Seduced by Innocence (10 page)

He ran his hands hungrily over her while his lips moved softly over her jaw to her throat. Terri reached up to weave her fingers through his hair, breathing deeply as waves of pleasure flowed through her, turning her eager body to pure fire.

Maurizio felt himself torn. Every fiber of his being wanted what was happening now, wanted to touch and caress her, to bury himself in her, to revel in the warmth of her, wanted
her.
And now she was here, her beautiful, almost naked body ready for him, and there was nothing to hold him back. Nothing except the gambler’s caution, an instinct for calculating all the odds before he made his move. That instinct was too deep-rooted to be easily defeated, but now it was almost drowned by the clamor of his senses. Her skin was smooth beneath his hands, her lips were honey against his and the scent of heat and eager expectation were almost driving him mad. Caution was becoming lost in a wild desire for possession at all costs.

Of course, Elena’s daughter was a temptress, skilled in inflaming a man, rejecting him once, only to set a higher value on herself. But before the thought was complete, it was swept away by the knowledge that this had nothing to do with his revenge. At this moment, she wasn’t Elena’s daughter. She was
Teresa,
and Teresa was everything that was beautiful and desirable in a woman. He was caught up in a whirlwind of desire. She
had
to be his. There could be no other way for this to end.

He twisted his body and sat down beside her, his back to the mirror, and pulled her across him so that she lay in his arms, her head cradled against his shoulder. He brushed his fingers against one peaked nipple and felt her whole body tremble. Then she was still, but it wasn’t a passive stillness. The breath coming through her slightly parted lips was ragged and her eyes were fixed intently on his, speaking to his senses in a silent language. It would be so easy now to carry her to the bed and take the rich feast that was offered him—too easy. “If you want me to leave, you must say so now,” he said hoarsely. “After this, there’s no turning back.” He bent low to whisper against her lips, “Answer me.”

She took a long time to answer, as though the decision racked her, and for a dreadful moment he feared that the treasure was to be snatched from him again. But at last he heard and felt her reply breathed softly against his mouth. “I want you to stay, Maurizio.”

“You must be very sure, Teresa.”

“I’m sure, I’m—sure—” The last word was lost in the stampede of her senses. She felt as though a spell had been cast over her, destroying the will to do anything else but this. She knew that what was happening now was only the completion of something that had started the moment they’d met. She’d looked into Maurizio’s eyes and wanted him with a fierce, sensual longing that she’d never dared recognize until this moment. But now the die was cast. She could do nothing but yield to the clamorous demands of her body that said only he could satisfy her.

“Maurizio,” she whispered, and felt his arms tighten about her.

“Say that you want me,” he said in a voice that was half demand, half plea.

“I want you.” The words were wrenched from her depths.

He rose, drawing her to her feet also, and pulled off his robe. Hers followed, and he took her in his arms. The feeling of her nakedness pressed against his gave her a moment of awkwardness, but it quickly passed. Maurizio was touching her body everywhere, giving subtle caresses that passed quickly but left a trail of ecstasy behind them. Soon she could think of nothing but where he might touch her next, where she urgently wanted him to touch her next. Tentatively she reached for him and was entranced by the sensation of his smooth skin against her fingers. She’d never explored a man’s body before, but the intense feelings he evoked in her made her crave to do just that. He was
Maurizio,
and therefore different from all other men.

His body was an instant delight, warm and smooth with hard muscles that she could feel beneath the skin. Again she had the overwhelming awareness of the barely leashed power in his frame, the same awareness that she’d recognized at their very first meeting, and which, she now realized, had physically excited her even then. Her life had been quiet and she’d been content to have it so, believing that this was her nature. But the only man to make her senses sing was a man of danger, and it thrilled her.

He drew her onto the bed and lay beside her. He kissed her face, her neck, her breasts, cupping their fullness in his hands while his lips teased the nipples. Nothing in her life had ever felt like that, so good, so sweet. Her body seemed to have developed a life of its own. It responded to his kisses and caresses by arching against him, while blind instinct made her wind her fingers in his hair and draw his face more completely against her breasts. The slow, powerful beating of her heart felt like the rhythm of the whole world, urging her on.

Maurizio drew back a little to look down at her and she had a glimpse of his manhood, hard and powerful, ready for her as she was ready for him. All the excitement coursing through her body seemed to be directed to the one, throbbing place between her legs, where she wanted him.

He whispered her name softly. Through the clamor of passion, Terri detected a strange note in his voice, as though he were troubled. “Maurizio,” she whispered.

