The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding Page 8

  “Hmm, yes, sweet.” His voice sounded strained to his own ears, the effect of the desire that slammed into him as he thought of licking that same flavor from his guest’s mouth.

  “It’s watermelon!” Carisa informed him, smacking her lips as she danced a small, happy jig in front of him.

  “But I hope I am the only man with whom you intend to share this watermelon flavor.”

  “Si, si!” Carisa gave a gurgle of laughter. “Other men, strange men, are yuck! Not at all kissable.”

  “Yuck?” he repeated, a smile tugging at his mouth for the gusto with which his young sister brought out that idiomatic expression.

  “That’s what Amanda said!”

  “Ah.” He glanced at his guest to see how much of this exchange she had followed, suspecting she might understand something of it because of the word she must have taught Carisa. Speaking to his young sister while holding his guest’s gray gaze, he asked, “And am I yuck to Amanda?”

  “No, silly, she is your fidanzata,” his sister crowed. “You can’t be yuck. And you must kiss her good morning, too.”

  “I should do that, you think?”

  Carisa nodded with great emphasis. “You will like it. Truly. Amanda tastes good, too, but different, like strawberries!”

  Yes, he would most certainly like it. Strawberries were his favorite fruit, or might well be after this little episode. The gods were being kind that they provided such a fine excuse for carrying out his most fervent impulse.

  With one arm around Carisa, he moved toward the table where Amanda sat. She eyed his advance with close attention while pushing back her hair, tucking it behind one ear. She looked distinctly skittish, as well she might if she’d caught anything of Carisa’s suggestion.

  He gave her no chance to retreat, but bore down upon her with a steady stride. As he halted beside her, he reached to circle her narrow waist with his arm. “Buon giorno, good morning,” he said in husky greeting, and set his mouth to hers.

  ~ ~ ~

  Amanda had been almost sure Nicholas — Nico — meant to kiss her. She guessed it from the exchange with Carisa, but saw it too in the devilish glimmer, half amused, half daring, in his dark eyes. If she had been certain, she might have evaded him by retreating behind the table. As it was, she barely had time to draw breath before she was pulled up from her chair and against the hard length of his body.

  She expected a quick, half humorous meeting of mouths. Instead, he brushed his lips over hers with slow purpose. The very edge of his tongue feathered their surfaces with wet heat as he tasted her. A low hum of pleasure sounded in his chest, its vibrato throbbing into her breasts as he held her close. Her lips throbbed, softening under his as a peculiar exhilaration swept through her. She pressed her hands to his wide shoulders, intending to push him away.

  Through her mind, in that instant, ran the fragment of a dream that had jerked her awake in the night, one of being pursued, captured, drawn into his arms like this while her clothes mysteriously disintegrated. She had twisted, naked and exultant in his hold, and so awash in desperate desire that the mere memory of it left her flushed and breathless now.

  “Nico?” Carisa said.

  He made no answered, didn’t appear to notice when his young sister ceased pulling on his shirt, distracted by the sweet roll her companion offered her.

  He shifted, thrusting his fingers through Amanda’s hair, cupping the back of her head while he slanted his mouth over hers. She remembered to breathe then, inhaling quickly through nose and mouth. He took instant advantage of that parting of her lips. Slipping inside, he twined his tongue with hers, abrading its tender underside, enticing it into his mouth the better to invade hers with his sweet, enticing flavor.

  He was so solid against her, so muscled and hard in all the places where she was not, subtly dominating with his superior height and strength. His scent surrounded her, compounded of the soap from his morning shower, his elusive cologne and clean male. She breathed it deep inside while intoxicating heat seemed to melt her very bones, and her resolve along with them.

  It was so unlike her, this abandon, so beyond anything she had ever experienced. Alarm surged through her as she realized it. That brought the strength and resolution she needed to break the kiss, turn her head aside.

  Nico stiffened, and then released her with every sign of reluctance. Amanda lifted a hand to her lips that felt as moist and lush as ripe fruit. Glancing around, she saw she and Nico were alone, that Carisa and Yolanda had strolled away down into the garden.

  “You may want to reapply your gloss,” he said in low suggestion. “It was too delicious, and you entirely too…kissable.”

  “What happened to your hands-off rule as host?” she asked with the ghost of a tremor in her voice as she flicked him a glance from under her lashes.

  “That you are supposed to be my fiancée changes things a bit,” he answered, though a trace of color seeped under his bronzed skin. “Besides, I never said I wouldn’t touch you at all.”

  “Polite touches to aid or direct me, I believe you said.”

  “It was a polite kiss, as Carisa was certain you would expect a greeting.”

  The intention had been the only polite thing about it, Amanda thought, but had no time to say so. Erminia emerged from the house just then, bearing a coffee tray and fresh baskets of fruit and warm rolls for Nico’s breakfast. The housekeeper placed these on the table and cleared away what was left from the meal Amanda had shared with Carisa and her companion.

  “Join me in a coffee?” Nico asked as the housekeeper went away again.

  “I’ve had enough, thank you.” The words were abrupt, but she couldn’t help it. He had moved to pull out the chair she’d vacated with his help. Realizing he would not take his own at the table while she stood, she dropped down in it before she went on. “You called the hospital this morning?”

