The Reluctant Wife (5 page)

Katarina leaned over and hugged her so hard Caprice wiggled and squealed in her arms. She whispered in Abby’s ear, “He is fine, cara. A mother knows these things. I would know if he was sick.”

Abby’s dread did not fade with Katarina’s reassurance. It sat like ice in her stomach.

Even though she’d left him, she would hate to ever learn of a world without Dante in it. If Dante were ill, he wouldn’t want his family, especially his mother, to worry. His mother and sisters had no idea why she had returned. They didn’t know he’d blackmailed her back into his life. She wondered if Katarina would be so sure of her son’s health if she knew the truth.

“So what have you been doing all these years?” Marcia asked again.

She gave Caprice her little finger to tug on, wondering what Dante would have told them about her return. She cleared her throat. “I went home to my grandmother.”

Katarina smiled in understanding at her daughter-in-law. She showed no surprise that Abby had returned after such a long absence. “You have set up own bookstore, isn’t that right?”

Abby nodded.

Salice and Marcia shared a look. “Then why are you back?”

“That is between Dante and Abby. I’m simply thrilled that you’re back.” Katarina patted her hand. “You’ve been looking after your grandmother like a good granddaughter should. Dante told us she is not well. Her heart, isn’t it?”

Embarrassed, Abby bent her head, pretending Caprice had drawn her attention for the moment. Trust Dante to do the groundwork. They all knew she hadn’t gone home to nurse her grandmother. Still, now it was at least a half-truth. She gave a nod of consent. “Yes. My grandmother arrives later this afternoon. She’s to have an operation tomorrow. Dante organized everything yesterday.”

“Si. He has organized a welcome-home lunch with just the family before he escorts you to the hospital to visit with your grandmother. We’ll take care of her. You’ll see. She’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to seeing her again.”

Caprice began to grow fretful, and Salice took her from Abby. As Abby watched mother and daughter, and the obvious power of the bond between them, she knew that she’d love a child. Dante’s child. But she wanted the loving husband to complete the picture. That wasn’t wishing for a fairy tale—most couples, she was sure, married for love.

Abby sat in baffled silence. She looked around her. This family knew how to love. It was filled with love. Therefore, it followed that Dante knew how to love. She would get these women to help her. There had to be a way to get Dante to forgive her for deserting him and make him see what happiness they would share if he gave their marriage a proper second chance.

If she had a child with Dante, she could never walk away. It wouldn’t be fair on their child. All her life she’d wanted to be part of a large, loving family. How could she deny her child such a life? A life with siblings, cousins, and so much love. She had to make this marriage work. For everyone’s sake, even Dante’s.

Salice and Marcia moved to the edge of the pool with the children and Katarina excused herself to see to the luncheon. But what if he was ill? She felt her stomach begin to churn. Grief washed over her as the realization of what it would mean if she lost Dante made her light-headed. Stupid, really, because their divorce would have cut him out of her life as surely as death. Still, the thought of such a vibrant man ceasing to live struck at her heart.

She still loved him. She was still in love with her husband and he might be ill.

She looked up to find Dante studying her across the patio. As if sensing her distress, he was quickly at her side, and he took her hand as he crouched at her feet.

“What has upset you,
Tesoro mio?
”

Abby swiped a tear that threatened to run down her cheek at the endearment. My sweetheart. Did he mean it? She looked down on his noble face, as proud and sculpted as a Roman statue. His eyes were the warm blue of the sky today, not hard and icy. Concern was taking the sharp edges off his features. She wanted to massage the lines of strain off his forehead and make his sensuous lips turn up in a smile.

“If I ask you a question, would you tell me the truth? We promised each other that there would be no more lies.”

He looked at her hand tightly gripping his and smiled warily. “What is it?”

“Are you ill?”

He pulled his hand from her grasping fingers and straightened until he towered over her. His face formed a grin recalling that of a painted clown, false and exaggerated.

The blood in her veins ran cold.

…

Dante inwardly fumed while trying to manage the injection of warmth her concern sent racing through his veins. That was unguarded concern he saw etched on her pale face. Her very kissable lips were drawn tight as if she were trying to hold in a sob.

“You asked me this question yesterday. What has gotten you so upset today?”

