The Doctor's Runaway Bride

‘Lonely?’ He frowned sharply. ‘You had the support of my family. How could you have been lonely?’

Tia’s eyes slid away from his. ‘They hate me, Luca,’ she told him. ‘They think I’m the wrong sort of woman for you, and do you know what?’ She forced herself to meet that unsettling dark gaze head on. ‘They’re right. I am the wrong sort of woman. You should have married someone sleek and elegant, someone who’d know how to spend your money…’

It was the nearest she’d got to telling him that she knew about Luisa but not by the flicker of an eyelid did he betray himself.

‘My family do not hate you.’ His expression was suddenly ominous. ‘What possible grounds do you have for making such a statement?’

She caught the look of disbelief in his eyes and decided to tell the truth.

‘Luca, I never saw them,’ she told him quietly, ‘apart from the weekends when you and I visited them together.’

He muttered something under his breath in Italian. ‘You spent most weekdays with them. Shopping, lunching.’

Tia gave a wry smile. ‘No, Luca. Check your credit-card bill. I never once shopped or lunched. They never invited me and, anyway, I wouldn’t have wanted to. I don’t like spending money that way. That isn’t the sort of life I’m used to and they knew that, which is presumably why they never invited me.’

Anger flashed in his black eyes and Tia winced. ‘They’re very traditional,’ she said quickly, wishing she’d never said anything. She certainly didn’t want to turn him against his family. ‘They knew I wouldn’t have been comfortable spending days with them.’

Luca’s jaw was tight. ‘So how did you spend your days?’

Tia gave a sad smile. They’d been together for three months and only now was he asking that question.

‘I stayed in the flat and read books,’ she told him, ‘or I went for walks.’

He was suddenly tense. ‘Milan is not a great city for walking. Where did you walk?’

She shrugged. ‘Wherever took my fancy.’

‘And you wouldn’t have had the first clue where was safe and where wasn’t.’ He closed his eyes briefly. ‘That evening we met in Venice, you were pacing the streets at night on your own. Do you have a death wish?’

‘No, but I like to live my own life, and—’

‘Tia, you are a stunningly beautiful woman,’ he ground out angrily, ‘and your blonde head shines like a beacon. It is very unusual to see a woman of your colouring in Italy and you attract no little amount of attention. You were putting yourself at risk.’

Without any warning her heart turned over. He thought she was beautiful?

No, that just didn’t make sense. She was as unlike Luisa as it was possible to be.

Before she had a chance to digest this piece of information, his hands closed over her shoulders like a vice. ‘I will talk to my family about their behaviour and you will promise me that you won’t walk around on your own at night again.’

‘I can’t promise and I don’t want you to talk to your family. There’s no reason to. It’s in the past now.’ Suddenly Tia felt exhausted. Too exhausted to talk any further. ‘It was all my fault, anyway. I am so far removed from a perfect Italian wife it’s laughable. Your family did what they thought was best and they were right. I’m the sort of person who needs space and independence. I’m not the sort of person who enjoys shopping, lunching and beauty salons.’

She swayed slightly and Luca’s grip on her shoulders tightened.

‘We shouldn’t be talking about this now.’ He scooped her up as if she weighed nothing, holding her firmly against his chest. ‘You’re not well. You look pale and worn out. You need to go to bed.’

Bed.

Just thinking about bed when she was held this close to him made her body start to tremble. She could feel the hard muscle of his chest through the fabric of his shirt and her fingers itched to touch him.

No.

‘Put me down, Luca.’ She wriggled in his arms and then groaned and buried her head in his shoulder as everything swam.

He ignored her efforts to escape, his expression grim as he negotiated the narrow staircase that led upstairs.

‘Where’s your bedroom?’

‘It’s none of your business,’ she protested weakly, wishing that being in his arms didn’t feel quite so good. But she fancied him so much that her whole body melted if he so much as looked at her. It wasn’t just that he was stunningly good-looking. There was something about him, an air of confidence and power, that was incredibly sexy.