A Night In His Arms

Lucy swayed, perched on the edge of the boat. Without his support she felt bereft. She bit her tongue to stop herself calling him back. Her eyes ate him up, from the hard jut of his jaw to the dusting of hair across his broad pectoral muscles and the swell of his biceps as he lifted his arms. From the heavy arousal to the storm-dark glint of his hooded eyes.

She wanted him still. Wanted him to step back and obliterate her doubts with the caress of that clever mouth, seduce her into delight with that big, hard body. Every nerve ending danced in anticipation, undermining her resolve.

Fear surfaced. She’d never known how compelling the need for sexual gratification could be. Domenico tempted her to forget everything. She’d thought herself strong and self-sufficient. Yet all it had taken was one kiss to undo every barrier she’d spent years erecting.

What did it mean?

‘You’re right. It’s late.’ He turned away and, to her consternation, Lucy felt disappointment swell.

* * *

After an evening apart breakfast the next morning was full of silences and stilted conversation.

What had got into him?

Oh, he knew what had got into him. He’d desired Lucy from the moment he’d set eyes on her all those years ago.

How could he have come so close to sex, raw and unvarnished, with the woman convicted of killing Sandro? Guilt churned in his belly. Where was his family loyalty?

Gone the moment he held her. Evicted by sexual desire and the conviction Lucy Knight was a mystery he’d just begun to unravel. An enigma who’d haunted him for years. He desperately needed to understand her for his peace of mind.

It wasn’t only desire she triggered. He’d been beside himself with thwarted fury when he realised she’d been attacked by a family employee. His need to protect had been as strong as if she was his responsibility. His woman.

A frisson of warning crept down his spine.

Yesterday’s revelations had rocked him to the core.

For years he’d believed Lucy had engineered their initial meeting. How unlikely a coincidence that she’d literally bump into him, on his fleeting visit to Rome, when she already worked for his brother?

When the revelations had come thick and fast about Sandro’s uncharacteristic weakness for his au pair, the way she’d twisted him round her little finger and milked him for expensive gifts, it hadn’t taken a genius to work out she’d tried out the same wiles on Domenico.

He’d picked up the tension in his brother’s household that very morning on his visit, only later realising it was due to a love triangle.

Or was it?

She’d said yesterday she hadn’t known his identity before the trial. It was tempting to think Lucy lied but there was no reason now. Besides, he’d seen real hurt in her face when she’d asked why he’d avoided her. Hell! He no longer knew what to believe.

Could she be innocent?

His blood froze. The idea that he’d misjudged her so badly, letting her suffer for a crime she didn’t commit, didn’t bear thinking about.

He looked across to where she sat, eyes riveted on her breakfast as if it fascinated her.

Never before had she refused to meet his eyes.

He wanted to demand she look at him. He wanted to kiss that sultry down-turned mouth and unleash the passion that had blasted the back off his skull yesterday. Behind that reserve lurked a woman unlike any he’d known. More alive, more vital, more dangerous.

Was he out of control, ignoring what he owed his dead brother? Or were his doubts valid?

‘Mail, sir.’ The maid entered with a bundle of letters. To his surprise she placed an envelope beside Lucy’s plate.

‘For me?’ Lucy frowned. ‘Thank you.’

Who knew she was here? Someone she’d corresponded with via email? He forced himself to take another sip of fresh juice rather than demand to know who’d sent it.

She slipped a finger under the seal and withdrew a sheet of paper, discarding the envelope. That was when he saw a bold, too-familiar logo. It belonged to the magazine that had run her stepmother’s interview.

He clenched his jaw, forcing down bile. Obviously Lucy was making the most of her opportunities, accepting his hospitality while negotiating with the gutter press for a better financial deal.

It shouldn’t surprise him.

So why did he feel betrayed?

So much for the wronged innocent. How often would he let her dupe him?

‘Is it a better offer?’

‘Sorry?’ Lucy looked up into eyes of gun-metal grey, piercing in their intensity.

She blinked, stunned by the change in Domenico. His eyebrows slashed in a V of disapproval and he looked as if he’d bitten something sour.

True, she’d shied away from contact this morning, still shocked by her response yesterday. But there’d been no venom in his voice, no ice in his stare when she’d entered the breakfast room.

