and it was my misfortune that you decided you wanted me.’
Misfortune? He had married her, hadn’t he? He gritted his teeth. ‘I don’t remember hearing you complain, cara. But I do remember the moans you made when I kissed your breasts. Please, Nico, take me now,’ he mocked, his satisfaction mixed with a stab of shame when fiery colour winged along her high cheekbones and hurt flashed in her eyes.
‘You always were an arrogant bastard.’ She pushed her hair back over her shoulders and he inhaled the scent of vanilla. Her foot was poised over the lower stair. ‘This is a pointless conversation. No good ever comes from digging up the past. Goodbye, Nico.’
‘Stay.’ The word burst from him, harsher than he’d intended, but then he hadn’t intended to plead with her. She stared at him, looking as shocked as he felt. She was so beautiful. He could look at her for ever and never grow tired of her delicate features. That sexy mouth of hers was a little too wide and all the more perfect for it, and her eyes were the colour of storm clouds. ‘Please,’ he said roughly.
She swallowed and the convulsive movement of her throat betrayed emotions that he sensed she was desperate to hide. ‘I...’ She did that flippy thing with her hair again, running her fingers through the layers and making him want to touch the silken strands of rich burgundy. ‘Why do you want me to stay for the reception?’ she asked huskily.
He shrugged to hide the fact that he was asking himself the same question. ‘You said you’ve changed in the years since we were divorced and so have I. We are not the people we were then, but the attraction we both feel is as strong as when we first met.’
Her tongue darted across her lips. ‘I don’t know what you want,’ she said in a low tone.
What he wanted was to whisk her back to his bedroom so that they could spend the rest of the afternoon in bed. And if she carried on looking at him with eyes that had turned smoky and held a gleam of sensual promise, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. ‘I’d like to get to know the grown-up Sienna Fisher,’ Nico told her, startled to discover it was the truth.
* * *
Sienna looked around the huge marquee, which was decorated with extravagant floral displays, and sighed when Nico’s grandmother gave her a friendly wave from across the room.
‘My angina pump spray was in my handbag all the time. I don’t know how I missed it,’ she’d explained when Sienna had asked before they sat down to dinner if she was feeling better. ‘I’m glad you decided to stay for the reception after all. It’s good to see you and Nico getting on so well,’ Iris had added pointedly.
She must be mad to have agreed to stay, Sienna thought. If Iris told Grandma Rose that she had returned to Sethbury Hall as Nico’s guest, she would have some explaining to do. Nico had said that four hundred guests had been invited to the wedding. There was no top table and everyone, including the bride and groom, had sat at individual tables when the five-course meal was served by an army of white-jacketed waiters.
The food had looked exquisite but she’d been so conscious of Nico sitting beside her that she had barely tasted what she was eating. Now that the meal was over and the toasts and speeches were finished, the band had started playing and people were already on the dance floor.
Nico was talking to one of his relatives sitting on the other side of him and Sienna studied him covertly from beneath her lashes while she sipped her champagne. It was unfair that he was so indecently sexy, she brooded. His mother had been regarded as one of the great beauties of her generation. Like his grandfather before him, Nico’s patrician features were an indication of an aristocratic lineage that could be traced back centuries to when English knights and barons had forced King John to sign the Magna Carta.
Jacqueline Mandeville’s marriage to a handsome Italian playboy Franco De Conti, whose family’s enormous fortune had derived from their exclusive hotel chain, had produced an heir and a spare, Danny had once joked to Sienna. They had been at Sethbury Hall where Nico had organised a tennis tournament with a group of friends. Sienna had been startled by the bitterness in Danny’s voice. She’d told herself she must have imagined that he was jealous of his older sibling. But now, as she looked across the table and saw Danny staring at Nico with an odd expression on his face, she remembered that day all those years ago.
Nico had beaten Danny in a tennis match and Danny had stormed off the court. Later, he’d laughed and told her it was just brotherly rivalry. ‘Nico wins everything, including my girlfriend,’ he’d said. It wasn’t strictly true. She had gone out with Danny a couple of times, but when he had tried to kiss her she’d explained that she just wanted them to be friends. Nico had arrived at Sethbury soon after and she had fallen instantly in love with him.
Sienna’s mind jolted back to the present when Danny leaned across the table. ‘When did you get back with my brother? I’m surprised Nico didn’t mention that he was seeing you again.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to explain that she hadn’t had any contact with Nico since their divorce. But there had been faint suspicion in Danny’s voice, and bizarrely she wanted to protect Nico from embarrassment so she said lightly, ‘Oh, we bumped into each other in London recently and he invited me to the wedding. Nico knew that you and I had been friends, and I was pleased to have the chance to wish you and your new bride a happy marriage.’
‘Come and dance with me for old times’ sake.’ Danny stood up and walked around the table.
Sienna hesitated, unable to explain to herself why she felt reluctant to take his hand. ‘I expect you want to dance with your wife.’
‘Victoria is dancing with her father.’ Danny tugged her out of her chair and led her over to the dance floor. He kept hold of her hand and slid his other arm around her waist. ‘We were good friends when we were younger, weren’t we? Do you remember when a group of us hired a river boat for the day in York and you fell in?’
‘You pushed me in.’
‘Ah, but I jumped in and rescued you, didn’t I?’ Danny went on to recount other stories from their youth, and Sienna was soon laughing at the memories. She had got to know Danny when he had been a regular at her father’s pub where she’d served behind the bar most evenings and weekends, saving up to go to university. Not that her father had paid her much for all the hours she’d worked, but at least while he was being obnoxious to her he had left her mother alone.
Danny De Conti and his public school friends had seemed glamorous and exciting compared to the local boys from the village.
‘Danny’s not bad looking, but his older brother is drop-dead gorgeous,’ the other barmaid, Becky, had told Sienna. ‘Domenico spends much of his time in Italy, but my mum is a cook up at the hall and she heard that he’s coming home next week. By the way, Lady Mandeville is looking for a part-time cleaner and Mum says she’ll put your name forward if you like.’
Which was how, ten years ago, Sienna had been mopping the kitchen floor at Sethbury Hall when Nico had walked in, his riding boots leaving footprints where she had just cleaned. ‘Mi dispiace,’ he’d murmured with barely a glance at her. But then he’d stopped and turned to stare at her, the faint frown between his eyebrows not marring the masculine beauty of his face. ‘Who are you?’
She had been struck dumb; dazzled by the handsome, bronzed god who had materialised in front of her and could not possibly be real. She’d blinked but he had still been there, tall and strong-looking, his exotic appearance emphasised by his golden skin and unexpected brilliant blue eyes. As she’d stared back
