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Authors: Catherine Spencer
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needed to know, and if he’d possessed a shred of integrity, he’d have stopped then. But he’d passed the point of no return. Blind hunger obliterated all sense of decency, he thrust harder, and in a matter of seconds was shuddering within her in helpless release.
And she? Dio perdonare lui, she lay trembling beneath him, her eyes wide dark pools in the dim light.
“Mi displace,” he muttered, when he could speak again, and stroked his hand down her cheek. “Maeve, I’m sorry… I had no idea…!”
She turned her face and pressed a kiss into his palm. “Don’t be,” she whispered. “I’m glad you were the one.”
Cursing himself with every foul expletive at his command, he went below deck and returned a minute later, wearing a terry cloth robe and bringing another for her. Wrapping it around her, he scooped her onto his lap. “How are you feeling? Did I hurt you?”
“Not really, no.” She curled up in his arms like a child.
Except she wasn’t a child—or was she? How was a man to tell these days, with girls of fourteen dressing and behaving like adults? Gripped by fresh consternation, he asked the question begging to be answered. “How old are you, Maeve?”
“Twenty-eight.”
He expelled a sigh of relief laced with astonishment. “And until tonight you were a virgin?”
“Yes. I’ve never had the time for a serious relationship.”
A different kind of alarm swept over him then. Did she think making love equaled a serious relationship? Surely not. At twenty-eight she couldn’t be that far out of touch with reality. “A woman’s first time should be special,” he said. “I must have disappointed you.”
“No. I’ll remember this night for as long as I live.”
So would he, but not for the reasons she supposed. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so rattled. “And a very long night it’s been, too. You must be exhausted.” He slid her off his lap and picked up her dress and the ridiculous panties. “I’ll show you where you can get dressed, then take you back to your hotel.”
“Oh…yes. All right.”
Refusing to acknowledge the disappointment he heard in her voice, he showed her to a guest stateroom and stuffed her clothes in after her. “No need to rush. I’ll wait for you on deck.”
He had the outboard running when she reappeared, and wasted no time whisking her ashore. He couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Not because, having had his way with her, he’d lost all interest, but because he felt lower than dirt and hardly knew how to face her.
She was staying at the Splendido Mare. He walked her as far as the front entrance, but made no move to go inside with her. He wasn’t about to risk having her invite him up to her room. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to say no. “Thank you for a very special evening, sweet Maeve,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks. “Sleep well, and buona notte .”
He’d already turned away when she called out, “What time shall I see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” He spun back toward her.
“Yes. You said you’d take me out for a spin on your yacht, remember?”
Unfortunately, he did, and if she’d been any other woman, he’d have come up with an excuse to rescind the invitation, but she was looking at him with such artless anticipation that he hadn’t the heart to dash her hopes. “Let’s say two o’clock at the marina.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you then.”
The radiance of her smile shamed him even further. “Sì,” he mumbled. “A domani.”
By the time she showed up the next afternoon, he’d rounded up a small group of friends to join them, and brought his crew onboard to ferry passengers back and forth and serve drinks and meals. Safety in numbers and all that, he’d reasoned.
Once her initial shyness wore off, she seemed to enjoy herself. Certainly none of the others would have guessed shewasn’t part of the in crowd. However humble her background, she looked and acted as if she’d been born to
And she? Dio perdonare lui, she lay trembling beneath him, her eyes wide dark pools in the dim light.
“Mi displace,” he muttered, when he could speak again, and stroked his hand down her cheek. “Maeve, I’m sorry… I had no idea…!”
She turned her face and pressed a kiss into his palm. “Don’t be,” she whispered. “I’m glad you were the one.”
Cursing himself with every foul expletive at his command, he went below deck and returned a minute later, wearing a terry cloth robe and bringing another for her. Wrapping it around her, he scooped her onto his lap. “How are you feeling? Did I hurt you?”
“Not really, no.” She curled up in his arms like a child.
Except she wasn’t a child—or was she? How was a man to tell these days, with girls of fourteen dressing and behaving like adults? Gripped by fresh consternation, he asked the question begging to be answered. “How old are you, Maeve?”
“Twenty-eight.”
He expelled a sigh of relief laced with astonishment. “And until tonight you were a virgin?”
“Yes. I’ve never had the time for a serious relationship.”
A different kind of alarm swept over him then. Did she think making love equaled a serious relationship? Surely not. At twenty-eight she couldn’t be that far out of touch with reality. “A woman’s first time should be special,” he said. “I must have disappointed you.”
“No. I’ll remember this night for as long as I live.”
So would he, but not for the reasons she supposed. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so rattled. “And a very long night it’s been, too. You must be exhausted.” He slid her off his lap and picked up her dress and the ridiculous panties. “I’ll show you where you can get dressed, then take you back to your hotel.”
“Oh…yes. All right.”
Refusing to acknowledge the disappointment he heard in her voice, he showed her to a guest stateroom and stuffed her clothes in after her. “No need to rush. I’ll wait for you on deck.”
He had the outboard running when she reappeared, and wasted no time whisking her ashore. He couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Not because, having had his way with her, he’d lost all interest, but because he felt lower than dirt and hardly knew how to face her.
She was staying at the Splendido Mare. He walked her as far as the front entrance, but made no move to go inside with her. He wasn’t about to risk having her invite him up to her room. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to say no. “Thank you for a very special evening, sweet Maeve,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks. “Sleep well, and buona notte .”
He’d already turned away when she called out, “What time shall I see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” He spun back toward her.
“Yes. You said you’d take me out for a spin on your yacht, remember?”
Unfortunately, he did, and if she’d been any other woman, he’d have come up with an excuse to rescind the invitation, but she was looking at him with such artless anticipation that he hadn’t the heart to dash her hopes. “Let’s say two o’clock at the marina.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you then.”
The radiance of her smile shamed him even further. “Sì,” he mumbled. “A domani.”
By the time she showed up the next afternoon, he’d rounded up a small group of friends to join them, and brought his crew onboard to ferry passengers back and forth and serve drinks and meals. Safety in numbers and all that, he’d reasoned.
Once her initial shyness wore off, she seemed to enjoy herself. Certainly none of the others would have guessed shewasn’t part of the in crowd. However humble her background, she looked and acted as if she’d been born to
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