‘I assume from your absorption they’re offering better terms than I did.’

Belatedly understanding dawned as he stared at the paper in her hand.

Pain sliced down, sharp as a blade of ice. It tore through her heart, shredding the bud of hope she’d nursed since yesterday. Making a mockery of that warm, sunshine glow Domenico had put there with his protectiveness, his acceptance and his desire.

What an idiot she’d been! How pathetically gullible.

Hadn’t life taught her not to believe in miracles?

Domenico Volpe caring for her, trusting her even a little, would be a miracle. Yet against the odds she’d hoped some of the emotions she’d read in him yesterday had been real.

She’d almost given herself to him!

Lucy cringed at how far she’d let herself be conned.

Crazy, but even more than his sexual hunger or his protectiveness, Lucy missed their camaraderie as they’d snorkelled and watched the sunset. The sense of acceptance and liking. That had been precious. They’d shared things that were important to them both. Memories of their loved ones.

For those few hours Lucy had felt genuine warmth, a spark of liking. Of trust.

Fool, fool, fool. He’d buttered her up to get what he wanted.

‘I said—’

‘I heard.’ She looked from him to the letter in her clenched fingers. There was nothing to choose between them. At least the press was upfront about what they wanted. Domenico had tried to distract her with a show of friendliness.

And she’d fallen for it.

What was one more deceit in a world of disappointment? Yet this one gouged pain in a heart she’d told herself was too well protected to hurt again.

‘It’s an attractive offer,’ she said at last. As if the idea of selling her story to those hyenas didn’t make her flesh crawl. They’d done more than destroy her reputation. They’d harried her poor dad in his last weeks. ‘I’ll have to consider it carefully.’

Distaste burned but maybe she didn’t have the luxury of saying no any more. If she sold her story she’d get enough to start fresh. Hadn’t she earned the right to profit after the terrible price she’d paid?

Maybe if she co-operated they’d leave her alone and she could pretend to be the woman she’d been before.

And pigs might fly. The press would never let her go whilst there was a story to be sold. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, imagining lurid revelations about her attempts to live a normal life. Shocked reactions from neighbours when they discovered a killer living in their midst.

It would never end. Not for years.

She snapped open her eyes and glared as Domenico looked down his aristocratic nose at her.

A silent howl of despair rose. She’d wanted to trust him. She’d begun to open up, to believe he cared.

‘Perhaps I could canvass the other media outlets and see what they’re offering.’

His scowl was a balm to her lacerated feelings. Let him stew!

‘You haven’t already done that? Isn’t that why you spend so long on the computer? Negotiating the best deal?’

‘Actually, no. But of course you won’t believe me.’

He leaned across the table, his eyes flashing daggers. ‘If you haven’t contacted the press, how do they know where you are?’

Lucy shoved her chair back and stood.

‘Perhaps they took an educated guess,’ she purred. ‘Since they knew I was at your palazzo it wouldn’t take much to suppose I’d be at one of your properties. Maybe they’ve written to me at each one. Who knows? Maybe this is the first of a flurry of offers.’ She smiled, injecting saccharine sweetness into her tone. ‘A bidding war. Wouldn’t that be fun?’

He looked as if he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. They clenched into massive fists before him.

Lucy’s bravado ended as she recalled the stroke of those hands across her body. He’d touched her as if she were the most precious thing on earth.

She’d felt precious, desirable, special.

She forced down welling pain.

‘Here.’ She slowed as she walked past, letting the letter flutter to his lap. ‘See what the opposition is offering. Maybe you’ll increase your bid.’

Lucy strode out of the door before nausea engulfed her.

* * *

‘Excuse me, boss. Have you seen Chiara?’

Domenico looked up from his email to find Rocco at the door, concern etched on his face.

‘Isn’t she with Lucy? They spend half the day together.’

‘Chiara said Miss Lucy couldn’t play today. She said she looked upset.’ He paused and Domenico’s stomach dipped. A finger of guilt slid across his neck as he remembered the pain he’d seen on Lucy’s face when he’d confronted her.

After what they’d shared yesterday, and in light of what they’d almost shared, her anguish had been a knife to his gut. It made him feel like a jerk. Even though he was trying to protect his family, he’d been in the wrong.