  “No change in the night,” he replied, answering her fear rather than her question. “We will visit again in a short while, if that suits you.”

  She was grateful for the offer, not least because it prevented her from having to ask. “We?”

  “You and I. Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all,” she said at once. “I only wondered if your grandmother or aunt might like to visit as well.”

  “Nonna prefers not to see Carita as she is just now, it being too upsetting for her. My aunt makes a habit of looking in on her when she is in the city, and will do that later in the day. I fear it will only be the two of us.””

  Amanda had certainly thought it might be less awkward if the others were present. It was uncomfortable enough now, sitting there making stilted conversation after what had taken place. “Will we be leaving soon?” she asked. “Should I go and get ready?”

  “You might change into something cooler,” he said easily, his gaze on the small cup of dark, rich espresso he was lifting to his lips. “It is going to be a warm day.”

  She took that as an affirmative. Leaping up from her chair, she left the terrace for the safety of the villa.

  Briefly, she considered changing clothes as suggested, but it was a momentary weakness. The designer-label clothing that had appeared in her closet was tempting, but far from what she had requested or could comfortably afford. The fabrics were too fine, the luscious colors too light to be practical. As for the fragile sandals or lacy, color-coordinated bras and miniscule panties that had been added, forget it.

  She was perfectly fine in her suit skirt and the feminine version of a man’s dress shirt that Erminia had laundered for her. She would eventually find an opportunity to shop. Meanwhile, the less she owed Nicholas de Frenza, the better.

  What had possessed him to kiss her again? Window dressing for Carisa’s sake, that had to be it. He was clearly concerned for her well-being in the midst of this emergency, would go to any lengths to keep her happy. She could hardly blame him, but wasn’t sure she liked being a party to it.

  The ride to the hospital the evening
before, and the meal which followed, had been more silent than not. Both of them had been too worn out from travel and strained emotions to make more than a minimal effort to be civil. She was even too tired to renew the argument over going to a hotel. At the end of the evening, she’d thanked him courteously for dinner and taking her to see Jonathan again, and gone immediately to bed.

  Oh, yes, they were both courteous. Polite, even.

  A polite kiss…

  Right. If that was a mere polite kiss, she’d like to see a passionate one.

  Or no, maybe not. Pretending to be his fiancée was enough complication without adding hormone-fueled sexual attraction.

  All right, he was a handsome, dynamic man with great internal strength and effortless charisma. She was suitably impressed by his lifestyle, his home and the power he wielded. He raised her temperature, sent her senses reeling with his sweet taste and fiery brush of his lips against hers, and made her ache for his touch. But that was all.

  Yes, that was all.

  Soon she would be back in Atlanta and this episode would be forgotten. She would banish all thought of Nico and the villa that carried his family name. The only time they’d ever cross her mind was when she bought olive oil.

  She might have to switch to corn oil, safflower oil, canola oil, butter, anything except the olive oil.

  ~ ~ ~

  The car that sat on the front court when she emerged from the house bore no resemblance to the conservative black limousine that had transported them back and forth to Florence before. It was powerful and sleek, a soft top Ferrari in a blue of such rich, jewel-like depth that it hurt the eyes to look at it.

  Nico leaned against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. It seemed clear that he had decided to dispense with a chauffeur.

  Amanda settled on the cream-colored, butter-soft leather seat as he held the door for her. She glided her fingertips over the fine grain in appreciation while Nico walked around to the driver’s side, but said nothing when he dropped down beside her. Though she was becoming more intimidated by his obvious wealth with every hour spent in his company, she refused to show it. And in truth, it didn’t really matter except to make her feel more beyond her depth.

  The last thing she wanted was to grow used to such luxury. The sooner she returned to her ordinary life in the States, the better. And the more often she reminded herself of that fact, the more likely it was to stick with her.

  Still, there was something gloriously free about purring along the road with the top down, the wind in her hair and sun on her face while lovely vistas appeared around every bend in the road. The air smelled of the sea, also of herbs, flowers, umbrella pines and just a whiff of Nico’s special men’s fragrance. She could feel her spirits lift, buoyed up by hope that both Jonathan and Carita would be all right now that the first, crucial forty-eight hours had come and gone.

  Nico drove well, his concentration unwavering yet his well-formed hands relaxed on the wheel as he controlled the powerful automobile. The wind ruffled his hair into shinning furrows and slapped the collar of his shirt against the strong brown column of his neck. He narrowed his eyes against its force as he took the many curves and loops of the road with the panache she was beginning to expect from his countrymen.

  Actually, he reminded her of Jonathan at the wheel, driving a little too fast for her comfort but not enough to wring a protest from her. If she directed her attention to the scenery and the houses they passed, she was perfectly calm.

  Rounding a curve, they came suddenly upon an ancient panel van that belched black smoke while moving at a crawl due to a wobbling back wheel. Nico glanced ahead toward where another curve loomed a short distance in front of them. Accelerating without pause, he zoomed forward, overtaking the van and then regaining his side of the road with smooth precision. He braked in time to make the curve without the least difficulty.