Abby stood and moved closer to him. He took a step back, conscious of the effect of her day-lit beauty on his senses.

“Your mother told me about your father.”

“What about him?”

“Why did you never tell me he died of cancer?”

He glanced behind him, where he heard his mother in the kitchen with Rachele, and uttered a silent curse. What had his mother been saying?

“He’d been dead many years when I met you. I didn’t think how he died was relevant. It’s how he is remembered that counts.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

The silence was overwhelming. Before he had to answer, his mother wrapped her arms around him from behind. He turned toward her and got a big kiss on his cheek.

“It’s nice to see my son home in the middle of the day for a change.” With a twinkle in her eye and a wicked laugh, she added, “I suspect with Abby back, you’ll be home more often.”

He watched color flood Abby’s pale features. He deliberately ran his eyes over her body, resting on her breasts and the tops of her long slender legs. Her color deepened and he felt the rush of desire she always provoked in him.

“Absolutely, Mamma. What man wouldn’t want to come home to such an attractive and welcoming wife?”

Katarina looked at her watch and then began waving her arms and making shooing noises at them. “Go, you two. I can still remember the first flush of love. You have three-quarters of an hour before lunch is served. I’ll send Rachele to get you.” She looked around. “Go—before the children spot you and drag you into the pool to play.”

The last thing he wanted was to be alone in a bedroom with Abby. He’d promised to give her time, but he didn’t know if he could resist her. He pictured stripping her clothing from her delectable body, slowly, until every inch of pale skin was exposed to his sight and touch. He felt himself harden. His mother had given him the perfect excuse to be alone with Abby. It wouldn’t look as if he’d instigated any intimacy. Abby would never know that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about having her since she had entered his den the other night.

Before he could speak, Abby slipped her hand in his. “Yes, let’s.” She tugged him inside, dragging him behind her. “Thank you, Katarina. What a perfectly wonderful idea. I would like a moment alone with your son.”

Dante watched her sweet bottom sway as he followed in her wake. It sent his hunger supersonic. The plump globes beckoned and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and pinching gently.

She glowered at him over her shoulder, but he saw the tinge of color sweep up her neck and into her glorious cap of honey curls. She was as on edge as he was, he realized, taking in her contradictory signals. Anticipation was the best aphrodisiac. He was getting to the point where his plan of keeping their arrangement impersonal could be damned.

He liked this new assertive Abby. Her take-charge attitude only served to heighten his desire. In their year of marriage, while Abby had been an enthusiastic bed partner, she had never shown any inclination to take the lead. She’d never denied him whatever he craved, but she’d never instigated their intimate pleasures either.

Right now she seemed so assertive. Her effectively ordering him to be her sexual slave for the afternoon was unbearably arousing, and by the time she’d pulled him into the bedroom and he’d kicked the door closed behind them, his self-control was in peril. But when she turned to face him, she far from demanded that he undress. “I want the truth. Do you need a child because you’re dying?”

Talk about a mood killer.

Images of his father, lying wasted and broken in the hospital days before he died, displaced the tantalizing images of seconds earlier. His body still burned but now in anger. She had no right to waltz back into his life and bring up bad memories. Why could she not remain the compliant young woman who’d never questioned him and who’d always been eager to do anything to please him?

“I’m waiting.” She looked at him levelly.

He had to admire her composure. It made him want her even more. Yet he wanted the compliant Abby he remembered, too. He wanted her beneath his hands and mouth so he could hear her moans of pleasure. The need to regain control asserted itself. There was only one way to take her mind off her question. Attack.

He flashed Abby a sinful grin and began to unbutton his shirt.

Her arms, which had been folded over her chest, fell to her sides. “What do you think you’re doing?” She took a step back as he shrugged out of the garment. She waggled a finger at him. “I didn’t bring you in here for some, some...”

“Some what? Some heart-stopping, mind-blowing sensual pleasure?” He grinned while he unbuttoned his trousers.

“Stop it.” But her words were husky and there was no real censure behind them.

He watched her eyes consume his naked chest. She licked her lips.

“I’m merely going to prove to you that I am not dying.” That much was true—not yet anyway. His upcoming test results might make him a liar. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his trousers. “Why don’t you turn around and let me unzip your dress?”

