LITMIR.BIZ

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by Nicoletta.

      ‘I have never seen Renzo this way before,’ she confided as Darcy sucked limonata through a straw. ‘He can barely tear his eyes away from you.’

      Darcy put her glass down. Because he was one of life’s winners, that was why. He would want his marriage to succeed in the way that his business had succeeded and because his own parents’ marriage had failed. That was why he was suddenly being so nice to her. And that scared her. It made her want to fight her instinctive attraction and to pull away from him. She didn’t dare sink into a false state of security which would leave her raw and hurting when their marriage hit the skids. Because it would. Of course it would. How long would it take before her brilliant husband tired of her once reality kicked in? Had he even stopped to consider how a wife at the mercy of fluctuating hormones might fit into his calm and ordered life, let alone all the change which a new baby would bring?

      But the evening fared better than she would have imagined. Renzo’s obvious appreciation—whether faked or not—seemed to make everyone eager to welcome her into their midst. His friends were daunting, but essentially kind. She met lawyers, bankers and an eminent heart surgeon and although each and every one of them spoke to her in perfect English, she vowed to learn Renzo’s native tongue. Because suddenly, she caught a glimpse of what the future could be like if she wasn’t careful. Of Renzo and their son speaking a language which the new mamma couldn’t understand, with her inevitably being cast into the role of outsider.

      And that could also be dangerous. Renzo had been reasonable before the marriage, but now she had his ring on her finger there was no longer any need for him to be. If she didn’t watch her back she would become irrelevant. She looked around at the elegant room her new husband was renting for what she considered an extortionate amount of money. Could she really envisage their son willingly accompanying her back to an unknown England and an uncertain future if the marriage became unbearable, and leaving all this privilege and beauty behind?

      But she ate, chatted and drank her limonata, waiting until the last of their guests had gone before following Renzo up to their suite, her heart rattling loudly beneath her ribcage. She undressed in the bathroom, emerging wearing a nightgown Nicoletta had insisted on gifting her. It was an exquisite piece for a new bride to wear and one designed to be removed almost as soon as it had been put on. Despite the hard curve of her baby bump, the ivory silk-satin coated her body as flatteringly as a second skin. Edged with ivory lace, the delicate fabric framed the skin above her engorged breasts and the moment she walked into the bedroom Darcy saw Renzo’s eyes darken.

      Her own answering tug of lust made her reconsider her decision to distance herself from him, because surely physical intimacy would provide some kind of release and lessen the unmistakable tension which had sprung up between them. But sexual intimacy could also be dangerous, especially in their situation. Something was growing inside her which was part of him and how could she bear to cheapen that by having sex which was nothing but a physical release?

      She sat down heavily on the side of the bed, not realising that she’d given a little groan until he glanced across at her.

      ‘You must be tired.’

      She nodded, suddenly feeling as if all the stuffing had been knocked out of her. ‘I am. But I need to talk to you.’

      ‘About…?’

      ‘Stuff.’

      His smile was slow, almost wolfish. ‘Be a little bit more explicit, Darcy. What kind of stuff?’

      She shrugged. ‘Where we’re going to live. Practicalities. That kind of thing. And we need to decide soon because I won’t be allowed to fly once I’m past thirty-six weeks.’

      His self-assured shake of his head was tinged with the arrogant sense of certainty which was so much a part of him. ‘I have my own jet, Darcy. We can fly when the hell we like, provided we take medical support with us.’

      She nodded as she pulled back the covers and got into the king-size bed, rolling over as far as possible until she had commandeered one side of it. ‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘But we still need to discuss it.’

      ‘Just not tonight,’ he said, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he joined her. ‘You’re much too tired. We’ll talk in the morning. And—just for the record—if you lie much closer to the edge, you’re going to fall off it in the middle of the night and, apart from the obvious danger to yourself, you might just wake me up.’ She heard the clatter as he removed his wristwatch and put it on the bedside table. ‘Don’t worry, Darcy, I’m reading your body language loud and clear and I have no intention of trying to persuade a woman to make love if she has set her mind against it.’

      ‘Something which has never happened to you before, I suppose?’ she questioned waspishly.

      ‘As it happens, no,’ he drawled. He snapped off the light. ‘Usually I have to fight them off.’

      Darcy’s skin stung with furious heat. It was a lesson to never ask questions unless you were prepared to be stupidly hurt by the answer you might receive. Lying open-eyed in the darkness, almost immediately she heard the sounds of Renzo’s deep and steady breathing and fearfully she foresaw a restless night ahead, plagued by troubled thoughts about the future. But to her surprise she felt warm and cosseted in that big bed with a brand-new wedding ring on her finger. And, yes, even a little bit safe.

      As the keen Tuscan wind howled outside the ancient house Darcy snuggled down into her pillow and, for the first time in a long time, slept soundly.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      RENZO INSISTED ON a honeymoon—cutting through Darcy’s automatic protests when she went downstairs the following morning to find him in the throes of planning it. As she glanced at the road map he’d spread out on the dining-room table, she told him it would be hypocritical; he said he didn’t care.

      ‘Maybe you’re just doing it to make the marriage look more authentic than it really is,’ she observed, once she had selected a slice of warm bread from the basket. ‘Since we haven’t actually consummated it.’

      ‘Maybe I am,’ he agreed evenly. ‘Or maybe it’s because I want to show you a little of my country and to see you relax some more. You slept well last night, Darcy.’ His black eyes gleamed but that was the only reference he made to their chaste wedding night, though she felt a little flustered as his gaze lingered on the swell of her breasts for slightly longer than was necessary. ‘And we can consummate it anytime you like,’ he said softly. ‘You do realise that, don’t you?’

      She didn’t trust herself to answer, though her burning cheeks must have given away the fact that the subject was very much on her mind. Sharing a bed so he could keep an eye on her was more straightforward in theory than in practice. Because a bed was a bed, no matter how big it was. And wasn’t it true that at one point during the night her foot had encountered one of her new husband’s shins and she’d instinctively wanted to rub her toes up and down his leg, before hastily rolling away as if her skin had been scorched?

      She told herself their situation was crazy enough but at least she was in full control of her senses—and if she had sex with him, she wouldn’t be. And she was afraid. Afraid that the pregnancy was making her prone to waves of vulnerability she was supposed to have left behind. Afraid he would hurt her if he saw through to the darkness at the very core of her. Because something had changed, she recognised that. He was being gentle with her in a way he’d never been before. She knew it was because she was carrying his baby but even so… It was intoxicating behaviour coming from such an intrinsically cold man and Darcy might have been bewitched by such a transformation, had she not instinctively mistrusted any type of kindness.

      But she couldn’t get out of the ‘honeymoon’ he was planning and perhaps that was a good thing. It would be distracting. There would be things to occupy them other than prowling around their beautiful rented villa like two wary, circling tigers, with her terrified to even meet

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