Maybe because his anger wasn’t about protecting his nephew but himself? Because he’d overreacted when he’d seen her correspondence as he’d felt his illusions shatter?

Lucy Knight got under his skin as no other woman. He’d lashed out because emotion had overridden his brain.

Certainty had become doubt. But was it because he wanted her for himself or because she was innocent? He circled again and again round the puzzling truths he’d discovered about her.

She had him so confounded he didn’t know what to believe. He’d felt so betrayed this morning, discovering he couldn’t rely on his instincts where she was concerned.

Then he’d read the letter and realised she’d told the truth. The magazine had taken a chance on finding her here.

He’d been boorish and in the wrong. The knowledge didn’t sit well.

‘Chiara didn’t come in for lunch.’ Rocco interrupted his troubled musings.

‘That’s not like her.’ Domenico frowned, anxiety stirring.

‘No. She hasn’t been seen in any of her usual haunts for hours. I’m just about to search for her.’

‘Where’s Lucy?’ Domenico shoved his chair back.

‘She’s already searching.’

* * *

Most of the staff was scouring the shoreline, though no one had voiced their deepest fears, that Chiara had got out of her depth in the water. Domenico strode along the path at the wilderness end of the island, knowing someone had to check the less obvious places. That was how he ran into Lucy. Literally. She catapulted around a curve in the track and into his arms.

Domenico grasped her close. The summer sun lit her hair to gold and he inhaled her sweet fragrance. Yesterday he’d imprinted her body on his memory and now he didn’t want to let her go. Crazy at it seemed, it felt as if she belonged there against him.

‘Please,’ she gasped, her hand splaying against his chest. It trembled. ‘Please, help me.’

‘Lucy?’ He tilted her head up. ‘What is it?’

She was breathless, barely able to talk. Her cheeks were flushed and there was dirt smeared across her cheek as if she’d fallen. Domenico tensed.

‘Is it Chiara?’

She nodded. ‘Up ahead.’ She grabbed his shirt as he made to go. ‘No! Wait.’ She gulped in air and he forced himself to wait till she could speak.

‘You’ll be faster than me. We need rope and a torch. A medical kit too.’

‘The well?’ His heart plunged into a pool of icy fear.

‘No. A sinkhole. I found her hair ribbon on the edge of it and some marbles.’

Domenico’s breath stopped. If she’d been playing too close to the edge and then leaned in...

‘I’ll go and check it out.’

Lucy shook her head, her hands clutching like talons. ‘No! I’ve done that. There’s no sound from below. We need a rope to reach her. Every minute counts. Please, trust me on this.’ He read her desperation.

He thought of the way she’d cared for Chiara as they played together, and her careful nurturing of Taddeo all those years ago.

He couldn’t waste precious time. He had to trust her judgement. A second later he was gone, pounding down the dusty path to the villa.

When he returned, laden with supplies, Lucy had disappeared. He found her half a kilometre on, at the edge of the narrow hole. She was leaning down, talking. As he sprinted to her he realised she was telling a story about a brave princess called Chiara who was rescued in her hour of need.

‘She’s spoken to you?’ He shrugged off the rope looped across his shoulder and put down the medical kit.

Lucy’s face was solemn. ‘No. But I thought if she comes to and hears a familiar voice she won’t be so scared.’ Her mouth was white-rimmed and she blinked hard. Domenico squeezed her shoulder.

‘Thank you, Lucy. That’s a great idea.’ He wasn’t sure he’d have thought of it.

‘Where are the others?’ She looked beyond him.

‘Still at the shore. They’ll be here soon. Chiara’s grandmother will have got the message to them by now.’ He looked around. ‘I’ll have to tie this to that old olive tree. You keep a look out while I’m down there.’

‘No. I’ll go.’

Domenico dropped to his knees and shone the torch down the hole but he couldn’t see anything. His heart sank but he quickly uncoiled the rope.

‘I said I’ll go down.’ As if he’d let her risk her neck down there. ‘My property. My risk.’

‘Have you seen the size of that hole? Your shoulders are too wide. You’ll never fit.’

Domenico turned to scrutinise the sinkhole.

Damn! She was right. In his youth he’d done some caving but the squeezes had become difficult as he’d grown. This hole was so narrow he wasn’t sure a grown woman could get down.

Nevertheless he opened his mouth to protest.