For a brief instant, Madge was there in her mind, crying out her life-denying accusation with all its spite and bitterness. But the next moment, Madge was gone, swept away by the tide of passion. She knew now that she was right to yield to her desire, because something so deliriously sweet and wonderful could only be a gift from the gods. It couldn’t be wrong to love a man with such fierce intensity that nothing mattered but to meld her being with his.

She could feel the moment of that blazing union approaching and her soul was joyful as she went to meet her destiny. As he moved over her, it felt right and natural to part her legs in welcome. The moment of his entry was a piercing, unfamiliar shock, then all sense of strangeness vanished. He was there, inside her, where she wanted him. She began to move her hips, trying to feel him more profoundly, wanting to weep with joy. It was an ecstatic sensation that made a pale mockery of all other sensations in her life. The Venetians were right; only love mattered. Only
this
mattered, this blissful union with the beloved, this perfect meeting of flesh and flesh, bringing together two halves of a whole.

His face was there above her, dark, concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t know—I never dreamed—”

She had no idea what he meant. She was lost in a delirious dream of desire in which there was only sensation and emotion, and the perfect fusion of the two.

“Maurizio.” She murmured his name in a plea for she knew not what. But she understood that this had to continue to its appointed end, and that end must be glorious. He was thrusting into her slowly, making her wild with pleasure and the tormenting realization that he was holding something back.
“Maurizio...”

He was kissing her face. “Yes? Tell me,” he murmured.

“I want you. I want—everything.”

He drove into her again, more deeply but with a controlled power that made her gasp. “Are you all right?” he asked again.

“Yes—yes—go on.”

The rhythm possessed her body, her mind, her consciousness. There was nothing in the world but this driving, exquisite repetition of pleasure. With each thrust she was carried to a new peak of delirious joy. A loud cry broke from her and she drew him close against her, thrusting back at him with her hips, trying to capture the feeling and hold it fast forever. But it was fruitless. As she felt herself carried to the pinnacle, she knew that the depths yawned beneath them. But not yet—not yet—

Despite the buildup, the final moment took her by surprise, catching her and tossing her helplessly into the storm. Before she knew it, she was being spun around and thrown upward to glorious, unimaginable heights. Pleasure pervaded her body and she gave herself up to it with abandon until the final explosion of sensation had left her drained, exhausted and happy.

She lay catching her breath, so overwhelmed by what had happened that she was momentarily speechless. But when she turned happily to Maurizio, she was shocked to see him looking distraught.

“Maurizio, what—?”

He sat up and turned to look at her. “I didn’t know,” he said. “Oh, God, I never thought—but I should have known—it was staring me in the face all the time.”

“Didn’t know what?” Terri asked.

“That you were a virgin,” he said with a groan.

“Why, what difference can it possibly make?” she asked, puzzled.

He looked into her shining eyes, and looked away again quickly. Her unreserved honesty pierced him like an accusation. She was genuine through and through. The two-faced temptress had been a figment of his imagination.

Terri propped herself on her elbow to look him in the eye. “Do you mean I turned out to be a disappointment?” she asked. But there was no apprehension in her eyes. Already she had the look of a woman who knew her own power.

A memory of her warmth and sweetness melting against him scorched his mind. “No,” he said with tender irony. “You weren’t a disappointment. One day—it might be the other way around.”

“One day?” she asked gaily. “Who cares about one day? I don’t even care about the next hour. I’m happy now. Suddenly, nothing seems to matter but this.” She pushed him back against the pillows and threw herself across his chest in delicious abandon. “I’m so glad it happened,” she said passionately.

Maurizio was relieved that Terri couldn’t see his face. Despite his skill at keeping it expressionless, he knew that it would reveal everything now—his guilt, his torment, above all the secret he was keeping from her, and which suddenly seemed so monstrous.

He tried to think practically but his brain seemed to have seized up. He knew he should go away from her right now and not come near her until he’d sorted out a hideous situation that she knew nothing about. But as he lay there telling himself what he ought to do, he was becoming increasingly aware of her breasts against his chest. There was a sense of inevitability about the way his arms settled around her, and a heart-stopping beauty about her face, coming alight with eager anticipation.

“Maurizio,” she whispered.

He had a last moment of sanity when his conscience shouted that he mustn’t do this—not until she knew the wrong he’d done her, and forgiven him. But conscience counted for nothing against the roaring of his senses and the delight that flooded through his heart and his body at the thought of loving her again. She laid her lips against his, kissing him with an urgent sense of purpose. It was the kiss of a woman who’d finally discovered her own passionate sexuality, who knew what she wanted and was determined to have it. With an equal mixture of dismay and joy, Maurizio recognized that there was no way to resist her.

