‘We share,’ Cesare told her without skipping a beat.
‘I’m not sharing a bed with you!’ Lizzie gasped in consternation.
‘We’re supposed to be married. Let’s stay in role,’ Cesare fielded. ‘Having gone this far, it would be stupid to take risks by using separate bedrooms.’
Lizzie kicked off her shoes and mulled over that argument. ‘Maria’s not going to talk.’
‘She’s not the only member of staff with access to the upper floor,’ he shot back drily.
‘OK...’ Lizzie stood at the foot of the bed, prepared to admit that it was huge, but she was still doubtful that she could lose him in it. ‘But you have to stay on your side of the bed.’
‘Are we five years old now?’ Cesare quipped, studying her with incredulity. ‘You’re making a fuss about nothing.’
Lizzie settled glinting witch-green eyes on him. ‘I’m not used to sharing a bed. It’s not nothing to me.’
‘We’ll discuss it over dinner,’ Cesare decreed.
Lizzie threw her arms wide in emphasis, her temper mounting. ‘I don’t want to discuss it...I just don’t want to do it!’
‘Only forty-eight hours ago, you did,’ Cesare countered, lean, strong face hard, dark golden eyes smouldering with recollection and unforgotten hunger.
Lizzie reddened. ‘I was wondering how long it would take you to throw that back in my face. I was drunk, for goodness’ sake,’ she protested.
‘At least you know what you want when you’re drunk,’ he riposted.
Lizzie slammed shut the door lest they be overheard arguing. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say!’
‘Whether you like it or not, it’s the truth. You want me every bit as much as I want you. You just won’t admit it.’
Lizzie was so enraged by that arrogant statement that she walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her to escape him. The fixtures took her breath away. An antique tub took up prime position by the window while rustic stone walls and a pale marble floor provided an effective frame.
‘And hiding in the bathroom isn’t going to persuade me otherwise!’ Cesare completed loudly outside the door.
Lizzie threw open the door again and marched out with compressed lips to drag one of the cases across the beautiful oak floor. ‘I was not hiding.’
Cesare snatched up the case and planted it on the bed, helpfully springing the locks for her.
Lizzie hovered, her colour high, her eyes veiled.
Cesare stalked closer like a predator about to spring and she tensed from head to toe. ‘Look at me, bellezza mia,’ he urged.
Almost involuntarily, Lizzie lifted her head, platinum hair flying back from her heart-shaped face. ‘Why?’ she said flatly.
Lean brown hands lifted to frame her cheekbones and turn her face up. A muscle pulled taut at the corner of his wide, sensual mouth. ‘I want to make a baby with you the normal way. I don’t want to use artificial insemination. If we’re going to become parents, let’s try the natural approach first.’
He had taken her entirely by surprise. Her entire face flamed and even worse the heat darted downward to engulf her whole body. ‘But that’s not what we agreed.’
‘We didn’t agree anything. You made a suggestion. I didn’t like it but I wasn’t prepared to argue about it at that point and turn you off the whole idea of marrying me,’ Cesare admitted without hesitation.
His sheer honesty bemused her and then touched her deep. I want to make a baby with you. The very words made Lizzie melt and she tried to squash her reaction and deny it. It would not be safe or sensible to have actual sex with Cesare Sabatino because it would smash the barriers she had carefully erected. But the prospect of undergoing some cold scientific procedure in a fertility clinic was, she suddenly appreciated, even less attractive to her.
‘I’ll think about it,’ Lizzie mumbled half under her breath. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get changed into something more comfortable.’
‘I’ll go for a shower,’ Cesare told her, peeling off his shirt without an ounce of inhibition.
Her heart hammering, Lizzie averted her gaze but the enthralling image of his bronzed, muscular torso was still seared across her vision. She pulled an outfit out of the case, nothing fancy for she had had her fill of fancy outfits that day. She caught an accidental glimpse of Cesare striding naked as the day he was born into the en suite and she almost groaned out loud. They were so different, so ill matched. He had seen it all, done it all, while she had only dreamt of the seeing and the doing. If she slept with him, she would develop feelings for him and she would get hurt because he wouldn’t respond. Or maybe she would discover that she was the kind of woman who could have sex without getting more deeply involved, she reasoned abstractedly. She might not get attached to him at all, might be grateful to wave goodbye to him after a few months. How could she know how she would react?
When the shower was free, she made use of it and removed most of the heavy make-up she had worn for her big day. Applying only a dash of lipstick and blusher, she pulled on a stretchy maxi skirt and a sleeveless silk top, thrusting her feet into flat sandals. When she reappeared, a maid was in the bedroom hanging their clothes in the built-in closet and Lizzie went straight downstairs.
Cesare strode out to the marble-floored hall. ‘Let me show you around before dinner,’ he suggested.
‘Where’s Archie?’ she asked.
Cesare held a finger to his handsome mouth in silencing mode and pointed into the drawing room. Archie was stretched out on a shaggy rug, his contented snores audible.
As dusk was folding in fast, Cesare showed her the outside of the house first. Lizzie stood on the covered stone terrace where Maria was fussing over a table covered in a snowy white cloth and admired the stunning view of the valley, which was overlooked by a superlative infinity pool. ‘The views are out of this world. I’m not surprised you fell for this place,’ she admitted, the tension of the day slowly seeping out of her.
Without warning, Cesare reached for her hand. ‘This marriage can be as real as we want it to be, bellezza mia,’ he pointed out quietly.
Her fingers flexed within the firm hold of his and her colour heightened. Real didn’t mean for ever, did it? But then how many marriages truly lasted for ever? They were together now and would stay together until a child was born. The child she longed for, she reminded herself ruefully. Surely the closer she and Cesare became, the easier it would be to share their child both now and in the future?
Her lips parted almost without her volition, green eyes wide and anxious as if she was stunned by her own daring. ‘I’ll give it a go,’ she told him softly. ‘But I can’t make any promises.’
Cesare smiled. It was a brilliant smile that illuminated his darkly beautiful features and enhanced his stubborn, passionate mouth. ‘I’ll try to make sure you don’t regret it, cara.’
‘MARIA IS WHIPPING out her entire repertoire for this one meal,’ Cesare commented in amusement as the lazy meal wound through course after necessarily dainty course of appetising dishes.
Already unable to credit that she had agreed to try being married for real, Lizzie was too stressed to eat much of anything. A bite here and there was the best she could do and she proffered fervent apologies to the plump little cook when she came out to the terrace bearing her pièce de résistance, a fabulous layered chocolate cake.
They