his tongue in her belly button, grasping her hips. Unbuttoning her jeans, he slowly pulled them down her legs, along with her panties, before tossing them to the floor.
She felt his shoulders between her bare legs, the heat of his breath on the sensitive, tender skin between her thighs. She gripped his shoulders in agonizing anticipation, then felt his tongue slide between her legs to her deepest, most secret place. He brushed his tongue against her, pushing two fingertips inside her—slowly, so slowly—until her body was so tight that she gripped his shoulders, holding her breath.
“Wait...” she gasped.
He refused to obey. He ruthlessly pushed her to the limit, and beyond, until with a soft scream she exploded beneath the unrelenting pleasure of his tongue between her legs. The moment she cried out, gripping her fingernails into his flesh, he ripped off the rest of his clothes. He shoved himself roughly inside her, ramming to the hilt in a single deep thrust.
The sensation of him filling her, just seconds after her ecstasy, caused a shocking new wave of pleasure to build inside her. He thrust again, and she gasped with the sensation of a new wave of desire, taking off from the level it had been a moment before, climbing higher and higher, tighter and tighter. She began to rock back and forth, trembling with almost unbearable pleasure.
He rode her harder, faster, panting for breath, as their sweaty bodies clung together in the dark, hot night. A cool breeze whipped in from the Italian lake, banging back the balcony doors. But neither of them noticed as he was deep, pounding inside her, splitting her apart. She gasped, clutching his taut backside, feeling his muscles grow hard as stone beneath her hands. With a shuddering intake of breath, he slammed inside her one last time, and they both let go, flying, falling, collapsing into thin air.
Cesare landed on top of her, then, as if he feared he would hurt her with his weight, immediately rolled on one side of her. He pulled her against him on the bed, nuzzling her forehead, both of them so close, so close. Both of them the same.
Emma closed her eyes. She suddenly felt like weeping.
A moment before, all she’d wanted was this, only this. But now, she’d barely had what she wanted and already wanted more. Not just sex. She was greedy beyond all imagining. She wanted his love.
In this moment of glory, heartache filled her. She pulled away from him, moving into the shadows of the bed.
“What is it, cara?” he asked in a low voice, as his hand gently stroked her bare back. She knew she shouldn’t answer. She should just leave it.
But the words came out of her throat against her will.
“Will you be faithful to me?” she whispered. “Can you be?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. She couldn’t see his face. And she knew she’d made a horrible mistake. She turned to face him on the bed.
“Is fidelity so important to you?” he said in a low voice.
The lump in her throat suddenly felt like a razorblade.
“No,” she whispered. Really, what use was fidelity without love? What was it but cold pretense, the form of love without the heart of it?
“Tomorrow we wed.” Sleepily he pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “So many nights I dreamed of you, cara, did you know that? And now you are in my bed. Our wedding night before we are wed...”
“Yes.” She ran her fingertips along the warmth of his bare chest. She would marry him tomorrow. She’d given her word. She would raise his child and sleep in his bed, and be at his command for the rest of her life. And Cesare, the onetime playboy who notoriously enjoyed such a variety of women, would do his best to accomplish his obligation of fidelity—at least for a month, or possibly a year...
Holding her in his arms, he closed his eyes. A few moments later, his breathing became even and deep.
But Emma didn’t have the same peace.
She leaned against his naked body, so warm and powerful and protective around her own. She looked through the open balcony door, past the moonlight to the distant bright star, the first star of morning. In a few hours, the dark violet sky would change to red, then pink, then a glorious Italian blue as the sun would rise on her wedding day. The first and only wedding day she’d ever know. She’d be married to the man she loved. The father of her baby.
Cesare would marry her. For Sam’s sake.
But what happiness could they know, in a marriage where only one partner loved, and was faithful?
The truth was that, wedding or not, Emma was no better than any of the other women Cesare might take to his bed.
His real wife was, and always would be, Angélique.
Loving him destroyed her, Emma. Don’t let it destroy you.
Emma shuddered this time as she remembered Alain’s words. He knew how wildly his sister had loved Cesare. What he hadn’t known was the fierce love Cesare had for her in return. Angélique hadn’t been destroyed by loving him.
But Emma would be.
She looked at Cesare’s handsome sleeping face in the shadowy bedroom. She listened to the sound of his breath. Could she really marry him? Knowing she’d be nothing more than the mother of his child, the keeper of his home, or at best—a warm body in the night?
Could Emma accept an eternity of knowing she was the other woman—that if given the choice, her husband would have traded her life in an instant for Angélique’s?
You’re stronger than you know, kiddo. She heard her father’s words. You’ll get through this, and have a life more amazing than you can even imagine. Filled with sunshine and flowers and above all, love. All the things you deserve, Emma. I love you, sweetheart.
Blinking fast, Emma stared out at the dark lake. The last streak of silvery moonlight stretched out before her like a path, like a single forlorn tear, leading to an unseen future.
* * *
Cesare held her hand tightly, unable to look away from her beautiful face.
Emma was wearing a beautiful wedding dress, holding a bouquet of pink roses. But somehow, as they left the chapel, her fingers slipped from his grasp. She ran ahead of him. He called her name, and she glanced back, laughing as she disappeared in the mist. He saw her plummet down the chapel steps, down, down, down, her bouquet exploding into a million pale pink petals falling thickly like snow.
His feet were heavy as concrete as he tried to reach her. It seemed an eternity before he found her, on a soft bed of grass. But something had changed. Emma’s beautiful face had turned hollow-cheeked like his mother’s, her eyes blank with despair like Angélique’s. Emma was dying, and he knew it was his fault. Desperate, he jumped on a boat and took off across the lake to find a doctor. But halfway across, the boat’s engine died, leaving him stranded and alone, surrounded by dark water, and he suddenly knew he was too late to save her. He looked down at water like black glass in the moonlight. There was only one thing to do now...only one way to end the pain...
With a shuddering gasp, Cesare sat up straight in bed.
Still panting for breath, he looked out the window. The sky was blue. The sun was shining. He heard birds singing. It