Lucy’s fingers pressed his lips. He tasted dust and salt and the familiar sweet flavour of her skin. His nostrils filled with her scent. Despite the crisis his body tightened.

‘Don’t argue, Domenico. If I’d come out to play with her this morning this wouldn’t have happened.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ Already he was looping the rope around her, securing it firmly. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’

Deep blue eyes met his and a flash of something passed between them. Something that pounded through his chest and into his soul.

‘Thank you, Domenico. But that’s how it feels. Now, how do I lower myself?’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it all.’

* * *

The next hour was pure nightmare for Lucy. She’d never been fond of small, dark places and being confined in a claustrophobically narrow hole evoked panicked memories of her first nights behind bars, when life had been an unreal horror.

She scraped off skin getting through the entrance but to her relief, the hole widened as she progressed.

Even better, she found Chiara conscious, though barely. Lucy’s heart sped as she heard her whimper.

‘It’s all right, sweetie. You’re safe.’

Nevertheless it took an age. First to undo the rope so Domenico could send down the medical kit. Then to assess Chiara’s injuries—grazes, a nasty bump and a broken wrist. Then to bind her wrist and reassure her while she secured the thick rope around her.

Lucy wished she could go up and hold her close but there wasn’t room for two. Finally, an age later, she tugged the rope so Domenico could lift Chiara free. Lucy bit her lip, hoping her assessment of minor injuries was right. They couldn’t leave her here much longer; already she was shivering from shock and cold. Goodness knew how long it would take to get a medic from the mainland.

The shadows had lengthened and the sky clouded over by the time Lucy entrusted herself again to Domenico’s strong arms. She was breathless with relief as he hauled her up to sit on the ground. A crowd of people was there, huddled around Chiara.

Lucy gulped lungfuls of sweet air, hardly daring believe she was on the surface again.

‘How is she?’ Her voice sounded rusty.

‘She’ll be fine, but she’s going to the mainland for a check up.’ The deep voice came from close by. Powerful arms pulled her higher then wrapped her close. A sense of belonging filled her, and sheer relief as she sank into Domenico’s hold.

Weakness invaded her bones and Lucy let her head drop against his chest. Just while she collected herself. Her heart pounded out of sync as she breathed deep, absorbing the peace she found in his embrace.

How could it be? He’d berated and duped her. He’d raised her up till she felt like a goddess in his arms, then reduced her almost to tears with cruel taunts.

Her body betrayed her. It never wanted to move again.

Dimly she became aware of noise and lifted her head to applause and cheers. They were all looking at her, smiling and clapping.

‘Thank you, Lucy.’ Rocco came forward and, turning her in Domenico’s arms, kissed her on both cheeks. ‘You saved our special girl.’

His mother came next, the friendly woman who’d been so kind to her, then a string of others, some she knew and some she didn’t. One by one they embraced her and kissed her cheeks. And all the while Domenico supported her as if he knew her shaky legs couldn’t keep her upright unaided.

Warmth stirred. A warmth Lucy hadn’t known in what seemed a lifetime of cold, miserable isolation. It radiated out till her whole body tingled with it. Something deep inside splintered and fell away, like ice from a glacier. Its loss made her feel raw and vulnerable and yet closer to these welcoming people than she’d felt to anyone in years.

Finally they moved away, bustling around Chiara.

Lucy stayed in Domenico’s arms, too exhausted, too stunned to move. A smile stretched her muscles yet she felt the hot track of tears down her cheeks. She didn’t understand why she cried, but she couldn’t seem to stop. A sob filled her chest then broke out, shocking her.

Domenico’s arms tightened.

‘It’s all right, Lucy. We’ll have you home soon.’

Home? Bitterness drenched her. She was the eternal outsider. She had no home, nowhere to belong. Then she stiffened. She had to get a grip.

Lucy blinked and saw Domenico looking down at her, no arrogance, no hauteur, no accusation on his face. There was an expression in his gleaming eyes that made another splinter of ice crack away. She shivered, realising how defenceless she was against him now.

‘Thank you, Lucy, for saving Chiara.’ He lifted his hand and wiped her cheek. She’d never seen him look more serious. ‘You risked your life for her.’

Lucy shook her head. ‘Anyone would have—’

‘No! Not anyone. Lots wouldn’t have dared. If it hadn’t been for you I dread to think how long it would have been before we found her and got her out.’

