THERE could be far, far worse ways in which to spend
the next twelve months than exploring this wonderful
city, Jodie thought happily as she took her reluctant
leave of the Medici Palace and headed for the Piazza
Signoria.
She had the day to herself, Lorenzo having announced
earlier that he had some business to attend
to and would be gone until after lunch. Not that she
minded — not one little bit. It was just the sight of so
many couples strolling hand in hand that was making
her aware of not having his imperious, imposing presence
at her side, and nothing at all personal. How
could it be? She was determined not to let down her
emotional guard with any man ever again, and even
if she hadn’t been she would have to be a complete
fool to fall in love with a man like Lorenzo.
No, it was just the warmth of the summer sun and
the effect of Florence itself on her emotions that was
giving her that inner feeling of sadness. Of course if
Lorenzo had been with her he would have been able
to tell her much more about the city than any guidebook.
But determinedly she reminded herself firmly
of how the tension that had somehow crept into even
their most mundane conversational exchanges made
her feel on edge — as though somehow she was on a
constant adrenalin surge, her body waiting… For
what? For him to touch her again? Her thoughts were
drifting down dangerous pathways, she warned
herself.
She tried to focus on the square and its famous
sculptures, pausing to check the guidebook she had
bought earlier. While she was living here she could
even try to learn Italian and turn her year of marriage
into a means of adding to her future CV. That would
give her something far better to occupy her thoughts
than these dangerous sensual longings that had begun
to creep up on her so disturbingly. Of course Lorenzo
would be a good lover, she told herself scathingly.
She didn’t need to experience his lovemaking at first
hand to know that!
The city was busy with other tourists, and by the
time she had walked as far as the Uffizi, having decided
to leave exploring the Palazzo Vecchio for another
occasion, she was beginning to feel both tired
and thirsty. There was a cafe.-bar in the square near
to the apartment, she remembered, and it would not
take her long to walk there.
When she got there, the small square was so busy
that at first she thought she wouldn’t be able to get a
table. But finally she found one, and sat down with a
small sigh of relief.
Half an hour later, she was just finishing her second
cup of coffee when a handsome young Italian approached
her table.
"Scusi, signorina," he apologised, giving her a
boldly flattering smile. "May I share your table? Only
the cafe. is full and…"
He was very good-looking, and quite obviously an
expert at recognising solitary female tourists, Jodie
reflected in rueful amusement as she looked back
at him.
From the other side of the square Lorenzo watched
the age-old tableau being played out in front of him.
Young male Florentines traditionally spent the summer
months flirting with gullible female tourists — so
much so, in fact, that it was an accepted rite of passage
that moved from the discreet pick-up, via walks
through the city, to the speedy conclusion of sex in
the tourist"s hotel and another notch in her partner"s
belt. And of course Jodie, with her woman"s body so
eager to make up for her lost teenage years, even if
she was not prepared to acknowledge it, would no
doubt fall into this particular young Florentine"s
hands like a ripe peach.
Lorenzo could already see how openly responsive
she was to her admirer, tilting her head back to look
up at him, no doubt smiling at him… How often had
he seen his mother give that same smile to her lover
when as a young boy she had used him to camouflage
those early meetings. When he had also smiled guilelessly
at the man with whom she’d planned to betray
his father. Well, Jodie was not going to get the opportunity
to follow his mother"s example, no matter
how clinically businesslike their own marriage was to
be. Purposefully he started to make his way toward
the cafe..
"Please do have the table," Jodie told the waiting
young man gently. "I was just about to leave anyway."
"No — why Don’t you stay and allow me to buy you
another cup of coffee?" he suggested, leaning towards
her, his hand reaching to her arm.
Immediately Jodie stood up and stepped back from
him, shaking her head as she refused politely. "No,
thank you." She could see the confusion and disbelief
in his eyes and had to struggle not to laugh. He was
very good-looking, and no doubt used to having his
overtures met with far more acceptances than refusals.
