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His dark brows lifted, forming a contemptuous line above his autocratic blade of a nose. ‘Is burying your head in the sand a family trait?’

The implied criticism of her family brought her chin up to an aggressive angle.

‘I am not burying my head in the sand. Events can conspire, and don’t,’ she added with prickly antagonism, ‘think my parents ever dreamt of a political marriage for their daughter, either of them.’ At least Emily would get her happy ever after.

‘I’ve had a lifetime to become philosophical about a political marriage. In fact,’ he drawled, his dark eyes leaving a trail of fire as they stilled on her mouth. ‘This is working out better than I anticipated.’

‘Well, up to two seconds ago, I thought we at least had honesty on our side.’

‘Honesty is a good thing to base a marriage on, but there are others—’

Her throat was suddenly so dry that it hurt to push the words out. ‘Such as?’

He leaned across and trailed a finger slowly down the curve of her jaw.

She swatted at his hand but somehow found that her fingers had curled around his wrist… Elsie’s heart thundered in her ears like a waterfall.

Their eyes locked and the nerve-stretching moment made her feel as though she was trapped inside a bubble—her eyes were wide open as he pulled her in. Or did she drag herself in, the urgency in her blood drowning out every other consideration?

As their lips met, the heat exploded, furnace hot between them. Teeth clashed and bit, then it was over and the reality hit her. She was half lying on the table, her nails digging into the back of his neck.

A sound of shocked self-disgust rattled in her throat as she dragged herself away, taking half the white linen cloth with her as, breathing hard, she sat upright in her chair. Focusing on her shaking hand, she didn’t see his chest heaving as he dragged a not quite steady hand through his hair. When she did work up the courage to look at him, he was watching her like the hawk he made her think of and seemed perfectly—insultingly—at ease.

As if things like that happened to him every time he sat down to dinner… Maybe they did, she thought, swallowing a hysterical bubble before it left her lips.

‘Let’s call this deal sealed with a kiss, shall we?’ he suggested, arching a brow. ‘That, by the way, was one of the other things that marriage can be based on—never underestimate the power of lust. It may not last but it is fun, as they say, while it does. Now, let’s get down to the details shall we—?’

She stared at him in disbelief, not able to believe that he could shrug off the raw passion like an old coat while her body was shaking at a nuclear level and her senses were full of the taste of him. The feel of him.

‘The formalities will require that you come to Santagostino, there will be papers to sign in triplicate, a few formal hoops to jump through that, like your home-grown codicil, go back a century or so, though, happily, the test for virginity is rarely insisted on.’

‘How very enlightened of you,’ she said, hiding her embarrassment under, ‘How long will this take?’

‘Shall we say three weeks and then I anticipate your family will want to meet your future husband?’

She blinked. ‘I suppose they will.’

‘I am looking forward to meeting your sister—the one that got away.’

‘You keep away from my sister!’ The shrill of her response and the emotion behind it shocked her into silence.

‘A jealous wife…?’ he mused.

‘I am not jealous!’ she fired back, too emotionally drained to come up with a more original response.

He shrugged and produced one of his gratingly insincere smiles. ‘Shall we eat?’

Elsie shook her head; her appetite had gone. ‘No, I think I need to… My sister is expecting my call.’

He didn’t seem at all put out and simply rose to his feet. ‘Shall we say Saturday? Will you still be in Paris?’

She nodded, asking herself what the hell she had just signed up to.

‘Franco will contact you with the details. Is there anything you wish to ask?’

‘Can this be low-key?’

‘Why not?’