The Italian Duke's Virgin Mistress (15 page)

T
HE
plane had taken off. They were alone in the comfort of its elegant interior, furnished more like a small sitting room than any kind of aircraft with which Charley was familiar.

The minute the steward had left them Raphael had taken her in his arms, kissing her so passionately and with such longing that Charley had been incapable of doing anything other than responding.

‘I cannot wait for us to be alone,’ Raphael told her. ‘I cannot wait to make you properly mine again, to hold you in my arms and love you. We will spend tonight in Florence, at the apartment, and then tomorrow we will start to make the arrangements for our marriage.’

What if she simply didn’t tell him? What if she begged him to stay with her until after they were married and he didn’t see the letter until it was too late and he was committed to her? He had, after all, said that he loved her. Why should she risk losing him when she loved him so much?

Charley closed her eyes, willing away the temptation tormenting her.

‘There is something you have to know…something you
must
know, just in case you should want to change your mind about marrying me.’

There—she had said it, and now Raphael was looking at her with that same haughty frown she remembered from the first time she had seen him.

‘So what is this something—this secret from your past?’

‘It isn’t from my past, Raphael. It’s from yours.’

Hardly daring to risk looking at him, in case she lost her courage, Charley plunged on.

‘Whilst I was clearing my things from your mother’s desk, by accident I found a concealed compartment. There was a letter in it. A letter your mother had written to you and for you. I shouldn’t have read it, but I did…I sent it to you in Rome by special delivery. I hoped that when you’d read it you’d come to me, and when you didn’t I assumed…that is to say…’

‘A letter from my mother? How can that affect our plans to marry?’

Charley took a deep breath.

‘Raphael, although you didn’t know it when you made that suggestion, that selfless suggestion about us having a child, you were following in your own mother’s footsteps. She loved you so much—so very, very much—her love for you shines out of her letter. Reading it made me cry. She carried you in her body, Raphael, she loved you as her child, but you were not her biological child. Like you, she did not want to
take the risk of burdening a child with her own inheritance, and like you she made the decision to allow medical science to provide her with the means of giving birth to your father’s child without that child having to carry her genes. The reason she told you so often about those genes was because she hoped that when you knew the truth you would understand that she had taken the steps she did take to protect you—because her love for you was such that she wanted you to be free of fear, for yourself and your descendants.’

Raphael’s face was drained of colour and his mouth was set grimly. Charley’s heart sank. Surely he was not going to reject his mother’s love for him?

‘And because of this you have doubts about marrying me?’

Charley was astounded.

‘No, of course not. There is nothing I want more than to marry you. It is for
your
sake that I wanted you to know. Don’t you see, Raphael? Your mother’s letter changes everything. Now you are free to marry and have children, to have an heir, you can marry anyone you wish—someone far more suitable to be the mother of your son than I am.’

‘More suitable? How could that be possible? There is no one more suitable to bear my children than you. How could there be when it is you that I love?’

‘Oh, Raphael.’

She was in his arms, holding him as tightly as he was holding her, kissing him as passionately and hungrily as he was kissing her.

‘You are my life,’ he told her fiercely. ‘My love and my life.’

They kissed again, sweetly and tenderly this time, their kiss a shared vow, a shared commitment to their love and their future together.

‘When the garden is finished, could we name it for your mother, do you think?’ Charley asked Raphael as he released her.

She could see the sheen of emotion in his eyes when he looked down at her.

‘Yes,’ he told her. ‘We will name it for her in remembrance of the gift of love she gave to me when she gave me life.’

‘How long do you think it will be before we are in Florence?’ Charley whispered against his lips as she kissed him again.

‘Far too long for the way I feel at the moment,’ Raphael answered. ‘Far far too long.’

Only it wasn’t, and by the time the sun was setting they were standing together in the privacy of the bedroom where Raphael had first made love to her. The scent that was the only covering Charley was wearing filled the evening air.

‘This was what I wanted when you gave it to me,’ Charley told Raphael. ‘I wanted to lie in your arms wearing only the scent and your touch.’

A delicate quiver of erotic pleasure ran through her when Raphael gathered her naked body against his own, and her love for him filled her when he told her huskily, ‘I love you more than I can find the words to say. You have made me complete and brought light to the darkest places of my life. Now that you are mine I shall never let you go.’

‘And I shall never want you to,’ Charley promised him.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

First published in Great Britain 2010
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Penny Jordan 2010

ISBN: 978-1-408-91877-7