Read Online The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding by Jennifer Blake - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Blake
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gazelle eyeing a prowling lion, deciding whether to flee or
ignore danger. Either of these would indicate a more certain surrender.
And yet her defiance made his heart swell. She did not fear
him entirely. She might yet answer his unsubtle invitation.
“Oh, yes,” he said, his voice soft with promise. “I am
unsure of one thing only, and that is what you want.”
~ ~ ~
What was she to make of Nicholas de
Frenza’s declaration? Amanda worried at the question as she tugged her suit
jacket back into place with spasmodic jerks, swept trembling fingers through
her hair to tidy it. She was not used to the sophisticated games or sensual
experiments that left her lips tingling with the rush of blood, aching as if
something important had been interrupted. Nor could she be sure he meant his
warning, though she could not imagine why else he might have given it.
She barely knew the man who turned from her now to take out
his phone again, could not count even twenty-four hours since they had first
met. Relationships took far longer to develop than he seemed to be suggesting.
Besides, the idea that someone used to moving in the rarified circles of continental
society would single her out for an affair was ridiculous.
That was just as well as she wasn’t interested.
Even if her thoughts were not all for Jonathan, she would be
wary of sexual games. She had no time for them, had never felt the urge to
indulge in brief, meaningless affairs, getting naked with men she barely knew.
To start now, with someone so far out of her league, could bring only
heartache. There was absolutely no future in it.
So she was attracted to him. So he made her blood sing as it
tumbled through her veins and danced through the too-tight chambers of her
heart? It meant nothing, just as the fact that he was Italian need not
automatically mean he would be a skilled and tender lover.
Why — why — was she thinking such things when he
probably meant nothing at all beyond what he had said? Well, or else he’d been
curious to see how she would react, to discover if she was available. Had
perhaps thought they might ease their mutual stress with a fast and meaningless
joining of bodies.
It wasn’t happening.
She crossed her arms over her chest, crossed her legs as
well to ease the hollow ache between them. The next time the two of them
visited the hospital she would slip away and find her own hotel room. He could
hardly keep her a prisoner.
Yet glancing at him as he rode beside her, noting the
brooding expression in his eyes and forbidding, untamed set of his handsome
mouth, she was not entirely certain of it.
Villa de Frenza .
The words, highlighted by golden morning light, were incised
into a gracefully sculpted white marker set amidst clipped shrubbery that
flanked an enormous set of iron gates. The moss and lichen that straggled over
the marble surface made it appear so ancient and incredibly venerable that
Amanda wondered if she should recognize it from some history lesson.
Certainly, Nicholas had expected her to know the name. It
did seem vaguely familiar, in all truth, though she could not quite grasp the
reason.
They turned between the gates, nosing onto a drive that
wound between masses of sunflowers backed by evergreens. Moments later, they
came to open hills topped by dark green spires of cypress trees. Beyond was an
endless grove of silvery olives, gray ghosts of trees that marched away toward
the burning blue of the sea. Set among the olives, like a jewel nestled in soft
gray velvet, was a house of astounding beauty, a fantastic Palladian villa that
stared down at its reflection in the lake.
Villa de Frenza .
Good grief. Of course.
Astonishment gripped Amanda as she recognized the famous
structure of stone turned mellow-gold with age, with its perfectly proportioned
wings on both sides and dark green shutters arched to match the windows they
covered, its elaborate front entrance with columned portico featuring a
cartouche embossed with
ignore danger. Either of these would indicate a more certain surrender.
And yet her defiance made his heart swell. She did not fear
him entirely. She might yet answer his unsubtle invitation.
“Oh, yes,” he said, his voice soft with promise. “I am
unsure of one thing only, and that is what you want.”
~ ~ ~
What was she to make of Nicholas de
Frenza’s declaration? Amanda worried at the question as she tugged her suit
jacket back into place with spasmodic jerks, swept trembling fingers through
her hair to tidy it. She was not used to the sophisticated games or sensual
experiments that left her lips tingling with the rush of blood, aching as if
something important had been interrupted. Nor could she be sure he meant his
warning, though she could not imagine why else he might have given it.
She barely knew the man who turned from her now to take out
his phone again, could not count even twenty-four hours since they had first
met. Relationships took far longer to develop than he seemed to be suggesting.
Besides, the idea that someone used to moving in the rarified circles of continental
society would single her out for an affair was ridiculous.
That was just as well as she wasn’t interested.
Even if her thoughts were not all for Jonathan, she would be
wary of sexual games. She had no time for them, had never felt the urge to
indulge in brief, meaningless affairs, getting naked with men she barely knew.
To start now, with someone so far out of her league, could bring only
heartache. There was absolutely no future in it.
So she was attracted to him. So he made her blood sing as it
tumbled through her veins and danced through the too-tight chambers of her
heart? It meant nothing, just as the fact that he was Italian need not
automatically mean he would be a skilled and tender lover.
Why — why — was she thinking such things when he
probably meant nothing at all beyond what he had said? Well, or else he’d been
curious to see how she would react, to discover if she was available. Had
perhaps thought they might ease their mutual stress with a fast and meaningless
joining of bodies.
It wasn’t happening.
She crossed her arms over her chest, crossed her legs as
well to ease the hollow ache between them. The next time the two of them
visited the hospital she would slip away and find her own hotel room. He could
hardly keep her a prisoner.
Yet glancing at him as he rode beside her, noting the
brooding expression in his eyes and forbidding, untamed set of his handsome
mouth, she was not entirely certain of it.
Villa de Frenza .
The words, highlighted by golden morning light, were incised
into a gracefully sculpted white marker set amidst clipped shrubbery that
flanked an enormous set of iron gates. The moss and lichen that straggled over
the marble surface made it appear so ancient and incredibly venerable that
Amanda wondered if she should recognize it from some history lesson.
Certainly, Nicholas had expected her to know the name. It
did seem vaguely familiar, in all truth, though she could not quite grasp the
reason.
They turned between the gates, nosing onto a drive that
wound between masses of sunflowers backed by evergreens. Moments later, they
came to open hills topped by dark green spires of cypress trees. Beyond was an
endless grove of silvery olives, gray ghosts of trees that marched away toward
the burning blue of the sea. Set among the olives, like a jewel nestled in soft
gray velvet, was a house of astounding beauty, a fantastic Palladian villa that
stared down at its reflection in the lake.
Villa de Frenza .
Good grief. Of course.
Astonishment gripped Amanda as she recognized the famous
structure of stone turned mellow-gold with age, with its perfectly proportioned
wings on both sides and dark green shutters arched to match the windows they
covered, its elaborate front entrance with columned portico featuring a
cartouche embossed with
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