Читать книгу Fascination - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 12

‘COULD I pOSSIBLY . . . freshen up before dinner?’

Cesare turned at Robin’s halting request, which intruded on his dark and brooding thoughts as the two of them left Marco’s nursery together a few minutes later.

He had thought he would catch her off guard by presenting Marco in that way, and yet Cesare knew that he was the one who felt unsettled by the encounter.

It really was totally inexplicable to him why Marco had taken such a liking to Robin; she had certainly done nothing to encourage him.

The baby had screamed when Cesare had returned him to his cot, his little arms reaching up imploringly to Robin. But Robin had remained completely detached as Cesare laid the baby down, before tucking him beneath the covers with his favourite teddy bear at his side.

Robin’s aloofness towards Cesare he could understand and excuse, but her coldness towards Marco he could not accept. The baby had already lost his mother—even if he wasn’t really old enough to have realised it—and Cesare had no intention of allowing Robin to maintain that ridiculously cool attitude towards him just because she wasn’t in control here.

Because, no matter how she might wish it otherwise, he still had every intention of making Robin his wife. And sooner rather than later!

‘Use the bathroom there.’ He gestured dismissively and he continued to stride towards the sitting room, definitely feeling in need of more champagne.

‘Thank you,’ Robin accepted quietly, before escaping into the bathroom.

When she looked at her reflection in the mirror over the sink, she could see her eyes were overbright.

She was in love!

Not with Cesare Gambrelli.

Nor with any other man.

But with a six-month-old baby who had captured her heart at first sight!

She sat down weakly on the side of the bath, breathing deeply in an effort to calm her racing pulse.

Marco was adorable—absolutely adorable. And it had felt so good when she’d held him in her arms, so achingly right; he was the baby she had dreamt of having for so long—so much so that she had been reluctant to relinquish him to Cesare when the time had come.

What did she do now …?

Cesare Gambrelli had told her he intended marrying her. That he intended for her to be Marco’s mother.

How she wanted the latter, if not the former.

But the price was being Cesare’s scorned and despised wife—a woman he had only married to settle what he called a blood feud. Did she want that?

Yes!

Cesare didn’t know it, but he was offering her something she had thought she would never know—a joy Robin had thought for ever denied her. Now that she had met Marco, held him, felt the warmth of him, been the recipient of his beautiful smile, there was no way she would be able to walk away from the chance to be his mother.

She knew she daren’t let Cesare see how deeply her emotions had been affected, already knowing him well enough to realise that if he thought he was actually giving her something she so desperately wanted, then he would use that advantage to bend her totally to his arrogant will.

Yes, now that she had seen and held Marco she fully intended marrying Cesare—but it would be on her own terms, not his …

‘We may as well go through to dinner,’ Cesare announced when Robin rejoined him in the sitting room, her hair once more in a neat chignon and looking again like the coolly detached woman who had arrived at his apartment less than half an hour ago.

Once Robin was his wife, Cesare had decided as he sipped his champagne and waited for her to rejoin him, he had no intention of giving her any choice but to become Marco’s mother. With time, he hoped she would learn to be at ease with with the child, to love him as he deserved to be loved.

‘Fine,’ she accepted distantly, before preceding him into the dining room that he indicated.

A woman any man would be proud to have on his arm, Cesare knew, as he watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked in front of him.

Or in his bed.

‘Have you decided what it is you wish to tell your father about our forthcoming marriage?’ Cesare prompted, once he had seen her seated opposite him at the small, intimate table he had requested be laid for their meal together.

Robin eyed him warily. ‘I believe I told you earlier that nothing has been settled yet concerning a marriage between the two of us?’

Cesare gave a hard smile. ‘Fight it all you want, Robin, but the marriage will take place.’

She hadn’t given herself away, Robin realised with relief. And she dared not do so, either, because if Cesare even half guessed at how she had fallen for Marco, then all her bargaining power was spent. And she had little enough to start with!

‘Perhaps,’ she allowed uninterestedly, avoiding the intensity of his stare as she placed her napkin across her lap in preparation for eating the platter of seafood that was the first course. ‘As for how we deal with my father …’ she paused, as if to give the matter some thought ‘… I really don’t think he would accept anything less for me than what he perceives as a love match.’

