Читать книгу Love Islands…The Collection - Ким Лоренс, Jane Porter - Страница 44

AT FIVE-THIRTY THE next morning Stella rose and laced up her trainers. Despite almost zero sleep, she was so full of energy she needed to burn it off—hard and fast. She saw no one as she ran the gravel track looping the small island, but she knew her action wasn’t unseen.

Sure enough, when she got back Eduardo was waiting at the top of the stone stairs, looking annoyingly cool in black trousers and a white shirt.

‘Isn’t it bad luck to see me before the ceremony?’ she asked, as breathless as if she’d run round the track ten times, not two.

‘The new day has scarcely started. I do not think this counts.’ He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ she mocked. ‘Did you think I was trying to run away? I have many talents, but walking on water isn’t one of them.’

‘After your reckless rock-climbing escape that day at Cala de Piratas, I wouldn’t put it past you to try and swim to the mainland.’

‘I know about the rip between those two islands.’

‘But you like to take risks more than you’re willing to admit?’ he countered, his expression amused.

‘Not stupid ones. I know my own strength.’

‘And you must also know that my security detail is watching every centimetre of this island’s perimeter. No one arrives. Or leaves.’

‘That’s a threat?’

‘No, that’s just the way it is.’ He shrugged.

‘Always?’ Were his moments always so closely monitored? Even when he was on ‘holiday’?

‘Yes.’ His frown deepened as he watched her struggle to regulate her breathing. ‘It can’t be healthy for the baby for you to be working out to such an extreme level.’

‘This isn’t extreme.’ She stiffened defensively. ‘Get your doctor back if you don’t believe me.’ She needed to see that doctor again, to talk through her history properly. Privately.

‘I will. You might not obey orders from me, but you will listen to him. Agreed?’

‘Of course.’ She climbed to the top of the stairs and stood directly in front of him, but he didn’t move to let her pass.

He brushed the side of her face with the back of his fingers. ‘Did you sleep at all?’

The bed had been enormous, clad in luxury linen, soft and decadent—nothing like the narrow, hard beds at the barracks. It hadn’t been built for one person to sleep in.

‘I can’t think why I didn’t,’ she answered acerbically, fighting the way she was drawn to him. ‘Maybe it was the life-changing revelations of yesterday that had me all antsy.’

‘Maybe,’ he murmured. ‘But maybe it was something else altogether.’

She glared up at him, provoked. ‘You think you’re irresistible?’

‘Past form would indicate that you like what I do to you.’ He was charming again. Impulsive. Teasing. But he didn’t touch her again. Instead he glanced at the platinum watch on his wrist. ‘You had better run now—so you can get ready for our wedding.’

‘I’m not the kind of woman who takes two hours to get dressed.’ She folded her arms and sent him a surly look. ‘Why is the ceremony so early?’

‘So our wedding night can last as long as possible.’ He laughed wickedly. ‘Why did you think?’

‘You’re impossible.’ And alarmingly irresistible.

‘Actually, I think you’ll find I’m very easy to please.’ He nodded over her shoulder and she turned to see that the sea and sky were painted rose-gold as the sun started its slow ascent. ‘It’s a beautiful day to get married,’ he said softly.

It was a beautiful day. Yet suddenly she was terrified. She was out of her depth.

‘Say yes.’ That brightness in his eyes hardened.

He knew. He’d said it last night...more than he’d bargained for. Not the baby, but the maelstrom of emotion he aroused in her. Even now lust curled through her unruly body, tightening her muscles with anticipation.

‘I won’t obey your every dictate.’ Somehow she needed to keep this desire within her control.

His smile lit up.

‘That wasn’t a challenge,’ she added, far too late. Flames of anticipation licked.

‘We both know it was.’ But he stepped back and turned towards the palace. ‘I’ll see you when the sun has fully risen.’

When she got to her room Giulia was waiting there, beautifully dressed in a soft blue suit.

‘You’re back,’ she said crisply. ‘I have the dress finished and pressed. And Prince Eduardo has sent this.’

Stella walked towards the velvet envelope Giulia had placed on the dresser. Pulse skidding, she opened it and drew a soft breath. It wasn’t the blinding, million diamonds showpiece she’d expected. This was a huge single sapphire pendant, simply set on a beautiful platinum twist. There was stunning fire in its depths.

