known that something was wrong.’
Drago’s face darkened. ‘You know nothing about my relationship with my cousin,’ he growled.
He was infuriated by her criticism, but part of his anger was fuelled by guilt that there was some truth in what Jess said. He had been so busy running Cassa di Cassari, and he had assumed that Angelo was doing well at college in London. It had been a relief to relinquish some of the responsibility he felt for his family, and although his aunt had been upset that Angelo hardly ever phoned home Drago had felt glad that his cousin was becoming independent. He’d had no idea that the young man had been unhappy—but he only had Jess’s word on his cousin’s state of mind, he thought grimly. And he didn’t have any faith in the word of a woman who had been convicted of fraud.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded when she jerked away from him and swung her rucksack onto her back.
‘Home.’ Shaking back her glorious Titian hair, she flashed him a glittering glance from her green eyes. ‘I’ve decided to forgo the pleasure of your hospitality,’ she said with heavy irony. ‘Just point me in the direction of the nearest airport and I’ll be on my way.’
‘The hell you will. You said you would stay until Angelo regained consciousness,’ Drago reminded her.
‘That was before I realised what an arrogant bully you are.’
Jess’s voice rose, drawing the attention of a group of people who were walking across a nearby bridge over the canal. They were Americans, Drago realised when he overheard one of them speak in a distinctive accent. Many of the thousands of tourists who visited Venice each year preferred to come in the spring, to avoid the heat and the crowds who packed St Mark’s Square in the summer months.
He saw Jess glance at the people, and caught the flash of relief on her face as she realised they spoke English. It was easy to read her mind. She had proved when she had climbed down from the balcony that she was surprisingly resourceful and determined. There was only one way Drago could think of to stop her from creating a scene, and before she had time to comprehend his intention he pulled her into his arms and lowered his head, muffling her startled cry with his lips.
As he had expected she instantly stiffened, and he winced when her clenched fist made sharp contact with his ribs. He should have known from her vibrant hair and flashing green eyes that she was a hellcat, he thought ruefully. But the feel of her lithe body squirming against his as she struggled to escape from his grasp heated his blood and fired up his pride. He wasn’t used to women resisting him. Most women he met were a little too keen for him to take them to bed—which perhaps explained his recent restlessness as he searched for an elusive something that he did not even understand. It was a long time since he had felt the thrill of the chase or had to persuade a woman to kiss him back, but Jess had clamped her lips together in a tight line and the challenge of drawing a response from her was too strong to resist.
She had accused Drago of being a bully, but she had not expected him to prove it by kissing her against her will, Jess thought bitterly. She was furious that he had chosen to use his superior size and strength to control her. He was holding her so tightly that she could not move and was unable to jab her fist into him again. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the feel of his warm body through his silk shirt, together with the slight friction created as she struggled to pull herself free, was making her nipples feel hot and hard.
Dear heaven, what was happening to her? When had her determination to get away from him changed to desire? One minute she had been resisting him with all her strength, but now a curious lassitude was stealing through her and her body was sinking into him, her soft curves melting against the hardness of his thighs.
Her mouth felt bruised from his savage assault, but the nature of the kiss was changing. His lips were no longer demanding her submission but gently coaxing a response from her that she found impossible to deny. His warm breath filled her mouth as she parted her lips, and she tasted him when he dipped his tongue into her moist interior. His gentleness was unexpected and utterly beguiling. Sexual desire was something she had been sure she would never experience again, but as Drago cupped her bottom and pulled her so close that her pelvis was in direct contact with the hard ridge of his arousal straining beneath his jeans liquid heat coursed through her veins. With a soft moan Jess slid her hands to his shoulders and kissed him with the fiery passion that had lain dormant inside her for so long.
‘You see, honey, I told you they were just having a lovers’ tiff.’
The voice of one of the American tourists broke the silence. His companions’ laughter faded with the sound of their footsteps as they continued on their way. But the comment hurtled Jess back to reality and with a low cry she tore her mouth from Drago’s. To her relief he let her go, and she had a feeling that he was as shocked as she was by the chemistry that had exploded between them. He raked a hand through his dark hair, sweeping it back from his brow, and the moonlight slanting across his face struck the sharp lines of his cheekbones and revealed his tense expression.
‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ he said harshly.
Inexplicably, Jess felt hurt by his words. Of course the kiss had been a mistake, a moment of madness, but by pointing it out he made her feel cheap, and the self-disgust she had heard in his voice was a shameful reminder of his low opinion of her.
She wished she could think of something sarcastic to say, but she had never been clever with words. Drago was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe he had kissed her, and the disdainful curl of his lip was the final humiliation. She had to leave—now, before she felt any worse. She was furious with herself for responding to his kiss with such shameful enthusiasm.
The path running beside the canal did not continue past the end of the palazzo, and the American tourists had now had to retrace their steps back across the bridge. That meant the bridge was her only route of escape. But as she headed towards it Drago stepped in front of her, blocking her way.
‘Come back to the house,’ he ordered.
‘You must be kidding.’ Frantic to get away from him, she ran out along the jetty to where his boat was moored, realising as she did so how stupid the action was. She didn’t know how to start the boat. As she glanced over her shoulder and saw him following she knew she was trapped. ‘Leave me alone.’ She held out a hand to ward him off.
‘Dio, I’m not going to hurt you.’ Drago’s voice grew sharp. ‘Jess—be careful!’
But his words were too late. In the dark, she hadn’t realised how close she was to the end of the jetty, and with a cry she slipped and plunged into the inky depths of the canal.
JESS WAS SUFFOCATING. Water filled her mouth and nose as she sank deeper. The water was so cold that her limbs, her brain, felt numb. An instinct for survival kicked in and she began to scrabble desperately against the blackness engulfing her. Her backpack was weighing her down. In panic she tore her arms free from the straps.
And then miraculously something jerked her back to the surface and she was able to drag oxygen into her lungs.
‘I can’t swim!’ she gasped, terrified that she would sink back down again.
‘It’s all right. I’ve got you. Santa Madre! Stop flapping like a stranded fish and let me pull you out.’
Strong
