The Sicilian's Bought Bride

‘Esther?’ Her mouth dropped open and her eyes automatically flicked across the room to gape in open disbelief at the paragon of virtue, dressed in twinset and pearls, her newly set hair lacquered firmly in place. She was scarcely able to believe Esther was capable of coming on to anyone. Mind you, Catherine mused as Esther’s gaze wandered anxiously in their direction, from the effect two minutes up close with Rico was having on her, maybe even ministers’ wives weren’t immune.

‘Don’t look!’ He put a hand up to her cheek, forcing her attention.

‘I’m sorry.’ Catherine was flustered, jumping a mile as he touched her, her cheeks stinging red as a blush worked its way upwards. She desperately tried to keep her voice even. ‘Surely you’ve misread things!’

‘That’s what I told myself,’ Rico agreed. ‘That’s what I kept on telling myself as she started fiddling with the buttons on my jacket….’

‘She didn’t!’

‘That’s not the half of it.’ He gave a small shudder and Catherine started to laugh. ‘If your sister had settled for a good Catholic wedding, then none of this would have happened.’

‘That’s Janey for you,’ Catherine said dryly, and for a second so small it was barely there they shared a knowing smile.

‘I excused myself, of course—said I had to get back to my girlfriend; so if you don’t mind I’m going to have to borrow you for a while.’

‘Borrow away.’ Somehow she smiled. Somehow she accepted the champagne glass he offered with hands that were amazingly steady, given her heart-rate!

It had been the best night of her life—even if it had been a false togetherness; even if it had been just for Esther’s benefit he’d made her feel special. Made her feel as if she was the only woman in the room.

Later, alone in his hotel room, those dark, brooding and suspicious eyes had softened, gazing into hers as that strong, inscrutable face had moved in to kiss her. She could still almost taste the velvet of his lips, smell the heady tang of his cologne, feel her fingers in that jet hair as she had drowned in his kiss, responded to his urgent demands in a way she never had before. His kiss had fueled responses, unfamiliar, yet achingly welcome. Her breasts had pushed against his chest, her groin had pressed into his as his hand had worked the buttons of her dress, his frustration mounting as the tiny pink buttons proved too much for the frenzy of emotions that had gripped them. He’d ripped the pale pink tulle till her shoulders had been exposed, and she hadn’t cared—hadn’t cared he’d ruined her dress. She had hated it anyway, hated Janey for forcing her to wear it.

She had stood exposed but curiously excited, her dilated pupils struggling to focus, as one olive-skinned hand moved the fabric apart. The contrast of his dark skin on her soft white breast had caused her breath to catch in her throat, a tiny groan of ecstasy escaping as he’d buried his face in her bosom, his lips hot on her stinging nipples, flicking them with a firm tongue. The blood had rushed down—not to her breasts, though, down to her groin, and then the flicker of her first orgasm, as impatient hands slid up her legs, tearing the tiny panties aside. His fingers had snaked inside her wet warmth, his breath hot and hard as he sucked on her breasts, and she’d shuddered in the palm of his hand, lost in the frenzy of it all, stunned at how easily her body had responded, scarcely able to fathom how she could yield so much to him.

He had seemed to understand how overwhelmed she had been, had held her afterwards, and for that slice of time, for one tiny moment, life had felt safe.

‘We have to go back down,’ he whispered into her hair as the world slowly drifted back into focus, seemingly understanding that this was alien for her, that she was feeling overwhelmed by the frenzy of emotion that had gripped her.

But even Rico’s tender embrace wasn’t enough to stop cruel reality invading, the sting of shame to prickle her senses. She barely knew this man, had met him only that night, and yet here she stood in his arms dishevelled, her groin still curiously alive, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed. Her arousal was still only a whisper away, yet he quelled her doubts in an instant, reading her mind as if she were a book.

‘Don’t regret this.’ His voice was a low, delicious throb of reassurance in her ear. ‘You are beautiful—this was beautiful.’

‘I shouldn’t have—’

‘Hush.’ His own arousal still pressed into her and she felt a stab of guilt: No longer the situation, but at her own selfishness, sure all the pleasure of the moment had been hers.

One woefully inexperienced hand tentatively moved down, clasping the steel of his erection, terrified of her own boldness, yet sure it was expected.

‘Catherine, no.’ His voice was breathless, his hand clamping over hers like a vice, and she flushed with embarrassment, terrified she had hurt him, sure he could feel the inexperience of her touch. ‘We must go back, I am the best man and you are the bridesmaid. It is my brother’s and your sister’s wedding.’

‘But I haven’t…’ She swallowed hard. ‘You didn’t…’

‘There is time for that later.’ His accent caressed her like a warm blanket on a cold night, and the glimpse of tomorrow, of another time, satisfied her craving in an instant. ‘After the bride and groom leave I have to go to the airport, I have to go to the States, but before then we will talk—arrange to see each other again.’ He kissed her then, slow and hard, but laced with tenderness.

