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‘It won’t,’ Issy said.
Gio wouldn’t hurt her—not intentionally—of that much she was certain.
So much had changed in the last few years, but not that. Before she’d fallen in love with him he’d been like a big brother to her. Teasing her and letting her follow him around. Listening to her talk about the father she barely remembered and telling her she shouldn’t care if she didn’t have a dad. That fathers were a pain any way. Things had been difficult, tense between her and Gio since she’d grown up—partly because they weren’t little kids anymore, but mostly because he’d become so distant.
His relationship with his father had got so bad he hardly ever came to visit the Hall any more, and when she did see him now his brooding intensity had become like a shield, demanding that everyone—even her—keep out.
But tonight she would be able to get him back again. That moody, magnetic boy would be her friend again, but more than that he’d be her lover, and he’d know he could tell her anything. And everything would be wonderful.
Issy crept through the darkness. Feeling her way past the kitchen garden wall, she pushed the gate into the orchard. And eased out the breath she’d been holding when the hinge barely creaked. She sucked in air scented with ripe apples and the faint tinge of tobacco.
Kicking off her shoes, she stepped off the path onto the dewy grass. It would ruin the effect slightly, but she didn’t want to trip over a root in her heels. After waiting for nearly three hours for Gio to come home she was nervous enough already, falling on her face would not be the way to go.
She pressed the flat of her hand to her stomach and felt the butterfly flutter of panic and excitement. Squinting into the shadows, she saw the red glow of a cigarette tip and her heart punched her ribcage. He’d always come to the orchard before whenever he argued with his father. She’d known he would be here.
‘Gio?’ she called softly, tiptoeing towards the silent shape hidden beneath a tree burdened with summer fruit.
The red glow disappeared as he stamped the cigarette out.
‘What do you want?’ He sounded edgy, dismissive. She ignored the tightening in her chest. He was upset. He didn’t mean to be cruel.
She didn’t know what his father and he had been shouting about this time, but she knew it had been bad—worse than the night before.
‘Is everything all right? I heard you and the Duke—’
‘Great,’ he interrupted. ‘Everything’s great. Now, go away.’
As she stepped beneath the canopy of leaves her eyes adjusted to the lack of light and she could make out his features. The chiselled cheekbones shadowed with stubble, the dark brows, the strong chin and jawline. He stood with his back propped against the tree trunk, his arms crossed and his head bent. The pose might have been casual but for the tension that crackled in the air around him.
‘No, I won’t go away,’ she said, surprised by the forcefulness in her voice. ‘Everything’s not great.’
His head lifted and the hairs on her nape prickled. She could feel his eyes on her, even though she couldn’t make out his expression, could smell his distinctive male scent, that heady mix of soap and musk.
‘I mean it, Iss,’ he said, the low tone brittle. ‘Go away. I’m not in the mood.’
She stepped closer, feeling as if she were encroaching on a wild animal. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said, her voice trembling but determined. ‘What did he say, Gio? Why are you so upset?’
She placed a palm on his cheek, and he jerked back.
‘Don’t touch me.’ The words were rough, but beneath it she could hear panic.
‘Why not? I want to touch you.’
‘Yeah?’ The snarl was wild, uncontrolled. But before she could register the shock he grabbed a fistful of the silk at her waist and hauled her against him.
Her breath gushed out, adrenaline coursing through her body as he held her hips. She could feel every inch of him. The thick ridge of something rubbed against the juncture of her thighs, and she squirmed instinctively.
He swore. Then his mouth crushed hers. The faint taste of tobacco made all the more intoxicating by heat and demand.
He cradled her head, held her steady as his tongue plunged. She gasped, her fingers fisting in the soft cotton of his T-shirt as she clung on. She opened her mouth wider, surrendered to a rush of arousal so new, so thrilling, it made her head spin.
He lurched back, held her at arm’s length. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Kissing you back,’ she said, confused by the accusatory tone.
Why had he stopped? When it had felt so good?
‘Well, don’t,’ he said, his voice sharp. His fingers released her and he crossed his arms back over his chest.