He began to kiss her, caressing her face, her breasts, her curved hips. Her slight, delicate body looked tiny beside his great frame, yet she had a magic that canceled out his strength.

Terri received his lovemaking as a kind of glory. Now she knew him and herself. A long road had opened up before her, leading to infinite delight, and she was eager to travel it with him. The memory of their first loving was still in her flesh, making it respond even more readily. His lips on her breasts sent fires thrilling through her. She gave a long sigh of blissful anticipation and at once he looked up, smiling at her with tender eyes.

There had been many women in Maurizio’s life, yet he had the unnerving sensation that this was the first time he’d ever made love. Her every movement, every response was a revelation. At their first meeting, she’d made him think of spring and he’d brushed the thought aside, feeling his heart encased in winter. Now he discovered that spring could banish winter, making young shoots burst from the snow, filling the world with new life. Everything else vanished. All the troubling circumstances that would complicate their love counted for nothing. Between them they’d created a cocoon in which only they could live, and for a few precious minutes it protected them.

When he parted her legs, she moved quickly to draw him over her, eager to have him inside her and know the joy of complete union again. Despite the passion raging through him, entering her was like coming home to peace. But there was no time to wonder about the contradiction, for he was lost in the rhythm, driven on by a desire to possess her and share in the magic quality that made her special. She cried out his name and clung to him. Together they reached the burning heights, and for one brief moment his hopes were realized. She was his, part of him, letting him be part of her.

But when the separation came, he was himself again, black with deception against her shining honesty, and he discovered with bitterness that there was no escape from his own being. He lay holding her while his heart slowed its beating and his mind went on its old tortured way. Perhaps now was the moment to tell her everything. If he confessed while she was still soft with the tenderness of their loving, might she not forgive him?

But while he was trying to pluck up the courage to speak, he heard a small sound from her, and looked down to find her asleep against his chest, a contented smile on her face.

I
n the early morning, Maurizio left Terri’s room, moving like a sleepwalker, stunned by what had happened to him. In a few devastating hours, his world had been turned upside down. The glow from Terri’s trusting eyes had bathed his inner landscape in a new light. Everything he’d believed was true turned out to be folly. His own actions, so justifiable when he’d planned them, now looked unforgivable in the light of her innocence, the one thing he hadn’t calculated on.

Guilt lay on him like a black weight, not only over his plan to use her to gain revenge on Elena Calvani, but because of something worse. Something so much worse that the thought of it was enough to make him groan.

As he approached his room, he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Bruno running up the stairs as lightly as a young man. He was smiling sheepishly. “I know, I know,” he said. “I ought to be ashamed of myself at my age. I am, I promise you. But when a lady is willing, what can a man do?” He checked himself and stared at Maurizio. “My God, you look terrible!”

Dazed, Maurizio didn’t answer. Bruno took his arm and urged him the rest of the way to Maurizio’s room. When the door had closed behind them, he said, “What’s happened? Has she discovered the worst about you?”

“Not yet,” Maurizio said. “But she soon will.”

Bruno looked at him closely. “And that matters?”

“Yes,” Maurizio said heavily. “It matters.”

Bruno shrugged. “My dear boy, why? After all, what is she but a pawn in your game of revenge? Does a pawn have opinions? Does a man care about them?”

“You know better than that,” Maurizio said harshly. He couldn’t bring himself to discuss the night he’d spent with Terri, but the urge to confess at least some part of the situation to this wise, kindly man was strong.

“Well, it’s about time you found someone whose opinion you care about,” Bruno observed. “My felicitations. You’ll get off more lightly than you deserve. All you need do is forget about revenge. She need never know that you started your relationship in a state of—shall we say—less than total honesty? It’s how a relationship ends that matters. Love her as she deserves to be loved and I won’t betray your secret.”

Maurizio turned burning eyes on him. “You don’t understand,” he said. “There’s more.”

Bruno reached into the drinks cupboard and poured himself a brandy. “Evidently I’m going to need this,” he said. “What more can there be?”

Maurizio’s hands were balled so tightly that the knuckles turned white. “I know where her brother is,” he said quietly.

“You mean you’ve traced him? What’s so terrible about that? She’ll fall into your arms with gratitude.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve
always
known where he was.”

Bruno drank a large mouthful and stared at his nephew, aghast. “Are you saying that
you
spirited him away?”

“No. I took him to my olive estate for a visit. He became very ill. He’s been there ever since. The fever left his mind confused.”

“Dear God!” Bruno breathed. He stared at Maurizio, meeting his eyes directly.

