The Sicilian's Marriage Arrangement

“We have not yet had dessert.”

“I’m not hungry.” She indicated her unfinished dinner. “And we have an early start tomorrow.”

“Is it that, or is that you wish to return and keep your liaison with David?” Unbelievably, Luciano sounded jealous.

“I’ve already told you, I have no intention of sharing David’s room tonight.” She spoke slowly and through gritted teeth. “But if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business,” she added for good measure.

“You can say this after the way you allowed me to touch you not an hour ago?” Outrage vibrated off of him.

Wasn’t that just like an arrogant guy used to getting his own way? He’d done the kissing and now held her accountable for it. “I didn’t let you touch me. You just did it.”

“You did not protest.” He was six feet, four inches of offended masculine pride. “You were with me all the way.”

Heat scorched into her cheeks at the reminder. “A gentleman would not rub my face in it.”

“A lady would not go from one man’s arms to the bed of another.”

She jumped up from her chair, so furious, she could barely speak. “Are you saying I’m some sort of tramp because I let you kiss me?”

He rose to tower over her. “I am saying I will not tolerate you returning to this David’s company now that you belong to me.”

“I don’t belong to you!”

“You do and you will stay here with me.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SHE couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

She knew about the possessive streak in the Italian temperament, but to say she belonged to him just because they’d kissed was ludicrous. Not only was it ridiculous, it was inconsistent as anything. He certainly hadn’t been singing that tune New Year’s Eve.

“Then why didn’t I belong to you six months ago? Why did you leave and not come back? I’ll tell you why,” she went on before he had a chance to answer, “because those kisses meant no more to you than eating a chocolate bar. You found them pleasant, but not enough to buy the candy store.”

“You expected marriage after one kiss?” His derision hit her on the raw.

“You’re deliberately misunderstanding me. I didn’t say anything of the kind. You’re the one who has been rabbiting on about me belonging to you because of an inconsequential kiss.”

“Hardly inconsequential. I could have had you and you would not have murmured so much as a protest.”

Oh. She wanted to scream. “No doubt your skills in the area of seduction are stellar, but what does that signify? With my limited experience in the area, any man with a halfway decent knowledge of a woman’s reactions could have affected me just as strongly.”

She didn’t believe it for a minute, but Luciano’s conceit was staggering. His assertion she would not have protested him taking her to bed might be true, but it was also demeaning.

“You think this?” he demanded, his eyes terrifying in their feral intensity. “Perhaps you intend to experiment with this friend of yours, this David?”

A tactical retreat was called for. “No. I don’t want to experiment with anybody, including you.”

He didn’t look even remotely appeased by her denial.

Good judgment required she not dwell on this particular argument. “I am merely trying to point out that kissing me didn’t give you any rights over me. If all the women you kissed belonged to you, you’d have a bigger harem than any Arabian prince in history.”

Instead of looking insulted by her indictment of his character, he appeared pleased by her assessment of his masculinity. The fury in his expression faded. “You are different than the other women I have known.”

“Known being a discreet euphemism, I assume?” She thought of all the beautiful women he had been photographed with for scandal rags and society pages. It left a hollow place where her heart should have been beating and it made her doubly determined to deny him any claim to her loyalty. “Only you haven’t known me and I don’t belong to you.”

“This crudeness is not becoming.”

She couldn’t deny it. Crude was not her style and she’d probably blush with embarrassment later, but right now she was fighting the effect he had on her with every weapon at her disposal. “Neither is a dogin-the-manger possessiveness.”

“What is this canine in a stable?”

She stared at him. Canine in a stable? Suddenly the humor of the situation overcame her. She started to laugh. Here she was arguing with Mr. Cool himself that he didn’t have any hold on her when she wanted more than anything for him to claim her as his own. She was nuts, but then so was he. And his perfect English had a few flaws.