LITMIR.BIZ

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Treacherously. She dragged her gaze away from his long enough to notice that they were driving into an airfield where a helicopter was waiting.

      ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, avoiding thinking about what he’d just said and how it made her feel.

      Gianni seemed to curb his anger. ‘We’re going to my villa in Umbria. For a week. It’s remote enough to keep you out of mischief and it’s where we can really get to know each other and start our happily married life together.’

      The fact that his words held a sarcastic edge made Keelin feel stupid for having lost her focus for a second.

      ‘Does it have a tower?’ she asked tartly. ‘So you can lock me away and just call this marriage what it is—a prison?’

      He tutted and smiled a little. ‘Such a dramatic imagination. Bondage, imprisonment, whatever will you think of next?’

      Keelin wanted to launch herself at him across the back of the car and wring his neck but he was opening his door and stepping out of the car before she could do anything. The driver had opened her door and was waiting solicitously for her to get out too.

      She eventually did, huffily. Still clutching the veil. Gianni was lifting two small suitcases out of the boot and carrying them over to the helicopter where a pilot was waiting. Keelin followed, reluctantly. ‘What about the rest of my things?’

      Gianni threw back carelessly, ‘They’ve been sent on ahead.’

      She muttered something under her breath about hoping he’d remembered to pack the hair shirts. When she caught up with him at the helicopter he turned and said dryly, ‘I wouldn’t dream of marking your skin with a hair shirt, Keelin. You’ll dress in nothing but silk and satin, for my delectation.’

      She scowled at him, not liking the way she had a sudden urge to see the expression on Gianni’s face if she was to parade before him in some sensual silk concoction.

      ‘Neanderthal.’

      He just smiled but behind it Keelin could see the remnants of his anger. He still hadn’t forgiven her for almost derailing the wedding. Or for engineering the invitation of his father’s henchmen.

      He held out a hand and she looked at it warily. Gianni’s smile faded and he said crisply, ‘It’s a long walk back into Rome in a short wedding dress and high heels, Keelin.’

      Giving in to the inevitable, she slapped her hand into his and let him help her up and into the aircraft. He buckled her in, big capable hands moving far too close to her belly and breasts with proprietorial ease. As if she was already his. She might be in name, but not in the way it mattered most, deep in her body and soul. And she vowed then that he would never reach that part of her. At least then she’d have rights to sue for divorce on grounds of nonconsummation!

      Gianni took the veil out of her hand. ‘I don’t think you need this any more, do you?’

      He didn’t wait for an answer, just put it somewhere in the back with the bags. The pilot joined them, climbing into the front, greeting Keelin warmly and not looking remotely fazed to have a petulant-looking bride for a passenger. Gianni shut Keelin’s door and then he swung into the other seat at the front and handed her some headphones. ‘Put these on.’

      She took them and smiled faux sweetly. ‘Yes, sir.’

      It was only when she saw him communicate with the pilot and flip some switches that she realised that Gianni was co-piloting the helicopter. The rotor blades were whirring now and any grudging admiration she might have felt went south with her belly when the small craft lifted off the ground with a wobbly tilt and then into the dusky sky.

      When Keelin had got over her white-knuckle terror of being on her first helicopter ride, she looked down and could see Rome spread out beneath her. Gianni’s voice came into her headphones. ‘Look down to the right, you’ll see the Colosseum.’

      Keelin did, and sucked in a breath. It was so beautiful, already illuminated in floodlights for the early evening. Gianni proceeded to point out other landmarks and Keelin was struck dumb by the experience, and also because he was being so solicitous.

      He stopped the travelogue when they were clearly leaving Rome behind and she felt absurdly buoyant after the experience. She had to force herself to look away from the back of his dark silky hair and broad shoulders. He’d just been polite, that’s all. But she wouldn’t have expected it of him after the roller coaster of the day.

      The problem was, for a small moment Keelin had almost fooled herself into thinking that they were a couple heading off on a romantic honeymoon, for real. And it hadn’t felt all that disturbing.

      * * *

      By the time they were landing Keelin’s knuckles were white with fear again. It was too dark now to really make out the surroundings. The helicopter touched down with a small bounce, and when the engine was switched off and the blades had stopped turning, the silence was almost deafening.

      Gianni was opening her door and Keelin’s mouth went dry. His short hair was tousled and his tie was undone, the top button of his shirt open. He held out a hand and after a moment Keelin let him take hers, feeling those long fingers wrap tight around her.

      He said goodbye to the pilot and was leading her over to a jeep parked nearby. After putting bags in the back, he got into the front beside her and she saw that keys had been left in the ignition. Clearly they were on his private estate.

      Feeling seriously intimidated she asked, ‘Where are we exactly?’

      Gianni was focusing on driving along a rough path. ‘We’re not too far from a town called Montefalco, south of Perugia.’‘Oh.’

      They came to a halt outside the entrance of a grand-looking villa. The door opened and light spilled out along with the figure of a petite older woman dressed in black. Gianni got out and greeted her with warm kisses on both cheeks. She was already taking the bags off him and he called something out to her as she went back inside. She laughed in response and it made Keelin’s hackles rise as she could well imagine Gianni had said something about his wife.

      She hated not knowing what they’d said and found herself making a vow to learn Italian before she stopped herself—what was she thinking? She wouldn’t be married long enough to need Italian!

      Gianni came around to the passenger door and she was out before he could touch her. The old woman was back now, without their bags.

      Gianni said, ‘Keelin, meet Lucia Cabreze, who runs the villa.’

      Innate good manners made Keelin move forward to accept the hand she was offered and she smiled. No need for this woman to suffer because she hated Gianni.

      He explained Lucia’s apologetic expression. ‘She doesn’t speak English but she hopes you’ll be happy here. I’ve assured her you will.’

      Keelin smiled back and tried to indicate the same sentiment while shooting Gianni a filthy look.

      Then the woman stood back and made a shooing gesture for them to go inside. No doubt so that there could be no further delay in getting down to the business at hand.

      Keelin yelped when Gianni dipped and she felt herself being lifted into his arms. ‘What are you doing?’ she gritted, her heart pounding shamefully at this over-the-top masculine gesture.

      Gianni, not remotely out of breath as he climbed the steps, said easily, ‘Lucia will expect it, she’s traditional. And don’t you know it’s an ancient Roman custom to carry brides over the threshold because they’re not meant to be happy at leaving their father’s houses? So they had to appear to be all but dragged into their new homes.’

      Keelin huffed inelegantly as Gianni climbed an inner set of stairs. ‘Well, this is wrong on both counts, so you could have saved yourself the bother.’

      Gianni was striding along a dark corridor now and he said, ‘The other advantage is that it gets me where I want you that bit quicker.’

      He

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