“Don’t say it,” Maurizio snapped. “Just don’t say it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of saying anything. Nothing I could say would be equal to this situation.” Bruno drained his glass abruptly. “I’m going to my room, and I’m going to stay there. I don’t want to bump into Teresa. I can’t tell her the truth and I can’t look into her eyes and not tell her, so I’m going to be a coward and hide. As for what you’re going to do—I just can’t imagine.” He got out of the room quickly.

Maurizio poured himself a drink and stared out of the window, trying to organize his disordered thoughts. He was suddenly more frightened than ever before in his life. He had to find a way of confessing to Terri that he’d known her brother’s whereabouts all along, and somehow he must do it without alienating her—if that were possible. He shuddered as he thought of all the things she could justifiably say to him, of how she might hate him, and how that hate could smother the miracle that had started to happen between them.

But it wasn’t in his nature to anticipate defeat. His way was to plan, to scheme, to find methods to avert disaster. Already his subtle brain was working, devising a method to blunt her anger by restoring her brother to her.

Yes, that was it. He would reunite her with Leo, and in the joy of that reunion, she would forgive Maurizio the wrong he’d done her. The situation wasn’t irretrievable. His gamblers’ instincts were working again, reassuring him that there was a path out of his difficulties. It was going to be hard, but he would manage—somehow....

He lay down and slept uneasily for an hour and awoke still troubled. For once, the revelation of a way out hadn’t entirely cleared his mind. His inner eye could see Terri looking at him in disillusion, and he flinched before her horrified gaze. He showered, seeking absolution in the cold water, but she was still there, still looking at him—not shocked now, but sad, saying goodbye.

His mood of self-castigation was so unusual that he became irritable. When he did his morning rounds of the kitchen, the staff took one look at his expression and kept their heads down. Those unfortunate enough to incur his displeasure were sent scuttling.

But then he went into the restaurant where breakfast was being served, and the first thing he saw was Terri sitting at a table by the window, watching for him. When he appeared, her face lit up. It was a frank revelation of joy with nothing held back, so different from a hundred women he’d known who rationed their feelings to get a man where they wanted him. He wondered how he could ever have thought Terri was a coquette.

Her smile had a magical effect, making his temper vanish and laying a balm on his heart. He went to her at once and sat down facing her across the table. When she reached out her hand, he took it, holding it between both of his. He wanted to say something but suddenly there was no need for words. It was enough to sit here, looking into her eyes and feeling the warmth of her happiness radiating out to encompass him. He hadn’t known that such feelings could exist. Until last night, his cold heart had protected him, but now there was nowhere left to hide.

“It’s such a long time since you went away,” she said softly.

“Yes.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He just wanted to sit here, reveling in her beauty and innocence.

“I nearly called your room to say—”

“To say what?” he asked tenderly.

“To say ‘come back,’ I suppose.”

“I wish you had,” he said, meaning it. He wanted to look away from Terri. Her heart was in her eyes and he was riven by guilt at the chasm between what he was and what she thought of him.

“Am I going to see you today?” she asked. “Or will you be too busy?”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I could take the day off. Elena won’t mind.”

He wasn’t strong enough to resist. “Then we’ll spend today together. We’ll take a boat and go to Murano. It’s quiet there and we can be away from the crowds.” When they were alone together, he promised himself, he would confess everything.

“That would be nice,” she said.

She joined him at the landing stage a few minutes later and he swung the motorboat right, along the Grand Canal, then right again, along the Canale della Misericordia that cut through a large section of the city, to bring them out into the lagoon. Almost immediately, Terri saw a small island surrounded by a wall, over the top of which she could just make out pine trees. “Is that Murano?”

“No, that’s San Michele, the Venetian cemetery,” he answered. “Murano is just beyond. It’s a group of islands, like a mini-Venice, but not glamorous like the main city. The people who live there are mostly poor.”

At last Murano came in sight, a collection of canals and bridges. As Maurizio had said, it had none of the glitter of the place they’d just left, but it looked natural and lived-in, and Terri liked it at once.

Maurizio tied up at a landing stage on the outskirts of Murano and gave her his hand as she climbed the steps. “Do you have friends that live here?” she asked.

“I did have, once, because this is where I spent my childhood. But I’m afraid I’ve lost touch with them.”

“You lived here? Where?”

“Just here,” he said, leading her to a small, shabby house overlooking the lagoon. “My parents rented it. Now it’s mine. I use it as a place of escape.”

“So you’re not just King Midas, after all?” she said, laughing. “Or have you gold plated everything inside?”