Lorenzo came to an abrupt halt as he saw the way
Jodie got up from the table and then shook her head.
Her body language made her feelings quite plain, and
he could see from the sag of the young man"s shoulders
that he was as aware as Lorenzo that he had been
turned down.
Jodie took her bill to the cash desk and, having paid
it, started to head back towards Lorenzo’s apartment.
Lorenzo turned the small incident over inside his
head, frowning as he did so. He tried to visualise either
his mother or Caterina doing what Jodie had just
done in the same situation, knowing that neither of
them would have walked away as she had. Could
Jodie be different from them? Could she be that rare
woman — at least in his experience — who was not
driven by ego and vanity, who did not need a constant
influx of new and admiring male attention?
As he walked past the cafe. his young fellow citizen
was already eyeing up another tourist, who, to judge
from the way she was smiling back at him, was rather
more appreciative of his endeavours than Jodie had
been.
It had become impossible for her to walk into the
apartment without having to go and stand in front of
Lorenzo’s "children of courage" gallery, Jodie knew,
and each time she did she saw something new in the
artwork that she hadn’t seen before. On a low table
beneath the drawings there was an expensive leather-
bound album in which Lorenzo had placed details of
every child whose work hung in the gallery. She was
studying it when Lorenzo walked in.
"Tired of sightseeing?" he asked her.
"My feet are," Jodie admitted ruefully. "So I
thought I’d come back and do some reading instead.
I bought lots of books about Florence while I was
out. Some of them have descriptions in several different
languages, but I was thinking, while I’m here,
I’d like to try to learn Italian."
"Since we shall be moving between Florence and
the Castillo, it might not be wise for you to enrol in
a formal language school, if that is what you were
thinking. But it would certainly be possible to hire a
private tutor if you wish," Lorenzo offered, adding,
"Have you had lunch yet?"
Jodie shook her head. "No. I stopped for a cup of
coffee at the cafe. in the square." She paused and wrinkled
her nose.
"You didn’t enjoy it?"
"The coffee was fine, but I got hit on by one of
those professional flirty types. I suppose that’s one of
the downsides of being alone."
"Some women enjoy the attention."
Jodie closed the album and stood up. "Well, I didn’t."
Lorenzo could see that she meant what she was
saying.
"Why Don’t I ask Assunta to make us some lunch
and bring it up to the roof garden? You can read your
guidebooks to me if you wish — in Italian."
Jodie was staring at him in astonishment, and
Lorenzo had to admit he was just as startled by his
own suggestion. He had intended to spend the afternoon
working, not playing at being a language tutor.
She really, really did not want to do this, Jodie realised,
hesitating in front of the entrance to the church
where their banns were to be read for the first time
this morning.
As though he sensed her reluctance, Lorenzo
stepped forward and took hold of her arm, so that she
had no option other than to step forward with him.
She had had to guess at what to wear, opting in the
end for a plain black linen skirt and a short-sleeved
chocolate-brown tee-shirt, over which she had draped
one of the beautiful multicoloured silk squares she
had found tucked away with her new clothes as a
small gift from the store, thinking that if necessary
she could adjust the square and cover her head.
She had been glad she had opted for dark colours
when she had seen Lorenzo, wearing a formal dark
suit complete with a crisp white shirt and a tie. Now,
unable to stop herself looking slightly anxiously towards
him, she stepped with him into a world that
was totally unfamiliar to her. She recognised how forbidding
and arrogant he looked. Take away the suit
and clothe him in the costume of a Medici warlord,
and he could have been a Renaissance soldier prince,
she decided with a small shudder.
The huge emerald on her ring finger flashed green
fire in the sunlight, and someone in the small congregation
filing in through the narrow door gasped — although
whether in awe or shock, Jodie didn’t know.
Although no one spoke, it was obvious from the looks
that were exchanged that the other worshippers knew
Lorenzo, and Jodie could feel the sharp weight of
their speculation resting almost as heavily on her as
the betrothal ring.
