Claimed by the Sicilian: Sicilian Husband, Blackmailed Bride / The Sicilian's Red-Hot Revenge / The Sicilian's Wife

‘It isn’t,’ Guido assured her, but then, just as she was allowing herself to relax just a little, he smiled again and went on, ‘It doesn’t need to be. I don’t have to offer any ultimatums, or make conditions about this—I know you and I know how we are when we’re together.’

The arrogant confidence of that assertion took Amber’s breath away, leaving her gasping in disbelief.

‘You’ll stay with me for as long as is needed to let this whole chiasso over your attempt at a second marriage die down and while we’re together you’ll still be my wife. I’m sure you’ll soon remember that the state of matrimony has its pleasures as well as its ties.’

‘I won’t—I’ll never…’

The words shrivelled on her tongue as he took the couple of long strides that brought him to her, standing right in front of her and sliding one powerful hand under her chin, lifting it so that he was looking down into her face. The darkened eyes burned on her skin, the clean male scent of his body was all around her, and her mouth was so dry that she had to slick her tongue over her lips to moisten them.

‘What is it they say about “never say never”, hmm, cara? Because, believe me, in our case it will be true.’

‘Nev…’ Amber began but had to swallow down the word when he shook his dark head almost gently, that smile playing at the corners of his seductive mouth once again.

‘Hush…’ he murmured softly, laying one finger over her mouth to silence her. ‘Don’t say anything you might regret later. I’m happy to wait—for a while.’

His tone heavily underlined the ominous words.

‘I know you will be worth waiting for. But I also know that you will find it harder than I ever will.’

With that restraining finger still on her lips, Amber didn’t dare to speak, to protest, besides, she had no idea what she could say, what argument she might be able to drag up to refute his shocking assertion, his outrageous self-confidence. So she had to content herself with widening her eyes in a look of total disbelief, praying that her expression communicated the meaning she wanted.

But Guido simply ignored her silent refutation of his claim. Removing his finger and replacing it with his mouth, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss onto her partly open lips, taking her breath and all her composure with it as he did so.

Oh, how she wished she could control her reactions to his touch! She wanted to stay absolutely still, to show no response at all. To convince him by her behaviour that his kiss meant nothing to her. That she was immune to his touch…

But her treacherous body just wouldn’t get the message that her terrified, rational brain was screaming at it. Instead of stiffening, her slender frame melted against his. Her mouth softened, letting his tongue slide tormentingly over her hungry lips, dip into the heat and moisture beyond them.

‘You see, bellissima,’ he murmured against her mouth, stealing another kiss as he drew breath to speak, ‘I know you. And I know what you want.’

‘I don’t…’ Amber tried but he shook his head and sealed off the words with another, deeper kiss, one that made her head swim, set her blood pounding.

‘You don’t want a cold-blooded English aristocrat like Rafe St Clair. You need a real man.’

‘Like you, I suppose?’ Amber wrenched her mouth away and tossed back her head to challenge him, green eyes blazing into bronze-rimmed black with what she hoped was daring defiance. She was struggling to deny her own senses, the yearning need that just his kiss, his touch had wakened in her all over again.

Guido smiled that tiger’s smile again and ran his finger down the side of her face, along her neck and into the low V at the front of her dress, the curve of his lips growing as he watched the shuddering response she couldn’t control.

‘I can give you more than your water-in-his-veins Englishman can ever offer you. I can give you the passion you need, the sensuality you crave. I know what it was like between us; what it can be like again. I can—’

‘No!’ Amber actually stamped her foot hard on the flagstones, shaking her head so hard that her veil flew wildly around her head, yet more strands of chestnut hair escaping from the ornate style and dangling about her face. ‘No, no, no! That isn’t what I want and it isn’t what’s going to happen. What we had was a mistake—the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my life. It isn’t going to happen again. I’d rather die than go back to that.’