She held onto his words all night, like a precious jewel clasped close to her chest, and it made the night bearable—made the night she had dreaded suddenly exciting.

‘Well, you’ve changed your tune.’

Helping Janey out of her wedding dress and into her leaving outfit, Catherine was barely able to keep her hands still enough to undo the zipper.

Rico was downstairs waiting for her. In an hour or so she would be in his arms again.

‘See—I knew if you actually let your hair down you might enjoy yourself.’ Turning, Janey stared for a moment, taking in the dark, dishevelled curls, the glittering eyes and flushed cheeks. ‘How come you changed your dress?’ Her eyes dragged over the simple rust silk tunic Catherine had changed into, watching her sister’s cheeks darken.

‘Pink tulle really isn’t my thing,’ Catherine answered as blithely as she could with her heart in her mouth.

‘Well, it’s certainly Rico’s thing. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.’ Calculating blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Where did you two disappear to after the speeches?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Catherine was flustered, appalled that her sister might know. ‘Come on, Janey, you’ll miss your flight.’

‘It will wait,’ Janey said airily, ‘When you’ve got your own private plane it doesn’t leave without you.’ Her voice dropped then, suddenly serious, and her eyes were wide with an urgency that made Catherine suddenly nervous. ‘Play your cards right, sis, and all this could be yours.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous…’

‘It really could. I’ve paved the way for you, Catherine, do you know how hard I had to work to convince Marco I wasn’t just after him for his money? That I wasn’t some cheap little gold-digger?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it, Janey.’

‘But I am a cheap little gold-digger.’ Janey gave a malicious smile. ‘And now I’m married to a very rich man. You could do it too, Catherine.’ She gave a dry, mirthless laugh as her sister shook her head and covered her ears, her voice rising in excitement as she pulled Catherine’s hands away, enjoying her sister’s embarrassment as she warmed to her subject. ‘You hate your job, hate working with those awful children, hate your poky little flat…’

‘Janey…’ Catherine gave in then. Gave up trying to reason with her sister. Janey would never believe that even though she moaned about staff shortages and even her students at times, she loved her work—truly adored it. And, yes, her flat might be small, but it was home.

Tears were threatening now, at a vision of her sister so alive, so excited—such an appalling contrast to the cold, lifeless body that lay just a few rooms away. Balling her fists into her eyes, Catherine held them back. There was no point in tears, none at all. There was no one to wipe them—hadn’t been since the day her parents had died—and there was no one to comfort her tonight. Her memories flicked back in a second to the awful reality she faced—a reality she had to accept.

Janey was dead.

Rico despised her.

CHAPTER TWO

‘CATHERINE.’

Gripping the jewellery tight in the palm of her hand, she stilled, her breath hot in her lungs. Even her heart seemed to stop for a second, then thudded back into action, tripping into a gallop as the scent that had fuelled her dreams for a year reached her nostrils, as the low drawl of one single word catapulted her senses into overdrive.

‘Catherine?’

This time she looked up, praying somehow that the passage of time might render her impervious to his beauty, that a year might have dimmed the passion in those dark eyes, that somehow she might see that her imagination had been working overtime, had built him up to a status that cold reality would knock down. But if anything, Catherine realised, her imagination had underplayed his exquisiteness. Hadn’t quite captured the haughty, effortless elegance, the razor-sharp cheekbones, the jet-dark hair, superbly cut, the tiny fan of silver at the temples that accentuated those inscrutable coal eyes.

‘I came as soon as I heard.’

She didn’t respond—couldn’t respond. His presence was too overwhelming to allow for speech. Instead she gave a small nod, struggled with lips that didn’t seem to know how to move any more.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Since five.’ Her voice was a croak, the two words all she could manage, but as his eyes bored into her Catherine realised more was called for and she cleared her throat, knowing he deserved the facts. It was his brother who was dead, after all. Their one night of passion and bitter parting had no place in this conversation, this was no time to rake over their past. ‘I came back from work and the police were at my door. They drove me here.’

‘Have they told you how it happened?’ When she didn’t answer he pushed harder. ‘I know there was an accident. I know that Marco and Janey are both dead and that Lily is on the children’s ward, but that is all I know.’ His fists were bunched in tension. Catherine could see a muscle galloping in his taut cheek and she knew how hard it must be for a man like Rico, who always knew what was happening, always had everything in control, to be in the dark—to know that for once there was absolutely nothing he could do to put things right.

‘I have tried to speak with the doctors and the police, but everyone who dealt with it directly is off duty. I will of course speak with them in the morning, but for now I would appreciate it if you could fill me in.’