People entered the dark interior of the church and
slipped into pews, kneeling immediately in prayer,
and Jodie turned towards the nearest pew herself, only
to find that Lorenzo was shaking his head and walking
past. Their footsteps echoed on the cold stone
floor, the stones themselves worn and slippery with
use. Ahead of them at the altar the priest kneeled,
head bowed in prayer, whilst smoke from the incense
drifted lazily upwards in the beam of light coming in
through the narrow stained glass windows.
They had reached the last pew, and Jodie’s eyes
widened a little when she recognised Lorenzo’s family
crest carved into the wood. A little uncomfortably
she bowed her own head in prayer. A prayer for her
parents, and for David and Andrea, for her friends
and for all those in need, and then to her own astonishment
she found herself suddenly praying fiercely
that Lorenzo might find some way of making peace
with his own past.
Even though she knew why they were here in the
church, she was still not prepared for the effect hearing
their banns read had on her — or the emotional
poignancy and turmoil she felt. Unconnected images
blurred her vision — a sunny day, and her parents
laughing down at her as they walked together; the
shock of learning of their deaths; her aunt and uncle"s
unhappy faces as they struggled to explain to her what
had happened, and that she herself might still lose her
leg; the first time she stood up properly after the accident;
the first time John had asked her out, standing
awkwardly beside her desk in the small office where
she had worked for his father; the first time he had
kissed her, and the let-down feeling of disappointment
she had had because she didn’t feel more excited.
The small ceremony they had just been part of
should surely be about more than fulfilling the demands
of someone"s pride, or gaining material pos-
sessions, and she should now be standing here outside
the church feeling uplifted by the promise of future
shared love — instead of which she actually felt
slightly guilty and shabby.
The priest was heading towards them, smiling
warmly as he congratulated them, his warmth increasing
Jodie’s discomfort. He was tall and unexpectedly
vigorously male, with an intent gaze.
"If there are any matters you feel you wish to discuss
with me, my child, I am at your disposal," he
told Jodie gently, in excellent English.
"My grandmother’s will has meant that we have
had to change our plans to marry in England and
bring our wedding forward," Lorenzo informed him,
slightly coolly. "And we are grateful to you for your
co-operation."
The priest inclined his head gravely, and Lorenzo
placed his hand in the middle of Jodie’s back in what
she bemusedly recognised as a classic male possessive
gesture, firmly ushering her away. She could feel
the warmth of his hand through her top, and the wilful
thought crept into her mind, like the incense smoke
rising to the light, that had they truly been in love she
might have turned to look up at him and smile at him,
and his hand might have stroked her flesh in mute
promise as he returned her smile. But they were not
in love, and she had absolutely no wish for them to
be in love!
"I wish we didn’t have to get married in church,"
she told him uncomfortably as they made their way
back to the Palazzo. "It made me feel so guilty when
Father Ignatius prayed for us and for our marriage,
knowing that it isn’t going to be a real marriage."
"A real marriage as in a sexual marriage, I assume
you mean?"
"No." Jodie denied it immediately, but she could
see from his expression that he didn’t believe her.
"Real marriage is about much more than just sex," she
persisted.
"But sex is a part of it — and you, as we both know,
are dangerously curious to know the reality of a man"s
possession."
"You keep saying that, but it isn’t true!"
"Your lips say one thing," Lorenzo told her softly,
"but your eyes say another."
She might be a virgin, but she could still recognise
the growing sexual tension between them for what it
was, Jodie decided shakily.
"I need to return to the Castillo for a few days,"
Lorenzo added abruptly. "It would be easier to leave
you here in Florence, but, since we are so newly betrothed,
it would be better if you were to accompany
me. When is your next fitting for the wedding dress?"
"On Thursday."
"Bene, we shall be back by then."
Jodie looked at the emerald ring she had just removed
and replaced in its box, prior to getting ready for bed.
The apartment was well set up with burglar alarms,
she knew that, but even so she didn’t feel happy about
the thought of the ring being in her room overnight,
and would far rather it were in Lorenzo’s keeping.