‘You, carissima, are a liar,’ Guido told her softly. ‘Your words are a lie—your protestation too. You lie even to yourself—and you don’t do it terribly well. I shall enjoy proving your words to be untrue, even if it takes me some time. One day you will come to me, begging me to forget you ever said such things—and I…I will be waiting. The wait will be worth it—you will be worth it. Now…’

He held out his arm to her, obviously meaning her to take it.

‘What?’

Still stunned by what he had said to her, the way he had dismissed her protest, Amber could only blink in stunned confusion.

‘We are going to put the first part of our plan into action. We are going out there—as man and wife.’

‘We—are?’

He still expected her to go with him, after what he’d just said? After the promise, the threat, he’d just made?

‘Do you wish to back out of our agreement?’

Did she? And, more to the point, could she? Because if she didn’t go with Guido, then that left her with—with nothing, she admitted to herself miserably. With nothing and no one. It was Guido or…

Silently she shook her head, flinching inwardly away from the grim satisfaction she saw in his face, the dark triumph that gleamed in his eyes.

‘Then…’

Once more he held out his arm and this time she nerved herself to put her own arm in his, resting her hand on the hard strength of his forearm, feeling the tight power of muscle under her fingertips. The heat of his body seared her where her elbow was clamped against his side, pressed against the strong wall of his ribcage, sensing the heavy, regular beat of his heart so close by.

He had pushed his spare hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a slim, silver-coloured mobile phone and flicking it open. With his thumb he pressed a single speed-dial button.

‘What…?’

‘I have a car waiting near by,’ he told her before speaking into the phone, obviously issuing a string of instructions in fast, authoritative Italian. ‘Franco will bring it to the gate—that way we will be able to get away as quickly as possible and so, hopefully, won’t have to endure too much from the vultures outside.’

‘But they’re going to ask for a statement—something to explain all this…What are you going to say?’

‘Leave that to me,’ Guido told her, his tone deep and firm. ‘Just follow my lead.’

And suddenly it was all that she wanted to do—to surrender herself to the strength of his body, the strength of his mind. To let him take control and handle everything as she knew he was more than capable of doing.

And if she had been able to think of anything for herself, or been able to act for herself, as soon as they started to move a sudden, flashing awareness slashed deep into her soul and took any last remaining ounce of strength from her, depriving her totally of the will to do anything.

As they walked down the aisle, arm in arm, towards the church door, she suddenly had a terrible, cruelly clear vision of just what they must look like to anyone seeing them there like that. She in her bridal finery, in the long white dress and the veil, the sweeping train that flowed from her waist at the back. And Guido in smartly tailored black, his head held high, his hand on her arm as he led her away from the altar and out towards the door at the end of the aisle.

Seen like this, anyone might take them for the bride and groom—the happy couple leaving the church after their wedding, starting out on a lifetime of happiness, a lifetime of love and sharing together as man and wife. And the image was so false, so deceptive, that it shrivelled her heart into ashes just to think of it.

And then, when she was least ready, least able to cope with it, her mind threw up another, even more painful memory. She saw herself as she had been a year before, on a late-winter day in Las Vegas. The whole wedding had been arranged in such haste, on such an impulse, that she had only a soft white cotton sundress to wear; no veil. Her only flower had been the single blood-red rose that Guido had given her as she got out of the taxi at the little wedding chapel he had booked for them to take their vows. She had had none of the silk and the lace that she wore now. No sweeping train, no fine tiara in her hair, but she had been so happy that day, so full of hope and joy for the future. Until the man she had married, the man who now walked beside her in a bitter parody of the walk of happiness of that day, had proved himself as false as she had come to believe that wedding to be.

Bitter, stinging tears burned in the back of her throat, pricked at her eyes, threatened to spill out wildly so that she had to keep blinking fiercely to hold them back. She couldn’t see where she was going, had to rely on Guido to lead her, to get her to the door—to open it—and then she was outside, blinking in the blinding combination of sunlight and flashbulbs, hearing the click and whirr of cameras, the sudden shouts of interest, the litany of questions.

