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She didn’t belong here—not like this.
The anger that had gripped Lorenzo suddenly dissipated. He had to get her away from this place. It was impossible to talk to her in the churchyard.
‘We’ll go together—just to pick up what you need,’ he said. ‘Then you’re coming with me.’
Chloe stared up at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to start issuing orders—although that was exactly how Lorenzo was used to behaving with most people in his life. And it was how he had been with her too, back before they became personally involved.
‘I know you’re angry with me,’ she said, ‘but you can’t just sweep in here and boss me about. I don’t work for you any more.’
‘No. You’re my wife,’ Lorenzo grated, the tone of his voice telling her that he was far from happy about that. ‘And you are coming with me.’
‘But I have Emma now,’ she protested, tightening her hold on the infant protectively.
‘What about her father?’ Lorenzo asked, studying the crying baby with a crease between his brows.
‘He never wanted anything to do with her,’ Chloe said. ‘I’m the only one she has now.’
Lorenzo lifted his eyes to Chloe’s face, and an expression she couldn’t read passed across his features.
‘Let’s go.’ He reached out and took her arm before she realised what he intended.
As his hand made contact it was as if a jolt of energy surged through Chloe. She gasped and looked down automatically, staring as his strong fingers closed around her upper arm, tanned and vital next to the dull grey fabric of her jacket.
Her heart started to beat faster, and at that moment she felt the numbness that had deadened her over recent days start to thaw.
Lorenzo was only holding her arm, but suddenly she was fully aware of him physically—aware of his sheer size and strength. And shockingly aware of the body heat radiating from his powerful, athletic form.
She found herself drawn towards him, like a flower turning towards the sun.
She’d been so cold and lonely. All at once she found herself longing to feel his strong arms around her—to press herself against the solid masculine expanse of his chest.
Suddenly she realised that Lorenzo had stopped moving. He was standing utterly still. And she knew, even without looking up at him, that he was taking in her reaction to his touch.
A flash of alarm shot through her. She couldn’t let Lorenzo see how vulnerable she was feeling, how in need of physical comfort. He’d always been able to read her like a book, and right at that moment her defences were lower than normal.
‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ Chloe said, trying to shrug out of his grip. But his fingers simply tightened, and with Emma in her arms it was impossible to struggle too much.
‘There are matters we must discuss,’ Lorenzo said, turning her round so once again they were facing each other.
Chloe shook her head, staring directly ahead—straight at his broad chest. She did not want to talk to him any more. And she definitely did not want to look into his perceptive eyes.
She had the terrible feeling she would reveal herself to him in some way—let him see how naked her emotions were, how much she craved his presence. The day had already been too painful. The thought of him driving away and leaving her alone again suddenly seemed unbearable—but there was no way she would admit that to him.
‘Your desertion on our wedding day made it clear that you are no longer happy with our arrangement,’ he said, cupping his free hand under her chin and lifting her face to his.
Her gaze was locked to his clear blue eyes again and the touch of his fingers against her skin made her shiver once more.
‘I didn’t think we had an arrangement,’ she replied, feeling a chill creep back around her heart. His words were a harsh reminder that she had been disastrously wrong about what their marriage meant to Lorenzo—about what she’d meant to him.
‘Yes, we did,’ Lorenzo said, ‘which is why we need to talk. There will be no further misunderstandings between us.’
CHAPTER THREE
CHLOE sat in the limousine with Lorenzo and Emma as it purred along the narrow lanes away from the village where she’d lived for the last three months. It was late in the afternoon but the sun was still shining brightly. Billowing drifts of frothy white cow parsley lined the roadside, and the hedgerows were a mass of lacy hawthorn blossom.
Chloe stared out at the passing countryside, hoping to calm her jangling nerves. She could not let herself look across at Lorenzo. She was still too unsettled and confused by her feelings towards him.
She’d spent the last few weeks desperately missing him, despite the fact that she knew she was yearning for something that did not really exist. Everything she’d believed to be true about their relationship had been false. Lorenzo did not love her. All he’d wanted was a convenient wife.
