that she had asked the question of herself inside the privacy of her mind. But then reality registered in the fact that the tones in which the question had been asked were unmistakably masculine—and her heart twisted in shock at the realisation that they had also been shaded by a musical, sexy Italian accent.
Guido?
Was he still there? Was he the one who had stayed? Was it possible?
She would have expected that, having marched in here and set her world upside down, he had earned whatever satisfaction he had come for—the revenge he had wanted for the way she had walked out on him and their marriage.
The marriage that hadn’t been a marriage.
The marriage that she had always believed hadn’t been a marriage, but a farce, a deliberate ploy to use her, from start to finish. Which now Guido had openly declared before all these people…
‘Well?’
It was harsher now, pushing at her, poking her mentally, driving her out of her cocoon, so that she dropped her concealing hand, flung her head up, turning on him with as much defiance as she could muster.
‘I’m not hiding!’
‘Looks like it to me,’ Guido drawled mockingly. ‘You have every appearance of a little girl hiding in a corner, away from something nasty—with an “if I do not see it then it isn’t there and maybe if I am really lucky it will just go away” approach to life.’
‘Well, if that’s the case, then it’s not working, is it?’ Amber tossed at him, where he was lounging against the front of the very first pew, narrow hips resting on the polished wood, long legs stretched out at an angle. ‘I’ve opened my eyes and the “something nasty” is very definitely still here.’
‘And has no intention of going away either,’ he finished for her, apparently unmoved by the furious insult that had just bounced off a skin that was thick as a rhinoceros hide.
He even smiled, though it was the smile of a killer snake. That dangerous king cobra was back, just waiting, just wanting her to tempt him to strike.
No—the description of a snake didn’t fit Guido. The dark, lean, dangerous man who was lounging so indolently against the end of the pew was more like a lazily watchful hunting tiger, waiting for just the right moment to pounce.
Oh, dear…
Suddenly even her own thoughts struck Amber as ridiculous.
She was getting confused, getting her creatures muddled up. An impossible shudder of laughter bubbled up in her throat.
‘Amber?’
Guido’s voice sounded as if it came from a long, long way away. Had he moved? Was he leaving like all the others?
She should care more. After all, even her own mother had walked out on her, unable to bear the embarrassment of the way that the marriage had been brought to an abrupt halt; the embarrassment of finding that her daughter was already married.
‘Amber, stop it!’
He’d definitely moved this time. His voice came from just above her and she could sense his presence in every cell in her body. Black-booted feet were set firmly on the stone flags just in front of her—she could see them through the strangely clinging veil—and the long black-clad columns of his legs, strong and muscular…
‘Stop what? I just think it’s so—funny!’
Her voice went up and down as if it were on a badly tuned radio, with the reception coming and going crazily.
‘No, it’s not!’
Hard hands clamped around her arms, hauling her to her feet—hauling her up against him so that her breath escaped her in a gasping rush.
‘Yes, it is…Here I was—about to be married—and you turn up like…like three kinds of animal…’
‘Three kinds of animal?’ She’d confused him there. He was frowning down into her face, even his excellent English unable to cope with her fanciful imagination. ‘Amber—stop crying and then we—’
Crying? What was he talking about? She wasn’t crying; she was laughing.
‘I’m not crying…’
She caught the sceptical look he turned on her, his bronze eyes even darker than usual.
‘I’m not!’
‘No?’
Releasing one arm, he touched the back of his free hand to her neck and then slightly above that, to her chin, taking it away and looking hard at it before turning it so that she could see his bent knuckles.
They were wet, glistening with moisture that they had picked up from her skin. From the tears that she hadn’t been aware of shedding and that were now, she realised, streaming silently down her cheeks and flowing onto her neck. That was why her veil felt as if it was crammed against her cheeks, almost glued to her skin.
Unnerved, she brushed at it with a trembling hand but only succeeded in pressing it even closer to her eyelashes.
‘Let me…’ Guido said but she was unable to stop herself from flinching back as he made to lift the fine lace.
‘No…’
‘Dannazione, Amber!’ Guido swore. ‘How can we talk when I can’t even see your face with this thing in the way?’
‘I don’t want to talk—we have nothing to talk about! Today was the day I was supposed to be married to the man I wanted to wed—and you turn up and tell me I’m still married to you. To the man I most don’t want to be married to in the world. To the man I never thought I was married to in the first place!’
‘The man you are married to!’
It was only when she heard him confirm her fears that she finally realised she had to accept it. Even now, she admitted to herself, she had been holding on to a tiny, faint hope that this had all been a terrible mistake—a cruel, bitter game. She knew she had left Guido savagely angry, furious at the way she had walked out on him, and she frankly wasn’t surprised that he wanted revenge for the insults she had tossed at him both verbally and in the letter she’d left behind.
Insults that had been her only hope of getting out of there and actually leaving. Making sure he never came after her; never called her back.
But this…
‘The marriage is legal, then?’
‘Do you doubt it?’
His tone spoke of arrogant disbelief of the fact that anyone should not believe him absolutely. And the way his broad shoulders stiffened, the long spine straightening and his proud head coming up, only reinforced the message of controlled fury in his voice.
‘Do you think I would go to this trouble for a marriage that wasn’t real?’
‘But you said…’
It
