with nerves and anticipation. Stupidly, she hoped her appearance pleased him the way his did her.
And then he smiled. It wasn’t a smile she’d seen before—this one was sudden and infectious, and the slightest dimple appeared in his cheek.
It was so very unfair of him.
Emotion surged from some deep well within her—an overwhelming, driving need to move closer to him. Crazy as it was, nothing could have stopped her from putting one foot in front of the other. Nothing could have stopped her moving towards that deep, inscrutable promise she read in his eyes. Magnetic, irresistible, her attraction to him was overwhelming.
Vaguely she heard words, repeated them when necessary, watched almost as if from a distance as Giulia took the bouquet from her and Eduardo took her hand. She looked down as he loosely clasped her icy fingers in his.
Her nails were neatly clipped and unpolished. Unrefined. Like the rest of her. She was built for service, not decoration, and she’d always clearly delineated that aspect of herself. She wasn’t going to be accused of being a ‘dolly’ soldier. But now she wished she’d said yes to Giulia’s offer of a manicure.
She gazed at the thick platinum band he’d slid onto her finger. And he had another ring—a sapphire as deep and cloudy blue as the heavy stone resting in her décolletage. He placed the second ring on her finger, after the first. She knew they were for show, but still they felt significant.
Giulia said something and Stella turned. The woman gave her a thick, heavy band. It took a moment for her to realise it was for her to give to Eduardo. His nails, too, were neatly clipped and unpolished. For a foolish half-second she wished they could be suited as easily as that. She fumbled to get the ring onto his finger and he had to help. She heard him muttering something softly but couldn’t look at him. Her emotions were too intense and he read them too easily.
He kept hold of her hands, warming them as the ceremony continued, and finally the priest uttered the fateful words.
They were now husband and wife. They could kiss.
Silence fell. She stared at the shining medals placed over his heart, unable to look higher. Then she realised he was waiting for her. Finally she summoned her courage and looked up into his face.
His eyes were burning so very blue, gleaming with the desire—the fiery impulsiveness—that had captured them both so completely that day on the beach.
She wanted to speak, to pull him back to reality. But it was too late. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. A fleeting whisper of a kiss.
Not enough. Not the demand she’d expected and wanted.
He looked into her eyes again, silently reading her reaction. All she could do was look back at him—she couldn’t look away, couldn’t hide now.
Then it came. And the spark of recognition engulfed them both.
He wrapped both arms tightly about her, pulling her almost off her feet. She clung to the fabric stretched over his chest, seeking a hold as passion swept her away with him once more. Opening up, she let him in, almost angrily giving him what he sought. What she needed too. Sensations rose from deep within...any last restraint was unleashed. She poured her anger, her uncertainty and her sheer raw need into her kiss. His arms tightened. So did hers. She needed to feel him like this—so powerful, so focused, all-encompassing.
But then he broke the divine contact—barely lifting his head, his embrace still fierce.
‘Leave us,’ he commanded thickly.
She trembled at the passion in his voice, at the look in his eyes—the raw intent.
‘Sir, sorry...’ Someone interrupted with an apologetic cough. ‘You must sign... To make it official.’
Eduardo didn’t move. Arousal and irritation and amusement and apology flickered in his eyes like a spinning kaleidoscope of beautiful bright colour. ‘Official?’ he echoed grimly.
Finally he loosened his grip on her. Stella glanced up and saw that Matteo, the lawyer, was there. She hadn’t noticed him when she’d walked in. But of course—he was here to act as witness. And that was, in part, why Eduardo had kissed her so passionately. It had been for show. To make this official.
That was why they were here, after all.
Eduardo paused for another moment, ensuring that she was balanced, but she had her iron core back. Something flashed in his eyes as he rapidly stepped away and silently signed the thick parchment spread on an ornate wooden table to the side of the altar.
Stella followed, her hand shaking, leaving her name an illegible mess. Giulia and Matteo signed as their witnesses.
‘Now leave us,’ Eduardo ordered, curling his hand around Stella’s wrist.
Her agitated pulse skipped and skidded against his fingers. Matteo threw his friend a broad smile and offered his arm to Giulia to escort her out. Giulia, Stella noted dazedly, was also smiling broadly. The pair followed the priest down the aisle and out of the building. Not one of them said anything more. Not one of them looked back.
Stella remained still, her knees locked, her emotions tumultuous. The intensity of her desire was out of control—and frankly it scared her.
He turned to her. His intention clear.
Another kiss and she’d lose her mind altogether, so searing was the heat that flared between them. Desperately she put her hand on his chest, stopping his progression towards her.
‘We can’t,’ she said, scandalised. ‘This is a church.’
‘This is the family chapel,’ he corrected huskily. ‘The De Santis sanctuary for centuries.’
‘Even more reason not to indulge in...’ She trailed off, surprised to see his face light with laughter.
‘What? Animal passions?’ He laughed aloud then. ‘These walls have seen worse. But come...’ He held out his hand to her.
His first command as her husband. And what an innuendo.
He looked so happy, so pleased with himself—as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders—and she was so surprised and seduced by that charming good humour that she’d placed her hand in his before she’d thought better of it.
He didn’t turn to walk her back down the aisle. Rather he led her to a small wrought-iron gate, hidden beyond the altar. Through the railings she could see a curved stone staircase, going underground. He took a key from his pocket, unlocked the gate and led her through it.
She tugged on his hand just as he took the first step of the spiral down. He paused and looked at her. ‘You’re taking me to the crypt?’ she asked, horrified.
‘You really do think I’m charming, don’t you?’ he said blandly. ‘First the chapel, and now you think I intend to desecrate the dead with lewd acts?’ He shook his head, and suddenly that laughing sparkle in his eyes was snuffed out. The ruthless solemnity returned and he spoke very quietly. ‘You must think you’ve married a monster.’
She couldn’t look at his expression, her body shrinking in shame at the tinge of hurt