‘Oh...’

Stella turned at the whisper. Giulia was staring at the stone. ‘You know it?’ Stella asked.

‘Midnight’s Passion.’ Giulia nodded. ‘One of the most famous in the royal collection. It has a very romantic history attached to it.’ Giulia glanced at her speculatively. ‘Perfect for an elopement.’

This didn’t seem like much of an elopement when he had everything planned to perfection—palace, dress, make-up, jewellery, prenup.

‘You must get ready,’ Giulia reminded her quietly.

An hour later Stella stood still while Giulia finished smoothing her dress and assessed her.

‘Si.’ She nodded. ‘You look nice.’

Part of Stella had been hoping for a little more than ‘nice’, but then she had refused Giulia’s offer of a manicure. He’d have to take her as she was. She wasn’t going to change for him. This wedding was only about the baby.

But Giulia had a sly look in her eye. ‘I will do your hair.’

She took the brush before Stella could reply.

‘You refused a tiara?’

‘It didn’t seem right.’ Stella sat in the chair Giulia had set for her.

‘Of course.’ Giulia nodded. ‘I have something else.’

She had a selection of tiny tight rosebuds that mirrored the delicate detail on the edge of Stella’s dress. With nimble fingers Giulia braided Stella’s hair, weaving flowers into it and then leaving part of it loose at the back. Then she carefully settled the veil on her head.

‘You must miss your mother today,’ Giulia said softly.

‘She died a long time ago.’ Stella hardly ever let herself think about her. And she refused to now. She also refused to think of her father.

‘You and the Prince have much in common,’ Giulia said.

No, they really didn’t.

Giulia placed a beautiful linen cloth over Stella’s dress, then came towards her with a make-up brush. ‘Close your eyes.’

‘I don’t usually wear much make-up,’ Stella protested weakly.

‘You don’t need much.’ Giulia nodded. ‘I will only accentuate here and there.’

Instinctively Stella knew she could trust Giulia, and also knew that part of her wanted to surprise Eduardo. He probably expected that she’d stomp up the aisle wearing jeans and a frown. Maybe she could startle him into submission.

‘You’re smiling.’ Giulia sounded pleased as she worked. ‘It suits you.’

Ten minutes later Stella scarcely recognised herself in the mirror. What had Giulia done to make her skin glow like that? And her eyes sparkle?

Giulia handed her a bouquet of roses. ‘I gathered these from the garden this morning.’

Stella breathed in the delicate scent. ‘They’re beautiful. Thank you.’

‘Wishing you health, fertility, happiness.’

A gleam in the older woman’s eye made Stella suspect she knew the truth.

‘Put your shoes on—he’ll be waiting.’

‘Where is he?’ Stella asked as she followed Giulia outside and down a pathway through the intricate formal garden.

‘The family chapel.’

They were having a church wedding? Somehow she’d imagined a quick service with a celebrant in that enormous library, or something.

She followed Giulia to the outer reaches of the magnificent garden. A small stone building was enveloped in greenery. Ancient but lovingly tended roses smothered the masonry, giving it an incredibly romantic look.

‘Wait here a moment,’ Giulia instructed. ‘I will check that everything is ready.’

In other words she’d make sure Eduardo was there.

Stella lifted her bouquet again to breathe in the gorgeous aroma, smiling to herself at the ludicrous thought of the Prince being late—or, even better, getting cold feet and standing her up. But after a short moment Giulia appeared in the doorway and beckoned to her.

The trailing rose vines arched over the doorway, their beauty and perfume drawing her in. Stella stepped over the threshold and smiled sadly at the irony. It was the most beautiful wedding setting she could have imagined—roses and old stone, glimmering gold, flickering candles and velvet. And all for a loveless, temporary pretence.

But then she looked to the front of the chapel, just as Eduardo turned and looked at her, and that low ache in her heart simply dissolved.

Clad in full royal regalia, he stood tall and silent and solemn, looking absolutely like the ‘handsome Prince’ in a lush Hollywood adaptation of a traditional fairy tale—from the slightly long hair to the blue and gold sash across his chest, the highly polished boots to the gleaming ceremonial sword at his side.