‘Miss Wellesley—Amber…’

Tears blurred her eyes so that she couldn’t see, she almost missed her footing and would have fallen down the stone steps if Guido hadn’t reacted instantly, his strong arm coming round her, holding her tight at her waist, supporting her and halfcarrying her along with him.

‘A couple of questions…’

But this time there was a difference. This time she wasn’t the only one who was in the firing line. It came as a shock to hear Guido’s name, too, in the shouts and calls for attention.

‘Just a word, Mr Corsentino…’

Halfway down the steps, Guido came to a halt, still holding her tightly. Automatically, she turned to him, confused by the sudden halt to their progress. But his eyes weren’t on her; instead they were surveying the crowd around them, scanning the scene with cool control.

‘I will issue a full statement later today that I hope will answer all your questions, but for now all you need to know is that my wife and I have reconciled. What happened here today shocked us into the realisation that we still care deeply for each other and we want to work towards a new future together. All we ask is that you give us a little peace and privacy to do so.’

To Amber’s amazement the announcement seemed to work. Certainly, the buzz of questions seemed to lessen and, although the cameras still flashed, it was with less frenetic intensity.

She barely had a second to register it, for just at that moment a sleek and powerful car swept to a halt just outside the lych-gate.

That couldn’t be…

But even as she formed the thought, Guido had tightened his grip on her waist and was striding through the group of newspaper men, taking her with him, whether she was ready or not.

She had a vague, blurry impression of a uniformed figure getting hastily out of the car and opening the door to the back seat for them, standing by while Guido helped her inside and then joined her on the soft leather seat. The door was slammed, the driver taking his own place and starting the engine before she had fully registered just what was happening.

A few seconds later they were on the road and speeding away from the church.

Guido sat back in his seat and raked both his hands through the black sleekness of his hair, before he turned those deep, burning eyes on her. There was no warmth in them, or showing on his face. Instead once again that cold, ruthless control that she had seen in the church was etched firmly onto his stunning features.

‘Well, that is stage one,’ he told her, his voice flat and emotionless. ‘Now for stage two.’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘WHERE are we going?’

It took Amber longer than he had anticipated to ask the question, Guido admitted. He had expected that the words would be the first thing out of her mouth as soon as they were away from the church. But instead she had surprised him by remaining silent for a good few minutes, seemingly turned in on herself, huddled in the corner, her eyes almost closed, her hands clasped together in her lap.

In fact, he had been so convinced that she had been shocked into speechlessness that he almost jumped when he heard her quiet voice and turned to see that she was sitting up more, her green eyes puzzled and a faint frown drawing her chestnut brows together as she considered the route they were taking, the countryside flashing past.

‘I said, where are we going?’ she repeated when he hesitated for a second. ‘Where are you taking me?’

She wasn’t going to like the answer, Guido reflected inwardly. In fact. he was pretty damn sure that their destination was going to be the very last place on earth that she wanted to be. But from the moment that she had agreed to come with him, he had decided that this was the way he wanted to play things and he had no intention of going back on that decision now.

‘We’re going to…’ he began but then the way that the car rounded a sudden bend in the road took away the need for any answer at all. Looking into Amber’s face, he saw it change. Saw those big green eyes widen with shock, her soft pink mouth fall open in disbelief as she recognised the huge, elegant, white-painted building that lay ahead of them.

‘No!’

For long, stunned seconds she simply stared, shaking her head in confusion and incredulity. Then:

‘No!’ She rounded on him in a fury. ‘No way! This is the hotel where the wedding reception was supposed to be held!’

‘I know—and it’s where the—’ he hunted for a suitable word ‘—the non-wedding reception is still being held. Franco told me that your would-be groom’s parents have decided not to waste the cost of the banquet they had ordered for the wedding of their son and heir. They invited all their friends to come back here after the wedding was called off.’

‘So why are we here?’

‘I thought it would be a good idea to join them.’

‘You thought!’ Amber spluttered furiously. ‘Well, you can just think again. There’s no way on earth I’m going in there.’

‘Oh, but you are.’