Her eyes devoured him. Desire shafted through him, making him rock hard. When she saw his groin, her eyes widened.

“You did want to know if I was ill or sick.” He strode toward her retreating figure. “Let me prove exactly how healthy I am.”

She put her hands up to stop him. “There is no need. I believe you.”

“Oh, but there is. I won’t have you doubting that I’m fit enough to pleasure my wife.”

Hell, seeing her taut nipples beneath the thin linen dress she wore, and the slight tint of arousal on her skin, sent his reason fleeing. Taking Abby now had nothing to do with getting her with child.

He wanted Abby with a need verging on desperation.

Chapter Seven

Abby couldn’t think with a near-naked Dante towering over her. Her heart thundered in her chest. She throbbed with an overpowering need to touch the rippling expanse of tanned flesh so nearly within her reach.

She had to admit she’d never seen a more physically fit specimen. This body didn’t belong to a sick man. It was a body made to entice her into sin. But Dante had taught her that looks could be deceiving. Four years ago she’d deceived him into thinking they were trying for a baby, something she deeply regretted and would take back if she could. She’d lost his trust, and whatever regard he had felt for her was lost the day he’d found her contraceptive pills. It had been easy to hide that lie, betrayed only by carelessness.

What was his magnificent body hiding?

She couldn’t stop herself from drinking in his sculptured form. This time he wasn’t trying to hide his need for her. She’d often wondered if her deception had killed his desire as well as his love. Obviously not. The evidence was straining the confines of his Armani boxers.

His smile turned wolfish. He moved in close and tilted her chin, locking his gaze to hers. “Believe me, the only thing I’m dying for is a taste of your sweet lips.”

His hand cupped her cheek with a possessive touch, proclaiming his right to do so. Abby’s breath caught in her throat and she stayed absolutely still, feeling little tingles spreading over her skin.

“And I can tell from your response that you want me to kiss you. I’d like to do a whole lot more than kiss you. And you want me to.”

The purr in his heavily accented voice was thrilling, and he spoke the truth. Her body recognized him and wanted him with a yearning that bordered on near-hysteria. She’d been fantasizing about reclaiming his bed for almost three years. Could it possibly be as good as she remembered?

She touched his chest tentatively. A surge of electricity shot through her.

“You remember how good we were together, don’t you?” he murmured. “How your body sang for me. How I could make you forget everything except the pleasure I give you. Now you want to know if it will be the same, don’t you, fiore mio?”

“Yes.” She was thankful she hadn’t lost his desire along with his heart. It frightened her how much it mattered. If they had lost their intense sensual connection, she’d have no hope of winning his heart and she would’ve tied herself to a man she’d love until she died, but who would never love her back.

At her confirmation, he bent his head and took her lips in a gentle kiss. Her heart skipped a beat. It was even more tantalizing than she remembered. The connection was real. She sank into the kiss. Abby wanted him to feel her surrender. She moved closer, lifting her arms to wind them around his neck, inviting a deepening of the kiss, wanting to invoke in him the same urgent response that flared in her gut. But still, she could sense him holding back. What was he afraid of?

“You feel right in my arms. Your hair…” He rubbed a strand against his cheek. “I’ve always loved your long hair.” His lips trailed down her cheek to her ear, which he explored very deliberately with his talented tongue, arousing a surge of sensations. “Your body has filled out into lovely soft curves. I can’t wait to see all of you,” he whispered, his breath feathering the side of her face.

She pressed closer, her body too impatient to wait for his claiming. His nearness was fast becoming overwhelming. Her mind swam in awakened memories of pleasure as she reveled in the familiar strokes of his fingers.

His fingers caressed the nape of her neck, slowly tracing the line of the zipper down her spine to the dip in her back. Then both his hands glided lower, cupping her bottom possessively, and pressing her until she molded and fit intimately against him.

The pressure of his arousal against her was like a homecoming. It didn’t feel awkward or strange. His hardness reassured her that he really desired the woman she had become and that he was more than willing to have her back in his bed, never mind the why.

He kissed her again, holding nothing back this time, a long, dominating kiss. Its fierce pressure and dark heat told Abby he wanted her just as much as she needed his body. It didn’t matter why she was here. She forgot all about how he’d blackmailed her into his bed. He wanted her, and she was wanting him right back, exulting in the fierce excitement he stirred, dissolving with anticipation, her whole body yearning for him to take her.

