‘Now you’re digging for compliments,’ she said, the laughter warming her voice. ‘When you know the answer to that question.’
Her skin flushed a beautiful pink. She’d perfected the art of looking seductive and coy all at once, and it never failed to intoxicate him. Their lovemaking left Christo in a constant state of deep, bone-numbing satisfaction. But it wasn’t only in bed that his life had reached the status of perfection. It was in the day-to-day. A true partnership of hearts and minds. The simple things like cooking a meal together. Helping raise money for her women’s refuge. Choosing colours for a nursery which wasn’t needed yet, although they’d talked of children. Thea assured him it was good to be prepared and he relished her joy in the task. Who knew there were so many different shades of yellow? He’d come to learn them all.
Having her in his life and in his arms completed him in ways he’d never thought possible. The ultimate privilege. Anything seemed achievable, because of her. ‘Now you’re being elusive about my attributes.’
‘Well,’ she said, looking up at the ceiling as if thinking hard. Nibbling on her plump lower lip in a way which heated his blood. He shifted on the mattress, rolling onto his back. ‘My husband’s protective.’
‘About you, of course.’
‘And dogged.’
‘Mmm...’ His pursuit of her father and brother had been relentless and deserved. He wouldn’t lower himself to even mentioning them in Thea’s presence any more. The legal tangle they were mired in over stolen antiquities filled enough newspapers. The scandal complete. If Thea chose to read about what befell them, that was up to her. He hoped she forgot they’d ever existed.
‘You’re modest too,’ she said. A smile of amusement hinted on her lips. He’d kiss that smile away soon enough. Christo stroked his fingers lazily over the skin of her thigh, her own responding goose bumps teasing his fingertips.
‘Now my wife exaggerates.’
He sat up and wrestled a giggling Thea underneath him, before her body melted soft and pliant on the cool sheets. She wrapped her arms round his neck, threading her fingers into his hair. ‘You’re loving.’ Her eyes gleamed the rich fire of cognac in candlelight. ‘And lovable. Never forget that.’
How could he, when they told each other each day? When they showed it with their bodies and hearts and souls. He believed it now, the ghosts of his childhood well and truly exorcised.
‘I’m loved.’ He brushed his lips across hers as she drew him into a kiss. ‘I love you.’
And Christo relished the lifetime of days ahead, to show Thea exactly how much.
Coming next month
ITALY’S MOST SCANDALOUS VIRGIN
Carol Marinelli
Dante’s want for her was perpetual, a lit fuse he was constantly stamping out, but it was getting harder and harder to keep it up. His breathing was ragged; there was a shift in the air and he desperately fought to throw petrol on the row, for his resistance was fast fading. ‘What did you think, Mia, that we were going to walk into the church together? A family united? Don’t make me laugh…’
No one was laughing.
‘Take your tea and go to bed.’ Dante dismissed her with an angry wave of his hand, but even as he did so he halted, for it was not his place to send her to bed. ‘I didn’t mean that. Do what you will. I will leave.’
‘It’s fine. I’m going up.’ She retrieved the tray.
‘We leave tomorrow at eleven,’ he said again as they headed through to the entrance.
‘Yes.’
She turned then and gave him a tight smile, and saw his black eyes meet hers, and there was that look again between them, the one they had shared at the dining table. It was a look that she dared not decipher.
His lips, which were usually plump and red, the only splash of colour in his black and white features, were for once pale. There was a muscle leaping in his cheek, and she was almost sure it was pure contempt, except her body was misreading it as something else.
She had always been aware of his potent sexuality, but now Mia was suddenly aware of her own.
Conscious that she was naked beneath the gown, her breasts felt full and heavy, aware of the lust that danced inappropriately in the air between them. The prison gates were parting further and she was terrified to step out. ‘Goodnight,’ she croaked, and climbed the stairs, almost tipping the tray and only able to breathe when she heard the door slam.
Tea forgotten, she lay on the bed, frantic and unsettled. So much for the Ice Queen! She was burning for him in a way she had never known until she’d met Dante.
Mia had thought for a long time that there was something wrong with her, something missing in her make-up, for she’d had little to no interest in sex. Even back at school she would listen in on her peers, quietly bemused by their obsessive talking about boys and the things they did that to Mia sounded filthy. Her mother’s awkward talk about the facts of life had left Mia revolted. The fact of Mia’s life: it was something she didn’t want! There was no reason she could find. There had been no trauma, nothing she could pin it to. Just for her, those feelings simply did not exist. Mia had tried to ignite the absent fire and had been on a couple of dates, but had found she couldn’t even tolerate kisses, and tongues positively revolted her. She couldn’t bear to consider anything else.
And while this marriage had given her a unique chance to heal from the appalling disaster that had befallen her family, the deeper truth was that it had given her a chance to hide from something she perhaps ought
