THE ITALIAN DUKE’S WIFE Page 10

  marriage. That in turn could lead to a legal challenge

  that the terms of my grandmother’s will are not being

  met. Indeed, I wouldn’t put it past Caterina to do

  everything she can to achieve just that. And, since the

  whole purpose of this marriage is to meet those terms,

  it is necessary that we both conform to society’s expectations.

  If it will make you feel any better, I shall

  undertake to donate an equal amount to charity as you

  spend on clothes."

  "that’s bribery," Jodie told him, but Lorenzo was

  already walking away from her, leaving her no choice

  but to follow him.

  To her surprise the gallery opened out into a second,

  even longer single-storey rectangular space, this

  one housing more modern paintings and sculptures.

  "Like my ancestors, I substitute my own lack of

  artistic skill by taking an interest in and supporting

  those who do have it," Lorenzo was explaining dryly.

  But Jodie wasn’t fully listening to him. Instead her

  attention had been caught by the large wall space in

  the middle of the gallery, which was filled with what

  seemed to be unsophisticated, childlike drawings.

  "Ah, my most valued commissions," Lorenzo told

  her quietly.

  Jodie looked at him uncertainly. "They look like

  children’s drawings."

  "That is exactly what they are. These drawings

  were all produced by children who have lost limbs—

  sometimes but not always a dominant hand — as victims

  of a variety of wars. These drawings were done

  after they had been fitted with their new limbs, as part

  of their ongoing therapy. The very special paintings

  in the middle of the wall are painted with those new

  limbs."

  Jodie discovered that emotional tears had suddenly

  rushed to fill her eyes. Blinking them away, she told

  Lorenzo huskily, "No wonder you value them so

  much."

  He turned away. "I shall introduce you to Assunta,

  who is my housekeeper here, and she will show you

  over the rest of the apartment while I make some

  telephone calls."

  In other words, he was bored with her company

  and wanted to be free of it. Well, that certainly did

  not bother her, Jodie assured herself ten minutes later,

  as she was handed over into the care of a shrewd-

  eyed middle-aged woman who subjected her to open

  scrutiny and then inclined her head. In excellent

  English, she said calmly, "If you will come this way,

  please…"

  Half an hour later Jodie had seen every room in

  the apartment, which covered not one but two floors

  of the Palazzo and included an astonishingly luxuriant

  roof garden.

  It was plain that Lorenzo favoured modern design

  and furnishings over antiques, but she had to admit

  that the strong lines of the furniture complemented

  the large rooms with their high ceilings.

  Her bedroom was across the corridor from

  Lorenzo’s, and had its own dressing room and bathroom.

  To Jodie’s relief, Assunta unbent enough to

  explain that she had worked in London for a time at

  a restaurant owned by a cousin of her father, which

  was where she had learned her English. Now a

  widow, who prized her independence, she added that

  working for Lorenzo had up until now suited her very

  nicely.

  "I shan’t be wanting to interfere in the way you

  manage things," Jodie assured her, picking up her cue.

  Indeed, she would not! She doubted that Lorenzo

  would thank her if she were to be the cause of his

  housekeeper handing in her notice.

  "It is my cousin Theresa who is housekeeper at the

  Duce’s villa near Sienna. It is a very good place for

  bambini there, with much space and fresh air."

  Another hint? Jodie wondered as she stood beneath

  the welcome spray of the shower, mentally revising

  their conversation. Well, she certainly wouldn’t be

  providing Lorenzo with his bambini. The shower continued

  to pound her skin with its needle-sharp spray

  whilst Jodie stood perfectly still and let images of

  small dark haired children stampede over her defences

  and trample them into nothing.

  There was a sharp rap on her bathroom door and

  she heard Lorenzo calling out briskly, "It is time for

  us to leave."

  "I’m nearly ready," she fibbed, and then gave a

  small gasp as he took her at her word and walked into

  the bathroom.

  Was it possible to be caught at any worse disadvantage

  than naked and dripping wet? Jodie wondered,

  pink-cheeked, as Lorenzo folded his arms and

  leaned against the now closed door.

  "That is nearly ready?" he demanded pithily.

  "It won’t take me long to dry myself and get

  dressed…" And it would take her even less time if he

  wasn’t standing between her and the thick warm towels

  on the towel rail on the other side of the bathroom.

  Why didn’t he leave? Did he really expect her to walk

  past him stark naked while he subjected her to more

  of that steely scrutiny with which he was already

  openly studying her legs? Out of habit she turned to

  one side, trying to tuck her injured leg out of sight,

  more anxious to conceal that from him than either her

  breasts or the neat soft triangle of damp curls covering

  her sex.

