Even though she knew it wasn’t possible his eyes seemed to hold hers as his mouth feathered across her lips, soft as a butterfly caress.
‘I’m not acting. We’re married, cara,’ he said, running the tip of his thumb along the outline of her lips. ‘This is for real, not an act.’ The throaty murmur was pitched for her ears only.
The light in his eyes dazzled her, awakening the gnawing need and longing that was always just below the surface when she was anywhere near him.
‘And I kiss you because I want to and you want me to, not to satisfy an audience. You do want me to, don’t you, cara?’
Sam had forgotten they had an audience; she was utterly mesmerised as she whispered, ‘Yes.’
He brushed his lips across hers and Sam’s eyes drifted shut as her lips parted under the light pressure and her fingers tightened around her posy of flowers.
The lingering kiss was so exquisitely tender that it brought a rush of hot tears to Sam’s eyes. When he lifted his head she remained still, her lashes lying dark against her delicately flushed cheeks.
Cesare looked down at her face and felt a swell of emotions so powerful that for a moment he could hardly breathe. From the instant he’d learnt about the pregnancy he’d been telling himself he was a great guy willing to make the supreme sacrifice and marry the mother of his child.
Sacrifice nothing! He’d been acting selfishly. His life would have no meaning without this infuriating, gorgeous redhead!
She opened her eyes and they shone deep violet as she looked up at him. He felt as if someone had reached into his chest and grabbed his heart. When he told her he had got her the sack she was going to hate him.
The registrar cleared her throat and gave an apologetic smile.
‘I’m sorry, but I have another couple booked in for four-thirty…’
Sam blushed and said, ‘Of course…sorry…’ She placed a hand unobtrusively under Cesare’s elbow and murmured softly that there were two steps.
‘As much as I appreciate you being sensitive to my feelings, Samantha, I think it would be a lot easier if I just lean on you.’
Sam flashed an uncertain look at his face as he pulled her into his side. ‘Yes, I suppose it would.’ Not easier for her, though, to maintain an illusion of cool when she was overwhelmingly conscious of the lean, hard body pressed against her own.
But that was all right because brides were not meant to be cool, they were meant to be glowing. She wasn’t, but Sally, Tim’s girlfriend, didn’t seem to recognise there was anything lacking at least.
She was misty eyed as she kissed Sam; Cesare she regarded with nervous awe.
‘Where are you going on your honeymoon?’ she asked Sam as they left the building heading for the waiting limo.
‘Oh, we’re not having a honeymoon.’
Sally’s face fell. ‘Oh, what a pity!’ she exclaimed.
Sam’s eyes slid briefly to the tall man at her side…she’d have to get used to calling and even thinking about him as her husband. ‘Cesare’s got to attend a business meeting early tomorrow and—’
‘We are having a honeymoon.’
Sam’s jaw dropped as she tilted her face up to his. ‘What?’
‘A honeymoon. We are having one—didn’t I say?’
‘I don’t understand,’ Sam said when they were alone in the car. ‘It was agreed we weren’t having a honeymoon.’ Honeymoons were meant for people in love. ‘You have urgent—’
‘There has been a change of plan,’ Cesare inserted smoothly.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. ‘A plan on which I wasn’t consulted!’ she responded, not really understanding why she felt so cranky except that he had taken her by surprise. ‘I suppose this is how it’s going to be married to you. I’m supposed to fall obediently in line with anything you say because I’m a dutiful wife.’
‘Anyone would think you’re regretting it already.’
Sam was glad the dark eyes scanning her face could not see the tear stains. ‘Is that transference?’
‘Oh, my God, this is worse than I thought. You’ve taken psychology classes.’
‘This isn’t a honeymoon, is it? You’re taking me with you on a damned business trip so that you can keep an eye on me…you don’t trust me!’ she accused shrilly.
‘This is a romantic gesture, cara. I’m being spontaneous.’
His sarcasm seemed unnecessarily cruel to Sam, who turned her head away, an unnecessary protective gesture to hide the new tears that sprang to her eyes.
They travelled on in silence until she had governed her unpredictable emotions enough to speak without shouting or crying or both. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I thought it would be appropriate if we went back to where we met.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Scotland, the castle! You’re joking.’
‘I thought you might be pleased.’
‘But my brother…’
‘I did not invite him,’ Cesare inserted apologetically.
She threw him a withering look and narrowed her eyes. ‘Very funny, but what’s he going to say when he finds out we’re married?’
‘I expect he will tell you that you could have done better for yourself, which you probably could, but I think if you do not mind we will delay any family reunions. There is no need for us to see anyone. I have arranged for all the necessary provisions to be delivered and have requested no housekeeping. Of course it is possible that my request will be ignored by interfering domestic help…’
Against her will Sam responded to his teasing lopsided smile.
‘That’s better,’ he approved, leaning back in his seat.
‘What’s better?’
‘I prefer it when you’re smiling at me to when you’re scowling.’
Her brow furrowed. ‘How did you know I was smiling?’
‘I can hear it in your voice, cara.’
Sam, who hoped that was all he could hear, relaxed back into the seat beside him. The only thing that made her situation bearable was the fact that Cesare didn’t begin to suspect her true feelings. Her expression grew pensive as she acknowledged why it was important to her for him not to know. With little else left, pride took on an extra importance.
‘Come here!’ Cesare said, suddenly reaching out and drawing her to him.
Nestling into his side, Sam closed her eyes and felt some of the tension that tied her muscles in knots slip away.
‘Are you pleased about the honeymoon?’ Cesare asked, stroking a tendril of hair back from her smooth brow.
‘I’m surprised.’
Her cautious response drew an ironic smile from him.
Aware that they had driven past the road that led to Cesare’s London Georgian town house, Sam straightened up. ‘Why are we going this way?’
‘The helipad at the house is undergoing repairs. We’re leaving from just south of—’
‘We’re