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‘But—’
‘I said, not now,’ he growled. ‘I have been wanting to do this all night.’
She told herself that there was no point in bringing up a contentious subject when it was past midnight and nothing could possibly be done. That she would tell him in the morning—in the cold clear light of day. But wasn’t some of her reasoning bound up in the fact that he was now kissing her, and she couldn’t prevent herself from sinking into that kiss? So that he became the central focus of her world and in that moment nothing outside it existed?
Dreamily, Angie tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him back as he began to make slow, sweet love to her—the feel of his body deep inside hers washing away everything except pleasure itself. Afterwards their lips stayed touching—locked in a lazy kind of kiss—and with a jolt Riccardo remembered back to earlier, when they were dancing. Thinking just how much he wanted to kiss her. Kiss her? In the darkness, his eyes snapped open. This was getting dangerous. Crazy.
Beside him, Angie stirred, murmuring her way into sleep, but Riccardo’s eyes stayed open—he knew that he must leave the warm comfort of her bed before he was tempted into staying all night. And it wasn’t just the thought of the servants’ gossip, but his own reluctance to wake up beside her which made him wait until he was certain she was asleep. Then he pushed aside the covers and dressed in the inhospitable darkness.
It was icy-cold as he made his way to his own room, where he slept fitfully, waking to the sound of loud banging, which he thought was all part of the strange, Angie-fuelled dream he’d been having—and it took him a moment to realise that someone was at his door and it was morning.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he raged.
Romano appeared in the doorway, still buttoning up his jeans, his face a study in anger as he shot out a few terse Italian sentences at his brother, and minutes later Riccardo was dressed and storming through the castle towards Angie’s room.
She was clearly fresh out of the shower—wrapped in a towel with her hair all wet—and sitting by the window reading a book with that innocent look which belied her bedroom antics. He felt the heavy twist of lust and anger.
‘Riccardo!’ she exclaimed when she saw the look of dark fury on his features. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘You tell me,’ he snapped. ‘Exactly what do you know about my sister’s disappearance?’
‘Her disappearance?’ The book slid from her fingers and Angie stood up, her heart pounding so loudly she felt as if it would deafen her. ‘Why, what’s happened?’
‘That,’ Riccardo said grimly, ‘is what I intend to find out. My brother tells me that you and Floriana were seen leaving the party last night. What the hell did she say to you?’
Angie swallowed. She should have told him last night. She should have done. ‘That she couldn’t bear to go through with the wedding. And that…that she didn’t love Aldo.’
‘So she confided in you?’
‘Yes, I suppose she did.’
‘Why you—a stranger?’
She stared at him. How much of the truth could he take? she wondered. ‘Maybe because she felt that nobody else would listen,’ she whispered.
His face remained cold and obdurate. ‘So what did you say?’
The question whipped out like the accusation it was clearly intended to be and Angie realised that Riccardo was not interested in home-truths. It was facts he wanted and facts he could deal with, not emotions. Ignoring the look of disdain which iced from his eyes, she forced herself to concentrate, telling herself that she would not let him intimidate her.
‘I told her that it was better she speak to Aldo. To sort it all out with him. Has she done that?’
‘Has she done that?’ He gave a bitter kind of laugh. ‘No, Angie, she has not done that. What she has done is to have left a note which currently has my mother in hysterics and the castle in chaos. And she’s taken her damned passport and is on her way to England with that dumb bridesmaid of hers unless Romano and I can stop them!’
Angie’s fingers flew to her lips. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘Didn’t you realise that my sister has a history of this kind of behaviour? That there was a man in her past—some Englishman she thought she was in love with when she was at school. Who has now reappeared on the scene and made my crazy sister believe that she still loves him?’
‘N-no. I…of course I didn’t.’ Angie met the fury in his black eyes. ‘But that shouldn’t make any difference, Riccardo. It’s still her life. She’s old enough to make her own mistakes—if that’s what it is—and it isn’t necessarily a mistake just because you don’t happen to agree with it! You can’t force her to behave how you want her to behave!’
‘Didn’t you think—?’ He took a step forward and saw her bite her lip, but he was so angry that he couldn’t think straight. ‘Didn’t you think that it might have been an idea to speak to me about it?’
‘I was going to tell you—’
‘But just not last night, hmm?’
‘It was late. You were tired.’
‘And you, cara, just couldn’t wait to get me to…’