Closing the box, she picked it up and hurried out
of her own room and across the corridor, hesitating
briefly before she knocked on Lorenzo’s bedroom
door.
His brisk "Si?" had her opening the door and step
ping into the room, explaining, "I’ve brought you the
ring. I wanted to…" Her voice trailed away as her
gaze slid helplessly over the smooth golden flesh of
his torso, where it was revealed by the unbuttoned
shirt he was removing.
"You wanted to what?" he prompted silkily, walking
past her to close the door before shrugging off his
shirt completely. The gold strap of his watch gleamed
subtly in the lamplight, the dark vee of his body hair
a silky mesh of male sexuality that riveted and
trapped her spellbound gaze.
Her mouth had gone dry. She touched her tongue-
tip to her lips, unable to focus properly on answering
him, her senses too overwhelmed by the sight of him.
He was so arrogantly, so devastatingly, so magnificently
male.
If just the sight of those broad shoulders and that
solidly muscled chest could make her feel like this,
what would it do to her to see him fully naked? She
drew a deep, juddering breath of silent recognition at
the ache uncoiling inside her.
"The ring," she managed to tell him unsteadily,
stretching out the hand in which she was holding the
small box. "I want you to have it."
"Do you? Or do you mean you want me to have
you, to satisfy that curiosity of yours and to satisfy
you along with it?"
Beneath her angry outrage a shiver of something
sensual and excited stroked her senses. Was he right?
Was that secretly why she had come to his room?
Because she had wanted…hoped…?
Lorenzo watched as her expression reflected her
feelings. Somehow she was burrowing deeper and
deeper into his thoughts, causing him to question
things — beliefs — he did not want to question. He
might be better at concealing his desire than she was,
but that didn’t mean he was any better at controlling
it, he knew.
"I didn’t come here for that reason at all," Jodie
protested belatedly. "I just didn’t want to be responsible
for looking after the ring." Could he hear in her
voice, as she could, her own uncertainty about her
subconscious motivation?
"As you Don’t want to be responsible for "looking
after" your own virginity any more?" Lorenzo suggested
harshly. "You are overwhelmed by your virginal
curiosity — admit it! It eats at you, and aches
deep inside you, keeping you awake at night, wondering…
wanting…"
"No," Jodie breathed, but she knew she might just
as well have been saying yes. "I Don’t want you," she
said fiercely, trying to cling on to some kind of reality.
"Not me," Lorenzo agreed. "But you do want what
I can give you — the knowledge your time in hospital
has denied you. You want to know what it feels like
to know a man"s body, to know a man"s possession.
You can deny it with these," he told her mockingly,
reaching out and rubbing the pad of his thumb against
her parted lips, "as much as you wish, but I could take
them now with my own and they would tell me something
very different."
"No," Jodie repeated, but she was looking helplessly
up into his eyes, just standing there without
moving as he came to her and slowly slid his hands
up over her arms, from her wrists to her shoulders,
and she trembled almost violently with sensual pleasure
and anticipation. He was drawing her closer, so
close that the hot, primitive male scent of him engulfed
her. She put her lips to the bare flesh of his
collarbone with a small moan, and then pressed eager
open-mouthed kisses the length of his throat, greedily
tasting his flesh before running her tongue-tip over
his Adam"s apple whilst her fingers dug into the hard
muscles of his shoulders and she strained against him.
Was this what happened when a woman was a virgin?
Lorenzo wondered, as he struggled to control his
sudden savage longing to feel her mouth on every part
of him. This wild, wanton outpouring of need — not
for male possession, but for the right to take her own
pleasure in whatever way she wished? And why
should he stop her? Why should he not let her take
her pleasure where she wished and in whatever way
she wished?
He looked down at her, to where he could see outlined
by her strappy top the stiff thrust of her nipples,
and his male instincts surged in feral need. He cupped
her face and took her mouth with his own, driving
into it with the slow rhythmic thrust of his tongue as
he tugged down her top with his free hand until her
breasts spilled over the fabric, creamily fleshed, with
warm brown nipples already swollen hard with desire.
