‘No. It wasn’t like that,’ Kelly burst out impulsively. ‘I was going to meet you on the Friday, but…’ She trailed off, nervously moistening her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.
Gianfranco’s black brows arched in surprise. The Kelly he remembered had been bluntly honest, to the point of indiscretion. He drew a steadying breath, banking down his anger, and his eyes narrowing on her lovely face, he took a step towards her. ‘But what, Kelly…?’ he prompted silkily, and in another stride he had crossed the space dividing them and settled on the sofa next to her. He reached out and caught her by the shoulders, gently urged her back against the soft cushions. ‘Tell me…’ Anger would get him nowhere with Kelly, she had too much spirit, but a little judicious questioning should do the trick.
Gianfranco’s brilliant eyes clashed with hers and her breath caught in her throat, his proximity doing unimaginable things to her nervous system. ‘I…I…’ Kelly stammered to a halt, embarrassed by what she had almost revealed.
‘Go on,’ he encouraged, his dark eyes burning into hers with mesmerising effect.
Why not tell him? She was no good at dissembling anyway. ‘On the Wednesday I saw a picture of you and your latest girlfriend—a very beautiful redhead—taken two nights before in New York, in the newspaper,’ she confessed bluntly. ‘There did not seem much point after that.’
Her response stunned him. He drew back slightly, and looked down at her with incredulous eyes for a long moment. ‘You were jealous…’ he declared, and for the first time in months his firm lips parted over gleaming white teeth in a broad self-satisfied smile.
‘I was not,’ she denied adamantly, but the scarlet blush that enveloped her face told its own story.
Gianfranco’s hand slipped from her shoulder to encircle her waist and pull her towards him, his night-dark eyes never leaving hers for a second. ‘No matter,’ he murmured in a low-pitched undertone, and covered her lips with his own in a long, slow, sensual kiss that drove every sensible thought from Kelly’s mind, and ignited the familiar electrifying sensations in every part of her body.
Dazed and breathless when he finally lifted his head, she could only stare at him in bemusement. ‘Why did you do that?’ she murmured.
Gianfranco eased her back against the cushions, lifted a large hand, and rested the tip of a finger against the pulse beating madly in her throat. ‘To prove you still want me,’ he drawled huskily. ‘An essential prerequisite in a wife.’ Cupping her chin, he added, ‘And we are going to be married, Kelly.’
On seeking out Kelly, Gianfranco had told himself he simply wanted to check up on her and make sure she was financially provided for. He was as surprised as Kelly looked to hear the offer of marriage come out of his mouth. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. His mother would be delighted—she was always nagging him to marry, and produce an heir. With Kelly already pregnant there could be no doubt of the girl’s fertility, unlike poor Olivia. Yes, it was the right decision.
Kelly stared at him blankly, unable to believe her ears, and, leaning over her, his breath fanning her cheek, he slipped a hand under her legs and suddenly she was stretched out on the sofa.
‘Wait.’ She tried to object, but the word ‘marriage’ had shocked her rigid.
Gianfranco lifted his head, a wide, confident smile parting his lips. ‘We have both waited long enough, Kelly.’ And then he kissed her again.
She wanted to resist, and she did try—she lifted her hands to his chest to push him away, but feeling the firm beat of his heart beneath her fingertips had the opposite effect, and of their own volition her hands snaked up to clasp around his neck. Her lips parted, her tongue duelling with his instinctively in a desperate hunger of passion too long denied.
His hand slipped under her sweater to curve over the full mound of her breast, and she quivered, heat surging through her veins. Pressed against the awesome male body, she forgot everything but the feel, the scent of him. She ached for him.
Gianfranco groaned, raised his head, and with one deft movement pushed her jumper up so her lush, unfettered breasts were open to his gaze. ‘Dio, I love your breasts.’ Black eyes glittering, he ran an exploring finger over the pouting rosy tips, and her whole body arched in shivering delight. His dark head lowered and his mouth closed over a rigid peak.
‘Gianfranco.’ Kelly moaned his name in a pleasure that was almost pain.
His head jerked up, eyes clashing with hers. ‘Did I hurt you? The baby, is it safe?’
CHAPTER FIVE
THE baby! It was like a douche of cold water on her over-heated flesh. Struggling to sit up, she pushed at his mighty chest. ‘Get off me.’
Gianfranco reared back and, lifting her into a sitting position, smoothed her sweater down over her breasts. ‘I promised myself I would not jump on you, Kelly, but I only have to look at you to want you,’ he said huskily. ‘Even with this glorious bump.’ One large hand spread out over her stomach, and right at that moment the baby kicked. ‘It moved,’ he declared, his dark eyes fixed on her stomach in rapt fascination. ‘I can’t wait till we are married and I can look after you both properly.’ He lifted his head. ‘I didn’t hurt you or the baby?’ His gleaming eyes sought hers for reassurance.
‘No, no, you didn’t,’ Kelly said stiltedly. She could not lie to him, but neither was she going to let him walk all over her. It was the sheer conceit of the man that angered Kelly. She hadn’t seen him for almost five months, and he strolled back into her life and offered marriage as if he was doing her a favour. ‘As for marriage—that will not be necessary,’ she told him bluntly.
He did not want her; it was only the child he was interested in. And, getting to her feet, she glanced down at where he sat, the look of puzzled outrage in his dark eyes enough to make her want to laugh. ‘I can do without your noble gesture—I am perfectly capable of looking after my own child,’ she said sweetly. ‘Now, would you like a coffee before you leave?’ she offered.
Before she could move, Gianfranco leapt to his feet, his hands grasping her shoulders.
‘What the hell are you talking about, Kelly? Noble? I am not noble—I haven’t a noble bone in my body.’
‘I thought all “counts” were noblemen, or supposed to be,’ she prompted mockingly.
He paused, his hard mouth curving in a bitter, cynical smile. ‘So that is what is bothering you—the fact I have a title. I should have guessed you would be the opposite of most women of my acquaintance, who love the idea.’ His hands tightened on her shoulders, his brown eyes clashing with her blue ones, and her heart gave a curious lurch at the glittering intensity of his gaze.
‘I never wanted nor ever expected to have a title—that was my brother’s birthright. But three years ago he was killed in a yachting accident and the title was thrust upon me. Do you really think I enjoyed giving up my freewheeling lifestyle working in the financial markets of the world to take on the burden of the family estates as well, to have to work twice as hard with twice as much responsibility?’ he spelt out grimly. ‘The day I met you was the first time in three years I had taken a weekend off, and the first time I had been back to Desenzano since my brother’s death.’
‘Why are you telling me all this now?’ she asked, intensely aware of his hard male body towering over her, his long fingers kneading her slender shoulders, as if he would force her to listen.