A Very Fake Fiancée. Nancy Warren
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A heady sense of satisfaction wound through him as he led the way down the steep flight of worn steps. Sound and light receded as they descended a good three levels and ended up in a dank and chilly hallway. Flagged with stone, the narrow corridor ran alongside the kitchens and pantries, and was redolent of the smells of a spicy Medinian fish stew and fresh-baked bread. Opening a squat, heavy door, he ducked under another low lintel and stepped out onto the windy northern side of the Castello.
A cold breeze, laden with sea salt, funnelled through the narrow alleyway that ran between the Castello and a set of garages. As he held out his hand to Gemma, her hair fluttered in the breeze. Gleaming strands flowed across his shoulder, sliding gossamer-soft against his jaw, filling his nostrils with the warm, tantalizing scent of gardenias.
She tucked stray strands behind one ear. As she did so her evening bag, which was hitched over one shoulder by a thin gold chain, slipped to the ground. Muttering beneath her breath, she set the carry bag down and bent to retrieve the delicate lace evening bag that matched her dress.
Gabriel beat her to it. As he handed the evening bag to her, he checked out the contents of the much larger bag. The glint of foil was definitely the top of a bottle of champagne, and the trailing black lace and silk was not the wrap he had hoped it would be; it was lingerie of some sort.
The quick twist of anger settled into a cold moment of decision.
With a smooth motion, he picked up the bag. “I can take this for you.”
With a startled glance, Gemma reached for it. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.”
Instead of hooking the strap of the evening bag back over her shoulder, she dropped it on top of the carry bag. The action effectively concealed the lingerie and champagne, which only succeeded in firing the edgy temper he hadn’t known he possessed even further.
He had no problem putting a name to the burning emotion that lately seemed to continually overpower him.
Jealousy.
Annoyed with the fierce emotion and his inability to control it, he shifted position to shield Gemma from the wind. As he did so a flash of movement drew his eye.
Zane was walking from the Castello’s front entrance in the direction of the garages.
Gemma’s gaze caught his. “Is there another way we can go?”
Grim satisfaction filled him that instead of chasing after Zane, Gemma was now intent on avoiding him. It was progress of a sort. “If you don’t want to go back into the Castello, I can take you back to your hotel. My car is parked in the lot beside the stables, just a few meters down the path and around the corner.” He jerked his head, indicating the direction.
Gemma sent him a brittle smile. “Thanks. I will take you up on that lift.”
Immediately, she started down the path.
Keeping pace effortlessly, because Gemma had to negotiate the path in high heels, Gabriel glanced back in Zane’s direction. Relief loosened some of his tension as he noted that his cousin had already disappeared from sight into the garage.
Common sense told him that it wasn’t likely that Zane had seen them. He had been walking through a floodlit area, while they were in semidarkness.
He probably didn’t need to be so cautious. But now that Gemma seemed to finally be free of Zane, he wasn’t about to give his cousin the chance to change his mind and entice her back again.
As they rounded a corner, Gemma tilted her head and stared at the impressive view of the seaward-facing side of the floodlit Castello where it perched high on cliffs. Some distance below, waves dashed on rocks, filling the air with the muted background roar of surf. “This place is amazing. I would have liked to have had a proper look around—” She stopped midspeech, her expression taut. “No, cancel that. I’m over castles and wealth. I’m especially over anyone holding a camera.”
Gabriel logged the sound of a powerful car, the flicker of headlights through trees as Zane accelerated down the drive. Satisfaction that his cousin was finally removed from the equation drained some of his tension. “I thought you would have visited this place a number of times.”
The hollow feeling that gripped him at the thought that over the past two years Gemma would have shared Zane’s bed on frequent occasions renewed his edgy, burning tension.
Gemma sent him a startled glance. “I visited Medinos quite a lot when I was Zane’s PA, but I was never invited to the Castello. This was my first, and last, visit.”
Gemma halted so suddenly beneath an ancient gnarled olive tree that he almost walked into her. “What I don’t get is why you’re helping me?”
Because he was tired of fixing everyone else’s lives and wanted his own back. Because he wanted more of what they’d shared six years ago.
An acute awareness of Gemma’s nearness burned through Gabriel. The rich, tantalizing scent of gardenias teased his nostrils again. The banked anger at Zane’s cavalier treatment of her flared a little hotter, and he was abruptly glad for the intense pooling darkness beneath the tree.
As soon as he had an opportunity, he intended to track Zane down and confront him with his behavior. If he was getting engaged, that meant he had established a relationship some time ago and yet had still continued to see Gemma. “Maybe I don’t like the way Zane’s treated you.”
Surprise flickered in her gaze, and he wondered grimly what had happened to her over the past few years that she hadn’t registered how shabbily she had been treated.
Her chin tilted. “Zane hasn’t treated me badly. He’s been extremely kind to me.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and for a moment the air turned molten.
Drawing in a sharp breath, as if she had been just as affected as he, Gemma looked quickly away. “I like Zane. He’s been a good friend. I’ve just had a run of bad luck, that’s all.”
Before he could answer, she walked briskly on ahead, and paused at a fork in the path, the sea breeze molding the black lace of her dress against her slim curves, making her look thinner than he remembered, oddly solitary and fragile.
Gabriel indicated the correct direction. His annoyance leached away as Gemma walked quickly on, now clearly wary of his presence. He had ruthlessly pushed her, moving into her personal space and suggesting the kiss. After the electrifying heat of the kiss and her unmistakable response, he had expected her to back off.
What he couldn’t understand was why she was protecting Zane. The only conclusion he could draw was that despite Zane’s upcoming engagement and the callous way he had dumped her, Gemma still harbored a soft spot for his cousin.
It was a complication Gabriel hadn’t anticipated, and one he was determined to eradicate.
If Gemma hadn’t been attracted to him, he would have stepped back from the situation, but that wasn’t the case. Her response had been immediate and clear. He had seen it in the way her gaze had clung to his, the heat rimming her cheekbones, and felt it in the softness of her mouth and the rapid thud of her heart as they’d kissed.
He might have been out of the loop for a while when it came to the murky area of relationships, but one kiss and the years had spun away. He hadn’t mistaken her response, and his own had been just as visceral, just as powerful, the chemistry sizzling between them hot enough to burn.
As far as he was concerned, Zane had had his chance. If he hadn’t been able to commit in two years, and with a child in the mix, then he couldn’t really want Gemma.
But Gabriel did.
The concept, which had grown in him over the past twenty-four hours—ever since he had read the newspaper article—was powerful and irrevocable.
Gabriel knew his nature. He was a Messena to the bone, but along with the hot-blooded, volatile streak, from an early age his father had impressed upon him the need to develop a level head and a steely discipline. As