Jodie didn’t even hear herself moan with hot
delight at the feel of Lorenzo’s naked flesh against
her own. She was lost in her own arousal. His silky
dark body hair sensitised her already eager nipples
while the stroke of his tongue in the hollow behind
her ear brought her arching compulsively into him,
into him and against him, grinding her hips against
his body in a frenzy of eager longing.
Jodie could see their twinned images in the bedroom
mirrors, and she watched passion-bound as
Lorenzo cupped her breast and readied the dark peak
of her nipple for the downward descent of his head
and the deliberately erotic caress of his tongue.
This time as she arched her body up to his, willingly
sacrificing it to her growing pleasure, Jodie did
hear herself cry out in female longing. But the sound
of her own desire only increased the fevered beat of
her blood as it surged through her veins, heating her
belly and spreading through it an ache that weakened
her muscles and softened her flesh into warm, wet
compliance.
When Lorenzo picked her up bodily, she wrapped
her arms around him and gasped in pleasure to feel
him suckling on the taut peak of her nipple whilst he
tugged off the rest of her clothes.
By the time he placed her on the bed they were
both naked, and he was leaning over her whilst he
trailed slow kisses over her openly eager body. Jodie
could see how the thick strength of his erection rose
stiffly toward his belly, and she yearned to reach out
and touch it.
The sensation of Lorenzo circling her navel with
his tongue-tip as his hand stroked slowly up the inside
of her thigh was melting away whatever desire she
might have had to conjure up some kind of resistance.
Her rapt gaze was fixed unashamedly and avidly on
his erection.
Lorenzo lifted his head to watch her as she reached
out half hesitantly and took him in her hand, her eyes
widening as she absorbed the texture and heat. A soft
slow burn of excited colour warmed her skin when
she registered the pulse that flooded his darkly engorged
thickness. She stroked him with fervent female
appreciation and approval, and Lorenzo closed
his eyes and exhaled, unable to withstand his body"s
longing to enjoy her wondering exploration.
How powerful it made her feel to touch Lorenzo
like this, and how eternally female, in a way that
somehow connected her with the whole of her sex
from the dawn of time. It was woman who aroused
this maleness in a man, woman who controlled and
commanded it, drawing from it her own pleasure as
well as allowing man to take his. Her fingers explored
and stroked, and her lips parted and her breath caught
on a small whisper of soft wanton pleasure as she felt
the response Lorenzo couldn’t quite control. He felt
so rigid, and yet at the same time so malleable. Silky
desire flushed her, tempted her to bend her head
and…
"No!"
The harshness of Lorenzo’s refusal sent a shock
through her. Confusion and disappointment darkened
her gaze as it met his, and then returned to cling to
his now openly pulsing stiffness.
If he let her place her lips against him now, he
wouldn’t be able to control himself, Lorenzo knew.
She had already aroused him well beyond his own
personal safety limit. If he let her caress him so intimately,
he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from
taking her.
"Why not?" Jodie protested.
"We can’t have full sex," he answered her curtly.
With her own arousal an unsatisfied ache that physically
hurt, Jodie persisted doggedly, "Why not?"
"I Don’t have any condoms, and there’s no way I
intend to fall into the trap of fathering a child I Don’t
want and which ultimately I would have to pay for,"
he told her harshly.
"wouldn’t it have been better to have thought of
that earlier?" Jodie asked him pointedly as she moved
away from him and got off the bed, retrieving her
clothes and redressing with clumsy haste.
No way was she going to let him guess how much
his rejection of her reminded her of John’s, or how
much it and he had hurt her. And she certainly didn’t
want him to know how shamingly and how very, very
much she was aching deep inside herself for what he
was not going to give her.
How foolish she had been to think that she was in
control of his desire. In this relationship she wasn’t
in control of anything, she decided bitterly, as she
almost ran for the door, desperate for the sanctuary
of her own bedroom.