  “And you dare call Jonathan reckless!” Amanda said when her heart had returned to its proper place in her chest.

  “I had plenty of time,” he said with the quick lift of a brow. “There was no need to be frightened.”

  “I wasn’t afraid,” she said immediately. “But I fail to see how you can condemn my brother when you don’t know that his accident wasn’t caused by something similar to what just happened.”

  “Performing a deliberate maneuver where every inch of the road is familiar is not the same as showing off on an unfamiliar highway.”

  “There’s nothing whatever wrong with Jonathan’s judgment behind the wheel, or with his reflexes, either. He might stretch a point with his own life on the track, but would never risk the life of a passenger.”

  He gave her a swift look while negotiating yet another bend. “Defend him if you must — I can’t argue with your loyalty and can even admire it. But he wound up going over the edge. Nothing you say can change that.”

  She wanted to refute the charge, but that was impossible. Turning away, blinking against a sudden press of tears, she stared out at the steep and brushy slope that fell away down to the sea with only an occasional stretch of guardrail at the worst bends. Some stretches, she saw with a shudder, went straight down.

  What must it have been like to go careening over that edge? The terror of knowing it was happening, the crunch of rock and brush, the weightlessness and endless fall. It must have been horrifying, even before the crash at the bottom.

  “Was it somewhere near here—?” she began, her voice constricted in her throat.

  “We passed the place five minutes ago.”

  “Oh.” He was becoming far too adept at guessing what she meant to say, though she was just as glad she hadn’t needed to finish her question. Nor did she want to see the exact place where her brother and Carita had come so close to dying, not really. It would make it all too real.

  They rode in silence for a minute or two. Nico glanced her way, for she saw the movement with her peripheral vision. His lips firmed before he looked back at the road again. He spoke then without looking at her.

  “On another topic, but one of importance, I must ask you not to encourage Carisa to experiment with things which are not suitable for her.”

  “What?”

  “The lip gloss, for a start.”

  “But you seemed fine with it earlier.” He had, in fact, been charm itself as he teased Carisa about it. Watching him with his young sister had been a revelation. She had not realized he could be so warm and caring, so unselfconsciously affectionate.

  He tipped his head in assent without taking his eyes from the road. “I preferred not to upset her by forbidding something she may never try again. But makeup of any kind has no place on her dressing table or in her life.”

  “Carisa isn’t a child. She should be able to enjoy some of the small pleasures that come with being female.”

  “Those small pleasures, as you call them, may well give her ideas that it would dangerous for her to act upon. She is innocence itself, and could be too easily led into something so monstrous it sickens me to think of it.”

  “Are you suggesting I would deliberately push her into it?”

  “I’m saying the world is full of men who would love to tap into the De Frenza bank account. Their methods of persuading Carisa she can’t live without them could be deceptive and confusing for her. Or they could be both sordid and painful.”

  “Painful.”

  “Forcing themselves on her--pressing the issue with something more than normal persuasion — is not impossible.”

  “As you think Jonathan persuaded Carita, I suppose!”

  He flicked a fast glance in her direction, his eyes black with anger. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you were thinking it, or at least you did think it before you met him.”

  “I was aware of the possibility. Ignoring it is something I can’t afford if I am to protect my sisters.”

  “A noble concept, but stifling, don’t you think? And just a little far-fetched, given how protected Carisa is at al
l times. If you really want what’s best for her, you might look closer to home.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You might tell your grandmother, your aunt and even Yolanda not to stuff her with sweets. The habit is far more dangerous than anything I might encourage her to do.”

  What Carisa ate was none of her business and Amanda knew it, but it seemed someone should point out the problem. Besides, Nico should not be so free with his criticism if he wasn’t willing to hear a few home truths.

  “Sweets?” he demanded with a scowl.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed that everyone uses them to distract her whenever they think she may be upset, or as a bribe when there’s something they want to her do. She’s overweight because food is constantly being pushed at her. Well, and because she has little to do, as far as I can tell, other than sleep and eat.”

  “Food is one of the few pleasures available to Carisa. Why should she not enjoy it?”

  “She should, of course, but not constantly. She eats because food is always there and everyone expects it, and because she’s bored.”

  “Bored.”

  “Reading and playing games like a two-year-old isn’t enough. She needs something more in her life.”

  “There is little more she can manage with safety.”

  The certainty in his voice was annoying beyond words. “Why? Because you say so? Just as you’ve decided she is to be told nothing about the accident?”

  “You would not dare—” he began in dangerous softness.

  She cut across his words in her irritation. “Of course I would never tell her, but she understands most of what is going on around her very well. How long can it be before she begins to wonder why no one speaks of Carita or why her sister doesn’t come home?”

  “Telling her at this point would only upset her. You don’t want to see that, I assure you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She can easily become emotional to the point of hysteria. Once that happens, only medication can help her.”

  She stared at him with a frown between her brows. “There must be something else.”

  He ignored the idea as if she hadn’t spoken. “Afterward, she broods about things, so needs more medication for depression. Carita’s accident could be a worse ordeal for her than anything we’ve see before. You have no concept of the harm that can be done by your meddling.”