The exquisitely decorated chapel faded from her view. All she could do was look, and all she could see was him. His gaze was unwavering. He watched as she hesitated, as she desperately drew a calming breath. Her whole body seemed to be alight with nerves and anticipation. Stupidly, she hoped her appearance pleased him the way his did her.

And then he smiled. It wasn’t a smile she’d seen before—this one was sudden and infectious, and the slightest dimple appeared in his cheek.

It was so very unfair of him.

Emotion surged from some deep well within her—an overwhelming, driving need to move closer to him. Crazy as it was, nothing could have stopped her from putting one foot in front of the other. Nothing could have stopped her moving towards that deep, inscrutable promise she read in his eyes. Magnetic, irresistible, her attraction to him was overwhelming.

Vaguely she heard words, repeated them when necessary, watched almost as if from a distance as Giulia took the bouquet from her and Eduardo took her hand. She looked down as he loosely clasped her icy fingers in his.

Her nails were neatly clipped and unpolished. Unrefined. Like the rest of her. She was built for service, not decoration, and she’d always clearly delineated that aspect of herself. She wasn’t going to be accused of being a ‘dolly’ soldier. But now she wished she’d said yes to Giulia’s offer of a manicure.

She gazed at the thick platinum band he’d slid onto her finger. And he had another ring—a sapphire as deep and cloudy blue as the heavy stone resting in her décolletage. He placed the second ring on her finger, after the first. She knew they were for show, but still they felt significant.

Giulia said something and Stella turned. The woman gave her a thick, heavy band. It took a moment for her to realise it was for her to give to Eduardo. His nails, too, were neatly clipped and unpolished. For a foolish half-second she wished they could be suited as easily as that. She fumbled to get the ring onto his finger and he had to help. She heard him muttering something softly but couldn’t look at him. Her emotions were too intense and he read them too easily.

He kept hold of her hands, warming them as the ceremony continued, and finally the priest uttered the fateful words.

They were now husband and wife. They could kiss.

Silence fell. She stared at the shining medals placed over his heart, unable to look higher. Then she realised he was waiting for her. Finally she summoned her courage and looked up into his face.

His eyes were burning so very blue, gleaming with the desire—the fiery impulsiveness—that had captured them both so completely that day on the beach.

She wanted to speak, to pull him back to reality. But it was too late. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. A fleeting whisper of a kiss.

Not enough. Not the demand she’d expected and wanted.

He looked into her eyes again, silently reading her reaction. All she could do was look back at him—she couldn’t look away, couldn’t hide now.

Then it came. And the spark of recognition engulfed them both.

He wrapped both arms tightly about her, pulling her almost off her feet. She clung to the fabric stretched over his chest, seeking a hold as passion swept her away with him once more. Opening up, she let him in, almost angrily giving him what he sought. What she needed too. Sensations rose from deep within...any last restraint was unleashed. She poured her anger, her uncertainty and her sheer raw need into her kiss. His arms tightened. So did hers. She needed to feel him like this—so powerful, so focused, all-encompassing.

But then he broke the divine contact—barely lifting his head, his embrace still fierce.

‘Leave us,’ he commanded thickly.

She trembled at the passion in his voice, at the look in his eyes—the raw intent.

‘Sir, sorry...’ Someone interrupted with an apologetic cough. ‘You must sign... To make it official.’

Eduardo didn’t move. Arousal and irritation and amusement and apology flickered in his eyes like a spinning kaleidoscope of beautiful bright colour. ‘Official?’ he echoed grimly.

Finally he loosened his grip on her. Stella glanced up and saw that Matteo, the lawyer, was there. She hadn’t noticed him when she’d walked in. But of course—he was here to act as witness. And that was, in part, why Eduardo had kissed her so passionately. It had been for show. To make this official.

That was why they were here, after all.

Eduardo paused for another moment, ensuring that she was balanced, but she had her iron core back. Something flashed in his eyes as he rapidly stepped away and silently signed the thick parchment spread on an ornate wooden table to the side of the altar.

Stella followed, her hand shaking, leaving her name an illegible mess. Giulia and Matteo signed as their witnesses.

