Mediterranean Tycoons: Tempting & Taken: The Italian's Runaway Bride / His Inherited Bride / Pregnancy of Revenge

CHAPTER SIX

THEY were married four days later on the Friday, and Kelly, walking out of the registrar’s office with Gianfranco’s arm around her shoulders, was still reeling from the speed of it all.

‘Wait.’ Margaret, who had agreed with her brother Jim to be their witness, stopped them on the steps. ‘You have to have a photograph,’ she said, and raised her camera to her eye. ‘Say cheese.’

‘I’d rather say sex,’ Gianfranco whispered in Kelly’s ear, and brought a beaming smile to her face.

‘You are insatiable,’ Kelly chuckled a moment later, her blue eyes laughing up at him. The past few days they had made love morning, noon and night. In between, Gianfranco had organised everything. Kelly had resigned from her job, and her family home was up for sale with a local estate agent, Gianfranco insisting her home was going to be with him from now on.

The only thing Kelly had done herself was shop; she had bought a trousseau of sorts, given the limitations of her figure: lacy underwear and a couple of satin nightgowns, a few smart-casual clothes and one cocktail dress, plus the outfit she was wearing.

It was a winter-white cashmere dress, long-sleeved, with a softly curved bow-neck that revealed a hint of cleavage. The fine wool skimmed her figure, and flared ever so slightly from her knees almost to her feet. Elegant and ideal for a January day, it moulded her stomach, but Kelly didn’t mind. If famous film stars could reveal their bumps in the nude, she told herself, her small tummy was perfectly acceptable. Apart from her posy of yellow rosebuds, her only adornment was the diamond crucifix around her slender throat.

‘You look beautiful,’ Gianfranco told her as he helped her into the waiting car. ‘My wife,’ and he kissed her with a very self-satisfied grin on his handsome face.

Seated in the VIP lounge at the airport, Kelly glanced across at her very new husband. He was standing by the business desk, sending messages to heaven knew where, while they waited for their flight to be called for Rome. He made her heart leap with love. He looked so devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored dark navy three-piece suit, and brilliant white silk shirt. A lock of black hair fell forward over his broad brow, and she watched with some amusement as he gesticulated with one hand while talking on the telephone. In that moment it hit her how very Latin he was.

The briefest of frowns marred her smooth brow as for the first time she wondered how she would get on living in what was for her a foreign country, with Gianfranco and his family.

Kelly stood on the balcony later that day and gaped in awe at the view before her. The whole of Rome appeared spread out below. Two strong arms wrapped around her nonexistent waist, and a dark head bent and a warm mouth nuzzled her ear. ‘You like the view, cara?’

Like it? She loved it! She’d unpacked her suitcase while Gianfranco had made a few urgent business calls, then he’d given her a swift tour of the penthouse—the sitting room was comfortable but elegant, decorated in blue and gold, the furniture was a selection of tasteful antiques, while the master bedroom was a symphony in cream and dark rose and the other three bedrooms were just as elegant.

She turned slowly in the arms that held her, and beamed up into Gianfranco’s darkly handsome face. ‘The view is magnificent—the apartment is magnificent.’ Reaching a slender finger to his face, she added, ‘And you are magnificent.’ As she traced the outline of his sensuous lips with the pad of one finger, her blue eyes meshed with his. ‘Can we stay here forever?’

A long kiss later Gianfranco answered. ‘Not for ever, but for the next three days certainly. Then we must go to my country estate, and I will have to get back to work.’

‘Do you think your family will like me?’ Kelly voiced her fear. ‘Maybe you should have asked them to the wedding?’ Gianfranco bent his head, his lips brushing hers again, and she savoured the sweetness with the tip of her tongue as he grinned down into her luminous blue eyes.

‘They will love you, and there wasn’t time to ask them to the wedding. Anyway, you have already met Mother and Olivia, and they know why we married. Mother is arranging a reception for you in two weeks’ time to introduce you to everyone.’ Something about what he said disturbed her, but before she had time to think he added, ‘But right now I want to start the honeymoon.’ Bending down, he scooped her bodily into his arms, with an easy strength that made her lace her arms around his neck and nuzzle her lips against the pulse that beat in the strong column of his throat as he carried her through to the bedroom.

‘Do you have any idea how much I want you?’ Gianfranco asked roughly as he lowered her to her feet and speedily divested her of her clothes. ‘How much I ache for you?’ And his own clothes were removed.

Kelly’s heart raced at the sight of him. He was all-powerful, virile male, and the very air in the room seemed charged with an electric current of sensualism.

Gianfranco’s dark eyes roamed possessively over her naked form, the high, firm breasts, then lower to the growing swell of her stomach, and lower still to the soft curve of her hips and thighs.

Kelly proudly exulted in his scrutiny; this was her husband. Her own gaze swept over his wide shoulders, the mat of soft, dark hair on his broad chest descending in a fine line to brush out and cradle his sex. She heard the harsh intake of his breath and the sudden rise and fall of his chest, and tilted back her head to look up at him.

Gianfranco’s deep, dark eyes seemed to pierce her soul as he reached for her. ‘Kelly, my wife,’ he growled. ‘At last.’ He hauled her to him with a savage urgency that surprised her.