His thumb swiped her cheek again, then rubbed across her lip. She tasted the subtle spice of Domenico’s skin through the salt tang of tears.

‘I was wrong about you.’ His voice had lost its mellow richness. Instead she heard strain. ‘You’re not the woman I thought. What I said this morning... I apologise.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Can you forgive me?’

Numb with shock, Lucy nodded.

Then sweet wonder filled her as he dipped his head. Their gazes meshed, their breaths mingled and something like joy swelled in her breast.

Domenico leaned in and kissed her gently, tenderly, with a reverence that filled her heart with delight and eased her wounded soul.

CHAPTER NINE

‘OF COURSE TADDEO is welcome here as usual. Nothing will ever change that. He’s my nephew and as precious to me as a son.’

Domenico thrust his hand through his hair in frustration as his sister-in-law squawked her outrage down the phone line. She was family and, for his nephew’s sake especially, Domenico put up with her.

‘Yes, Lucy’s here. Far better she stays here away from the press than selling her story. Isn’t that what you wanted?’

He eased the phone from his ear as Pia unleashed a torrent of objections. Mouth flattening, he strode to the wide terrace and inhaled deep of the fresh sea air. Pia had read about Domenico rescuing Lucy from the press and demanded to know why she was still with him.

As if he had to clear his actions with Pia!

He’d only got involved in this situation because Pia had pleaded for him to intervene.

Though this had passed well beyond a simple business negotiation. He was...personally involved.

He thought of his overwhelming relief when Lucy had emerged from that dark hole. For heart-stopping minutes panic had filled him as it seemed to take a lifetime to haul her up. Domenico tasted rusty fear, remembering.

He’d gathered her close and hadn’t been able to release her even when her well-wishers crowded around. He’d needed her with him.

Domenico scrubbed a hand over his jaw. He and Lucy had unfinished business. Business he’d delayed. It had nothing to do with Sandro or Pia or the press.

‘Calm down, Pia, and hear me out.’

* * *

Lucy heard Domenico as she entered the house. She stopped, not to eavesdrop but because he had that effect on her. She’d given up pretending. She might be weak where he was concerned but she refused to lie to herself.

The sound of that rich macchiato voice pooled heat deep in her body. The memory of his tender kiss, as if he treasured her, made forbidden hope unfurl.

‘I understand your concerns, Pia, but she’s not the woman the press have painted.’

Lucy started, realising Domenico was talking to his sister-in-law about her. She went rigid, torn between curiosity and protecting herself. Since the rescue it had been hard to keep him at arm’s length. Yet she needed to because he could hurt her badly.

She was moving away when he spoke again.

‘That was years ago, Pia. People change. She’s changed. Did you get her letter?’

Lucy’s steps faltered.

‘You shouldn’t have destroyed it. She wrote to say how much she regretted Sandro’s death. She was genuine, Pia. I’m sure of that.’

Lucy’s heart hammered against her ribs, her hand clenching on the door handle.

Domenico was standing up for her against his sister-in-law! She could scarcely believe it.

‘I understand, Pia. But it’s time we moved on. For Taddeo’s sake.’ He paused as if listening. ‘We can’t change the past, much as we wish it. I know Lucy wishes she could. She’s genuinely sorry for what happened to Sandro.’

Lucy clung to the door handle as her knees wobbled.

‘That’s your choice, Pia. But think about what I’ve said. Living in the present is the best thing for your son. He’s a fine boy, one Sandro would have been proud of. You don’t want him growing up bitter and fearful, do you?’

Domenico’s voice dipped on his brother’s name, reminding Lucy this was a private conversation.

She released the door and crossed the foyer. Confusion filled her but it didn’t dim her smile and her step was light.

Domenico had stood up for her!

* * *

Sunlight filtered through spreading branches and Lucy leaned against her cushion with a sigh of contentment.

‘More?’ Domenico lifted a bunch of dark grapes with the bloom of the vineyard still on them.

‘I couldn’t.’ She patted her stomach. ‘I’ve eaten like a horse.’

His eyes followed the movement and fire licked her. She stiffened then forced herself to relax as his gaze grew intent. Domenico saw too much, especially now when her skill at hiding her feelings had disintegrated.