The Sicilian's Marriage Arrangement

He pulled her to a stop just inside the door and turned her to face him.

“Good night,” she said in an obvious attempt at dismissal.

“Buona notte,” he replied as his head lowered toward hers.

He watched as her eyes widened and her mouth opened to protest, but his lips prevented the words from expelling. Taking advantage of her open mouth, he slid his tongue inside to taste the sweetness he had quickly learned to crave.

She blinked, her violet eyes darkening even as she tried to push away from him. He moved his hands down her back, pressing one against her ribs and using the other to cup her behind. Her eyes went unfocused and then slid shut as she surrendered to his touch. He kissed her with the intent of claiming her body even if her mind denied the truth of his possession.

He kissed her until he heard a distinct American curse and a slamming door. He kissed her until her body was totally pliant against him and her mouth moved in innocent arousal against his own.

He was tempted to push her back two feet, shut the door and make love to her until she agreed to marry him. He sensed, though, that she would be ashamed afterward, that it would hurt her to be won by such means.

He did not want to hurt her. She was not part of her grandfather’s scheme. He was sure of it now.

He would treat her with the respect the future mother of his children deserved.

It was harder than anything he had done since burying his father, but he gently disengaged their bodies and set her away from him.

Her eyes opened. “What…”

He smiled and touched her lips with his forefinger. “You belong to me. Your body knows it and soon your mind will accept it as well.”

“What about my heart?” she whispered, her expression dazed.

“It is only right for a woman to love her husband.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Husband?”

Now would be a good time for a strategic withdrawal. “Si. Husband. Think about it, tesoro.”

He waited to hear the bolt slide home before he left.

As he walked by the door that had opened earlier, he thought a few words with the young Romeo would not go amiss.

Think about it.

Hope shoved her suitcase closed and zipped it shut with undue force.

The fiend.

That was all she’d been doing since last night.

He’d kissed her until her hard-won composure had melted in the heat of their mutual desire. Then he’d pushed her away and left, but not before making the disturbing announcement he intended to marry her. Well, he hadn’t actually said that. He’d said a wife should love her husband, but they’d been talking about him and her, so didn’t it follow he meant he was thinking of her as his wife?

Only what if he hadn’t? What if she was reading all sorts of things into a comment he’d meant in jest. He’d admitted on New Year’s Eve that his jokes didn’t always come off right.

But she could have sworn he wasn’t joking. What if he had meant it? Luciano di Valerio her husband. The mind boggled. Could she survive marriage to such a devastating man? She’d decided to stop living in the shadows, but she hadn’t considered a move so close to the burning power of the sun.

What was that saying about being careful what you wished for? She’d been dreaming of Luciano for the past five years, but she had never considered those dreams could become a reality. They had been safe, a way for her to allay her loneliness. Luciano in the flesh was not safe, as he’d proven each time he had kissed her.

She lost her soul when they kissed. Or found it. Either way, they terrified her—these feelings he could evoke.

And for all his tolerance toward his sister’s desire to go to university in America, he was still a traditional Sicilian male in many ways. Look how he had reacted to David holding her hand. While she was a modern, if slightly introverted, American woman. How could a marriage between them work?

She was too independent to accept the longestablished role of the Sicilian wife. He was too bossy not to interfere in her life in ways that would no doubt infuriate her.

It was crazy.

She pulled her suitcase off the bed and left it outside the room for the porter to pick up and add to the tour’s luggage on the bus.

Contemplating marriage with Luciano was an exercise in futility. He was probably already regretting the kisses they’d shared and the implications he had made.

She walked into the hotel dining room and seeing David at a table by the window, she went toward him. They’d been sharing breakfast since the second day of the tour, sometimes a` deux and other times joined by their fellow tour members. This morning, he was sitting alone at a table for four.

She slid into the seat opposite him. “Good morning.”

He looked up from the paper he’d been reading, The Dallas Morning News. He had it special delivered because he said he couldn’t stand too many days without news from back home.