Cesare’s eyes widened. ‘I know I told you earlier that I would go along with whatever you decided to tell him, but do you seriously expect me to behave in front of your father as if I have fallen in love with you?’

‘Beyond your powers, is it?’ Robin came back tauntingly, stung by his tone of incredulity. ‘Or just totally incomprehensible to you?’ she added softly as she saw his contemptuous expression.

‘You can’t pretend to be in love because you’ve never been in love—is that it?’ she prompted curiously.

‘Love!’ he snorted. ‘My father loved my mother so much that when she died he drank himself to an early death! Carla loved Marco’s father—and he abandoned her totally once he knew she was expecting his child! Contrarily, your own husband did not want you once you had refused to have his child. I do not need to have been in love, Robin, to know it is a destructive emotion!’

Robin had been prepared to give him an argument on the subject—until he mentioned her own marriage. Because she had loved Giles when she’d married him—had thought he loved her too. But that love hadn’t been strong enough to withstand Giles’s disappointment when she hadn’t been able to give him the child he wanted …

And she already knew that falling in love with Cesare Gambrelli would be sheer madness—for any woman!

No, loving Marco, and being this man’s unwilling wife, was as far as she was willing to go.

‘True,’ she acknowledged. ‘Nevertheless, for my father’s sake, I really think if we are to go ahead with this marriage that we will have to behave for a few weeks as if we’re in love with each other.’

Cesare looked at her frustratedly, knowing what she was demanding was her own price for agreeing to marry him without further argument or delay. A high price, granted, and not one that he would normally have even considered. But perhaps the pretence would have benefits to himself that even Robin had not considered yet.

He gave an arrogant inclination of his head. ‘In that case I suggest we begin the pretence this evening, with your not returning to your father’s home as expected. It will tell him, without any word having to be spoken between the two of you, that you have taken a lover.’

Robin sat back in her chair to look at him admiringly. ‘Touché, Cesare,’ she finally admitted ruefully. ‘No one could ever accuse you of losing control of a situation, could they?’ she added wryly.

Losing control in any situation was never in Cesare’s plans.

He had taken many women to his bed, and considered himself a considerate as well as attentive lover for as long as his interest lasted. But all his relationships had been completely under his control. His emotions, other than desire, had never been engaged.

And, no matter what he might decide to pretend for the sake of her father, they would not be with Robin, either.

Love made fools of people—as it had his father and Carla. It was a trap that Cesare never intended falling into.

He shrugged. ‘I suggest that once we have eaten you call your father and inform him you will not be returning tonight.’

At which time, as Cesare meant him to do, Robin knew her father would draw his own conclusion.

Charles would probably be pleased with the development too.

He had made no secret of his concern about the way she had become almost reclusive since her separation and divorce, burying herself in her work at Ingram Publishing and avoiding a social life, and would probably view any sign of her being involved with a man as a good thing, rather than something he should be concerned about.

Until he learnt that Cesare Gambrelli was the man she was involved with, of course—when his reaction would probably be completely the opposite!

But she would deal with that later. For now she had to concentrate on getting through this evening, on talking to her father on the phone before staying the night in one of the many bedrooms in this penthouse suite of the Gambrelli Hotel—Unless.

She looked across at Cesare with accusingly suspicious eyes. ‘I have no intention of sharing your bedroom tonight, Cesare!’ she told him determinedly.

He raised his dark brows calmly. ‘I did not ask you to.’

‘I’m quickly learning that you don’t ask—you just take!’

Cesare eyed her mockingly, enjoying this angrily rebellious Robin much more than the icy socialite who had arrived at his suite a short time ago. ‘I can assure you I do not intend for you to share my bedroom tonight,’ he drawled.

She didn’t look at all convinced by his reassurance. As she should not. His assurance that she wouldn’t share his bedroom did not mean that he didn’t intend to share hers …

‘Come, Robin,’ he encouraged briskly as he picked up the fork beside his plate. ‘Let us eat our food and talk of more general things. Was the charity dinner a success last weekend?’

She still felt suspicious as she picked up her own fork. ‘Very much so,’ she finally confirmed. ‘In fact, one anonymous benefactor—who coincidentally couldn’t stay for the dinner—left us a donation of fifty thousand pounds,’ she explained, with a pointed look in his direction.

Cesare smiled. ‘It was for a good cause.’

