Marchese's Forgotten Bride

Spinning around, Sandro ripped out a soft curse then came to her rescue, his strong arms banding around her body and gathering her up to hold her securely flattened to his long, hard length. Without even thinking about it, Cassie flung her arms around his neck and clung on for dear life.

‘I knew you would fall for me all over again once you’d seen my house,’ he said lazily.

‘It isn’t a joke!’ Firing a shaken look up at him, Cassie caught the smiling glint of his white teeth—the genuine laughter that reflected in his eyes. The dying sunlight was bronzing his fabulous features, his smooth forehead, his vibrant cheekbones, his jawline, the glowing patina of health that glossed his fleshless cheeks. Finally she collided with those sizzling gold flecks sparkling in his eyes, and that sinking feeling shot through her for a second time, only this one was down to the dizzying swoop of her own aching emotions, fighting against the hard, cold clutch of reality that he’d used her terribly six years ago for a one-night stand.

‘Put me down,’ she instructed.

And watched the laughter die. Instead of setting her feet to the ground he strengthened the muscles in his arms. She saw what was coming, and her fingertips curled tensely into his shirt collar.

‘Sandro, no,’ she jerked out.

‘Dio, Sandro, yes,’ he delivered in a deep voice roughened by his intentions, and lifted her higher at the same time as he lowered his dark head to capture her mouth.

And he took it with a fire-hot hunger. The old electric excitement dragging a helpless whimper from her in response. With a muffled groan of raw desire he drove his tongue deep into her mouth on a passionately sensual exploration that blew her defences wide apart. Her head fell back against his shoulder; her heart began to pound. It was dreadful and wonderful at the same time, because she needed this kiss so badly it was no use trying to kid herself any more.

She wanted him. She was hungry for him, confused and mad and wild—and she kissed him back with every bit of singing, pulsing, throbbing passion that she had in her, yet aching tears filled her eyes when he finally allowed their mouths to part so they could draw breath.

‘You should have told me about her,’ she sobbed o

ut painfully.

‘I couldn’t.’ His voice sounded harsh, thick, unsteady. ‘I’d hurt you too much already by abandoning you. I could not hurt you again by telling you about her.’

‘You loved her—’

‘No,’ he denied fiercely, banding her more tightly to him. ‘We did not have that kind of relationship. She was my friend before she became my betrothed. We kind of drifted into the idea of marriage because it suited our two families but—damn,’ he husked, ‘she was nice!’

Cassie shivered, wondering how he would have felt if poor Phebe had described him as just nice.

‘I loved her, but not in the way I should have done. I know that now but I did not understand then,’ he breathed raggedly. ‘She did not need my money because she had her own money. She did not need me to elevate her place in society because she already had that too. She did not expect great passion from me and she did not mind that I was more into work than being romantic.’

‘If you’re about to confess that the two of you made love by appointment then I don’t want to hear about it,’ Cassie sparked up brokenly.

‘We never made love! Hell—damn…!’ Setting her down on her feet, he fell into a rage of Italian curses while Cassie stood trembling and stared at him in stinging disbelief.

There was just no way she was going to believe that one, knowing the depth and strength of his passions the way she did!

‘Before I left to come to England, we had even talked about calling our engagement off!’ he delivered harshly. ‘Because our betrothal was so high-profile we decided we should use the time I was away to think about it before we decided to cause some pretty heavy family waves.’

‘That’s a lousy let-out—’

‘You bet it’s a lousy let-out!’ Sandro agreed forcefully. ‘Do you think I’m not aware of that?’ he demanded. ‘Do you think I am not aware that the moment I set foot on British soil and saw you, I was using that damned excuse like some kind of mantra that absolved me of sin? Do you think I am not also aware that I shut all memory of you out because that had to be my punishment for wanting you more than I wanted her?’

‘Y-you think you killed her, I can understand that, but—’

‘What are you talking about?’ His head shot back, gold-flecked dark eyes pinning her with a stunned stare. ‘I didn’t kill Phebe—she almost killed me! She was driving the car! Didn’t you read the stuff about the accident Pandora put on Facebook?’

Eyelashes trembling, Cassie shook her head. ‘I w-was scared there would be photographs of your injuries.’

‘There were.’ Sandro swallowed tensely. ‘It took them hours to cut us out of the car. For myself I don’t remember anything about it and I have only thin sketches of what came before. But I remember that Phebe was tense, distracted, telling me something—’ he lifted his fingers to his brow ‘—I can’t remember what, but I can see her tension—feel it. But I blamed it on my own tension because I knew I had to tell her about you, then—Dio,’ he swore when he saw the tears running down Cassie’s cheeks. ‘Don’t you dare weep on me, cara,’ he warned, ‘or I will not be responsible for what happens next, or where it happens!’

Cassie controlled the tears with an inelegant sniff. Sandro muttered something else in Italian then stepped in close to ravage her soft, quivering mouth.

‘You—’

‘Just shut up,’ he groaned when she tried to speak again, his next kiss bruising her mouth as if he wanted to punish her for thinking at all. ‘Can’t you tell when a man is crazy about you?’ he demanded roughly. ‘Is it not enough that you embarrassed me when you made me drop like a stone at your feet?’

‘Your guilty conscience did that—’