The Impatient Groom. SARA WOODЧитать онлайн книгу.
muscles to recover. He became aware that his head throbbed. A gentle hand touched it. Sophia’s. Wonderful.
His body responded immediately, much to his annoyance, generating warmth in his loins. To his astonishment, the heady combination of virgin and siren had fired an almost uncontrollable desire in him, a desire more powerful than anything he’d felt for years.
Her dreamy smile had driven him mad. He’d wanted to know what she was thinking whenever she ‘drifted’. And, he wanted to be a part of her fantasies. Dammitl He’d have to get a grip.
She checked his pulse. He felt it falter then accelerate and she murmured in tender concern. And he felt cherished for the first time in his life.
Guilt crawled all through him. She was so honest and trusting. He knew he shouldn’t lie there inert—but the urge to play patient to her nurse was overwhelming. Even the thought of that scenario brought a skin-tingling frisson curling through his every nerve, tightening every sinew and heating his blood.
He knew why he’d reacted so violently. The opportunity for action had seemed almost welcome and it had released some of the exquisite agony which had been building up in his love-starved body.
He could smell her now. Wanted to lift his face and inhale her intoxicating fragrance. Disgusted with his lack of control, he pressed his hands harder into the ground and let the gravel take his mind off his carnal needs.
But it was a struggle. Her hands were now systematically feeling his limbs for breakages and he all but groaned, the warmth in his loins becoming searing hot. Desperate to curb any physical reaction to the electric sensation of her hands on his body, he concentrated doggedly on the sounds of the small crowd gathering around them.
They knew her. Liked her. Felt concern for her. He could hear the love in their voices and he was glad. Such a good and decent woman would bring delight to frail Alberto D‘Antiga’s soft heart and the old man would die in peace, knowing that his family name was in good hands.
Unless, of course, some good-looking, gold-digging parasite turned her head! His brows drew together moodily. That mustn’t happen. She’d be hurt. Or worse... corrupted. His jaw tightened. He was back in caveman mode again, taking up his cudgel to crack the head of any man who harmed her. Was that the reaction Violetta had prompted in men?
‘He’s in pain!’ she cried.
He felt the light touch of Sophia’s fingers on his forehead smoothing out the frown lines and heard her soft murmur as she spoke to him, pleading with him, an appealing little catch in her voice giving him immense problems with his self-control.
‘Please open your eyesl’ she begged.
‘Now don’ thee be upsettin‘ theself,’ came a deep, Dorset voice above him.
Warmth and caring flooded to the distressed Sophia. She was clearly a much loved and exceptional woman. It confirmed his initial assessment that Violetta’s daughter was a woman in a million, imbued with rare qualities...
No wonder he’d been intrigued by her. Had wanted to make love to her, then and there! How he’d stopped himself he didn’t know. It was like being a teenager again, ruled by sudden unbridled lust!
And it unnerved him because he wouldn’t be able to walk away from her unwelcome attractions. He’d have to be with her, hour after hour, day after day, introducing her to Venetian society, worrying about her innocence...
He stopped breathing. Something had occurred to him and his brain went into overdrive. Sophia’s hand lay on his chest and she was beginning to panic at its lack of movement, so he let his breath out slowly. He had the answer to all his problems. And as she relaxed in relief he neatly fitted her into his momentous decision.
He would marry her.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS a brilliant solution, he thought. A strange, breathless excitement stole over him. He didn’t love her-never could love any woman. But she would make the perfect wife.
Her hands had moved to his upper thigh. They trembled as she tested the movement of his femur. It was obvious from her hesitant touch that she knew little of men. A surge of excitement almost betrayed him as he imagined teaching her the pleasures of the flesh.
His breathing rasped harshly. He could hardly wait. Sophia even had money of her own! Too many titleseekers and materialistic women had propositioned him. But Sophia...she was different. She had values he admired. She had an eagerness to work and concern for others. She had nursed her ailing father and, more important, she adored children.
Children. He bucked as a shaft of pain sliced through him when the nightmare memory forced its way to the surface. Her hand rested gently on his chest and thinking of her sweet face helped him to drive the dark hell away again.
‘He may have cracked a rib,’ she said anxiously. ‘Did you see how his chest contracted then?’
Racked with guilt, he suffered the gentle exploration of her hands. The pain was deeper than she knew. Deep enough to shut off his heart for ever. Like his father, he had married into the D‘Antiga family. He’d been twentyeight, and had fallen head over heels for the recently divorced Nicoletta who, unknown to him, had a highly colourful sexual past.
A dainty, extravagant thirty-two, she had worked her wiles on him and stolen his heart. They’d only been married for two years when she’d died, pregnant with his child.
Desperately he pushed back the rest of the horror. He couldn’t deal with it, couldn’t make it known. If he did, the Barsini name would be vilified.
But Sophia could ease his nightmares. He needed her tenderness. Hope began to surge through him, and for the first time in years he believed he could find some kind of happiness.
And she? He tried to see his intentions from her point of view. She had shown an appealingly bewildered interest in him. The sex would be fantastic. Her passions ran deep, with an intensity that matched his own. He’d read that in her eyes, in every gesture of her highly charged body.
He could make her happy. He would make her happy. And he could help her to cope, too. It would be hard for her, he argued, to dive head first into Venetian society without a guide. And who better than him to be her mentor?
‘He’s still not responding! I think we should call the doctor,’ she said anxiously.
‘Gone to Durbridge,’ came the reply. ‘Vet’s not far, though. Or the baby nurse’ll be along in a minute.’
Rozzano held back a grin. He’d better ‘recover’ before he experienced some interesting medical practices! Then all he had to do was to win her over—and quickly, before the wolf pack moved in, intent on her money and title. Opening his eyes slowly, he saw the relief on her pale, wide-eyed face.
‘You’re all right!’
He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her. And felt a fraud for his deception. ‘Shaken,’ he said uncomfortably, even though it was the truth.
There was a murmur from the crowd and he was immediately bathed in smiles and friendly words of warning to be careful, to take it easy, to sit up slowly when he felt ready, no rush, don’t you fret...
He felt bad and couldn’t meet their eyes. Many hands helped him to sit and then stand. Someone brushed dust from his back. Someone else offered to fetch him a brandy from the nearby pub. The local midwife—presumably the baby nurse-anxiously offered her services and he declined with gravity yet with a twinkle in his eyes which set everyone laughing.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив