some promise of a future together before making love.

  He would marry one day, he thought with a wry grimace. His wife would be someone of his own kind, a woman willing to produce a child in exchange for the De Frenza name, the De Frenza wealth. It would be a practical arrangement on both sides, a matter of legal contracts and low expectations. This was all his many responsibilities allowed.

  Meanwhile, he could rest his gaze on Amanda Davies parted lips and fantasize about how sweet they would taste, how it might feel to sweep his tongue between them, to be met with the warm and sinuous twining of hers while she hummed her welcome. Yes, and while he tested the soft fullness of her bottom lip with his teeth. He would slide his hand under the skirt of the severe suit she wore, seeking tender warmth and moisture, tending her pleasure, making her ready for him. She would open her thighs to his touch, his sure exploration—

  A curse feathered his lips as he realized where his too ready male imagination had taken him. He was harder than he’d been in months, maybe even years, pulsing with the accelerated beat of his heart.

  Setting his laptop aside with a thud, he pushed folders and papers to the floor. Surging upright, he stalked to the back of the plane. He stripped off his shirt as he went, making for the small shower in the bedroom’s en suite bath. He hoped the wait in Atlanta’s summer sun hadn’t warmed the plane’s water reserve too much.

  ~ ~ ~

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee dragged Amanda from sleep. The attendant was just sliding a tray onto the table in front of her, down from where her feet were propped. Upon it was a silver coffee service, cups and saucers rimmed by a line of the same blue as the plane’s décor, a pair of chilled salads and a stacked silver server holding small sandwiches.

  “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry, but Signor de Frenza ordered a light dinner for this hour.”

  Amanda sat up straight, clearing her throat that was husky from sleep and tears. “No problem. I’ve probably napped long enough.”

  “It should be something more elaborate,” the woman said with a small yet anxious shrug. “We left Florence on such short notice there was no time to supply the plane as usual.”

  The bread appeared fresh-baked, and the fillings of paper-thin slices of roast beef and Parma ham smelled delectable. The salads of fresh tomatoes and rounds of soft mozzarella sprinkled with chopped basil and drizzled with olive oil made her mouth water just to look at them. Amanda could not imagine how anyone could find fault, and said so at once.

  Relief lightened the attendant’s face. “I’ll bring the wine then.”

  She almost told her not to bother, but realized that Nicholas had probably ordered that as well
as the food. He would expect to see it when he returned from wherever he’d disappeared while she slept.

  Unfastening her seat belt as the flight attendant returned to the forward area where the galley must be located, she got to her feet. She was stiff from sitting, and in need of a restroom. There being no sign of such a thing in the sitting area, she made her way back toward the sleeping area that had been pointed out to her.

  It was actually more of a bedroom, one that was in near darkness. Not only were the window shades pulled down, but the daylight had been lost as they flew east into the night.

  Her impression was of a luxurious space, softly carpeted, with the bulk of a full size bed in its darker back depths. As no lights burned, she assumed Nicholas must have decided to rest there.

  A rectangular glow indicated the door of what must be the bathroom. She eased toward it as soundlessly as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb him.

  She heard the subdued buzz of a small motor just before the door swung inward. It was too late to stop it.

  Nicholas stood at the wash basin, using the mirror above it as he ran an electric razor over the stubble on his chin.

  He was spectacularly naked.

  A sharp breath rasped in her throat as she took in the sight.

  He turned, his eyes resting on her face as he lifted a dark brow. “There is something I can do for you?” he asked.

  “No!” she exclaimed in strangled embarrassment while hot color poured into her face. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted—”

  Her brain could not assemble her need and the words to express it into a coherent sentence. Nor could she seem to drag her gaze from the sun-burnished musculature of his chest with its lyre shape of fine, dark hair, his flat, hard abdomen, the sculpting of his arms and shoulders, his long straight legs with their well-defined muscles. As for his groin, the impressive length springing from a starburst of fine dark hair seemed ready to oblige in any way she might require.

  “By all means.” He reached for a towel and whipped it around his waist, tucking in the ends. Standing aside, he gave her a small bow as he indicated she was to enter.

  “I can come back later.”

  “No, no. Please.”

  What could she do except accept his gesture? At least she could breathe again now that he was covered, even if at a faster rate than normal. She sidled past him while keeping her gaze glued somewhere in the vicinity of his chin, the only semi-safe place on his body.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I thought you were asleep.”

  A short laugh left him. “I thought the same of you.”

  “Sandwiches and coffee are ready.”

  “And you need to wash your hands, I understand,” he said in smooth understanding. “Don’t hurry.”

  He no doubt meant he would be getting dressed in the bedroom during that time. Interrupting him in that process would not be a good idea. “I won’t,” she said fervently.

  He made no reply, but closed her into the bathroom with a gentle snap of the latch. But she thought she heard a low laugh before he moved away from the other side.

  So he was amused by her discomfort, or perhaps her naiveté. Well, to the devil with him! He might be used to parading around in front of women in naked magnificence, but she didn’t make a habit of walking in on unclothed men.

