The Prince's Love-Child. Sharon Kendrick
up at her.
‘Ciao,’ he murmured, and reached for her breast. ‘Come back here.’
‘In a minute.’ She let him stroke idly at her breast as warmth began to flood over her. If he had broken a rule of a lifetime, then why shouldn’t she? Lucy trickled her fingertip down through the thick whorls of hair at his chest to dip it into his belly, and he groaned with pleasure. ‘How flattering that you have allowed me onto your territory, Guido,’ she commented softly.
‘Why not?’ His eyes were watchful black shards. ‘Though you’ve never shown any particular desire to see where I live.’
‘Ah.’ She raised her eyebrows. And presumably if she had then his apartment would have been off-limits! ‘Interesting.’
How her self-containment enthralled and exasperated him! Why, any other woman would have used his post-coital sleep as an opportunity to poke around the apartment! Yet here she was, naked and beautiful beside him, as though she visited his home every day of the week!
He narrowed his eyes as he felt the heavy throb of desire beating its way through his veins. As a lover, he could not have asked for better. She was responsive and beautiful and she made no demands on him. How unlike most women!
His mouth hardened as he thought about commitment and expectation. And, in particular, about the lavish christening of his nephew, soon to take place on Mardivino, and all that it would entail. He stared at the naked woman beside him and an idea began to form in his mind. Maybe her cool indifference could work to his advantage…
‘Would you like to go away with me for the weekend, cara mia?’ he suggested casually.
Lucy didn’t answer immediately—it was never a good idea to appear too eager; every woman knew that! ‘Did you have anywhere particular in mind?’
‘But of course.’ His eyes glittered as he wondered what her reaction would be. For if she read too much into it then it simply would not work. ‘I thought that perhaps you might care to accompany me to Mardivino.’
There was silence as, for a minute, Lucy thought she was hearing things. ‘To Mardivino?’ she repeated blankly.
‘Do try to contain your excitement,’ he commented drily.
Oh, if only he knew! Lucy’s heart was banging against her ribcage and she felt quite faint. He was taking her home—to meet his family!
A slow smile curved her lips. ‘And to what do I owe this honour?’
Guido concentrated on whispering his fingertips over her tightening nipple. ‘Maybe I’d like to show you the land of my birth,’ he murmured.
Lucy closed her eyes, partly because the way he was touching her meant that she could barely think straight, but partly to hide her eyes. To conceal from him the breathless excitement she was feeling.
Don’t frighten him away with emotion, she told herself, sinking into his arms. Let’s just take it one step at a time.
‘Okay,’ she said lightly, as if it didn’t matter. As if it didn’t matter! ‘Why not?’
He smiled with satisfaction at her response. It was better than he could have anticipated! ‘And maybe I would like a beautiful woman to accompany me to the christening of my nephew.’
There was a long pause as Lucy stared up at him. ‘Say that again.’
‘My brother’s child is being baptised. Would you like to come?’
She blinked her eyes very quickly. A baptism was a private and very sacred thing, and he was asking her…her…‘Are you…are you sure?’
‘I wouldn’t ask you unless I was.’ He ran a fingertip reflectively down over the bare silk of her shoulder. ‘You will need something to wear, of course. We shall go shopping later, yes?’
It was as if someone had given her a gorgeous present and then snatched it away again, and Lucy froze. ‘You’re saying that you don’t think I have anything suitable?’
There was not a flicker of reaction on his face. ‘Cara, you always look meravigliosa.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘There is no problem.’ He chose his words carefully. ‘But it will be—of necessity—a very lavish affair,’ he said slowly. ‘And I would like to buy you an outfit.’
‘You think I’m going to turn up in jeans and a sweatshirt?’ she demanded.
‘Of course I don’t!’
‘Well, then—I can buy my own outfits,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Yes, I know you can.’ He moved his head away to look down at her, his black eyes like jet as he chose his words in a way calculated not to offend her sweet but misplaced pride. ‘Let me put it another way,’ he said softly. ‘You are my lover, Lucy, and tradition dictates that as my lover I am allowed to spoil you. I want to spoil you,’ he added huskily.
And this, too, was all part of the game, she realised. If she accompanied him then it was imperative that she look the part. It didn’t matter if she dressed with style and panache—her budget was far too limited to allow her to be able to compete with other women at a Royal gathering.
And she wanted to go. Badly. If she allowed stubborn pride to rear its head then he might refuse to take her. And if she held out to wear one of her own outfits—then wasn’t there a chance she might let him down?
Besides—if she was being one hundred per cent honest—then wasn’t there a wistful Cinderella side to every woman—that wanted someone to wave a magic wand and transform them from an ordinary woman into a princess? Well, that was just what Guido was offering to do, and as long as she didn’t expect the Cinderella ending then why not just go with the flow and enjoy it? What else was she going to do? Tell him no and have the relationship peter out?
The thought of that hurt far more than she wanted or had expected, and she shrugged her shoulders, as if the unwelcome stab of reality wasn’t poking brittle fingers at her heart. ‘Very well, Guido,’ she said slowly. ‘I accept.’
‘You test me, I think, cara,’ he observed evenly.
‘Oh?’
‘A man does not offer a gift to have it treated as though it is some kind of punishment to be endured.’
‘A gift should be offered without ties or expectations,’ she returned sweetly. ‘Didn’t you know that?’
‘Do you always have a smart answer for everything, Lucy?’
‘I certainly hope so.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘If it is submissive gratitude you desire, Guido, then there must be any number of women who would be only too glad to provide it.’
And she was right, maledizione! He enjoyed much more than just her lovemaking because she challenged and intrigued him—he could not now dispense with those qualities when it suited him.
He put his hand between her thighs and heard her gasp. ‘I am going to make love to you again,’ he said, on a note of husky intent. ‘And then I am going to take you out and dress you from head to foot.’
Lucy let him whisk her around Manhattan, unable to shake the slightly surreal sensation of feeling as though she was appearing in a film as Guido took her from shop to exclusive shop. Stuff like this didn’t happen in real life, she told herself dazedly.
But it seemed that it did.
First came the lingerie—stuff like she had never seen before: drifts and drifts of delicate silk, trimmed with lace so fine that it seemed to have been spun from gossamer. A brisk, efficient Frenchwoman measured her, and it transpired that Lucy had been buying the wrong bra size off the peg for years!
‘We’ll take them both,’ drawled Guido carelessly as she vascillated between a matching set in electric blue trimmed with cerise