Lynne Graham's Brides of L'Amour Bundle

‘Santo cielo…’

Roel’s roughened exclamation made Hilary spin round. Wearing a stark frown of disconcertion, he seemed to be staring at the ha

ndsome marble fireplace. Swift understanding gripped her. Something had surprised Roel. Something was different or at least not as he had expected. As he evidently had no memory of the change taking place, he would naturally feel disorientated, and when that happened within his own home it had to be that much more disturbing.

Aware of the manservant’s covert scrutiny, Hilary hurried over to Roel, tucked a confiding hand into his arm and stretched up to whisper, ‘Let’s go upstairs…’

In the very act of wondering why one of his grandfather’s favourite paintings should be hanging in his grandson’s town house, Roel reacted to that breathy little feminine invitation as red-blooded males had done for centuries. The conundrum of the painting momentarily forgotten, he was startled by a desire to scoop his diminutive wife up and kiss her breathless for reading his mind with such accuracy. Was that how he usually acted around her? It shook him to acknowledge that he had no idea.

‘I just remembered something…you go on ahead,’ Hilary said when they reached the marble landing above. Pulling free, she then hurried back downstairs to speak to the manservant before he could disappear from view.

‘I’m sure you’re wondering who I am,’ Hilary began uncomfortably. ‘You are…?’

‘Umberto, signorina. I run the household and you are Mr Sabatino’s guest,’ the older man responded smoothly.

‘I’m not…actually, I’m Roel’s…er…wife, Hilary,’ she explained in an apologetic undertone.

Well-trained though Umberto was, he could not conceal his surprise.

‘Please ensure that no personal or business phone calls are put through to my husband.’

Umberto stiffened, his lips parting in an anxious way.

‘Don’t ignore my instructions,’ Hilary added, tilting her chin.

When she drew level with Roel again, he dealt her a keen appraisal and then, strong mouth quirking, he bent down and swept her up into his arms.

‘Roel?’ Hilary squawked, utterly taken aback by his behaviour. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

Striding across the elegant landing, Roel vented a husky, sexy laugh and deftly shouldered open the door of the master bedroom suite. ‘Ensuring that last-minute instructions to Umberto concerning dinner or whatever…won’t interrupt us again!’

‘Please put me down…’ Hilary pressed in an enervated rush. ‘You’re supposed to be resting, Roel.’

Roel lowered her down onto a massive bed with exaggerated care. ‘I have every intention of doing so…but only if I have company to do it with, cara.’

Hilary rolled over and off the other side of the bed. Her face was pink with embarrassment. ‘That wouldn’t be restful—’

Lean fingers jerked loose his silk tie, pulled it free and discarded it. Glinting golden eyes flared back at her in blatant challenge. ‘I don’t need to recall the last five years to know that I’m not a restful individual or given to lazing about doing nothing. If I’m not working, I require occupation—’

‘But not this,’ Hilary slotted in breathlessly. ‘You only think that you want to sleep with me but you don’t…not really, you don’t. You just want to make me feel more familiar—’

‘I can’t believe I married a woman who makes a three-act major production out of sex,’ Roel incised with biting derision.

‘I’m trying to think of you, that’s all.’ Hilary twisted her hands together in an unwittingly revealing gesture of stress. ‘This isn’t what you need right now—’

‘Allow me to decide that.’ But Roel had fallen still and his brilliant eyes no longer appeared to be focused on her. His wide sensual mouth twisted and then set into a grim line.

‘What is it?’ Hilary asked worriedly.

Roel glanced back at her, his stunning dark gaze bleak and bitter, hard cheekbones prominent below his olive skin. ‘Clemente, my grandfather, is dead…that’s why the Matisse painting is here in our home instead of at the castello. Am I right?’

As he spoke Hilary lost colour.

‘On this score, you don’t withhold information,’ Roel warned her icily.

Eyes stinging with tears of sympathy, Hilary nodded confirmation with pained reluctance. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. Your grandfather died four years ago—’

‘How did he die?’ Roel demanded.