  Not that he was the only one she’d ever seen, of course. She and Jason, a stockbroker who owned a house in the country and drove an environmentally correct sedan, had been engaged for almost two years. For all his staid, buttoned down image, however, Jason had been as much of an adrenaline junkie as her father and her brother; it was just that playing the market excited him instead of risking his life. Amanda tormented herself for weeks, trying to decide if that and his selfish sex were reasonable excuses for breaking it off. He’d saved her the trouble then by falling for an exotic dancer with bleached hair, artificial cleavage, multiple piercings and yards of tattoos.

  No, she was stunned by the sight of Nicholas without his clothes, but that was all. It was hardly going to affect how she reacted to him. They had no future together, but would go their separate ways once they landed. And if she might forever compare any man she happened to see in the nude to the masculine image now seared into her brain, it would be her secret.

  The bathroom smelled of soap and a men’s cologne so tantalizing that she breathed deep in the need to identify it. She had never come across it before she was sure, not even in the most exclusive men’s boutiques. He might have had it custom blended, she thought, but it could also be that it was inextricably mixed with his distinctive male scent.

  In any case, it was intoxicating in close quarters. It made her feel almost light-headed as she used the facility, washed her hands and face, ran her fingers through her hair and pressed her lips together to add color.

  And she refused to think that it might have been the man who wore it that caused her dizziness. It was the last thing she needed.

  ~ ~ ~

  His guest emerged from the bathroom as Nicholas was pouring wine. He had topped off his glass that he had been drinking while waiting for her, and now reached to fill hers.

  “None for me,” she said as she regained her seat.

  He sent her a brief look, but she refused to return it. A veil of soft color lay across her cheekbones.

  A wry smile touched a corner of his mouth. She was still embarrassed then. It was unexpected, for she could hardly be an innocent, must be in her late twenties if he had to guess. Of course, Americans were not as comfortable with nudity as most of his countrymen. Perhaps that was it.

  At least she was no longer quite so oblivious of him. It pleased him that he could shake her composure. Purest machismo, of course, but he had enjoyed the look on her face, her wide eyes and parted lips, the soft rose flush of awareness and, yes, reluctant arousal.

  These things completely destroyed the effect of the cold shower he’d just taken, but what did it matter? They were worth it.

  Nico wondered what it would take to provoke that reaction from her again. And winced inwardly at what the thought of getting naked in front of her, say for a mutual shower or midnight swim, did to his straining body.

  3

  They went directly from the airport to the hospital in spite of the predawn hour. The decision was made by Nicholas, but was exactly what Amanda wanted. She was grateful for his highhanded action this time, glad that she had no need to press for it.

  The closer she came to seeing Jonathan, the tighter her throat grew and the heavier the weight in her chest became. He was all she had. Even when he was a continent away, she knew he thought of her often, just as she thought about him. They had protected each other while on the road. She had been his shield against bullies and he had warned her about older boys who collected girl’s underwear for souvenirs. They had learned to swim, to ride horseback and to ski together. They had stood together beside two graves. He always hugged her when he left her. She loved him as she loved no one else in the world, and had no idea what she would do if he was no longer in it.

  She longed to see him, yet hated the thought of his vulnerability, just as she knew he would hate it. And his regret and self-blame for the accident would be almost as hard to bear as his pain.

  The Mercedes limo that had met them at the airport slowed for the turn into the entrance court of the hospital complex. Nicholas, bending his head to see out the tinted windows in the pale light from a street lamp, cursed under his breath, or so Amanda thought from the sound of it. Following his gaze, she saw the cause all too easily.

  Paparazzi.

  The men and women armed with notebooks and cameras were already piling out of their cars and trucks. Nicholas spoke to his driver and the limo picked up speed, barreling past the swarming horde. It spun around a corner and through a parking lot, and then made for the canopied doorway which led to an emergency entrance.

  The instant the limo came to a halt, Nicholas shoved open the door beside him. Snagging A
manda around the waist, he pulled her out in a smooth movement and drew her to her feet, holding her against him.

  “Don’t look at them, don’t answer questions, and above all, don’t stop. Keep moving, no matter what happens,” he said in a hard undertone. Shielding her from the oncoming camera flashes with his wide shoulders, he made for the double doors ahead of them.

  It was good advice, as Amanda well knew. Though her father had done his best to protect her and Jonathan from his racing fame, it had not always been possible. She had almost forgotten the odd panic from being pursued, of being the target of endless camera flashes, the sense of privacy being stripped away as if she had no right to it.

  Jonathan must have gained more of a following in Europe than she had imagined, she thought in breathless wonder. Who would have guessed his accident would bring out the vultures.

  Putting her head down, she clung to Nicholas’s arm that clamped her to him. She matched her steps to his long strides as best she could while shouts and yells exploded from all sides.

  The automatic doors slid open as they neared them. A detail of security police stood just inside. The men parted, allowing them through, and then closed ranks behind them. The sounds of pursuit died away.

  Nicholas tossed a few words with the sound of appreciation over his shoulder, but did not pause. He swept Amanda through a reception area crowded with curious patients. Beyond it was another door with an automatic lock that buzzed and released at their approach. It gave onto a hallway. They plunged down it, rounded a corner, and came to a halt in a long corridor that stretched blessedly empty and quiet ahead of them.

  In the sudden silence, two things were brought home to Amanda. It was not only Jonathan’s name the paparazzi had called out as they bayed after them like hounds. With the confusion and hubbub of Italian, she had not quite grasped why they had their sights set on the De Frenzas, but assumed it was a combination of impressive wealth and the drama of the accident.