‘I can’t! They won’t want to see me—in fact, I’m the last person on earth they would want to have appear at their—their wake for the wedding that never was. You saw what happened at the altar.’

‘I saw.’

Guido’s tone was dark as his thoughts as he remembered just how Rafe St Clair had reacted. The man was a hypocrite as well as a coward. Even if his own slate had been totally clean—which it wasn’t—he still had no right to speak to any woman that way.

‘Then you’ll know that they’re hardly going to welcome me with open arms—they’re far more likely to slam the door shut in my face.’

‘They won’t do that because I am going in there with you.’

It was meant to reassure but it had the opposite effect. What little colour was left in her face fled from Amber’s cheeks, making her eyes burn even more emerald-bright than ever.

‘That will just make matters worse! Why are you doing this, Guido? What do you hope to gain from it?’

‘Gain?’ Guido queried sharply. ‘I would have thought that was obvious. I want them to see that you are with me now.’

‘Only until the furore dies down. And do you have to rub their noses in it?’

‘Rub their…?’

Guido threw up his hands in exasperation at the impossibility of understanding some of the most peculiar of English phrases.

‘If you mean that I want to make sure they realise the way things are now, then yes. Yes, I do. You are mine. The Press know that—the paparazzi know that—and now your high and mighty aristocratic friends will know it too.’

‘Very few of them are my friends—even when I was going to marry Rafe, they weren’t too keen on me. I was never into hunting, shooting and fishing—and they’re definitely not going to be too friendly now. Guido, please…’

Impulsively she leaned forward, laying a hand on his arm.

‘We don’t have to do this. We can just go—get away quietly…’

Did she know what that did to him? Did she know how he felt as fierce need, burning hunger kicked in, hard and sharp, low down in his body, just at the touch of her hand? The warm, soft scent of her skin was a torment to his already heightened senses, and he felt as if he was drowning in the deep, deep pools of her eyes.

Only the thought that she knew only too well the effect she had on him—she had to know, damn it—stopped him from grabbing hold of her and pulling her onto his lap, crushing her mouth under his, kissing her stupid. She wasn’t that naïve or that innocent. It was a deliberate ploy to distract him, to divert his attention from the plan he had in mind. And he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.

‘We aren’t going anywhere quietly, cara,’ he told her coldly. ‘We are going to walk into that reception and let them see that you are my wife.’

‘But I don’t want to! I can’t do it. We can just go…’

‘Go where?’ Guido snapped.

‘Your house—wherever that is.’

‘My home is in Sicily. And do you really think that you could travel all that way—take a flight in a plane—without your passport…and dressed like that?’

It took a moment for the impact of his words to hit home. Just for a second or two she stared at him blankly, obviously not knowing what he meant. But then she followed the direction of his gaze and a small, shocked sound escaped her throat.

Had she actually forgotten that she was still in full bridal finery? That she still wore the beautiful silk dress, the veil…?

Obviously she had because the eyes she now turned on his face again were shocked, clouded with consternation and uncertainty.

Did it ever cross her mind, as it had his so many times during the short journey, that to anyone on the outside, anyone who watched the car go past with the pair of them in it, must think that they were the bride and groom, leaving their wedding, heading for the reception?

Cold fury slashed at him at the contrast between the way it was now and the way it had been a year before, in Las Vegas. There, they had left the tacky little wedding chapel and driven back to her hotel with Amber giddy and giggling all the way. She had hung on to his arm as if she couldn’t believe that he was real and for a while, he had let himself believe that was how she felt. He had tried to forget the moment in the ceremony when she had said, ‘We’ve actually done it,’ the change in her face as she’d said the words. He’d kissed her then; kissed away her doubts, he’d believed, and for a while they’d been happy. But then suddenly Amber had changed…

‘You’ll need to get out of those clothes, and your—what is it you call it?—your going-away outfit is at the hotel, as are your passport, your cases.’

‘How do you know that?’

Her uncertainty had left her in a rush and the green eyes were now noticeably sharper, definitely suspicious.