Her hands found his shoulders as his tongue plundered the tender interior of her mouth. He kissed her deep and long, his hard body burning against her, until her head swam and she could hardly breathe. Then he lifted her to the bed.

‘Gianfranco.’ Kelly surfaced long enough from the heady magic of his kiss to say his name.

‘Who else?’ he growled sexily. ‘You are mine now.’ He muttered something huskily in Italian before his mouth dipped down to capture one taut nipple and suckle her tender flesh with intense erotic delight that drove her wild with wanting.

In the long passion-filled hours that followed they fed off each other’s hunger to the point of exhaustion. Kelly thought Gianfranco had taught her all about love in the past few days, but he still surprised her.

‘You make me insatiable,’ Gianfranco rasped on a shuddering sigh as he reluctantly withdrew from the sleek heart of her and drew her gently into the hard curve of his body. ‘I must remember you are pregnant, and control myself.’

Kelly smiled. She had lost count of the times he had driven them both to the brink and over. ‘A bit late now, my love,’ she murmured sleepily, resting her head on the side of his chest, her long lashes falling down over her sapphire eyes. ‘But it is our wedding night.’ She whispered the words against his sweat-slicked skin, her body sated and exhausted.

A sound jerked her out of a deep sleep and, rolling over on the bed, she reached for Gianfranco and found only space. Hauling herself up into a sitting position, she blinked and looked around. Their holiday was obviously over.

The past three days had been the most marvellous of her life. Gianfranco had shown her Rome, the Colisseum, the Trevi fountain, where she’d thrown the obligatory coin, all the obvious tourist attractions, and a few not so obvious. There was the tiny church tucked away in a narrow street, with an altar screen of unbelievable beauty. A small restaurant with plastic tablecloths, serving the most mouth-watering food in Italy, according to her husband.

A sigh of sheer contentment was followed by her stomach’s rumbling. She was eating for two and they had missed dinner again last night. Slipping out of bed, she padded to the bathroom and after a brisk shower she walked back into the bedroom, wearing only a large fluffy towel tucked around her body toga-style.

‘Good morning, cara,’ Gianfranco drawled huskily, placing a loaded tray containing coffee and a selection of pastries down on the bedside table. He walked towards her, his eyes bright with amusement at her scantily covered, rumpled state. ‘Sorry to rush you, but I want to make it home by midday if possible.’ He pressed a swift kiss on her lush lips.

‘Monday morning and the honeymoon is over.’ Kelly sighed dramatically, her blue eyes sparkling up at him; he looked devastatingly attractive in blue jeans and a black Armani sweater.

‘Don’t worry,’ Gianfranco instructed, ‘I will take you on a proper honeymoon—anywhere you want. The Maldives, the Caribbean. Once our child is born and we can be alone.’ His deep voice dropped sexily and, lifting his hand, he brushed her hair behind one ear. The touch of his warm fingers and the sensual promise in his dark eyes made her heart skip a beat. ‘I promise,’ he mouthed against her slightly parted lips, and kissed her again. ‘Now eat and pack and dress.’ With a tender pat to her stomach, he spun on his heel and left the room.

Refreshed by the coffee and food, in five minutes she was dressed in a pair of pale grey trousers, in fine wool blend, and a crew-neck blue sweater. On her feet she wore comfortable black loafers, and she had draped a dove-grey leather jacket over the suitcase. She gave her hair a quick brush, leaving it to fall long and straight from a centre parting, and she was ready.

‘Ready?’ Gianfranco demanded sauntering back into the room and looping a long arm around her waist.

‘I guess so.’ Kelly’s eyes were nervous as she glanced up at him. ‘I hope your mother likes me…’

‘You worry too much,’ he teased, and kissed her again, and when she was suitably breathless he lifted his head. ‘I adore you, and my mother likes whoever I like,’ he drawled with unconscious arrogance, and, bending, he picked up the suitcase. ‘Come on.’

If he thought he was reassuring Kelly he was wrong. Common sense told her no woman was going to be delighted to have missed her only son’s wedding and then have him turn up with a pregnant wife. Acceptance was the best she could hope for, she reasoned, and the first seed of doubt took root in her heart. Had she done the right thing in marrying Gianfranco? She loved him, but would love be enough?

Kelly looked out of the window of the Ferrari with some trepidation as Gianfranco brought the car to a halt in a huge paved courtyard outside the impressive entrance portico of his family home. They had stopped on the way for lunch, but now they had arrived there was no ducking the inevitable any longer; she was about to meet his mother as his wife. She glanced back at her husband, but he was already out of the car and a second later had opened the car door for her.

‘Welcome to Il Casa Maldini.’ He gestured at the huge building with a wave of one hand, and, grasping her arm, helped her out of the low-slung sports car. ‘A Ferrari was obviously not designed for a pregnant lady,’ he said, grinning down at her as he swept an arm around her shoulders. ‘From now on we will use the Mercedes.’

