Bella Donna

to guide her across the farmyard as if he would lead her into dinner in a palace.

Without a word he swept her up into his arms.

He expected her to resist and tightened his grip as she tensed against him. “Put me down. I can walk.” Her fist thumped against his shoulder.

“You would not wish to walk on the muck, signorina. Underneath there are tiny stones that will hurt your feet. Believe me, after two paces you would beg me to carry you again.”

“Never!”

But he tightened his grip, and she stopped struggling. He felt her relax against him.

Over the smells of the barnyard he caught the scent of her body, the briny tang of seawater that had dried in her hair and a faint perfume, like apricots in the sun. He carried her easily, conscious of the warmth of her bare legs against his supporting arm. His hand rested on her thigh, inches from the dark sweetness hidden between her legs. His cock swelled, pushing against her hip.

The arm that held her around the shoulders could easily wander further and caress her firm breast, now hidden under his old green coat. He could flick his fingers against the nipple, feel it pucker and harden-

It had been many months since he had felt any desire to hold a woman in his arms. Even the strumpets, always available and who followed his pitiful group of outcasts had not been able to tempt him.

He found his way to the cottage and thrust open the door with a sharp kick.

Inside, a rough wooden table took up most of the room in front of a smoldering fireplace. Hams hung from the rafters, curing slowly in the smoke from the embers. In one corner a curtain did a poor job of hiding a large bed, and a radio played softly, tuned to the national broadcasting service. A lamp with a naked flame added its fumes to the stifling air.

Enrico followed him into the house, quickly slamming and bolting the door behind them. He turned to grasp Marco’s sleeve. “You should not have come in here, signore. We are poor people. If the Blackshirts get wind of you-”

Marco set the girl down on her feet. “I shall delay for a few hours only. This woman needs care.”

Enrico waved his hands. “No, no, dottore. Not here. Take her away. Look after her somewhere else.”

“Post a guard at the turn off on the main road. Here-” Marco dug into the pocket of his trousers and took out a coin. “Give the boy this. There is more for you if I leave here safely. And if you bring me a tub of warm water.”

The woman’s eyes flickered from one to the other as she tried to follow the gist of their conversation. Even if she spoke Italian, it was unlikely she could follow the thick accents of the mountain people.

Enrico bit the coin, and gave a gap-toothed smile. “Si, dottore.” With a final leer at the woman he left the room.

Marco bolted the door behind him and turned to her.

She rubbed a hand across her face. “Are you a doctor?

“A doctor?” he laughed. “Not any more. My name is Marco.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Her fingers were slender and delicate, tipped with blood red polish. “At your service, bella donna.”

He bent over her hand and looked up at her. Her eyes were fixed on his mouth as he kissed her fingertips and she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. The taste of her skin sent another jolt to his loins.

“Only Marco?” she whispered. “What is your other name?”

The coat had fallen open and she no longer tried to conceal the sweet curve of her breast, which rose and fell with each breath. His lips tingled with the urge to press his mouth to that succulent nipple. Instead, he released her hand and took a step back. “I have no other name.”

He guided her to one of the rough wooden chairs. “Sit, please. I will get you some food.”

“No, nothing, thank you.” She shook her head, but took the chair and rubbed her hand over her face in a weary gesture. “Just contact someone. Does anyone have a telephone? If you send word to my father, he’ll get me out of this hovel and will reward you better than you paid that man. More money than you ever expected to have.”

“Money doesn’t matter to me.”

“It matters a lot to most people. I don’t suppose you’re an exception.” She held out her hand again. “Lady Emma Houndsdale. My father is the Earl of Bicester. I was a passenger on the steamship Lady Rose out of Southampton, bound for Cairo. We had just left Naples. There was a fire. Panic everywhere and I went in the water.” She shuddered. “Now tell me exactly where we are.”

“I cannot do that.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide in disbelief. “You don’t know where we are?” She spoke slowly. She must think him an idiot.

“I didn’t say that. I said I cannot tell you where we are. It would place these people in danger.”

He took her hand and folded it between his two palms. He wanted to kiss each of her fingers, suck them into his mouth, eat his way up her arm to the curve of her neck-he pulled himself together. “I heard the ship foundered off the coast.”

She shuddered and took back her hand, drawing the coat together as if she suddenly felt a chill. “It was horrible. The noise, the screams.” She closed her eyes. “And all the time we could see the lights on the shore.”

She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye again. “Well, I was washed ashore like Sinbad, but I’ve had quite enough adventures for this week. Where have they taken the other survivors?

Marco knelt beside her and shook his head. “I do not believe there were any.”

She went pale and clutched at the rough edge of the table, seeking support. He took hold of her shoulders and steadied her. “No one?” she whispered.

“I regret that they have only announced finding bodies so far.” He gestured to the radio. “Thanks to Enrico’s one extravagance, I have heard the latest news.”

She leaned her head against him and he felt her draw in her breath. “All gone?” she repeated. “Only me left?”

“That is possible.” He put his lips to her hair, breathing in the scent of her, mixed with aromas of his old coat. “I am sorry.”

A tear gathered in the corner of her eye and he wiped it away with his thumb. Underneath her eye a blue bruise discolored her cheek. He traced its outline with a feather touch until he could tilt her chin. She turned her head toward him and he slipped his hands inside the coat, sliding along the smooth silk of her shift, and then the satin of her skin. His heart thudded and the pressure grew in his groin as his cock responded. She sighed, a long, deep sigh and rested her face on his chest. He bent his head and skimmed her forehead with his lips.

She murmured something deep in her throat and he pulled her tight into him. His thumb found her nipple and it immediately puckered, standing up from her firm, round breast. He took in a shuddering breath. It had been so long, so long-

She pushed against his shoulders and he freed her. “Forgive me, signorina. That was inexcusable.” He pushed her hair back from her face, fighting to keep his hands from moving over every inch of her, from throwing her on the table and plunging-

“You’re forgiven, dottore.” She edged away from him, gave him a mocking smile. “I was forgetting myself. Put it down to the shipwreck. Heightened emotions and all that. They say danger makes people crave sex.” She shrugged, making his jacket ride higher on her thighs. He wondered if he’d ever be able to wear it again without provoking an erection.

She looked around the cluttered room. “You must have police or something nearby. Can you send a message?”

“The police in this area are not my friends. If we contact them, I am a dead man. I am afraid, Lady Emma, that you must stay with me until I can take you to safety.”

She gave a disbelieving laugh, a short scornful sound that darted through his bones and settled between his legs. He concentrated on his breathing. He knew one thing was for damned sure. He couldn’t let her see how she affected him…

She hardened her soft lips into a thin line, her delicate chin raised. Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she