She nodded. ‘Disabled children.’

Cesare’s mouth tightened. ‘You think me as uncharitable as your father does?’ he rasped.

Robin wasn’t really sure what she thought of this man any more. He was obviously the anonymous donor, and his love for Marco was unquestionable, and yet for reasons of retribution he was also capable of forcing a woman he didn’t love, who didn’t love him, to marry him. He was an enigma.

One that held an inexplicable fascination for her.

She had certainly found herself thinking about him more than she should the last few days!

‘Only to people called Ingram,’ she came back challengingly.

‘Then it is as well that your name will soon become Gambrelli, is it not?’

She looked across at him for several seconds before sighing. ‘As you said, Cesare, let’s eat,’ she replied, and she avoided meeting his eyes.

He remained very still and silent for several long, tense seconds, Robin only breathing comfortably again when he finally joined her in eating.

‘You do not like oysters?’ he asked several minutes later, as Robin pushed her plate away without even attempting to touch the two succulent shellfish that remained on the platter.

Robin gave him a knowing look. ‘If you think they’ll do you any good, you’re quite welcome to them!’ she came back tartly, well aware of the aphrodisiacal reputation oysters possessed.

‘Oh, I think two will be quite enough for one night,’ he returned sardonically.

Well, that attempt at mockery had backfired on her, hadn’t it? Robin acknowledged to herself, as Cesare stood up to remove their plates, standing close beside her as he did so, his warm proximity making her shiver slightly.

Perhaps staying here tonight wasn’t such a good idea …

After all, just because she was going to tell her father she was staying out tonight it didn’t mean it actually had to be here, in Cesare Gambrelli’s hotel suite, did it? Of course it didn’t.

‘Would you like me to do that?’ she offered as she looked across to where Cesare was taking the serving dishes containing their main course from the trolley, feeling more confident now she had made the decision to leave.

‘Why not?’ He straightened as she stood up to join him beside the trolley. ‘The sooner you become accustomed to your wifely duties the better, hmm?’ he added provokingly.

There was one ‘wifely duty’ she knew she would never become accustomed to!

There was no way she would ever be comfortable as this man’s lover.

Oh, physically she wanted Cesare; there was no way she could deny that after the way she responded to his slightest touch. But she had always believed that physical pleasure should be accompanied by love. She had been a virgin on her wedding night, and had taken no other lovers since her marriage ended, either.

‘Perhaps,’ she began slowly, as she served thinly sliced beef fillets and vegetables onto their plates, a large portion for Cesare, a much smaller one for herself, ‘it’s time we discussed the terms of this as yet mythical marriage.?’ She placed the plates on the table in front of them before sitting down again.

‘I have already agreed to satisfy your father’s … sensibilities concerning a marriage between the two of us,’ Cesare replied. ‘I do not think you are in any position to dictate any further terms to me, Robin.’ Though he admired her nerve, he had absolutely no sympathy for her sentiment.

‘Nevertheless,’ she told him firmly, ‘if I do agree to marry you—and it’s still a big if—then I also intend having some input into the … nature of the marriage.’

Cesare found himself smiling, sure that he knew exactly which part of the marriage she was referring to. ‘Go on,’ he invited dryly, deciding he had better quickly eat some of the delicious beef in front of him. From the little experience he had of dealing with this woman, his appetite could desert him at any moment.

Her chin rose defiantly, those violet-coloured eyes glittering purple. ‘Perhaps we could start by having you drop this mocking way you have of responding to everything I say!’ she snapped.

His smile widened. ‘Perhaps if you stopped coming out with comments that I find amusing, I might be able to do so,’ he came back laconically.

‘I’m glad you find it so amusing, Cesare!’ Robin glared. ‘Personally, I find absolutely nothing to laugh about in this situation!’

Yes, he had been correct—he was losing his appetite. For food, anyway.

He liked that heated flush to her cheeks, the way her eyes sparkled deeply purple with emotion, her breasts thrusting against the thin material of her dress as she tensed her shoulders with indignant reproval at what she viewed as his inability to take her seriously.

But he seriously wanted to strip that dress from her body right now and make love to her!

‘I am not laughing, Robin,’ he assured her huskily. ‘But perhaps we should postpone this conversation until after we have eaten?’