With some astonishment Kelly realised ‘Il Casa Maldini’ was actually engraved in the stone lintel above the great door. ‘Some house,’ she murmured. She tipped her head back and stared up at the building. Built in an open-ended rectangle, three storeys high, it was enormous. The ochre stuccoed walls gleamed golden in the pale winter sunshine.

‘Sì, my family has owned the land around here for countless generations. Maldini is a very old and very much respected name,’ he stated as he led her up the steps to the massive double doors, now magically opened by a small white-headed man.

In a flurry of introductions Kelly discovered the man’s name was Aldo, his wife Maria was the cook; there were six more servants whose names she barely registered, and finally a young girl of about eighteen, Anna, who smiled shyly when Gianfranco introduced her to Kelly as her personal maid.

His mother appeared from a room at one side of the massive oak-panelled hall, and welcomed her son with a kiss on each cheek. Her greeting to Kelly was less demonstrative.

‘I am sorry I missed the wedding, but it was so unexpected, so quick.’ And her dark eyes, so uncannily like her son’s, dropped down to Kelly’s stomach and then quickly back to her face as she added, ‘Welcome, Kelly; I know you inglese shake hands.’ She held out a perfectly manicured hand.

‘Thank you,’ Kelly murmured. Hot colour scorching her cheeks, she took the hand offered her and hoped she had made the right noises, feeling intimidated by the woman, the line of servants and the overwhelming grandeur of the place.

Five minutes later, seated on a rather hard satin-backed sofa, Kelly looked around her in barely concealed awe. The furniture was all antique, and the magnificent marble fireplace was a masterpiece. But it was the ceiling that made her gasp, being exquisitely painted and depicting some kind of pastoral scene, with men and women lying around in various stages of undress, draped in vines and flowers.

‘Kelly? What would you like?’

Kelly tore her gaze away from the stunning frescoes and glanced across at Gianfranco. He was standing by the fireplace, a thumb hooked in the hip-hugging band of his jeans, his other hand curved around a crystal glass half-full of what looked like whisky. Aldo the butler stood a few paces away from him.

‘Alcohol is out for you, but coffee, or fresh juice? Aldo is waiting.’

‘Oh, I’ll have a cup of tea, please.’ Kelly said the first thing that came into her head. She had not realised they were waiting for her.

‘You are so English,’ Gianfranco’s mother said with a little laugh. ‘I think you will find our ways quite strange.’

Aldo left after a quick command from Gianfranco, and then he turned to smile down at his mother. ‘Rubbish, Mamma. Kelly will soon learn. With you to teach her, how could she not?’ And the two of them shared a look of mutual understanding.

Watching, Kelly felt vaguely left out for a second, and not at all sure what it was she was supposed to learn from her very grand-looking, elegant mother-in-law.

Aldo returned and served the tea, while Gianfranco and his mother carried on a conversation in Italian, which effectively excluded Kelly. She knew some Italian, and had for the past few months been trying to learn more with the help of tapes, but they spoke too fast for Kelly to pick up more than a few words.

Suddenly dark eyes were turned on Kelly. ‘Excuse us, Kelly, but my son and I have so much to catch up on, and I forget you do not speak our language.’

‘That’s perfectly all right,’ Kelly said quietly, returning her teacup to the tray. ‘I understand…’ she hesitated ‘…Signora Maldini.’ She had no idea how to address her new mother-in-law.

‘Oh, please, as we are all going to live together, you must call me Carmela.’

Kelly smiled. ‘Why, thank you, Carmela.’

‘My pleasure, and now if you have finished your tea, perhaps you would like Anna to show you the main part of the house, and then to your suite.’ A bell was rung and in minutes Anna appeared at the door.

She was being sent to her room! Kelly almost laughed out loud. ‘No, really—’ she began to object, when Carmela cut in.

‘In your delicate condition I am sure you will appreciate a rest in the afternoon. We dine at nine.’

Kelly glanced expectantly up at Gianfranco, sure he would object to what sounded to Kelly like a dismissal and offer to give her a guided tour himself. But instead he strolled across to where she sat and, reaching for her hand, urged her to her feet.

‘Mamma is right. You go along with Anna. I have a few calls to make.’ His lips brushed hers in a fleeting caress and, turning her towards the door, he patted her bottom. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

Hiding her disappointment, Kelly followed Anna as she dutifully pointed out the many reception rooms. Then she led Kelly up the grand staircase and along various corridors, pointing out Carmela’s suite and Olivia’s next to it. Kelly was slightly surprised at the mention of Olivia; she had not realised the woman lived here as well. The upper floor was the servants’ quarters.

Gianfranco’s suite was in the west wing of the house, and was more like an apartment, but without a kitchen. One huge bedroom and a large dressing room, two bathrooms, a comfortable sitting room and another slightly smaller bedroom. Standing in the middle of the sitting room, Kelly looked around, her mood lifting as she surveyed the fire burning brightly in the fireplace. It felt warm and welcoming. She sighed with relief and dismissed the maid.

One wall was lined with shelves and books. Old trophies were scattered around and, reading the inscriptions, Kelly realised they were for sailing. A large leather sofa and two armchairs were placed around the fireplace, and in one corner stood a writing table, in another a huge state-of-the-art television…