Ravelli's Defiant Bride

‘There’s nothing more to talk about. We said it all last night,’ Belle tossed over a slim shoulder as she started down the beach again and extended her hand. ‘Franco, come here!’

‘No!’ the toddler said stubbornly and, deprived of Cristo’s leg, grasped a handful of his trousers instead, making it difficult for Cristo to walk.

Cristo expelled his breath in a slow measured hiss. ‘I placed the Mayhill estate on the market this morning,’ he fired at her rudely turned back.

Belle came to a dead halt, her nar

row spine suddenly rigid as panic leapt inside her at the prospect of losing the roof over their heads. There was certainly no room for them all to squeeze into Isa’s one-bedroom apartment in the village. She stared out to sea but the soothing sound of the surf washing the sand smooth failed to work its usual magic. She turned her bright head, green eyes glittering. ‘Couldn’t that have waited for a few weeks?’

Cristo took his time crossing the sand to join her, her little brother clinging to whatever part of Cristo he could reach and finally stretching up to grip the corner of his suit jacket with sandy fingers. ‘No. I want the property sold as soon as possible. I want Gaetano’s life here to remain a secret.’

‘And what about us? Where are we supposed to go?’ Belle demanded heatedly, her temper rising. ‘It takes time to relocate.’

‘You’ll have at least a month to find somewhere else,’ Cristo fielded without perceptible sympathy while he watched the breeze push the soft, clinging cotton of her top against her breasts, defining the full rounded swells and her pointed nipples. The heavy pulse at his groin went crazy and he clenched his teeth together, willing back his arousal.

‘That’s not very long. Bruno and Donetta will be home from school for the summer soon. Five children take up a lot of space… They’re your brothers and sisters too, so you should care about what happens to them!’ Belle launched back at him in furious condemnation.

‘Which is why I’m here to suggest that we get married and make a home for them together,’ Cristo countered with harsh emphasis as he wondered for possibly the very first time in his life whether he really did know what he was doing.

‘Married?’ Belle repeated aghast, wondering if she’d missed a line or two in the conversation. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘You said that you wanted your siblings to enjoy the Ravelli name and lifestyle. I can only make that happen by marrying you and adopting them.’

Frowning in confusion, Belle fell back a step, in too much shock to immediately respond. ‘Is this a joke?’ she asked when she had finally found her voice again.

‘Why would I joke about something so serious?’

Belle shrugged. ‘How would I know? You thought it was acceptable to suggest to their mother that she give them up to be adopted,’ she reminded him helplessly.

‘I’m not joking,’ Cristo replied levelly, a stray shard of sunlight breaking through the clouds to slant across his lean, strong face.

All over again, Belle studied him in wonder because he had the smouldering dark beauty of a fallen angel. His brilliant dark eyes were nothing short of stunning below the thick screen of his lashes and suddenly she felt as breathless as though someone were standing on her lungs.

‘I’m a practical man and I’m suggesting a practical marriage which would fulfil all our needs,’ Cristo continued smoothly. ‘You’re aware that I don’t want a court case. I also want to prevent the squalid story of Gaetano and his housekeeper leaking into the public domain. You would have to agree not to discuss the children’s parentage with anyone but nobody need tell any lies either. As far as anyone need know, the children are simply your orphaned brothers and sisters.’

Belle breathed in deep and slow but it still didn’t clear her head. ‘I can’t believe you’re suggesting this.’

‘You didn’t give me a choice, did you? The threat of a court case piled on the pressure. Are you prepared to settle this out of court?’ Cristo studied her enquiringly.

Belle didn’t hesitate. ‘No.’

Cristo raised a sleek ebony brow. ‘Then what’s your answer?’

‘It’s not that simple,’ Belle protested.

‘Isn’t it? I’m offering you everything you said you wanted.’

Her lashes flickered above her strained eyes. She felt cornered and trapped. ‘Well, yes, but…marriage? I could hardly be expecting that development!’

Annoyance lanced through Cristo. It was his very first proposal of marriage and he had never before even considered proposing to a woman. Without a shade of vanity he knew he was rich, good-looking and very eligible and yet she was hesitating and he was grimly amused by his irritation.

‘Look, I’ll think it over until tonight,’ Belle muttered uncomfortably.

‘Di niente…no problem,’ Cristo fielded, his wide, sensual mouth compressed. ‘By the way…I mean a real marriage.’

‘Real…?’ Belle spluttered to a halt, the tip of her tongue stealing out to wet her dry lower lip. His intent dark gaze flashed pure naked gold to that tiny movement. Heated colour swept her face as she grasped his meaning in growing disbelief. ‘You’d expect me to sleep with you?’

‘Of course,’ Cristo murmured with an indolent assurance that suggested that that idea was entirely normal and acceptable. ‘I have no plans to emulate my father and entertain mistresses while I’m married. And I don’t want a wife who plays around behind my back either. That kind of lifestyle would not provide a stable home for the children.’