He broke the kiss on a groan. “Turn around, Abby.” Her name was a strained plea.

She turned, on automatic, his to command. He brushed her hair aside, found the top of her zipper, and slid it slowly downward, a finger trailing on her bared skin. She shivered.

“So responsive…” The husky tone in his voice evoked a moan from between her lips, erupting from the need he enflamed deep within her.

She pushed back into him, as avid to stoke his desire as he was hers. She felt his hardness surge against her bottom, filling her with elation at her own power over him as he pushed the dress from her shoulders. It dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap.

He unclipped her bra expertly and slid his hands around to cup her breasts, kneading their soft fullness.

“I wish we had more time. I want to luxuriate in the feel of you.”

Her reply, murmured between swollen lips, was lost as his fingers fanned her nipples into tautness. “God, I’ve missed this.” The words sounded anguished, telling her he loved touching her into aching readiness.

She leaned against his chest, luxuriating in its warm breadth, at the curls of chest hair tickling her back. Her breasts swelled in his hands. He swung her around to face him.

“You still have too many clothes on,” she said, tilting her head back so he could see the unclouded need in her eyes.

She caught his look of surprise, quickly followed by a sparkle of wild, wicked joy. “I’m all yours.” His voice was thick with arousal.

“Then let me rid you of them.” She could barely get the words out, so hot and needy was her mouth. She’d never taken the lead in their lovemaking, and it sent a deep satisfaction curling through her.

“With pleasure.” He stepped back and stood proudly before her. Her blood pounded through her veins as she ached and vibrated with the desire to touch him. She ran an eager palm over his nipples and down over each indented ripple of muscle on his stomach, at last letting herself feel his abundant masculinity. Skin against skin.

His breathing quickened as her palms glided over skin that was silky smooth and pulsing with raw maleness. It overwhelmed her with awe and need.
He’s beautiful, he’s strong, he’s powerful
.
The urgent rise and fall of his chest under her questing hands was exhilarating. It seemed that their hearts hammered in unison, in a perfect merging of need with urgent need…

He took her hand and guided it lower. “Hurry… No time… I can’t wait…” He was demanding, hoarse with need. His eyes closed as Abby slipped her hand under the edge of Dante’s boxers. He gave a deep groan when her hand closed around him.

Her sense of being in control was exhilarating. Abby didn’t hesitate. Dropping to her knees, she slid his boxers to his feet as she went. Gliding her palms back up his legs, she leaned forward and let her lips taste the thick ridge of him. She shuddered deep inside as he surged against her tongue. She could feel his tension under her hands as the muscles in his thighs clenched.

He wanted more.

She wanted more.

Abby took him fully into her mouth. His deep growl made her heart race and her body moisten. He tangled his hands deep in her hair. She felt she’d only just engulfed him when he tugged gently on her hair, tilting her mouth away from him.

“I can’t take much more, Abby.”

He lifted her off her feet and strode toward the bed so urgently Abby almost laughed as he laid her down and tore off her G-string. He asked no permission, assuming an authority that answered her body’s torment.

His eyes glinted dangerously, claimed ownership as they soaked in her nakedness.

Dante hovered over her on all fours, inserting a knee between her legs. He pushed her open to him. His head bent toward hers, his eyes now blazing with the triumphant certainty that she was his to take as he wished…every nerve in Abby’s body quivered, wanted to scream
yes
.

She knew instinctively what she must do if they were to start again. The submissive Abby was banished. She planted her hands on Dante’s chest, pushing him over so he fell on his back. She straddled him, letting her hair tumble over his belly as she bent and licked his nipple.

His astonished smile soon turned to an expression of eager submission. Abby intended to burn herself into Dante’s consciousness, to leave her essence on every part of his scrumptious body, using every means in her limited arsenal.

…

Who was this woman?
Assertive Abby made him wish they had the whole afternoon to indulge their desires. His thought had been only to bed Abby before lunch to sate his thirst while masking his ruthlessly controlled desire for her. But this new Abby was sending his control spinning far beyond his grasp.

And he liked it.

