didn’t agree anything. You made a suggestion. I didn’t like it but I wasn’t prepared to argue about it at that point and turn you off the whole idea of marrying me,’ Cesare admitted without hesitation.
His sheer honesty bemused her and then touched her deep. I want to make a baby with you. The very words made Lizzie melt and she tried to squash her reaction and deny it. It would not be safe or sensible to have actual sex with Cesare Sabatino because it would smash the barriers she had carefully erected. But the prospect of undergoing some cold scientific procedure in a fertility clinic was, she suddenly appreciated, even less attractive to her.
‘I’ll think about it,’ Lizzie mumbled half under her breath. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get changed into something more comfortable.’
‘I’ll go for a shower,’ Cesare told her, peeling off his shirt without an ounce of inhibition.
Her heart hammering, Lizzie averted her gaze but the enthralling image of his bronzed, muscular torso was still seared across her vision. She pulled an outfit out of the case, nothing fancy for she had had her fill of fancy outfits that day. She caught an accidental glimpse of Cesare striding naked as the day he was born into the en suite and she almost groaned out loud. They were so different, so ill matched. He had seen it all, done it all, while she had only dreamt of the seeing and the doing. If she slept with him, she would develop feelings for him and she would get hurt because he wouldn’t respond. Or maybe she would discover that she was the kind of woman who could have sex without getting more deeply involved, she reasoned abstractedly. She might not get attached to him at all, might be grateful to wave goodbye to him after a few months. How could she know how she would react?
When the shower was free, she made use of it and removed most of the heavy make-up she had worn for her big day. Applying only a dash of lipstick and blusher, she pulled on a stretchy maxi skirt and a sleeveless silk top, thrusting her feet into flat sandals. When she reappeared, a maid was in the bedroom hanging their clothes in the built-in closet and Lizzie went straight downstairs.
Cesare strode out to the marble-floored hall. ‘Let me show you around before dinner,’ he suggested.
‘Where’s Archie?’ she asked.
Cesare held a finger to his handsome mouth in silencing mode and pointed into the drawing room. Archie was stretched out on a shaggy rug, his contented snores audible.
As dusk was folding in fast, Cesare showed her the outside of the house first. Lizzie stood on the covered stone terrace where Maria was fussing over a table covered in a snowy white cloth and admired the stunning view of the valley, which was overlooked by a superlative infinity pool. ‘The views are out of this world. I’m not surprised you fell for this place,’ she admitted, the tension of the day slowly seeping out of her.
Without warning, Cesare reached for her hand. ‘This marriage can be as real as we want it to be, bellezza mia,’ he pointed out quietly.
Her fingers flexed within the firm hold of his and her colour heightened. Real didn’t mean for ever, did it? But then how many marriages truly lasted for ever? They were together now and would stay together until a child was born. The child she longed for, she reminded herself ruefully. Surely the closer she and Cesare became, the easier it would be to share their child both now and in the future?
Her lips parted almost without her volition, green eyes wide and anxious as if she was stunned by her own daring. ‘I’ll give it a go,’ she told him softly. ‘But I can’t make any promises.’
Cesare smiled. It was a brilliant smile that illuminated his darkly beautiful features and enhanced his stubborn, passionate mouth. ‘I’ll try to make sure you don’t regret it, cara.’
‘MARIA IS WHIPPING out her entire repertoire for this one meal,’ Cesare commented in amusement as the lazy meal wound through course after necessarily dainty course of appetising dishes.
Already unable to credit that she had agreed to try being married for real, Lizzie was too stressed to eat much of anything. A bite here and there was the best she could do and she proffered fervent apologies to the plump little cook when she came out to the terrace bearing her pièce de résistance, a fabulous layered chocolate cake.
They were about to embark on their marriage as if they were a normal married couple. And this was their wedding night. All of a sudden something Lizzie hadn’t even had to consider in the run-up to the wedding was looming like a concealed tripwire in front of her. If she admitted that she was still a virgin he was sure to think she was a freak. After all, he knew she had been engaged. It would be better to keep quiet, she decided, and hope he didn’t notice that there was anything different about her.
‘You’ve barely touched alcohol today,’ Cesare commented, wondering why she had fallen so quiet. Not that she was ever a chatterbox, he acknowledged wryly. In fact there was always a stillness about her, a sense of tranquillity at the heart of her that was disconcertingly attractive.
‘In the light of our...er...plans,’ Lizzie muttered awkwardly, ‘I thought it was better to abstain.’
‘You’re referring to the alcohol and pregnancy safety debate?’
Kill me now, Lizzie thought melodramatically. ‘Yes. The argument about what might be a safe level goes back and forth, so it seems wiser just to avoid it altogether.’
‘Is that why you made the most of your hen night?’ Cesare asked, strong jawline tensing as he remembered her on the dance floor, full of vital energy and playfulness as she cast off her usual restraint.
‘No. That wasn’t planned. I missed Chrissie,’ she admitted, colouring, ‘and it had just been a very long time since I had been out like that and I overindulged.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ Cesare urged, stunning dark golden eyes shimmering in the candlelight against his bronzed skin.
He was so...hot, he was literally on fire, Lizzie reflected dizzily. And she was married to him, about to share a bed with him...and she was fretting, shrinking, sighing over the fact? What was wrong with her? That chemistry he had mentioned was in overdrive, lighting her up from the inside out with a prickling, tingling energy that her body could no longer contain. In an abrupt movement, she rose from the table and walked to the edge of the terrace to study the lights of the fortified village on the other side of the valley.
Her heart was as locked up tight as that village, hidden behind high defensive walls, she reminded herself bracingly. Having sex with Cesare didn’t mean she was about to get silly ideas about him and start pining when he was no longer available. She had watched her mother careen blindly from one man to the next, hooked on love, her drug of choice. Lizzie had loved once and learned her lesson. If she couldn’t even make it work with Andrew, there was little chance of it working with anyone else. She would have a baby to love though, she told herself in consolation.
‘You’re very tense, cara.’ Cesare sighed, stilling behind her and gently resting his hands on her taut shoulders. Her delicate frame was dwarfed by his. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do...’
That he could read her nervous tension that accurately mortified Lizzie. In truth the problem was that she wanted him too much and feared the strength of that yearning. He turned her slowly round into the circle of his arms and she looked up at him and her
