Secret Heirs Collection. Коллектив авторов
can hold off from letting me make love to you when you’re as jumpy as a scalded cat whenever I come near?’
‘I think making love a rather inaccurate way to describe what we do,’ she said, sighing as the last curl tumbled free and he added the final pearl pin to the neat little line he’d assembled on the dressing table. ‘I wish we didn’t have this wedding party tonight.’
‘I know. You’d much rather be alone with me.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘I know you didn’t.’ His dark gaze was full of mockery. ‘But a wedding is a wedding and it is fitting to celebrate such a momentous occasion with friends. We don’t want them thinking our union is in name only, do we?’
‘Even if it is?’
‘Even if it is. So why not try playing your part with enthusiasm? Who knows? Sooner or later you might find the feelings have rubbed off.’ He stroked her hair. ‘You won’t have anything to do, if that’s what’s worrying you. The food, the wine and the guests have all been taken care of.’
‘And in the meantime I’m to be brought down and paraded around in my white dress like a cow in the marketplace?’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘Looking at you now, that’s the very last image which springs to mind.’ He leaned forward, his hands on her shoulders, his mouth so close that she could feel his warm breath fanning the curls at the back of her neck. And suddenly his voice was urgent. ‘Listen to me, Darcy. Neither of us wanted this to happen but it’s what we’ve ended up with. I didn’t want to get married and I certainly didn’t plan to be a parent and neither, presumably, did you.’
Her lips folded in on themselves. ‘No.’
In the reflection of the glass their eyes met and Renzo wondered why, even in the midst of all this unwanted emotional drama, their chemistry should be as powerful as ever. Did she feel it too? She must.
He could see her nipples pushing against the silk of her wedding gown and the darkening of her emerald eyes, but the tight set of her shoulders and her unsmiling lips were telling him quite clearly to stay away. Once he had known her body completely, but not any more. Her bulky shape was unfamiliar now, just as she was. She was spiky, different, wary. It was difficult being around her without being able to touch her and, oh, how he wanted to touch her. That had not changed, despite everything which had happened. Her skin was luminous, her eyes bright, and the rampant red curls even more lustrous than before. Didn’t people say that a woman with child developed a glowing beauty all of her own? He’d never really thought about it before now—why would he?—but suddenly he knew exactly what they meant. He noticed the way she kept moving her hand to her growing bump, as if she were in possession of the world’s greatest secret.
Pregnant.
His mouth dried. It was still hard for him to get his head around that. To believe that a whole new life was about to begin and he must be responsible for it. He’d meant it when he told her he never wanted a family and not just because he recognised all the potential for pain which a family could bring. He had liked his life the way it was. He liked having to answer to no one except himself. And if every female who’d fallen into his arms had thought they’d be the one to change his mind, they had been wrong. He’d managed to get to the age of thirty-five without having to make any kind of commitment.
Had Darcy done what nobody else had been able to do—and deliberately got herself pregnant? But if that had been the case then he must take his share of the blame. He’d been so blown away by discovering she was a virgin that he couldn’t wait for her to go on the pill. He remembered the first time he’d entered her without wearing a condom and the indescribable pleasure he’d felt. It had been primitive, powerful and overwhelming but it hadn’t been wise. He had allowed sexual hunger to blind him to reason. He’d allowed her to take sole responsibility for birth control and look what had happened. His heart clenched tightly with an emotion he didn’t recognise as he stared into her green eyes.
‘Did you mean to get pregnant?’ he demanded.
He saw her flinch and compose herself before answering.
‘No,’ she answered quietly. ‘I had some sort of bug just before we went to Tuscany and I didn’t realise…’
‘That sickness would stop the pill from working?’
‘Apparently.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You weren’t warned that could happen?’
‘Probably—but with all the excitement about the holiday, I forgot all about it. It wasn’t deliberate, Renzo—if that’s what you’re thinking.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘No woman in her right mind would want to tie herself to a man with ice for a heart, no matter how rich or well-connected he might be.’
And he believed her. He might wish he didn’t but he did. His pale-faced bride in the floaty dress was telling the truth. ‘So it seems we have a choice,’ he said. ‘We can go downstairs to our guests with good grace or I can take you kicking and screaming every inch of the way.’
‘I won’t embarrass you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have no desire to make this any more difficult than it already is.’
‘Good.’
Turning away, he dropped the towel and Darcy was treated to the distracting sight of his bare buttocks—each hard globe a paler colour than the dark olive of his back. She could see the hair-roughened power of those thighs and hated the way her stomach automatically turned over when she was doing everything in her power to fight her attraction.
‘Tempted?’ His voice was full of sensual mockery—as if he had the ability to read her expression even with his back turned. And she mustn’t let him realise the accuracy of his taunt. If she wanted to protect herself, she mustn’t let him get close to her—not in any way.
‘Tempted by what—our wedding feast?’ she questioned, sniffing at the air as if trying to detect the rich scents of cooking which had been drifting through the downstairs of the house all morning. ‘Absolutely! To be honest, I do have a little of my appetite back. I could eat a horse.’
He gave a low laugh as Darcy scuttled into the bathroom where she spent a long time fiddling with her hair, and when she returned to the bedroom it was to find him dressed in that head-turning way which only Italian men seemed able to pull off. His dark suit emphasised his broad shoulders and powerful physique and he’d left his silk shirt open at the neck to reveal a sexy smattering of dark hair.
Uncertainly, she skimmed her hand down over her dress. ‘Won’t I look a little overdressed?’
‘Undoubtedly,’ he said drily. ‘But probably not in the way you imagine.’
Her cheeks were still pink by the time they walked into the formal salon, which had been transformed with bridal finery by Gisella and a team of helpers from the nearby village. The cold winter weather meant they couldn’t venture out into the huge grounds, but instead enormous fires were blazing and dark greenery festooned the staircases and fireplace. There were white flowers, white ribbons and sugar-dusted bonbons heaped on little glass dishes. A towering croquembouche wedding cake took pride of place in the dining room and on a table at the far end of the room—a pile of beautifully wrapped presents which they’d expressly stated they didn’t want!
A loud burst of applause reached them as they walked in, along with cries of ‘Congratulazioni!’ and ‘Ben fatto, Renzo!’ The guests were all Renzo’s friends, and although he’d told her he would pay for anyone she wanted to fly out to Tuscany for the celebration, Darcy hadn’t taken him up on his offer. Because who could she invite when she’d lived her life a loner—terrified of forming any lasting commitments because of her past and the very real fear of rejection?
But she was pleased to see Nicoletta and not just because the glamourous Italian had helped with her trousseau. She’d realised that Renzo no longer had any lingering feelings about the woman he’d once had a ‘thing’ with. Darcy