‘Yet you planned his birth knowing you intended to raise your child without a mother,’ she reminded him.
‘That was before I saw the strength of the bond between you and him and the happiness that gave him.’
Having heard enough, Jemima forced a smile and rose from her seat. ‘I’m afraid the man I marry would have to want me for more than my child-rearing abilities,’ she told him stiffly, struggling to keep the little amused smile in place and mask the deep hollow of hurt opening up inside her.
Luciano dealt her a seething look of frustration and strode after her. ‘Jemima!’
Jemima didn’t turn her head, she just kept on walking away fast, unable to face any further dialogue. She was so hurt and she didn’t really understand why. Surely it was always a sort of a compliment if a man asked you to marry him? Even if you didn’t want to say yes. And at that point, she realised what was wrong. She wanted more. She wanted him to want her personally and that was downright silly as well as unlikely. So many more beautiful and sophisticated women would have snatched at Luciano’s offer with two greedy hands. Who did she think she was to be so finicky?
‘Jemima...!’ Luciano exclaimed, closing a powerful hand round her shoulder to spin her round in the picture gallery. ‘You know very well that I want you for more than that!’
Jemima sucked in a gulp of oxygen and almost lost it again as she clashed with blazing dark golden eyes. ‘Do I?’ she slashed back in challenge.
‘You do know,’ Luciano told her, crowding her back against the wall behind her.
‘How would I know?’ Jemima flamed back at him. ‘Nicky loves me and you think I’m good for him. That’s why you’re asking me to marry you.’
His white teeth flashed against his bronzed skin. ‘Last night, we—’
‘No, don’t try to drag last night into it,’ Jemima warned angrily. ‘Your proposal made it clear that providing your son with a mother was your main motivation!’
‘Accidenti... I was taking a conservative approach. I assumed you would prefer that!’
‘Why would a woman want a conservative proposal?’ Jemima countered impatiently.
‘You would’ve preferred me to take you to bed again before I proposed?’
Jemima recognised the difference between her outlook and his and almost screamed in vexation. She thought of love and romance while he thought of sex, and wild, raunchy sex at that. Well, he had been upfront about not being able to offer love, so what more could she reasonably expect from him? And did she really want to say no? No to being Nicky’s mum? No to being Luciano’s wife and the potential mother of his children?
Luciano planted his hands squarely on the wall either side of her head, his lean, powerful body effectively imprisoning hers. Her ice-blue eyes widened as she felt his erection push against her belly, his hard readiness formidable even through the barrier of their clothes. Heat coiled at the heart of her rose up and clear thought process broke down. Hunger settled in a tight, hard knot inside her, constricting her breathing.
‘No. On bended knee and dinner by candlelight would have been more your style,’ Luciano derided.
‘I’m not that old-fashioned,’ she told him in exasperation.
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips almost teasingly against hers and then lingered to capture and suckle her lower lip, one hand sliding down the wall to close on her hip and jerk her into closer contact. His tongue eased between her readily parted lips and delved in an unashamedly sexual sortie. Her breathing fractured as she came off the wall to wrap her arms round his neck, fingertips sliding into his luxuriant hair.
‘So, is this a yes, piccolo mia?’ Luciano husked sexily against her swollen mouth.
‘Are you always calculating the odds?’ Jemima complained, jerking her head back out of reach.
Luciano gave her a wicked grin that loosed a flock of butterflies in her tummy and left her feeling dizzy. ‘I don’t switch off my brain very often,’ he admitted.
She could have him if she wanted him, Jemima reflected on a heady high. And she wanted him—oh, my goodness, yes, she wanted him. But it would be crazy to make an impulsive decision based on the feelings of the moment. And her feelings just then were overwhelmingly physical and dangerously unreliable. Close to Luciano, her body vibrated like a tuning fork. He made her want to drag him off to the nearest secluded corner. That awareness cooled her heated blood and made her take a mental step back to take stock.
‘I have to think about this,’ Jemima declared, ignoring the frowning slant of his black brows above his stunning eyes. ‘I need to be on my own for a while. I’m going for a walk on the beach.’
Recalling the flight of winding stone steps that led down to the shore from the terrace, she walked back into the sunlight. Round and round and round she went, moving faster and faster in her need to escape until her heels finally sank into the blissfully soft sand at the bottom. With a sigh she slipped off her shoes, closed her fingers through the straps and walked barefoot down to the shore.
The surf dampened her feet as she moved away from the castle. Little white houses straggled up the hillside on the other side of the horseshoe-shaped bay and boats bobbed in the harbour. A church with a bell tower made the village look even more picturesque in the sunshine.
So, how did she really feel about Luciano? Did she want him for the right reasons? Shouldn’t Nicky be her driving motivation? Did it matter that she was thinking less about Nicky and more about becoming Luciano’s wife? Why couldn’t she think about anything but Luciano? Was she infatuated with him? No doubt that would wear off with continued exposure to him and prevent her from behaving like an embarrassing teenager with a crush, she thought with an inner wince. After all, it was obvious that if such a marriage of convenience was to work she would have to be more practical in her outlook.
Could she happily settle for respect and consideration and fidelity? Well, she thought wryly, maybe not happily, but, if the alternative was not to have Luciano at all, her choice was being made for her. If the chance was there, she definitely wanted to take it and give it a go. And what about her family, her friends and the teaching career that she loved? Living abroad in Sicily? Could she adjust to that change? Friends and family would be able to visit as she would be able to visit them, she told herself, and, while she would miss her job, raising Nicky and having more children would certainly fill her time.
Registering that she was walking straight for the natural rock formation that cut off the beach at one point, Jemima changed direction in favour of the path running between the shore and the single-track road. She put her shoes back on, relieved she had worn low heels, and only as she straightened did she appreciate that she was not walking alone. Three of Luciano’s bodyguards hovered several yards away and she made a shooing motion of dismissal with her hands before turning defiantly on her heel and picking up her pace towards the village. Why on earth were they following her? Were such precautions really necessary for her safety?
Tired and hot, she paused at a café above the beach and walked in to sit down. It was busy. A large group of elderly men sat playing a board game in one corner and several other tables were occupied. As soon as Jemima sat down a bodyguard approached her to ask her what she wanted, acting as a liaison between her and the proprietor, who was viewing them nervously. Freshly squeezed orange juice was brought and she sipped, cooling off from the early-morning heat while watching a handful of children play ball on the beach below.
Nicky would have a whole beach to himself at the castle, she thought heavily. Would he even be allowed to play with other children? Had Luciano the smallest idea of what an ordinary childhood was like? What had his own been like? He had shared so little with her. All she knew about his background and his first marriage had been gleaned from