‘How do you know where my things are?’

‘Franco told me.’

A wave of his hand indicated the driver beyond the glass dividing panel. Franco was concentrating fiercely on the road, his attention tactfully anywhere but on his passengers.

‘And how does Franco know?’

‘I told him to make enquiries, as he has done since I first heard about this wedding. To find out what he could and report back to me.’

‘To make enquiries!’ Amber echoed indignantly, rejection sparking in her eyes. ‘And report back! You’ve had me investigated?’

‘Naturalmente. How do you think I knew details about your proposed wedding to St Clair? Do you think that I just happened to wander into the village on the right day, at the right time?’

If the truth was told, she hadn’t thought about it at all, Amber admitted privately. She had been too shocked, too stunned by the explosive, blow to the head effect of his sudden appearance to even be able to consider what had led up to it and just why he was there. But now that she was forced to consider it, she didn’t like what she was seeing at all.

‘Naturalmente!’ she echoed, putting all the horror she felt into the single word. ‘Naturalmente! I’ll tell you something, Signor Corsentino. In Sicily it might be perfectly fine to spy on people and “make enquiries” about them—but to my mind it’s not natural at all! In fact, I think it’s hateful and offensive—an invasion of my privacy.’

‘You’d prefer it if I’d stayed away and let you go ahead with your bigamous, illegal marriage?’ Guido drawled, the gleaming mockery in his eyes only incensing her further.

‘I would have preferred it if you’d stayed away, full stop!’ she flung at him. ‘Because of you, what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life has turned into the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.’

‘And your first wedding day?’ Guido slid the question in like a knife between her ribs. ‘What was that, then? Surely that was supposed to have been the happiest day of your life?’

‘The worst day of my life, more like!’

Amber was past caring what she said. She only knew she was desperate to score some much needed points on her side; to hit back for all the cruel punches he had already landed on her heart—her soul.

‘The worst day—the biggest mistake—the stupidest thing I ever did in my life. If you must know, I hated every minute of it.’

‘OK, I have the message,’ Guido growled.

The car had swung into the long, curving drive up to the hotel door and as soon as it stopped he was out, pushing open the door without waiting for the uniformed commissionaire to step forward and do it. For a moment Amber thought that his black fury was going to drive him to stride straight into the building, not stopping to let her get out of the car to be with him.

But then he apparently rethought his actions, almost skidding to a halt on the gravel drive and turning to hold out a strong, tanned hand to her to help her out.

Amber’s conscience stung her hard at the gesture. It was too late now to wish back the vicious words. She knew she’d lashed out in hurt, wanting to hurt, but that still didn’t make them true. When she’d married him it had been the happiest day of her life. In fact, it hurt so much now to think of just how happy she had been then. It was only later that she had come to realise what a mistake she had made.

‘Amber…’

Her hesitation was making him even more irritable. The hand that was held out to her moved in an imperious gesture, all but commanding her to stop messing about, take hold of it and get out of the car.

Knowing she had no choice but to co-operate—Guido was perfectly capable of reaching into the vehicle and hauling her out bodily if she tried his patience, which was obviously wearing very thin—Amber forced herself to take the help that was offered her, folding her fingers around his and letting him pull her towards the edge of the seat and then support her as she got to her feet.

And it was crazy, it was irrational, it was the most illogical thing in the world, but that simple touch suddenly changed everything. From shivering in the back of the luxurious vehicle, she suddenly felt flooded with courage, with new strength. The warm, hard power of Guido’s touch, the ease with which he took her weight as she stood up, adjusted her balance, seemed to flow into her body too, straightening her spine and stilling the racing panic of her pulse.

And that feeling stabbed even harder at her already uncomfortable conscience.

‘One thing,’ Guido said curtly, his tone brutal, ‘when we go in there, we go in as a team. We are together now and we act together, work on the story we agreed on. The story we have already told the Press. If by so much as a single glance, a single word, you do anything to turn that story into a lie then I will leave you there—alone with that pack of aristocratic vultures. Is that understood?’