  "Do you want to have a closer look at my leg?" she

  demanded tartly. "I know the scars aren’t a pretty

  sight, but Don’t worry — I can cover them up."

  Lorenzo took his time about lifting his gaze from

  her legs to her face, and when he eventually did so

  her heart thumped heavily against her ribs.

  "Perhaps I should have you painted like this," he

  told her softly. "A fair-haired Northern water nymph,

  with legs long enough to encourage a man to imagine

  how it would feel to have them wrapped around him.

  Or maybe spread on a silk-covered bed, with them

  wantonly open, begging for the touch of your lover’s

  lips against their tender flesh. There are sexual positions

  that require… No! Do not look at me with that

  hungry virgin look in your eyes," he told her sharply.

  "Otherwise I might be tempted to satisfy that hunger

  for you."

  "You were the one who came in here," Jodie reminded

  him. "I didn’t invite you."

  "Liar. You invite me every time you look at me,

  with those virginal half-glances that say how curious

  you are to know what it is like to lie with a man."

  "That is not true!" Jodie said hotly. "If I wanted to

  have sex with a man, which I do not, then you are

  the last man I would choose."

  She realised immediately that she had gone too

  far — Lorenzo was so arrogantly male that there was

  no way he would allow her to get away with that kind

  of challenge to his masculinity. But it was too late.

  He was striding towards her, ignoring both her

  shocked c
ry of protest and the effect her wet body

  was having on his clothes as he hauled her out of the

  shower and picked her up in his arms.

  "Put me down," Jodi demanded, but Lorenzo wasn’t

  listening to her. Instead he was carrying her through

  her bedroom and towards the bed, where he put her

  down against the pale green silk coverlet and held her

  there.

  He knelt over her and demanded softly, "So, what

  is it you want to know most? How it feels to have a

  man caress you here, like this?" Still holding her

  shoulder with his left hand, he trailed the fingers of

  his right hand down the whole length of her body to

  her knee, and then slowly stroked up the inside of her

  clenched thigh.

  Helplessly, Jodie closed her eyes as her flesh absorbed

  the intimacy of his touch and then reacted with

  a series of sensual shudders that ricocheted relentlessly

  through her.

  "Ah, so you like that? And this?" His lips were

  caressing the sensitive spot just behind her ear, causing

  the ache deep inside her body to become a fiercely

  urgent eager pulse.

  Jodie moaned in outraged protest. He had no right

  to be doing this to her.

  But Lorenzo had obviously mistaken the cause of

  her moan, because he murmured, "More curiosity?

  Very well, then — you shall have your answer." His

  hand swept up over her body to her breast, shaping it

  and then rubbing the pad of his thumb over the erect

  swelling of her nipple until all she could visualise

  inside her head was his tongue curling round her nipple

  and then lapping rhythmically at it.

  Knowing her own desire had never been an issue

  for her; it was having that desire not just satisfied but

  aroused to the pitch it was being aroused to now that

  had always been her problem. She had imagined she

  might feel like this, but her imagination had fallen

  way short of the reality, she acknowledged dizzily as

  she locked her fingers in the thick darkness of

  Lorenzo’s hair and urged his head down towards her

  eager nipple. In the afternoon sunshine that filled the

  room through the slats in the window blind, she could

  see the telltale hardness of Lorenzo’s erection, and

  her senses twisted with sweet triumph at the sight of

  his arousal.

  "Still curious?" Lorenzo’s tongue stroked the sensitive

  flesh of her nipple and her body arched up towards

  him for more. His hand dipped between her

  legs, his palm warm against the eager swelling of her

  mound. Instinctively Jodie held her breath, willing

  him to part the closed lips of her sex and find the wet

  heat waiting so urgently for him. Reality, reason, responsibility

  were forgotten. She was like someone

  possessed by a sudden fever — taken over by it so that

  it overruled every other control system within her.

  The knowing fingers answered her silent plea, parting

  the soft pads of flesh and then stroking her with intimately

  long, slow strokes that made her cry out

  whilst her body jerked in frantic response.

  "Now you see what your curiosity has brought you

  to," she heard Lorenzo saying thickly. But he wasn’t

  making any attempt to stop giving her the pleasure

  his touch was inciting. Instead his touch became

  stronger and deeper, until — suddenly and shockingly—

  the ache inside her became a fierce convulsion

  that gripped her and then exploded into an intense

  orgasm.

  Jodie lay stiffly on the bed, refusing to look at

  Lorenzo. She felt scorched by the humiliation of what

  had happened, and too close to tears to risk allowing

  herself to speak. Not because she had had an orgasm

  — it wasn’t her first, after all — but because of

  the way she had had it. And because of the man who

  had called it up out of her body so effortlessly.

  "You shouldn’t have done that," she finally managed

  to say.