‘I’m not hungry!’ She pushed her plate away, her whole body rigid with her anger.

Neither was he. His appetite was for something much more … tactile than food now.

‘Do not behave like a child, Robin,’ he said sternly.

‘Is that what I’m doing?’ she came back swiftly.

‘I believe so,’ he responded.

‘And if the great Cesare Gambrelli believes it to be so, then it must be so!’ Robin scorned.

Cesare looked at her consideringly. ‘Why are you deliberately provoking an argument between the two of us, Robin?’ he finally asked.

‘I’m being provocative, am I?’ she said heatedly.

‘You must know that you are.’

Because Robin knew she wanted him!

Because she had seen the way he had looked at her seconds ago, seen the desire in his eyes before he’d masked it, and at this moment her whole body was singing with the knowledge of her own need!

Because she didn’t want to want him!

‘Forgive me.’ She didn’t even attempt to hide her sarcasm. ‘Obviously I become a little argumentative when a man is blackmailing me into his bed!’

Cesare’s breath hissed from between his clenched teeth. ‘Your primary roles as my wife will be as Marco’s mother and as my lover!’

‘I don’t wish to become your lover at all!’ Robin told him with conviction, even as her body warmed in betrayal of her claim.

‘All evidence is to the contrary, my dear Robin.’ Cesare raised an eyebrow.

‘Bastard!’ she breathed furiously, stung by his confidence. ‘Bastard, bastard, bastard!’ she repeated recklessly, and she stood up to glare down at him. ‘I dislike you intensely, Cesare Gambrelli—’

‘Perhaps you should once again show me how much you dislike me, Robin?’ he invited, as he too stood up to move purposefully around the table towards her.

Too far. She had gone too far, Robin acknowledged as she began to back away from him.

She had meant to get him to listen to her, to have him take her requests seriously, not provoke him into this totally physical response.

Hadn’t she?

As her pulse leapt, the breath caught in her throat, and Cesare’s mouth captured hers in a kiss that was hot, hungry and sensually demanding, allowing her no opportunity to deny her own response.

His tongue slid intimately into her mouth, stirring her body into throbbing awareness, and Robin wasn’t sure what she had intended any more—only knew that she didn’t want this to stop, that she needed this man’s lovemaking in a way she had never needed or wanted any other man.

Her lips widened and she kissed him back hungrily, her hands becoming entwined in the dark thickness of his hair as she held him to her, her tongue duelling with his as she pressed her body into him.

Fire. This woman was pure, molten fire. And Cesare wanted to lose himself in her flames. As he wanted her to lose herself in the inferno that raged inside him.

He deepened his kiss and freed Robin’s hair once again to entangle his hand in its silky scentedness. His other hand moved the length of her body restlessly as he touched and caressed her slender curves. Feeling her quiver of response, he raised the hem of her dress and began to caress a path upwards.

She breathed low in her throat as his hand touched the bare flesh above her stockings, that sigh becoming a groan as that hand moved assuredly towards the warmth between her thighs.

Cesare’s fingers easily pushed aside the silk of her panties, and he touched the silky curls before moving unerringly to the centre of her desire, touching her, feeling the way she instantly blossomed and opened to him.

Wet. Robin was so wet. So wet and ready.

Cesare continued to kiss her as he untangled his other hand from her hair, moving that hand to the back of her dress, lowering the zip down the length of her spine to allow the dress to fall in a heap at her sandalled feet. He bared the pert arousal of her breasts to his caress, finding she fitted perfectly into the palm of his hand. His thumb moved to caress the fiery peak, and he could feel the moistness increase between her thighs as his fingers stroked the throbbing nub of her arousal.

Robin had been lost from the first touch of Cesare’s mouth on hers—had no will to fight the volcanic passion that had been burning barely beneath the surface between them all evening. Her breathing was shallow as Cesare moved his mouth from hers and bent to capture her hardened nipple between his lips, teeth and tongue, tasting before he suckled her deeply into the heat of his mouth, at the same time as his finger moved into the heat between her thighs.

Her breath became a sob as she moved rhythmically against him, the earthquake building deep within her, increasing her thrusts against him as her shuddering release convulsed around and against his stroking hand—a release that seemed to go on and on as Cesare continued those caresses, filling her whole body with a bone-melting pleasure that she never wanted to stop …