‘You will be at my hotel with me,’ he said.

      ‘Is–is that such a good idea?’ she said, her frown deepening, her heart stuttering in panic. ‘I mean…will there be room for us?’

      The look in his eyes was inscrutable, but there was a hint of amusement lurking around his mouth. ‘Molly can sleep in her pram and you can sleep in my bed.’

      Sabrina’s eyes widened, her heart giving that annoying little extra beat again. ‘Are you by any chance going to be there too?’ she asked, with an attempt at an arch look.

      ‘In my bed, do you mean?’

      She nodded, hastily disguising a nervous swallow.

      ‘Only if I am invited,’ he said, with a sexy slant of his mouth.

      Melanie Milburne says: One of the greatest joys of being a writer is the process of falling in love with the characters and then watching as they fall in love with each other. I am an absolutely hopeless romantic. I fell in love with my husband on our second date, and we even had a secret engagement, so you see it must have been destined for me to be a Harlequin Mills & Boon author! The other great joy of being a romance writer is hearing from readers. You can hear all about the other things I do when I’m not writing, and even drop me a line at: www.melaniemilburne.com.au

       Recent titles by the same author:

      THE VENADICCI MARRIAGE VENGEANCE

      THE FIORENZA FORCED MARRIAGE THE MARCIANO LOVE-CHILD INNOCENT WIFE, BABY OF SHAME

       The Royal House of Niroli:

      SURGEON PRINCE, ORDINARY WIFE

      (Book 2)

      Did you know that Melanie also writes for Medical^™ Romance?

      SINGLE DAD SEEKS A WIFE

      (The Brides of Penhally Bay) THE SURGEON BOSS’S BRIDE HER MAN OF HONOUR

      Don’t miss Melanie Milburne’s book

      THE FUTURE-KING’S LOVE-CHILD out in October 2009 part of THE ROYAL HOUSE OF KAREDES

      BOUND BY

      THE MARCOLINI DIAMONDS

      BY

      MELANIE MILBURNE

       I have often seen books dedicated to editors or agents in the past, and thought—No, I don’t need to do that. This is business. But I am afraid I cannot write another book without publicly thanking my current editor, Jenny Hutton, who has been the most amazing support to me both professionally and personally. This one is for you, Jenny, and I hope we get to do many more together. XX

      CHAPTER ONE

      IT SEEMED like only weeks ago that Sabrina had attended her best friend’s wedding, now she was attending her funeral. Any funeral was sad, but a double one had to be the worst, she thought as Laura and her husband Ric’s coffins were solemnly carried out of the church by the dark-suited pallbearers.

      Sabrina caught the eye of the tallest of the men bearing Ric’s coffin, but quickly shifted her gaze, her heart starting and stopping like an old engine. Those coal-black eyes had communicated much more to her than was fitting for a funeral. Even with her head well down, she could still feel the scorch of his gaze on her, the sensitive skin on the back of her neck feeling as if a thousand nerves were dancing with excitement in anticipation of the stroke of his hand, or the burning brush of his sensual lips.

      Sabrina cuddled Molly close to her chest and joined the rest of the mourners outside the church, taking some comfort in the fact that at only four months old the little baby would not remember the tragic accident that had taken both her parents from her. Unlike Sabrina, Molly would not remember the sickly sweet smell of the lilies and the sight of the grief-stricken faces, nor would she remember the burial, nor watch in crushing despair as her mother was lowered into the ground, knowing that she was now all alone in the world.

      The procession moved to the cemetery, and after a brief but poignant service there the mourners moved on to Laura’s stepmother’s house for refreshments.

      Ingrid Knowles was in her element as the grieving hostess. She brandished a rarely empty glass of wine as she chatted her way through the crowd of mourners, her make-up still intact, every strand of her perfectly coiffed bottle-blonde hair lacquered firmly in place.

      Sabrina kept a low profile, hovering in the background to keep Molly from being disturbed by the at-times rowdy chatter. Most of Laura and Ric’s close friends had left soon after the service—apart from Mario Marcolini. From the moment he had entered the house he had stood with his back leaning indolently against the wall near the bay window, with a brooding expression on his arrestingly handsome face, not speaking, not drinking…just watching.

      Sabrina tried not to look at him, but every now and again her eyes would drift back to him seemingly of their own volition, and, each time they did, she encountered his dark, cynical gaze centred on hers.

      She quickly looked away again, her heart skipping a beat and her skin breaking out in a moist wave of heat as she remembered what had happened the last time they had been alone together.

      She was almost glad when Molly started to become restless so she could escape to another room to see to the little baby’s needs.

      When Sabrina came back out a few minutes later, Mario was no longer leaning against the wall. She let out a breath of relief, assuming he had left, when all of a sudden she felt every hair on the back of her neck rise to attention when she felt a hard male body brush against her from behind.

      ‘I did not expect to see you again so soon,’ Mario said in his deeply accented, mellifluous voice.

      Sabrina took a shaky step forward and slowly turned around, cradling Molly protectively against her breasts. ‘No, I…I guess not.’ She lowered her eyes from the startling intensity of his dark brown ones, her brain scrambling for something else to say to fill the gaping silence. What was it about this man that made her feel like a nervous schoolgirl instead of a mature woman of twenty-five? He was so sophisticated, so urbane, such a man of the world, and she was so—she hated to say it but it was true—gauche.

      ‘Um, it was very good of you to come all the way back to Australia when you’d only just left,’ she mumbled.

      ‘Not at all,’ he said in a tone that had a rough, sandpaper sort of quality to it. ‘It was the least I could do.’

      There was another loaded silence.

      Sabrina moistened the parchment of her lips, trying not to look at him, trying not to think of how close he was standing to her, and how foolishly she had reacted to that closeness just a matter of weeks ago. Would she ever be able to erase that totally embarrassing—no, mortifying—few minutes from her mind?

      ‘Laura’s stepmother seems to be enjoying herself,’ Mario commented.

      Sabrina met his sardonic, midnight gaze. ‘Yes. I’m kind of glad now Laura’s father isn’t around to see it,’ she said. ‘Laura would be so embarrassed if…’ She bit her lip, unable to speak, fresh tears springing to her eyes as she bowed her head.

      She felt a warm and very large hand touch her briefly on the shoulder, the tingling sensation it set off under her skin feeling as if a million bubbles of an effervescent liquid had been injected into her blood.

      She