  "No," Lorenzo agreed heavily. "I should not."

  Jodie closed her eyes. She could feel him withdrawing

  from her as he stood up.

  "I’ll go and ring the salon and tell them we shall

  be later than arranged."

  Why had she let that happen? Why hadn’t she

  stopped him straight away? Her post-orgasm lethargy

  clung heavily to her body as she showered again and

  dressed as quickly as she could, promising herself that

  it was never, ever going to happen again. Lorenzo

  was a man — and an Italian — he was probably driven

  by machismo and all those other things that gave such

  men their powerful sexuality. And of course her unwitting

  challenge had meant that he had had to make

  his point to her. Other than that she had no idea why

  he had done what he had — only that he must not be

  allowed to do so again.

  Lorenzo stood in his study and looked broodingly

  out of the window. He had never been the kind of

  man who allowed himself to be driven or ridden by

  the needs of his body, so why, why had he allowed

  himself to give in to them now? She was just another

  woman, that was all, and not even an obviously sexually

  available woman.

  Not sexually available, no, but sexually responsive…

  Lorenzo closed his eyes and immediately saw

  Jodie as he had seen her minutes before, lying naked

  on the bed, giving herself up to her pleasure…the

  pleasure he had given her. Immediately his body, still

  half tumescent from its earlier unsatisfied arousal,

  stiffened into a painfully hard erection. He couldn’t

  possibly want her as badly as that. Wanting the

  woman — the virgin — he had chosen to marry for

  purely practical reasons was a complication he did not

  need in his life right now.

  How had he managed to find a woman who was

  still a virgin — a hungry sexually curious virgin — who

  looked at him with a question in her eyes as old as

  Eve? But he couldn’t afford the time it would take to

  find someone to replace her now. At the moment

  Caterina was still shocked enough for him to gain the

  upper hand in the war between them, but once she

  had time to recover from that shock she would be

  back to her plots and the subtle, mind-poisoning tricks

  at which she excelled. And besides, by now the whole

  of Florence probably knew the identity of his bride-

  to-be.

  What did one wear to buy clothes sold in a designer

  showroom? Jodie wondered ruefully. Probably not

  what she was wearing — which was her spare pair of

  clean jeans and a clean top — but since she had

  brought only the bare necessities to Italy with her,

  they would have to do.

  Lorenzo was waiting for her when she found her

  way back to the main salon. As soon as she walked

  into the room he announced grimly, as he ushered her

  towards the main door, "What happened earlier in

  your room must not be allowed to happen
again."

  He was looking at her, speaking to her — lecturing

  her, almost! — as though it had been her fault, Jodie

  recognised indignantly as they stepped into the lift.

  "It certainly mustn’t," she agreed fiercely. "But I

  wasn’t the one who instigated it."

  "Maybe not. But you didn’t stop me, did you?" The

  lift had reached the ground floor.

  "Why do men always blame women when it is they

  who—?" Jodie began heatedly, only to be stopped by

  Lorenzo.

  "It was Eve who offered Adam the apple," he reminded

  her flatly, as he held open the lift door for

  her.

  "Man"s eternal get-out," Jodie seethed. "The

  woman tempted me…"

  "So you admit that you did?" Lorenzo demanded as

  he guided her towards the street exit.

  "I admit no such thing," Jodie retorted angrily,

  blinking in the fierce sunlight.

  "It will take less time if we walk to Via

  Tornabuoni," Lorenzo informed her as he took hold

  of her arm and nodded in the direction they were to

  walk, ignoring her fury. "It is this way. We will cut

  through this alleyway here, which brings us out into

  this square."

  Jodie forgot her annoyance and caught her breath

  in awed delight at her surroundings. She longed to be

  able to take her time and absorb everything around

  her, but Lorenzo was hurrying her through the square

  and down another narrow street, where an ancient

  church crouched between the other buildings, its

  doors open in welcome.

  Via Tornabuoni turned out to be a wide street filled

  with imposing buildings and even more imposing

  shops — so much so that Jodie found herself hanging

  back a little when they reached one store. A uniformed

  doorman opened the door for them and

  Lorenzo ushered her inside. Almost immediately a

  soigne.e, pencil-thin, immaculately groomed young

  woman who looked more like a model than a sales

  assistant glided towards them, her attention focused

  on Lorenzo rather than Jodie. Of course Jodie

  couldn’t understand what Lorenzo was saying to her,

  but there was no mistaking its impact. They were ushered

  towards the back of the store and into an enclosed

  private area, where Ms Soigne.e disappeared

  and was replaced by a slightly older, even more

  dauntingly stunning woman, who quickly introduced

  herself as the direttrice of the store.

  "I received your message and conveyed it to the

  maestro," she informed them reverently in English.