Page 160 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

‘Like this?’ she said. ‘But I’m not—’

He did not let her continue. ‘So very lovely,’ he said again. ‘Just as you are. Oh, when we went out in Rome you were breathtaking! But here now, like this, you are so very lovely to me.’

‘Sanzio…’ Her voice was faint. Uncertain. Confused.

‘That night,’ he said, his eyes never leaving hers, his hand still holding hers, ‘that first night, when I kissed you to convince you—to make you understand how truly beautiful you were…are…’ A rueful note entered his voice, he could hear it. ‘I drew back because—’ He paused. Then spoke.

‘Because I had no right to kiss you—no right at all.’

He paused again. His eyes were still holding hers and, in the starlight, he could still see the uncertainty, confusion in hers. He did not want it there. He wanted only for her to understand, believe, what he was saying. Accept it.

Accept, if she would, this kiss now.

‘Will you grant me that right now?’ His voice was lower still, yet more husky. For a moment longer his gaze searched hers. Then he searched no longer. Leant across to her, reaching for her mouth.

It was the briefest kiss, the mere touch of his mouth on hers, the merest swansdown, but he felt her lips tremble beneath his, heard the soft intake of her breath. He could taste the wine, the liqueur she had been sipping, and it was sweet to taste—as sweet as the honey of her mouth.

He drew away again, conscious that the beating of his heart had quickened.

‘I have wanted,’ he told her, his eyes gazing into hers, his hand tightening on hers, ‘to do that ever since that night.’

He saw again the confusion and uncertainty in her face.

‘But you rejected me.’ The words fell from her lips.

A rasp broke from him. ‘Rejected?’ He spoke as if it were an alien word in an unknown tongue.

With a sudden, impulsive movement, he put aside his brandy glass, swung his feet to the floor and stood up, drawing her up too as he did, taking her liqueur glass from her, setting it aside. Then, freed of impediments, he did what he had been aching to do since that one single kiss.

He swept her into his arms.

Chapter Nine

Eleanora’s breath caught. And then was silenced. Sanzio’s mouth descended on hers again, and now there was no mere swansdown of his lips.

But desire—strong, searing, urgent.

Disbelief gasped in her throat. How could this be happening? She didn’t know, didn’t understand. But how could she, when all…all that existed was him kissing her.

Hungry for her.

She felt that hunger, felt it as he opened his mouth to hers, his hands now lifting to either side of her face to hold her as he made his feast. Faintness drummed through her, the hectic rush of blood. He drew back, still holding her face uplifted to his, gazing into her eyes beneath the stars.

‘You do not know,’ he said, and his voice was raw, ‘how hard it was for me to walk away from you that night. And then again, last night. Agony on agony! When all I wanted was to pull you to me. So beautiful, Eleanora! So very beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful Eleanora!’

His words were music, the sweetest, most wondrous music to her ears. She gazed up at him, helpless and in thrall to him.

‘Do you really mean that? Do you—can you?’ Her voice was breathless and yearning, all but drowned out by the drumming of her heart, the rushing in her veins, the weakness in her lungs.

Another rasp broke from him. As if in disbelief at her disbelief.

She saw his long lashes sweep down over his dark, dark eyes.

‘So beautiful,’ he said again.

And kissed her again.

So softly, arousingly sensuous that she thought she must die of it. Her own eyes closed, helpless to do anything other than yield to the sensations provoked by his mouth on her lips. She felt his hands slide from her face, down to her waist. Draw her against him, cradle her hips with his.