‘Wrong. A true man will always see his woman as the weaker vessel and do
everything he can to love and protect her, allow her to be the person she is meant to be even at the cost of his own wellbeing. Women are softer, gentler, more… easily broken.’
She shivered inside. ‘That’s male stereotyping.’
‘No, mia piccola,’ he murmured softly. ‘It is a truth as ancient as time, and when either sex fights against it, it is a prelude to disaster. There is a time for both man and woman to give and take. Like now, for instance…’
She had known he was going to kiss her, had wanted him to, and now she trembled as he took her lips in a long, slow, leisurely exploration that sent a flood of sensation running through her veins. The kiss deepened, his probing tongue invading the sweetness of her mouth with masterful ease as he moved her into him, his fingertips against her lower ribs, his palms cupping her sides.
She felt her fingers lock behind the muscled neck and as they stroked the crisp short hair Vittorio sighed raggedly against her lips before his mouth plundered hers again, this time more fiercely.
He was so, so good at this—so experienced, so sure. The thought was there but it wasn’t enough to make her pull away, even though she knew she must be just one woman in many he had made love to. He growled low in his throat, the sound finding an echo within herself as her heart hammered against her ribs and a slow throb in the core of her intensified.
His hands moved upwards, sliding beneath her pyjama top, and as she felt his fingers on her skin it acted as an injection of reality, breaking the sensuous web. She jerked away, suddenly aware of what she was allowing. This man was a stranger. She hadn’t even known him twenty-four hours and she was virtually offering herself on a plate. She was no better than Angela. Worse. It was the wake-up call she needed.
Taking another step backwards into the bedroom, she said shakily, ‘I—I can’t do this. I’m—I’m sorry.’
‘Because of the man you left England to escape?’ he said softly. ‘He still has your heart?’
Oh, he was good. She’d give him that. He didn’t miss a trick. ‘I told you. I’m not escaping anyone.’ She drew air into her lungs. ‘And even if I was it wouldn’t alter the fact that I don’t sleep around.’
‘I did not think for a minute that you would, Cherry.’
The way he said her name in his delicious accent caused another shiver inside, but her voice was tight when she said, ‘I didn’t come to Italy looking for a cheap holiday romance, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
He tilted his head. ‘Why would I think that, mia piccola?’ He was standing in the doorway now, leaning nonchalantly against the frame, and the very casualness of his pose brought a flood of pride to her rescue.
He could clearly take her or leave her, she told herself bitterly. Like all men, it would seem. And that was fine—just fine. She could do exactly the same. ‘I just wanted to make my position absolutely clear.’ She tried to moderate her stare into less of a glare. ‘Should I agree to your sister’s request.’
He nodded. ‘Understood.’ And with that he stepped back on to the landing and closed the door, leaving her alone with an abruptness that was shocking.
CHAPTER SIX
SHE’D deserved the sleepless night, Cherry told herself the next morning, after she had watched the night hours creep by. She’d been unbelievably stupid to allow Vittorio to kiss her like that and kiss him back. Of course he had expected he could go further. He’d probably thought they’d both spend the night in her bed—well, his bed, to be pedantic about it. She was in his house after all.
But not for much longer. She nodded to the thought as she stepped out of the shower and began to dry her hair. It was seven o’clock on a beautiful May morning and with any luck the hire car would be delivered before long. Of course there was breakfast to endure before that, but she’d get through and leave as soon as she could.
She’d go and see the Castel del Monte first; several people had mentioned it was the finest castle in the region and a breathtaking monument to the modern eye. And then she’d travel further up the coast to the province of Foggia and see more castles, churches and cathedrals. Someone had told her—she couldn’t remember who—that just outside Foggia were the remains of the largest Roman amphitheatre in southern Italy, with a vast arena which had accommodated twenty thousand spectators; she couldn’t leave the area without paying a visit. A few days of culture and improving her mind was just what she needed to put the last twenty-four hours firmly behind her.
She continued her plans as she dressed, refusing to think of anything else, and left her room just before seven-thirty to make her way to the breakfast room. The door was open when she reached it, and on entering she saw the big dark figure of Vittorio sitting at the table reading a paper. Sophia was not present, which wasn’t what she’d hoped.
‘Buongiorno, Cherry.’ Vittorio had risen and pulled out a chair for her before she was halfway across the room, and she had no choice but to sit down next to him.
She sat, refusing to acknowledge that he looked just as good in jeans and a T-shirt as the more tailored clothes he’d been wearing the day before—although the jeans and T-shirt shouted exclusivity anyway. Born with the proverbial silver spoon and spoiled rotten from the cradle, she told herself viciously. He had no idea of what real life was like. None at all. She doubted he had ever done a day’s work in his life.
‘I trust you slept well?’ he said softly, interrupting her character assassination.
Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged the truth from her. ‘Very well, thank you,’ she replied stiffly, as the two maids bustled in with large dishes of food, which they placed on a long sideboard at the side of the room.
‘It is customary that we help ourselves in the morning,’ Vittorio explained quietly. ‘Rosa and Gilda will bring coffee. Would you prefer espresso or cappuccino?’
Cherry turned to Rosa, who was waiting at her side. ‘Cappuccino, please.’
‘Si, signorina.’
The maid’s smile was sunny. She clearly couldn’t detect the tension in the air, although to Cherry the atmosphere was positively crackling. She helped herself to a glass of orange juice from the jug on the table and sipped it as the two girls left the room. Every morning since arriving in Italy she had woken up looking forward to breakfast. Today her stomach felt in knots.
‘There was a call from the car hire firm this morning, Cherry.’ Vittorio rose to his feet as he spoke, coming behind her and pulling back her chair for her as she stood up, before handing her a plate. ‘They regret that due to circumstances outside of their control they cannot provide a replacement car until tomorrow.’