Phantom Marriage

He said nothing for a few seconds, not turning to face her till they reached the top of the steep incline.

‘You are very cynical. Some man hurt you, didn’t he? And, no, I don’t want to hear the sordid details. I hate it when girls feel they have to tell you every moment of every bad relationship they’ve had. It is usually man-bashing. And boring. And turns me right off. Not that anything you said would turn me off tonight,’ he added with a smile so criminally sexy that her toes curled up in her shoes. ‘You could tell me you were the secret mistress to an Arab sheikh and I would still want to take you to bed.’

How did she keep a straight face? Somehow, she managed. Because she needed to show this arrogant Italian playboy that she had his measure. And was a match for him in every way.

‘That’s an interesting thought,’ she said with brilliant nonchalance. ‘No. I’m not the secret mistress of a sheikh. There are actually two of them. Mine are into horse racing. Plus riding of another kind,’ she added with a saucy glance. ‘And, my, they do keep me busy.’

It was only a momentary coup, but it was worth it to see his eyes widen in shock for a few seconds. But all too soon he realised that she was pulling his leg. His laugh was rueful.

‘You are a devil in disguise, aren’t you?’

‘Not quite as much as you, Leonardo. But, yes, I do like being footloose and fancy free at the moment.’ Lord, this lying business could get to be a habit! ‘Though I do intend to get married. Eventually.’

‘When you meet the right man,’ he pointed out in an echo of what she’d said earlier.

‘Exactly. Which I’m sorry to say is not you, Leonardo. I prefer my future husband to be a little less…travelled.’

He grinned. ‘But not your lovers.’

‘No. Not my lovers. There is something to be said for experience in the bedroom. Practice does make perfect, I’ve found.’

His eyebrows lifted. ‘So you have had a sheikh or two in your bed?’

She gave him a coy glance. ‘I’m not a kiss-and-t

ell kind of girl.’

‘Thank heaven for small mercies,’ he said, surprising her constantly with how well he spoke English, knowing all the right phrases and idioms. ‘But let me remind you that I haven’t even kissed you yet. Not a proper kiss, anyway.’

‘No. You haven’t.’

‘Should I remedy that?’

‘Not out here,’ she said with a flash of panic, aware suddenly that she wasn’t ready yet for their verbal foreplay to become reality. Maybe she would never be ready. The way she was feeling was quite frightening. So were the images which kept popping into her head.

Veronica’s hand trembled a little as she retrieved the key from the geranium pot and unlocked the sliding door. It was cooler inside. Pity she wasn’t. She didn’t turn to see if he’d followed her—because she knew instinctively he would have. Instead, she switched on the lights then walked quickly over to the kitchen area, finding safety behind the long breakfast bar before turning to face him.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ she asked him. ‘Coffee? Tea? Water?’ she finished drily.

His smile showed he recognised her action for the delaying tactic that it was.

‘I would prefer a glass of cognac. Or a port. Laurence has a magnificent one which he used to buy by the case-load. Have you been down to Laurence’s wine cellar yet?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I couldn’t find it.’ In truth, she hadn’t really looked.

‘I’ll show you where it is,’ he offered, and held out his hand to her again.

‘I need to go to the bathroom first,’ she prevaricated. Although, now she thought about it, it was the truth. Her bladder had suddenly started protesting.

Veronica dashed off to the master bedroom which had an en suite bathroom. When she returned to the living area a few minutes later, Leonardo was there, his left arm resting on the marble mantelpiece as he stared broodingly into the empty fireplace.

‘I still can’t believe Laurence is dead,’ he said, glancing back up at her with touchingly sad eyes.

Veronica was quite moved by his grief.

‘He should have contacted you earlier,’ he went on with an angry flash in his dark eyes. ‘He was your papa. He was your flesh and blood. It was wrong of him to keep you a secret.’

‘I think so too,’ she agreed with a catch in her throat. ‘But it’s too late now.’