her brother.
But she wasn’t going to be afraid because she was walking into this with her eyes open. She’d made the decision to be Salvio’s wife because deep down she wanted to, and she was going to give the marriage everything she could. Who said that such a strangely conceived union couldn’t work? She was used to fighting against the odds, wasn’t she?
Holding herself tall, she had walked slowly down the aisle wearing the dress which had been created especially for her by one of London’s top wedding-dress designers. The whole couture process had been a bit of an ordeal, mainly because a pale, shiny fabric wasn’t terribly forgiving when you were overendowed with curves, but Molly had known Salvio wanted her to look like a traditional bride. And in her heart she had wanted that, too.
‘Your breasts are very...generous.’ The dressmaker had grunted. ‘We’re going to have to use a minimising bra, I think.’
Molly had opened her mouth to agree until she’d remembered what she’d vowed on the day of Salvio’s proposal. That she was going to be true to herself and behave like his equal because the strain of doing otherwise would quickly wear her down. And if she tried to be someone she wasn’t, then surely this whole crazy set-up would be doomed.
‘I think Salvio likes my breasts the way they are,’ she’d offered shyly and the dressmaker had taken the pins out of her mouth, and smiled.
The look on his face when she reached the altar seemed to endorse Molly’s theory—and when they left the church as man and wife, the strangest thing happened. Outside, a sea of people wearing pale blue and white ribbons were cheering and clapping and Molly looked up at Salvio in confusion as their joyful shouts filled the air.
‘Some of the supporters of my old football club,’ he explained, looking slightly taken aback himself. ‘Come to wish me in bocca al lupo.’
‘Good luck?’ she hazarded, blinking as a battery of mobile-phone cameras flashed in her face.
‘Esattamente. Your Italian lessons are clearly paying dividends,’ he murmured into her ear, his mouth brushing against one pearl-indented lobe.
Just that brief touch was enough to make her breasts spring into delicious life beneath the delicate material of her wedding dress and Salvio’s perceptive smile made Molly blush. Lifting up her bouquet of roses to disguise the evidence of physical desire, she thought how perfectly attuned he was to her body and its needs. Their sexual compatibility had been there from the start—now all she needed to concentrate on was getting pregnant.
After the wedding they flew to their honeymoon destination of Barbados, where they were shown to a large, private villa in the vast grounds of a luxury hotel. It was the closest thing to paradise that Molly could imagine and as soon as they arrived, Salvio went for a swim while she insisted on unpacking her clothes—because she didn’t quite trust anyone else to do it so neatly. Old habits die hard, she thought ruefully.
Knotting a sarong around her waist, she went outside where her brand-new husband was lying on a sun lounger the size of a double bed, wearing a battered straw hat angled over his eyes and nothing else. A lump rose in her throat as she watched him lying in the bright sunshine—completely at ease with his bare body which was gleaming with droplets of water drying in the sun. For a moment she couldn’t actually believe she was here, with him. His wife. She swallowed. Even her title took some getting used to. Signora Molly De Gennaro.
He turned to look at her, his gaze lazy as it ran a slow and comprehensive journey from her head to the tips of her toes.
‘How are you feeling?’ he questioned solicitously.
Trying not to be distracted by the very obvious stirring at his groin, she nodded. ‘Fine, thank you,’ she said politely. ‘That sleep I had on the plane was wonderful.’
‘Then stop standing there looking so uncertain.’ Pushing aside a tumble of cushions, he patted the space beside him on the giant sunbed. ‘Come over here.’
It occurred to Molly that if she wasn’t careful she would end up taking orders from him just like before, but it was probably going to take a little time to acclimatise herself to this new life. To feel as if she had the right to enjoy these lavish surroundings, instead of constantly looking around feeling as if she ought to be cleaning them.
Aware of the sensual glitter of his eyes, she walked across the patio and sank down next to him. Straight ahead glimmered a sea of transparent turquoise, edged with sand so fine it looked like caster sugar. To her left was their own private swimming pool and any time they wanted anything—anything at all, as they had been assured on their arrival—all they had to do was to ring one of the bells which were littered around the place and some obliging servant would appear.
She stuck out her feet in front of her, still getting used to toenails which were glinting a fetching shade of coral in the bright sunshine.
‘You’ve had a pedicure,’ Salvio observed.
She blinked and looked up. ‘Fancy you noticing something like that.’
‘You’d be amazed what I notice about you, Molly,’ he murmured. ‘Is that the first one you’ve ever had?’
‘I’m afraid it is.’ She lifted her chin a little defensively. ‘I suppose that shocks you?’
‘Not really, no. And anyway—’ he smiled ‘—I like being shocked by you.’
His hand was now on her leg and she felt his fingertips travelling slowly over her thigh. Little by little they inched upwards and her mouth grew increasingly dry as they approached the skimpy triangle of her bikini bottoms. She swallowed as his hand came to a tantalising halt just before they reached the red and white gingham. ‘Salvio,’ she breathed.
‘Sì, Molly?’ he murmured.
‘We’re outside. Anyone can see us.’
‘But the whole point of having a private villa,’ he emphasised, ‘is that we can’t be seen. Haven’t you ever wondered what it might be like to make love in the open air?’
She hesitated. ‘Maybe,’ she said cautiously.
‘So why don’t we do it?’
‘What, now?’
‘Right now.’
She swallowed. ‘If you’re sure we really can’t be seen.’
‘I may be adventurous,’ he drawled, ‘but I draw the line at rampant voyeurism.’
‘Go on, then,’ she whispered encouragingly.
Salvio smiled as he trailed his lips down over Molly’s generous cleavage which smelt faintly of coconut oil and was already warm from the sun. Through her bikini top a pert nipple sprang into life against his lips and he thought how utterly entrancing she could be with that potent combination of shyness and eagerness, despite her lack of experience. ‘You are for my eyes only,’ he added gravely, hearing her sharp intake of breath as he began to undo the sarong which was knotted around her hips. ‘Except you are wearing far too much for me to be able to see you properly.’
The sarong discarded, his finger crept beneath her bikini bottoms to find her most treasured spot, where she was slick