‘Now leave us,’ Eduardo ordered, curling his hand around Stella’s wrist.

Her agitated pulse skipped and skidded against his fingers. Matteo threw his friend a broad smile and offered his arm to Giulia to escort her out. Giulia, Stella noted dazedly, was also smiling broadly. The pair followed the priest down the aisle and out of the building. Not one of them said anything more. Not one of them looked back.

Stella remained still, her knees locked, her emotions tumultuous. The intensity of her desire was out of control—and frankly it scared her.

He turned to her. His intention clear.

Another kiss and she’d lose her mind altogether, so searing was the heat that flared between them. Desperately she put her hand on his chest, stopping his progression towards her.

‘We can’t,’ she said, scandalised. ‘This is a church.’

‘This is the family chapel,’ he corrected huskily. ‘The De Santis sanctuary for centuries.’

‘Even more reason not to indulge in...’ She trailed off, surprised to see his face light with laughter.

‘What? Animal passions?’ He laughed aloud then. ‘These walls have seen worse. But come...’ He held out his hand to her.

His first command as her husband. And what an innuendo.

He looked so happy, so pleased with himself—as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders—and she was so surprised and seduced by that charming good humour that she’d placed her hand in his before she’d thought better of it.

He didn’t turn to walk her back down the aisle. Rather he led her to a small wrought-iron gate, hidden beyond the altar. Through the railings she could see a curved stone staircase, going underground. He took a key from his pocket, unlocked the gate and led her through it.

She tugged on his hand just as he took the first step of the spiral down. He paused and looked at her. ‘You’re taking me to the crypt?’ she asked, horrified.

‘You really do think I’m charming, don’t you?’ he said blandly. ‘First the chapel, and now you think I intend to desecrate the dead with lewd acts?’ He shook his head, and suddenly that laughing sparkle in his eyes was snuffed out. The ruthless solemnity returned and he spoke very quietly. ‘You must think you’ve married a monster.’

She couldn’t look at his expression, her body shrinking in shame at the tinge of hurt she’d heard. ‘I don’t really know the man I’ve married.’ And she didn’t know how to handle the feelings he aroused in her.

‘You could try to trust me, just a very little.’ He watched her intently. ‘I’ve given you no reason not to trust me.’

That was true. He was only trying to do what he thought was the right thing. As was she. But she didn’t trust easily.

‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll try.’ She curled her fingers around his. ‘You know...’ She offered a tentative, peace-making smile. ‘If this whole prince thing doesn’t work out for you, you could do really well as a wedding planner.’

He looked startled for a second, and then his laugh returned. An answering spurt of pleasure bubbled up within her.

‘Is that a compliment?’ He shook his head. ‘Undeserved, sadly. I have very good aides.’

Maybe, but he’d been the one to order it all.

‘Where does this lead, if not the crypt?’ she asked as they went further down the old narrow steps.

‘There is a safe escape. The pirates’ secret, as you’ve so often suggested.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Absolutely.’ The laughter burned in his eyes once more. So did the desire. ‘I’m dragging you to my pirate lair and I am going to have my wicked way with you.’

‘And you expect me to trust you?’ she teased, excitement fluttering low in her belly.

‘You can trust that it’ll be very wicked.’

At the bottom of the stairs there was a marble-lined tunnel. He hadn’t been joking about the passageway.

There were gas lanterns every eight feet, giving off a flickering romantic light. They turned a narrow corner and the tunnel opened into a small cavern. In the centre stood a massive bed decked with lush linen—white sheets, heaps of plump pillows, a charcoal-black mohair blanket folded into a neat square. More lanterns hung in each corner. Beyond the bed faint light flickered in one corner of the gloom—the tunnel must continue.

It was totally over the top, but so magnificent.

Having taken several moments to absorb the opulence, she turned to him. ‘You never do anything by halves, do you?’

‘I like to do things as well as I can. To do my best.’ He smiled.

He wasn’t talking decor any more. The trouble was, his ‘best’ overwhelmed her and her own response terrified her. To have given him her virginity so quickly and easily—without so much as a second thought—that day on the beach...

Eduardo lifted his hand and gently framed her face. ‘Not in a rush.’

She knew he’d felt her tremble.

‘Not this time,’ he promised.