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‘No, I have a plan. I will take the ship after yours to Venice. I will be invited to the British Residence, meet you there and I will conduct a whirlwind courtship in the full view of the international diplomatic community and every fashionable traveller in the city. We will be married in Venice with as much fuss as possible: far from being a quiet and discreet wedding in a fashionable London church, this will be the talk of gossip columns for weeks.’
‘Oh.’ Alessa had never considered her own wedding, not even in her wildest fantasies about Chance loving her had she tried to imagine it. To marry in Venice was suddenly the most romantic thing she could think of. ‘Can we go to the wedding in gondolas?’
‘But of course, a fleet of them, including several for the orchestra.’He bent and kissed her very softly. ‘That is at least a month away. Alessa, if you want to wait, then I will understand and I will take you back to the Residency now. Or we can stay here tonight.’
Chance watched her face, wondering at the softness in those wide green eyes as she looked at him, wondering why this proud, suspicious, passionate woman had decided to trust him and love him.
‘Yes, let us stay here.’ Her lashes swept down and he realised just how shy she was of him; yet that trust had not wavered.
‘Before you have seen the interior?’ he asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. It was suddenly hard to breathe, as though his chest was being squeezed.
‘Yes, even if the goats have been sleeping in there,’ she said, her smile flickering.
But Harrison had been as good as his word, and the Residency staff who had been despatched the day before had swept and garnished the simple interior. There was a clean hearth laid for a fire with more logs beside it. A table and two chairs had plates and glasses, and hampers stood shut against any attack by the local wildlife.
And against the far wall there was a wide wooden bed, heaped with white linen and pillows.
‘Will it do, my lady?’
‘It will do very well my lord.’ She was watching him uncertainly. ‘I am feeling very shy, which is ridiculous when you think what has already passed between us.’
‘I could always tie you up again, if that would help,’ he offered, keeping his face straight.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Alessa grabbed the nearest pillow and held it up defensively. Laughing, Chance seized another and took a playful swipe, to be rewarded by a solid hit in the midriff. He collapsed on to the bed, carrying Alessa with him. The sturdy wooden frame creaked and the rope lacing under the mattress groaned, but he hung on, rolling her on to her
back until she lay helpless beneath him, laughing up into his face.
He watched, fascinated by her, as the laughter slowly ebbed away to be replaced by her sensual awareness of him, of his weight as he lay on her, of the feel of his hands which were tangling in her hair.
‘Chance.’
‘Yes?’
‘Love me.’
‘Oh, yes.’ And he took her mouth like a drowning man takes air.
Alessa had thought she knew Chance’s kisses now, but this was different. One part of her mind, the part that could still think coherently, tried to analyse it as his mouth angled over hers. As she opened to him, welcoming the surge of his tongue, she realised what it was: he was claiming her. This was not ownership, but it was the kiss of a man who belonged with the woman he was kissing. Alessa took him into the heat of her mouth and returned the kiss with a claiming of her own.
Mine, she thought as she nipped gently at the curve of his bottom lip and tasted the savour of him. ‘Mine,’ she tried to say against his mouth as he lifted his lips and began to nuzzle into her hair, down her throat.
‘How does this undo?’
The gown and its tiny buttons was distracting him. Impatient, Alessa seized the neckline in both hands and tore. ‘Like this.’
His laugh was warm against the curve of her breast as he took over the destruction of the fine muslin and the light linen beneath it. ‘I don’t know what you are going to wear to get back to Corfu,’ he said, between tiny hot licks at the pale skin they had exposed.
‘We will have to stay here.’ She was impatient now to feel his skin against hers, pulling at the wide-sleeved shirt, tugging it out of the swathed sash.
‘I will wrap you in this, like Cleopatra in her carpet,’ he said huskily as he freed the knot and unwound the broad length of red silk.
His words were muffled as she dragged the shirt over his head and spread her palms on the hard muscle of his chest. He went very still, hanging over her on his elbows, the weight of his hips heavy and hard against the softness that was cradling them. Alessa did not recall opening her legs, but her body knew what to do.
It understood the meaning of the pressure as he began to move slowly against her. One part of her mind flinched at the size of him, but she could feel her body’s own preparations, the hot, moist core that was pulsing in anticipation.
She pressed up with her hands, letting her fingertips tease his nipples amidst the intriguingly springy hair. It was darker than the hair on his head, she noticed, then her attention was riveted by the way her touch caused his nipples to harden, just as hers were doing under the heat of his gaze.
Alessa let her hands slide down, feeling his ribs, strapped with muscle, sensing the effort with which he was controlling his breathing. She reached the waistband of his trousers. ‘You can undo them now, your hands are free this time.’