She took his lips in an avid kiss, her tongue probing fiercely, playing with his in a game she was determined to win. If she kept moving above him she’d win sooner than either of them would like. She was goading him, with hands, mouth, and body, to appease the ache, to fulfill his need.

They didn’t have much time, true, but if he didn’t concentrate it would be too fast. It would make him crave her even more. He didn’t want her to understand how irresistible she truly was. That would have her believing there could be a happily ever after, and with him, that was a bad bet. He’d save her from his mother’s fate. He wanted no grieving widow collapsing at his grave.

Her mouth lifted from his and he took a gulp of head-clearing air. She let go of his arms where she’d imprisoned them above his head and slid back down his body, her lips searing his skin everywhere with kisses. He couldn’t let her taste him again—he’d be undone.

He reached for her and pulled her gently but firmly back up his body. A scowl mingled with passion on her face and she opened her mouth to protest, but the words dissolved into a moan as he sat up and swirled his tongue around a taut nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth.

He leaned against the headboard, his mouth never leaving her breast, and pulled them both into a sitting position. He exulted in the convulsive arch of her body, the firm grip on his shoulders, nails digging, urging him to engulf her other breast. He took it in with a passion, feeding off her response, remembering the heady aphrodisiac of her taste and feel.

Her thighs straddled his hips. The heat of her flesh on him hardened him still further. Hearing her ragged breathing, the eager moans purring from her throat, feeling her tremors of excitement against the rigid hardness of him, he wondered how he could ever have let her go.

She’s back now,
he thought.
And you’re never leaving me again.
He froze for an instant. Could he stop her if she ever chose to invoke her out-clause and take his children with her to England? She wouldn’t if he gave her what she wanted—love.

Love. Could he trust her? She had lied to him once. Deceived him. And then she left.

Abby sensed his hesitation and took advantage. She wrested control from him. She rose above him and slid slowly down the full, thick length of him. She shuddered as he filled her.

Charged with a wild energy, he surged upward, driving deeply into her. Totally in command now, she began to move and he was helpless to slow her rhythmic surging. He battled to disguise his intense pleasure at her wild cries of satisfaction.

Dante was hard-pressed to maintain his control. She was wild and wanton above him. He tried to silence her enraptured cries with a kiss meant to make her slow down, make it last. He wanted this to last forever, imagined them taking their pleasure in a sensual feast prolonged to exhaustion. He was determined that their first coupling since she’d left would obliterate his continual need for her. Until their physical relationship was on his terms.

He felt her inner thigh muscles pulsing and his control fled altogether. Each movement was white-hot, an anguished entreaty to finish it now, fast and fiercely. His body matched her urgency, demanded that he roll her beneath him and bring the storm of sensation to its conclusion. Abby shook her head, riding him harder, faster. “For once in our marriage you will allow me…”

The censure in her tone sent a stab of unease to his gut. Dante acquiesced. He arched against the headboard, his hands molding her hips, trying to slow her pace.

…

Abby could hardly believe Dante had surrendered to her. Never in their year together as husband and wife had he allowed her to even imagine owning what went on in their bedroom. He had always ruthlessly dominated, pushing her to a fever pitch of passion, denying his own needs until she had been completely satisfied. Just once she wanted to see him lose that rigid self-control, to be so lost in her that he gave into his feelings.

Dante inside her felt too good.

“Come for me, Abby,” he murmured, his face pressed between her breasts, his hands trying to hold her still above him. Instead, she lifted herself higher up the length of him, then slowly sank down again so her muscles clutched around him. His deep groan thrilled her. He arched upward and thrust deep, driving to repeat the maneuver. She sank down, wanting absolute possession of all he could give her.

He was moving with her now. She rocked, twisted, and teased him, feeling waves of pleasure break over her. Abby had never known anything like this. It was intoxicating—addictive—she was driving him, commanding him…her whole body keyed to reading his response, feeling his acute tension, knowing she was responsible for this crack in his control.

Now. It was now. She could feel her own peak approaching. She gripped his sides with her thighs and urged a faster rhythm. She longed to take his mastery from him, especially in the place he thought he ruled supreme—their bed. She wanted to make him lose himself in her and bring him to a place where their union was based on mutual need, not a piece of paper.