The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen
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Then he wrapped his arms around her slender frame and rolled until she lay beneath him. For a moment he drank in the sight of her, the wildness of her hair, the sensual glow warming her skin, and the magical passion they shared.
She moistened her lips, and he drove into her only to almost withdraw before repeating the action again and again, increasing the intensity of the rhythm until she joined him in a climax more shattering than the first.
Afterwards he gathered her close and rested his lips against her temple in the lazy afterglow of spent passion.
Shannay was close to sleep when he manoeuvred her onto her tummy and began a wonderfully soothing massage of her neck and shoulders, easing out the kinks there before slipping down to knead her calf muscles and finally her feet.
His lips pressed a trail of light kisses over her leg, bit gently into the globe of her bottom, then eased up to her nape.
She turned into him and rested her mouth into the curve at the base of his throat, murmured something indistinct, then drifted into deep sleep.
The gala event held in one of the city’s splendid theatres appeared to be a sell-out, with numerous fashionistas vying for supremacy in designer gowns and exquisite jewellery.
The crème de la crème of Madrid society, patrons of the arts, who paid an exorbitant ticket price to attend the evening’s classical production.
In pairs, small groups, they gathered in the large foyer, and Shannay stood at Marcello’s side with a ready smile in place as guests mixed and mingled.
Tall, dark, impeccably groomed, his evening suit a perfect tailored fit, pristine white shirt and black bow-tie, he looked the epitome of the powerful, sophisticated male.
He stood out from the rest. Not so much for his attractive features or his clothing, but for the primitive aura he projected beneath the hard-muscled frame … a disruptive sensuality that threatened much and promised to deliver.
It drew women to him like bees to a honeypot, and there were those who simply adored to flirt, while a few made moves, subtle and not so subtle, to attract his attention.
In the early days of their marriage she’d hugged to her heart the knowledge he was hers, believing nothing and no one could harm what they shared.
How naive she had been!
‘Ah, there you are.’
Shannay turned and met Penè’s encompassing appraisal, caught the brief nod of approval and leant forward to bestow the obligatory air-kiss to each cheek.
‘How is Ramon?’
‘Fading. The physician expects him to lapse into a coma within the next few days. Sandro and Luisa are with him.’
Such an incredibly sad end for a man who had once headed the Martinez empire.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Shannay’s empathy was genuine, and Marcello’s aunt inclined her head in acknowledgment.
‘Tonight may well be the last public engagement at which the family appear. The usual mourning period will understandably be observed.’
‘Of course.’
‘I must greet Pablo and Angelique Santanas,’ Penè announced, and melted into the crowd.
Soon the massive doors swung open and the guests gradually drifted into the auditorium to take their seats.
The classical performance proved superb, with brilliant costumes and high-tempo music. Stirring, passionate, with a touch of pathos.
A break between Act I and II proved welcome, so too when the curtain came down after the second act.
‘Can I get you something to drink?’ Marcello asked as they entered the foyer.
‘Anything chilled and non-alcoholic,’ Shannay requested with a faint smile, and watched as he signalled a hovering waiter.
It was only a matter of minutes later when she turned slightly and saw Estella moving towards them.
Oh, joy.
The woman resembled a picture-perfect Latin doll attired in a Spanish-inspired chiffon gown in stunning red and white diagonal chiffon frills that moved with exquisite fluidity at every step she took.
Sexy, Shannay accorded silently. Very deliberately sexy, from the top of her gloriously coiffured head to the tip of her beautiful lacquered toenails in matching red.
‘Shannay.’ The greeting was polite, brief, then Estella gave Marcello her full attention.
‘Querido.’
Could a woman’s voice purr?
Definitely.
‘Estella.’
Hmm, was that a tinge of warning beneath Marcello’s pleasant tone?
Play polite, Shannay bade silently as she summoned a smile and offered an innocuous remark … which Estella totally ignored.
‘We are thinking of going on to a nightclub afterwards. Perhaps you’d care to join us?’
‘Thank you. No,’ Marcello responded civilly, and the woman offered a convincing pout.
‘Your wife—’ she gave the word a faint emphasis and touched a lacquered nail to the lapel of his jacket ‘—accompanies you, and you become less fun.’
‘Perhaps,’ Marcello drawled, carefully removing her hand, ‘my wife provides all the fun I need.’
Estella cast Shannay a look that contained thinly veiled mockery. ‘Indeed?’
In some instances silence was golden, Shannay perceived. This wasn’t one of them.
‘Marcello is a superb tutor. Don’t you agree?’
Estella’s gaze shifted to Marcello as she ran the tip of her tongue over her upper lip and offered a knowing smile. ‘The best, darling.’
It’s an act, she qualified. A deliberate attempt to undermine.
Four years ago she would have taken the bait.
Now she simply offered quietly, ‘Yet he chose not to marry you. Why was that, do you suppose?’
The faint disbelief evident before it was quickly masked should have brought a sense of satisfaction.
Except instinct warned Shannay that Estella would merely choose her moment for the next verbal strike.
‘Possibly I decided he wasn’t the best marriage material?’ She waited a few seconds, then honed in sweetly, ‘Isn’t that why you left him?’
Bitch.
If she asserted Marcello hunted her down, she’d leave herself open for Estella to drag Nicki into the verbal equation, and she refused to allow that.
‘No.’
The supercilious arched eyebrow did it.
Forget politeness. ‘Go find your husband, Estella.’ The silent implication “and leave mine alone” was clearly evident.
The mocking smile conceded nothing as the socialite turned with a slow, deliberately sensual movement and began weaving her way through the gathered patrons.
‘Your support was gratifying,’ Shannay noted quietly, unsure whether she was pleased or relieved, and bore his appraisal.
‘You were doing so well on your own.’
‘She’s a—’
‘Femme fatale,’ Marcello drawled. ‘Who thrives on playing games with the vulnerable.’
Her chin tilted and her eyes lanced his own. ‘The term vulnerable no longer applies to me.’
Marcello