The Royal Wedding Collection. Robyn Donald
you have so many.’
‘Would it help if I made space in my diary once a week—so that we could have dinner alone together no matter what?’
They would never be completely alone, of course…there would always be servants and aides hovering in the background. But she recognised that he was making an effort, that the offer itself was an important gesture of trying to see things her way. And in response she must try to see things his way.
‘That would be lovely,’ she said evenly.
His eyes narrowed. He had softened the blow…now came the steel punch which lay behind it. ‘You do realise that these lessons will have to stop?’ he questioned softly. ‘That you cannot be friends with this man any more?’
She nodded, determined not to let him see her hurt or her sinking realisation that in the end Gianferro had got his own way. Maybe he always did. ‘Of course I do.’ She must show him that she could be strong, that these things did not matter. ‘It’s just taking me a bit of time to make the adjustment,’ she admitted with a smile.
He pulled her closer. ‘And that is perfectly natural. Perhaps you are a little homesick? Would it help if I arranged for you to take a trip back to England?’
And be even further away from him?
She wasn’t homesick at all. She was lovesick. Wanting to give so much more to him than he wanted, or needed. Wanting time to lie in his arms, to lazily trace her fingertips over the beautiful contours of his face. Wanting him not to be so frazzled with work that he would not fall into an instant sleep once they had made love. They were talking now in a way they rarely did, and it made her feel so close to him that she wanted to hang onto the feeling for ever, to imprint it on her mind.
She wound her arms around his neck and looked up into his face. ‘Oh, Gianferro,’ she sighed. ‘Won’t you just kiss me?’
Her parted lips were pure temptation, as was the buttercup tumble of her hair, and Gianferro hesitated only for a fraction of a moment before lowering his head, his lips touching hers in a kiss which was supposed to be fleeting. But then he felt them part, and the warm eagerness of her breath as it heated him. She was always so responsive! As a pupil, she had far surpassed all his expectations.
But the word pupil reminded him of her folly, and the brief tang of anger heated his blood, set it pulsing around his veins. His body responded with the age-old antidote to anger. The pressure of his lips hardened and he pulled her body against his almost roughly, feeling her instant response as her soft curves melted into his.
Millie felt the heated clamour of her breasts as they became swollen and hard, and opened her mouth eagerly as his tongue flicked in and out, tightening her grip on the broad shoulders, not daring to touch him anywhere else in case he stopped.
But he didn’t stop. He touched her aching breasts, then slid his hand down to mould the contours of her hips, and she could scarcely believe it when it began to ruck up the hem of her dress, his fingertips finding the silken temptation of her inner thigh.
‘Gianferro!’ she gasped indistinctly against his mouth.
‘What is it?’ he drawled.
She was so on fire with need that she paid no heed to logic or good sense. To the fact that he had insulted and accused her—only to the knowledge that she wanted him so badly. ‘Make love to me,’ she said brokenly.
Dimly he was aware that he had about half an hour until his next appointment, and that this was sheer and utter madness—but what other feeling in the world could suck you so willingly down into its dark and erotic vortex and obliterate every other?
He stared down at her, at the pale upturned face and the parted lips, and he sucked in a hot and hungry breath as he forced himself to resist them. ‘Do you want me and only me?’ he demanded.
‘Yes!’ she gasped. ‘You know I do!’
In one corner of the room was a chaise longue which was rarely used, and he pushed her towards it. She went willingly, unprotesting, not daring to speak in case that broke the spell, brought him to his senses.
For she had never seen Gianferro like this before—so fervent and intent, almost…not out of control, no—for that would be alien to his nature—but like a man who had for once given in to what he truly wanted rather than what was expected of him.
His face dark, his eyes almost unseeing, he pushed her down and slid her panties right off, brazenly touching the moist heat which seared him, a grim, hard smile curving his lips as she writhed in response. And then he unzipped himself and Millie watched him—the hunger of her body momentarily suspended by the unbelievable sight of Gianferro moving towards her—in broad daylight—to make love to her.
It all happened very quickly—but she guessed there was time for nothing else. There was no formality, no tenderness and no foreplay—but she didn’t need it, and neither did he. God, she had never felt so on fire with need! A small cry of anguished pleasure formed on her lips, but he kissed it away with a hard and efficient kiss which muffled it as he thrust deep inside her.
Maybe it was the sheer incongruity of what they were doing in Gianferro’s study in the middle of the day which heightened her senses to an almost unbearable pitch, but her appetite was so sharpened that her orgasm happened almost immediately, and she felt him give one hard, final thrust before he too followed, his dark head falling onto her shoulder.
They stayed like that for a moment—she could feel his breath, warm and rapid against her neck—and then he raised his head, his dark eyes glittering with a look she dared not analyse for fear of what she might read there.
‘Does that make you feel better, Millie?’ he questioned slowly, as he carefully eased himself out of her.
Her euphoria evaporated. He made it sound as if she had just been given a dose of medicine! But she wouldn’t let her hurt show…indeed, wasn’t she being a little precious to feel hurt? Gianferro had just done something extremely out of character—something they had both needed—and he had done it without a thought to propriety. She must be making some kind of progress, and she should seize on that and cherish it.
She wound her arms around his neck. ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered. ‘That was wonderful.’
Gianferro’s eyes narrowed as he untangled her arms. ‘You’d better straighten yourself up.’
Millie’s cheeks grew pink as she reached down to find her crumpled panties, aware that she was all sticky and that it was miles back to her own office. ‘Can you pass me some tissues?’
Gianferro stared, her matter-of-fact question making him feel slightly dazed. ‘Can I what?’ he echoed in disbelief.
‘Well, I can hardly ring for a lady-in-waiting to help me.’ She looked at him, biting her lip. He wasn’t exactly making it easy for her. ‘Can I?’
Without a word, he turned and did as she asked, grateful for the fact that his back was towards her and she would not see the look of disbelief in his eyes. It wasn’t the thought that someone might have walked in which so nagged at his conscience—no one would have dared—but more the fact that what had just taken place had been so…so…
So utterly inappropriate.
Was that why she had broken out of the mould she must know was expected of her? Had she deliberately flirted with the young Italian to get just this reaction—to make him jealous enough to behave in a manner more befitting a sex-starved teenager than a king? And it had worked, damn her! It had worked!
He adjusted his clothing and walked back to where she lay, her legs still splayed, her colour all rosy. ‘Here,’ he said tightly, thrusting the tissues at her. ‘You’d better hurry.’
She saw the brief but unmistakable glance at his watch and her cheeks flushed scarlet. It wasn’t until she felt halfway decent again that she dared to broach what had just happened—for surely they couldn’t just ignore the fact that they had just had sex in the middle of