The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (Italian Billionaires #1)(38)

She must be on her guard against it from now on. Not that she thought Nico would want to pick up where they had left off. It was simply best if nothing similar ever happened again.

Or was it? What if no man ever again made her feel the same way? What if this was the only opportunity she might ever have to taste complete fulfillment?

She glanced at the man beside her, at the stern planes of his face and dark eyes narrowed against the wind that ruffled the waves of his hair. He drove with single-minded concentration yet an expansive air, as if the road had been made for his use alone. The blood of Caesars and Frankish kings ran in his veins, was displayed in his classic profile. He was self-assured to the point of arrogance; infuriatingly certain he knew what was best for her and everyone else around him.

And no man had ever made her feel as he did. No man had ever come so close to making her forget everything except being in his arms with his mouth upon hers.

Would it be so terrible to go to bed with him? It need only be once to satisfy this painful longing, to see what it was like to be the focus of so much passion and power.

It was unlikely to go further than that, she was sure. He had so many duties and responsibilities, too many for an affair of any duration.

Soon Jonathan would be well enough to leave the hospital. She would return to the States, regardless of what happened between him and Carita. That would be the end of this Italian interlude.

Marriage would never cross Nico’s mind. If he sought a wife, when he sought one, it would be someone who moved in his own exalted circles, a polished and sophisticated woman of equal lineage, equal wealth. She would be suitable, compliant and definitely Italian.

To take advantage of a woman under his roof was against his personal code, and she didn’t believe he would go against it. Outside the villa was apparently a different matter. Or perhaps not, perhaps he had also been carried away by a sudden excess of feeling. Regardless, he had told her plainly that she would have to come to him.

Come…

A shudder gripped her, shaking her to her toes. Could she do that? Could she risk the possibility that today was a fluke, and he might no longer want her once they reached the villa? To cross that line in the ecstasy of the moment had seemed possible, even necessary, but to court it deliberately was something else again.

She was not impulsive, seldom acted without good and sufficient reason. A vagrant desire was not going to be enough to make her fling off her clothes and throw herself at Nico de Frenza. She would have to be very sure before she took the final step.

She was still thinking, still wondering, when the gates of the Villa de Frenza appeared.

Carisa came running to meet them as they drew up on the gravel court. Her face was bright with joy, and she had a drawing she had done that she wanted to show them.

It was a delicate sketch of fairies using a toadstool for an umbrella. A single glance at it showed Carisa’s lessons had included private drawing instruction at some point. As Amanda praised the sketch and handed it back, she met Nico’s black eyes over his sister’s head. Their expression was sardonic, and she flushed a little as she realized she might have misjudged him. He had apparently made some effort to engage his sister’s interests and encourage her talent.

She was not wrong about everything, however. As they crossed the entrance hall, with Carisa skipping along beside Nico swinging his hand, she piped up with a sing-song string of questions. “Where is Carita? Why is she not with you? What have you done with her? When is she coming home?”

His face took on a grim cast, and Amanda thought he sent a frown in her direction before he answered his sister. “Carita has had a small accident, cara mia. She will be home soon, so you must not fret.”

“Is it … is it bad?” The girl’s eyes widened until they were huge while her face became pasty white, almost green. “I want Carita. I want her now.

Amanda didn’t stay to listen. She was not a member of the family, and it would undoubtedly be best if she was not present while Nico explained. Let him handle the problem, she thought, since it was of his making and he had so much experience at calming Carisa.

The day had turned sultry, with a heavy feeling in the air. The villa drowsed in the heat, the warm currents of air in its cavernous rooms scented with furniture polish and flowers. Nothing moved in this hour of midday rest. The maids who came for the morning were long gone. Nonna and Aunt Filomena, and even Erminia, were likely resting in their rooms. Carisa would soon be napping, as well, though without Yolanda nearby as it was her day off. None of them would reappear for hours.

Sleep was the last thing on Amanda’s mind. Her nerves twanged with tension that needed to be released. She thought of the pool at the bottom of the garden. It had appeared so cool and inviting, but she had no bathing suit with her.

There were two or three in the collection of clothing delivered to her room. None of them had a lot of fabric, but were mere triangles held together by ribbons and chains of beads. The least revealing was turquoise and lavender with mother-of-pearl accents and a matching sarong.

The suit she used now and then in the gym pool after work was a two-piece, but nothing like these. Yet she longed for the coolness of a swim and its promise of mindless exercise.

She could, just possibly, unbend enough to use a bikini. It was only a small thing, after all — literally. The change would certainly be welcome. She would not give her host the satisfaction of knowing it, but she was heartily sick of her navy skirt and white blouses.