too tired.
Lorenzo shut down his computer and got up from the
desk where he had been working. He had e-mailed
several people: his lawyer, explaining to him his
plans — or at least as much of them as he wanted him
to know; a certain very highly placed diplomat who
owed him several favours, requesting his help in cutting
through the normal procedures so that he could
marry his British fiance.e as quickly as possible; and
the Cardinal, who was his second cousin once re-
moved. Fortuitously he already had in his possession
Jodie’s passport, having found it in the wallet of
travel documents she had left on the passenger seat
of her car, and he had faxed its details to all three
men. His instructions to his lawyer were that he
should draw up a marriage agreement with the utmost
haste, and at the same time to make arrangements for
the sole ownership of the Castillo to be transferred to
Lorenzo, in accordance with the terms of his grandmother’s
will.
He then left his apartments and headed downstairs,
striding through the warren of unused rooms with
their old-fashioned furnishings and musty air until he
reached the door he wanted. Already the tension was
building inside him, and along with it the excitement;
already his senses were anticipating the pleasure that
lay ahead of him. He would marry a dozen pale-faced,
too-thin English women if necessary, in order to satisfy
the desire that had driven him for so long.
The cramping pain seizing her leg muscles was savage
and unrelenting, wrenching Jodie out of her deep
sleep with a sharp cry of pain.
Lorenzo heard it as he walked out of his bathroom,
his forehead pleating into a frown when it was repeated.
Securing his towel round his hips, he strode
towards the guest room, thrusting open the door and
switching on the light.
Jodie was lying in the middle of the bed, desperately
trying to massage the pain out of her locked
muscles.
Lorenzo recognised immediately what was happening.
Going over to the bed, he took hold of her by
her shoulders, demanding curtly, 'What is it? Cramp?'
Jodie nodded her head, and managed to gasp painfully,
'Yes. In my leg…'
The intensity of the pain had turned her face bonegrey,
and Lorenzo could see the small beads of perspiration
forming on her forehead.
'Do you suffer like this often?'
Why was he asking her that? Was he afraid of saddling
himself with a wife who would be a liability
even if she was only a twelve-month wife?
'No, only when I get overtired — oh!' Jodie winced
and cried out as his strong fingers found the exact
spot on her leg where the pain was bunched.
'Lie still,' Lorenzo instructed her. 'It’s all right.'
He added, when she looked warily at him, 'I do know
what I’m doing.'
Jodie would have continued to resist if a second
bout of cramp hadn’t seized her, leaving her with no
energy to do anything other than focus on coping with
the searing pain. Lorenzo cursed out loud and then
lifted her up, ignoring her protests as he turned her
over and placed her back on the bed.
Now, with her legs exposed by the ridiculously infantile
elongated tee shirt she was wearing, he could
see that he had been right about their length, and that
she had not been wearing heels. He could also see
that one of her legs was slightly more slender than
the other, and that on the inside of its knee there was
a delicate silver tracery of scars.
With the cramp continuing its brutal assault on her,
Jodie wasn’t even aware that she was digging her fingers
into Lorenzo’s arm as she willed herself not to
cry out. This was the worst she could ever remember
it being.
Lorenzo waited until her grip had started to relax
before releasing himself and going quickly to work,
his long, lean fingers probing the knot of locked muscle
until Jodie wanted to scream in agony. She tried
to drag her leg free of his fingers, but then slowly,
blissfully, they started to take away the pain, kneading
and stroking until the muscle began to relax. A tiny
quiver jerked through her muscle and automatically
she clenched it, waiting for a fresh onslaught, her
whole body shaking.
'Relax…' Lorenzo was still massaging her leg, but
now the long, firm strokes of his hands were moving
upwards, and the tension that was gripping her as she
felt his fingers brushing against the hem of her nightshirt
was caused by the cramping sensation in her
stomach, not her leg. And it had nothing whatsoever
to do with over-tiredness.
'To judge from these scars you must have had several
operations?'
Jodie tensed again. She wanted to pull her leg
away, but she was afraid to move in case in doing so
she caused the hem of her nightshirt to ride even
higher. It was too late now to wish she had put on