“Wait and see.” He unlocked the front door and showed her in. Terri looked around curiously at the tiny house with its terrazzo floors, painted walls and odd bits of plain furniture. There were a couple of cheap pictures but otherwise no ornaments. It was almost impossible to imagine the elegant, authoritative Maurizio ever living here. “I expect you’re wondering why I kept it?” he said, watching her face.

“Something like that.”

“Maybe to remind myself
not
to become King Midas.”

Terri noticed something scratched into the stonework over the door. Peering at it, she could just make out the words
Ca’ d’oro.
“House of gold,” she said. “It must have been you who wrote that.”

“No, that was my mother, a week after her marriage. She was very happy in those days, so she often told me. And when I was a child, I remember her singing as she worked. Her happiness made this a real house of gold. She told me that only love built a house of gold, and that I would find a different treasure in every room.” He was silent a moment, touching the words with his fingertips. “She loved my father deeply,” he said softly. “But then he died, soon after Rufio was born. She was never the same again.” He seemed to come out of a reverie. “The house is dear to me because here I have the clearest memories of her.”

“What was she like?” Terri asked eagerly.

He considered. “She wasn’t beautiful—at least, she was once before grief and toil wore her down. But when her physical beauty faded, there was another beauty that nothing could erase. She was simple and good. You could read her heart in her eyes and what you saw was always true and honest. She was incapable of a mean or petty thought, incapable of cruelty, of deviousness—” He stopped. Terri’s clear eyes were fixed on him and the sight smote him. Guilt lashed him, and with it came fear.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing, I just...realized how much like her you are. Let me show you around.”

Downstairs, there was only the kitchen and one living room. Unlike the rest, the kitchen had been modernized. It looked as though Maurizio really did spend some time here, if the gleaming new coffeepot was anything to go by. Her curiosity about him increased.

He took her hand and led her upstairs, which consisted of two bedrooms and a bathroom, all cramped. He pushed open a door to the smaller bedroom. “This was my room,” he said.

“And when you stay here, you still sleep in this room,” Terri said, glancing at the bed which was made up.

“Yes. When I was a boy, I used to sit at this window and watch the sun come up over Venice. The city is too far away to see clearly, but that only added to the magic. There was always a certain point when the domes of St. Mark’s were touched with gold. I could just make out the glow, and I used to imagine that the whole city was like that. I promised myself that one day I’d find the gold and make it mine. Since then—” he drew her gently into his arms “—I’ve discovered that there are so many different kinds of gold. A man can pursue it single-mindedly and throw away everything that matters. Or he can recognize the gold that he holds in his arms, and treasure it—and keep it.”

His mouth touched hers on the final words. She pressed herself eagerly against him and gave herself up to his kiss. She’d been waiting for this moment ever since he’d left her bed last night, anticipating it eagerly. But no anticipation could subdue the first shock of joy that his lips gave her. The feel of his hard body against hers was doubly exciting now. Last night they’d crossed a boundary and today the world was changed. In his arms she’d found joyful surrender and passionate triumph, sweet tenderness and utter fulfillment, and she would never be whole until she could know those feelings again.

She moved her lips against his, consciously inciting him, and had the pleasure of sensing the uncontrollable response his body communicated. She was ready for the moment when his tongue entered her mouth, exploring her with subtle movements that triggered shivers of pleasure through her. She touched his face, then slid her hands into his hair, relishing the feeling of the springy black locks.

Maurizio drew back a little and spoke in a shaking voice. “We ought to stop this now.”

“Why?” she murmured against his lips.

“It’s my fault for touching you at all—I shouldn’t have—”

“Isn’t it a little late to say that?” she whispered, stroking his face with her fingertips.

“I know I sound crazy,” he said in a strained voice that showed she was having her effect. “But you’re so vulnerable—we should talk before—I mean, there are things—Teresa, will you stop doing that a moment?”

“Don’t you like it?”

“I like it.”

“Is all this a way of saying you don’t want me?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Then I guess I’ll just keep on doing what I’m doing.”

Desperately he seized her hand. “Will you listen to me?” he groaned. “All my life—if I wanted something, I just took it. I never questioned my right to do that.”

“And you feel you did that with me?”

“Didn’t I?”

“No, dammit! It was my decision, too, even if you don’t think so. What is it, Maurizio? Why do you hesitate?” When he didn’t answer, she asked, “You’re not still worried because I was a virgin?”

“Let’s say—it troubled me that you were so different from what I’d imagined. It was like going to bed with one person and awakening with another.”

She laughed gaily and snuggled against him in a way that made his heart sing. “The answer’s simple,” she said.

“What?”

“Let’s go back to bed and get better acquainted. Come on.” She took his hand.

“Teresa, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”