She could still remember how her heart had raced and pounded at the feel of his flesh beneath her touch, before settling into a heavy, fast rhythm that had matched the pulse within his sex and then within her own as it had taken up the beat his had set. She had been wet and ready when his fingers had parted her sex, slippery with the juices of desire and excitement, and her eyes had opened wide, her body arcing in disbelief before melting into shuddering climax beneath his skilled touch against her clitoris.
How naive she had been. Wholly caught up in her feelings of loss and abandonment, at eighteen she had had no real knowledge at all of her own sexuality. Technically she had known what happened, but that hadn’t prepared her for the reality of the hot gush of pleasure that had engulfed her, causing her to cry out Caesar’s name and cling helplessly to him as her body rode its first climactic storm.
To have Caesar enter her then, whilst her flesh was still quivering with sensuality, still swollen with pleasure, could have done nothing other than result in another shocking surge of response to the movement of his flesh within her own.
This time her orgasm had been even more intense, causing her to rake her fingernails against Caesar’s flesh. In answer he had driven even more deeply within her, and her muscles had fastened around him, clinging to him as though reluctant to let him go, she remembered—how could she forget? Exhausted by the intensity of her experience she had lain still in Caesar’s arms, her love for him filling her heart. How ridiculous she had been, thinking that because Caesar was still holding her it meant that he loved her. She wouldn’t stay with him all night, though, she had decided. The intimacy they had shared was too precious and too private to be pawed over by other people, as it would be if her bed was found to be unslept in the morning. She’d wanted Caesar to be the one who announced their relationship to her family—and especially to her father. She’d been able to see them, standing hand in hand whilst he drew her closer and told her family proudly that he loved her.
‘I must go,’ she’d whispered to Caesar.
‘Yes,’ he had agreed. ‘I think you must.’
If she had been disappointed that he didn’t share with her the shower he had invited her to take before she left, then she’d made herself hide that disappointment. After all there would be other occasions for them to share such intimacy—many of them now that they were lovers.
Caesar, she remembered, had accompanied her back to the road—not because he had wanted to be with her, Louise thought grimly now. No, what he had wanted was to make sure she left the castello.
Walking the short distance from the castello to the villa where they’d been staying, all she had been able to think about was seeing Caesar again. For the first time in her life someone other than her father had filled her thoughts. For the first time in her life someone had shown how important she was to them. For the first time in her life there was someone who would put her first. All her dreams had come true. Caesar loved her. Tonight had proved that.
Things hadn’t worked out as she had expected.
There had been no sign of Caesar the following day, or the days that followed it. No word. Nothing. And then she’d learned that Caesar had left the castello to fly to Rome, and that he would be remaining there for over a month attending to family business.
At first she hadn’t been able to take it in. There had to be some mistake. Caesar must have intended to see her and tell her personally that he was leaving. He must have wanted to speak with her father and make their relationship public. At the very least he must surely have left her a letter or a message.
She’d been beside herself with disbelief, anxiety and the pain of missing him. She had even tried to persuade her family to extend their holiday. And that had been when the reality of what Caesar actually felt about her was revealed to her in the most cruel and humiliating way possible.
Her grandparents had been open to the idea of them prolonging their visit, and her grandfather had even gone to see the owner of the rented villa to discuss extending their stay. However, before the villa’s owner had come back to him with his answer, the family had received a visit from Aldo Barado during which he had said there was no way the village wanted the family to extend their visit and that in fact they were eager to be rid of them because of the shame they had brought on themselves and the village via Louise’s behaviour.
‘You are not welcome here any longer,’ he had said angrily, before turning to Louise’s father to accuse him savagely, ‘No father in the village, or indeed in Sicily, would permit his daughter to behave as you have allowed yours to. She shames us all with her behaviour, but most of all she shames you—her father. You have turned away from your duty and she has set about offering herself to the young men of our village—no doubt hoping to trap one of them into marriage.’
He had turned to her then, Louise remembered, his back to her family, his eyes cold with anger as he had told her, ‘Fortunately those involved have sought and listened to my counsel. There will be no future opportunities for your daughter to pursue them. In future this village will no longer recognise you as members of its community.’
Still unable to take in what was happening, Louise had turned after him as he had strode off, catching hold of his sleeve in an attempt to stop him. He had pulled away from her as though her touch contaminated him, but she had ignored that, insisting, ‘Caesar would never have allowed this to happen. He loves me.’
‘Our Duca is in Rome and will remain there until you have gone—on my advice after he confessed to me his foolishness. As for him loving you? Do you really think that any decent man, never mind one so exalted, and with the responsibilities that our Duca carries, would ever love a woman like you?’
‘He told you about … about us?’ That had been all she was capable of saying as shock and anguish gripped her.
‘Of course he told me.’
With that he had walked away, leaving her with no option other than to return to her family. Her father had been furious with her, pacing the tiled floor of the terrace as he gave vent to his feelings. He was a man who didn’t like being criticised by anyone over anything, and he had held nothing back as he had accused her of being involved in something that proved all over again how undeserving she was of being his daughter.
‘When I think of the time and money I have lavished on you—and this is how you repay me, putting me in a position where I have to listen to the criticism of a man who is little better than a goatherder. My God, if this ever got out to anyone at the university I’d become a complete laughing stock—and all because of you.’
‘Darling, I did warn you that you were spoiling her,’ Melinda had put in with a faux tender smile. ‘She really doesn’t deserve to have such a wonderful father. I’ve said so over and over again.’
It had been the hurt she’d seen in her grandparents’ eyes that had caused her the most pain.
She shouldn’t have come back here, but what choice did she really have? Making sure they had the final resting place they had wanted was far more important to her than her own feelings. She had to admit, though, that she had been taken off guard by her grandfather’s actions in writing to Caesar, on what would have virtually been his deathbed, to tell him about Oliver.
Despite the warmth of the night Louise folded her arms around her body as though to protect it from the cold—but this cold was an inner cold, not an outer one, an icy chill that came from knowing that potentially Caesar had power over her.
Once again her thoughts were drawn back to the past. After the headman had left and her father had had his say he and Melinda had stopped speaking to her, as though they could hardly bear to look at her. Only her grandparents, obviously distressed by the whole awful experience, had continued to speak to her—even though she’d seen how shocked and upset they were. She’d been shocked and upset herself, of course, and brutally forced to recognise what a fantasy