The Illegitimate King (Castaldini Crown 3)

Clarissa’s gaze panned to where Ferruccio stood. His eyes clung to her even as he talked to Castaldini’s ambassador to France and his whole family. She turned to the two looking expectantly at her, let out a ragged exhalation. “A billion.”

Both women gaped. Then Antonia burst out guffawing, “I knew it!” while Luci fanned herself furiously.

Suddenly Luci exclaimed, “Citi che il gatto e lui viene salando.”

Clarissa had felt Ferruccio’s decision to seek her out before she realized what Luci meant. The Castaldinian proverb “mention the tomcat and he comes bounding.”

Every cell went into hyperdrive at his approach. She saw the other two women’s faces light up in admiration, in anticipation of what they’d witness. The sound level in the buzzing ballroom dropped. It seemed everyone wanted to watch the interaction between their impending king and queen, now that the formal part of the evening was over.

Then he was behind her. She held her breath. What would he do?

The last thing she expected him to, of course.

He wrapped her in his arms, buried his scalding lips into her neck in open-mouthed kisses up to her ear. “Ti manco?”

Miss him? She’d spent last night tossing in her bed as if she were in the clutches of an unremitting fever. As she had been. And she’d bet he’d known that would be her condition. She considered her answer.

Nonchalant pretense? Not really. Sullen challenge? Why should I? Truthful fury? You know I did, damn you into infinity!

Then she decided her best answer.

She turned around in his arms, snaked hers around his neck, failed to bury her fingers in the too-short, thick silk at his nape, dragged his head down and brought his lips to hers.

After a second of stiffening surprise, his growl filled her as he his tongue did, took her over, thrust deep.

Even as she disintegrated in the pleasure of him again, the relief and freedom of letting what she felt show, a burst of noise impinged on her fogged awareness. She thought she heard claps and hoots among the uproar.

When Ferruccio let her up for air, looking down at her as if he’d haul her over his shoulder and storm off to his bed—or drag her down to the floor—she dazedly turned to her companions.

Antonia had joined Luci in fanning herself as she exclaimed, “Now I know Castaldini will never be the same!”

“I could have told you that, without that historical kiss.”

The four of them swung around to see Durante walking toward them, clapping, with a gigantic smile lighting up his impossibly handsome face. Leandro was a step behind, looking just as amused.

The two men immediately started ribbing Ferruccio mercilessly. He deflected their satire effortlessly, and the three men had her and the other two women laughing helplessly.

Clarissa marveled at how close those three were, how much in common they had. She knew he’d become Durante’s friend, but had had no inkling how close they’d become. His closeness to Leandro was more puzzling. Her father had said he’d told a select few about Ferruccio’s parentage when Ferrucio had first appeared in Castaldini. She doubted Leandro, who’d been exiled then, had been among them. Both of them were businessmen who played on the same level, so they might have known each other for years. But with everything she’d found out about Ferruccio in the past few days, she was convinced it had been he who’d sought out his relative. He’d wanted those of his family he liked and respected to be part of his life.

A surge of almost unbearable warmth and love welled inside her. He made it worse, as usual, gathering her to his side with such gentleness, breathing in the scent of her hair before planting a kiss on the top of her head. His action affected her far more when she realized he’d done it absently while totally involved in his verbal skirmish with her brother and cousin. It was as if he needed to touch her, to feel her close.

He gave her a squeeze before he let her go and turned to Luci.

Luci blinked up at him. Clarissa knew just what the poor girl was suffering from. Any female, no matter how loyal or how happy she was for her friend, would quiver at his merest look.

“Signorina Montgomery,” Ferruccio said, looking serious all of a sudden. “Since all the people who matter to me are present, it’s time to offer you my sincerest apologies for the inappropriateness I insulted you with on first meeting you.”

Luci looked flustered for a second, then her face blazed with delight and deviltry. “Whoo boy, you remember?”

Clarissa groaned. “He forgets nothing, trust me.”

“What’s that all about?” Leandro asked.

“On his first appearance in the royal court,” Luci revealed, imps of enjoyment dancing in her beautiful eyes, “he propositioned me and Stella before he even said hello or knew who we were. At the same time, if you get my drift.”

Durante gaped at Ferruccio. “What? If anyone but both of you said this, I would have sworn on my right arm it was a lie. Were you under the influence of something foul that night or what?”

Ferruccio’s gaze settled on Clarissa, becoming heavier by the second. “The most foul thing imaginable. I apologize to…all concerned.”

Clarissa quivered inwardly. Was he apologizing to her, too? But Durante seemed convinced it was something ridiculously out of character for Ferruccio. So why had he done it? What was the “foul thing” that had made him act that way?

Before she could think further, Luci challenged, “All concerned? To Stella, too?”

He flicked a glance at the woman in question. She’d learned to keep her distance after Leandro had come down on her like a demolished building for daring to try to come between him and Phoebe. “I apologize only to human beings, not vipers.”

Leandro burst out laughing. “You’ve found her out far faster than both me and Durante.”

Ferruccio gave him a sage nod. “Compared to me, you’ve both led very sheltered lives.”

Durante raised a formidable eyebrow. “Who’re you calling sheltered?”

Ferruccio gave him a serene look. “Both of you, that’s who.”

Durante poked him in the chest. “Just for that, you’re going to have to grovel a bit to get us to take the positions of your guardian angels on your new Council.”

Leandro’s grin turned evil. “Make that grovel a lot.”

Ferruccio maintained the same assurance. “I don’t grovel. I’ll just draft you into my service.”

Leandro smirked. “Dream on, pal.”