Mediterranean Tycoons: Tempting & Taken: The Italian's Runaway Bride / His Inherited Bride / Pregnancy of Revenge. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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‘Gianfranco.’ Kelly moaned his name in a pleasure that was almost pain.
His head jerked up, eyes clashing with hers. ‘Did I hurt you? The baby, is it safe?’
THE baby! It was like a douche of cold water on her over-heated flesh. Struggling to sit up, she pushed at his mighty chest. ‘Get off me.’
Gianfranco reared back and, lifting her into a sitting position, smoothed her sweater down over her breasts. ‘I promised myself I would not jump on you, Kelly, but I only have to look at you to want you,’ he said huskily. ‘Even with this glorious bump.’ One large hand spread out over her stomach, and right at that moment the baby kicked. ‘It moved,’ he declared, his dark eyes fixed on her stomach in rapt fascination. ‘I can’t wait till we are married and I can look after you both properly.’ He lifted his head. ‘I didn’t hurt you or the baby?’ His gleaming eyes sought hers for reassurance.
‘No, no, you didn’t,’ Kelly said stiltedly. She could not lie to him, but neither was she going to let him walk all over her. It was the sheer conceit of the man that angered Kelly. She hadn’t seen him for almost five months, and he strolled back into her life and offered marriage as if he was doing her a favour. ‘As for marriage—that will not be necessary,’ she told him bluntly.
He did not want her; it was only the child he was interested in. And, getting to her feet, she glanced down at where he sat, the look of puzzled outrage in his dark eyes enough to make her want to laugh. ‘I can do without your noble gesture—I am perfectly capable of looking after my own child,’ she said sweetly. ‘Now, would you like a coffee before you leave?’ she offered.
Before she could move, Gianfranco leapt to his feet, his hands grasping her shoulders.
‘What the hell are you talking about, Kelly? Noble? I am not noble—I haven’t a noble bone in my body.’
‘I thought all “counts” were noblemen, or supposed to be,’ she prompted mockingly.
He paused, his hard mouth curving in a bitter, cynical smile. ‘So that is what is bothering you—the fact I have a title. I should have guessed you would be the opposite of most women of my acquaintance, who love the idea.’ His hands tightened on her shoulders, his brown eyes clashing with her blue ones, and her heart gave a curious lurch at the glittering intensity of his gaze.
‘I never wanted nor ever expected to have a title—that was my brother’s birthright. But three years ago he was killed in a yachting accident and the title was thrust upon me. Do you really think I enjoyed giving up my freewheeling lifestyle working in the financial markets of the world to take on the burden of the family estates as well, to have to work twice as hard with twice as much responsibility?’ he spelt out grimly. ‘The day I met you was the first time in three years I had taken a weekend off, and the first time I had been back to Desenzano since my brother’s death.’
‘Why are you telling me all this now?’ she asked, intensely aware of his hard male body towering over her, his long fingers kneading her slender shoulders, as if he would force her to listen.
‘Because the minute I saw you, so beautiful, so carefree, I decided to forget about everything and give myself a holiday and try to get to know you. So, yes, you are right in a way, I should have told you who I was, but for once I simply wanted to enjoy myself; is that so hard to understand?’
Kelly had never coveted wealth. She enjoyed her life, and as long as she had enough to get by on she was quite happy, but she could understand great wealth must bring with it great responsibilities. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ The thought that he thought she was beautiful was balm to her bruised heart, and slowly she was recovering from the shock of seeing him again. ‘But marriage?’ That was something else again, she thought, unaware she had voiced that thought out loud.
‘Yes, Kelly,’ Gianfranco cut in, pulling her closer to the hard heat of his body. ‘You will marry me, and have my child. I have not spent the last few months going crazy over a blonde-haired little spitfire to be turned down now.’
He smoothed a possessive hand over her quivering length, lingering on her stomach. ‘You are mine, and this baby is mine,’ he husked quietly, and smiled.
How did he do that? One minute he was all outraged predatory male and moments later he was smiling tenderly into her guarded blue eyes. ‘Yes,’ she murmured, thinking, in her confused state, he was asking if the baby was his.
His dark head lowered and he let his tongue trace the fullness of her lips before delving into the moist depths. His hand slid down her back to the base of her spine, moving against her in a way that made her blatantly aware of his arousal.
Kelly tried to remain rigid in his embrace, but her body softened against the hard heat of Gianfranco’s massive frame.
‘You want me, and I want you; what more is there to say?’ He breathed the words against her mouth and softly to her throat and ear, then back once more to her pouting lips. He nudged her lips apart again and dipped into her mouth with his tongue, in a rhythm that made a moan rise in her throat.
‘Gianni,’ she gasped helplessly, but she retained enough common sense to know he was deliberately trying to seduce her.
He felt her tremble and loved her reaction. ‘You called me Gianni; you have not forgotten.’ He groaned with feeling against her mouth, scanning her with glittering eyes filled with hunger and something more. He stared down into her dazed yet wary eyes and he wanted to take her there and then, his body screaming for release. Instead he drew in a steadying breath and eased her to arm’s length. ‘Perhaps a drink is in order, but not coffee—I need something stronger,’ he opined bluntly.
Kelly heard the faint humour in his tone and smiled. He sounded like a man sorely tried. ‘I think I can oblige. There is half a bottle of whisky left over from Christmas in the kitchen. Have a seat and I’ll get it.’
She badly needed to put some space between them. He was right about her wanting him. She did, always had since the first moment she’d set eyes on him. Gianni or Gianfranco, it didn’t matter; he was the man she loved, she acknowledged as she walked into the kitchen on shaking legs. If she was honest with herself, Gianfranco’s surprising offer of marriage was more than she had ever hoped for, and it was very tempting. She opened a cupboard and withdrew the bottle of amber nectar.
A few minutes later she walked back into the living room, with a tray bearing a glass of whisky and a glass of milk. A quick glance and she saw Gianfranco was leaning against the mantelpiece, one hand fingering the silver-framed photograph of a couple with their arms around each other. His eyes caught hers before she could look away. ‘Your parents?’ He indicated the picture. ‘I never thought to ask…where are they?’
‘Both dead,’ she said softly.
‘So you are alone in the world,’ he declared grimly. In one lithe stride he was beside her, and, taking the tray from her hands, he placed it on the coffee table. Straightening up, he handed her the glass of milk. ‘You should not carry anything in your condition.’
His fingers brushed hers as she took the glass, sending a tingling sensation up her arm. Their eyes met, his dark and knowing, hers guarded. ‘I’m not ill, only pregnant,’ she said drily. ‘I’m still at work,’ she tagged on, sinking down into a convenient armchair with a sigh. She was also tired and emotionally confused, but she had no intention of telling Gianfranco. Instead she lifted the glass to her mouth and took a long swallow of the cool creamy liquid.
‘You still work!’ he exclaimed, and stared at her as if she had gone mad. ‘That’s it.’ Gianfranco drained his glass of whisky in one gulp, banged it down on the table, and turned to frown down at her. He had flown to England angry, not sure what he was going to do about Kelly, but one look at her and he had heard himself asking her to marry him. Thank God he had. It appalled him to realise she was alone in the world,