Her Exquisite Surrender: Surrendering All But Her Heart / Innocent in the Ivory Tower / Full Surrender

‘Apology accepted,’ she said.

He came to her and gently cupped her right cheek in his hand, his eyes searching hers. ‘Can we start again?’ he asked.

She gave a little frown. ‘Start from where?’

His mouth curved upwards. ‘Hi, my name is Angelo Bellandini and I’m a hotel and property developer. I’m an only child of wealthy Italian parents. I help to run my father’s arm of the business while working on my own.’

She gave a resigned sigh. ‘Hi, my name is Natalie Armitage and I’m an interior designer, with an expanding sideline in bedlinen and soft furnishings.’ She chewed at her lip for a moment and added, ‘And I have a fear of flying …’

His thumb stroked her cheek. ‘How old were you when you first got scared?’

‘I was … seven …’

‘What happened?’

She slipped out of his hold and averted her gaze. ‘I’d rather not talk about it with a virtual stranger.’

‘I’m not a stranger,’ he said. ‘I’m your husband.’

‘Not by my choice,’ she muttered.

‘Don’t do this, Natalie.’

‘Don’t do what?’ she asked, glaring at him. ‘Tell it how it is? You blackmailed me back into your life. Now you want me to open up to you as if we’re suddenly inseparable soul mates. I’m not good at being open with people. I’ve never been good at it. I’m private and closed. It must be my Scottish heritage. We’re not outwardly passionate like you Italians. You’ll just have to accept that’s who I am.’

The touch of his hands on her shoulders made every cell of her skin flicker and dance in response.

‘You’re much more passionate than you give yourself credit for,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the scratch marks on my back to prove it.’

Natalie felt that passion stirring within her. His body was calling out to hers in a silent language that was as old as time itself. It spoke to her flesh, making it tauten and tingle all over in anticipation. She wished she had the strength or indeed the willpower to step back from his magnetic heat, but her body was on autopilot. She pressed closer, that delicious ache of need starting deep in her core.

His mouth came down towards hers as hers came up, and they met in an explosion of sensation that made the flesh on her body shudder in delight. He flooded her senses with his taste—mint and male, heat and primal purpose. His tongue darted and dived around hers, subjecting it to a teasing tango that made her spine shiver and shake like a string of bottle caps rattling against each other. Heat pooled between her legs as he moved against her, the thickened length of him exciting her unbearably. She rubbed against him wantonly, desperate for the earth-shattering release that he alone could give her.

He pulled back slightly, his breathing heavy. ‘Too fast.’

‘Not fast enough,’ she said and, pulling his head down, covered his mouth with her greedy one.

His hands worked on her clothes with deliberate attention to detail. She squirmed and writhed as he kissed every spot of flesh as he gradually exposed it. She tugged his shirt out of his trousers and with more haste than precision got him out of the rest of his clothes. She ran her hands over him reverentially. He was so strong and so lean, his muscles tightly corded, his skin satin smooth all but for the sprinkling of masculine hair that went from his chest in an arrow to his swollen groin. She stroked him with her hand, loving the feel of his reaction to her touch. She heard him snatch in a breath, his eyes glittering as she gave him a sultry look from beneath her lashes.

‘If you’re going to do what I think you’re about to do then this show is going to be over before it gets started,’ he warned.

She gave him a devil-may-care look and shimmied down in front of him. ‘Then I’ll just have to wait until the encore, won’t I?’

‘Dio mio,’ he groaned in ecstasy as she took him into her mouth.

She used her tongue and the moistness of her saliva to take him to the brink. She would have pushed him over, but he stopped her by placing his hands on either side of her head.

‘Enough,’ he growled, and hauled her to her feet.

He carried her to the bed, laying her down and covering her, with his weight supported by his arms to avoid crushing her. His mouth took hers in a searing kiss as his hand caressed her breasts and that aching secret dark place between her thighs.

It was her turn to suck in a breath when he moved down her body to stroke her with his lips and tongue. She felt the fizzing of her nerves as he brought her closer and closer. Her release started far away, and then gathered speed and stampeded through her flesh. She lost herself in a whirlpool of sensation that made her feel weightless and boneless.

She opened her eyes to find him looking at her as he stroked a lazy finger down between her breasts. ‘Do you want to finish me off with your hand?’ he asked.

She gave him a little frown. ‘Don’t you want to come inside me?’

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he said, gently circling one of her nipples. ‘You might still be sore.’

She stroked her hand down his lean stubbly jaw. ‘I want you inside me,’ she said. ‘I want you.’

His eyes held hers in a sensual lock that made her belly quiver. ‘I’ll take it easy,’ he said. ‘Tell me to stop if it hurts.’

‘It’s not as if I’m a virgin, Angelo,’ she said, with a brittle little laugh to cover her unexpected emotional response to his tenderness. ‘I can handle everything you dish out.’

His eyes smouldered as they held hers. ‘Don’t say you weren’t warned,’ he said, and covered her mouth with his.

Angelo lay on his side and watched Natalie sleep. From time to time he would pick up a silky strand of her hair and twirl it around one of his fingers.

She didn’t stir.

Her stubborn refusal to open her heart to him was like a thorn in his flesh. It was as if she would do anything to stop him thinking she cared about him. He thought back to their break-up, to how she had announced without warning that she was leaving. Her bags had been packed when he’d come home from a three-day workshop in Wales. She had told him she had slept with someone she had met at the local pub. He had stood there in dumbstruck silence, wondering if she was joking.

Their relationship had been volatile at times, but he hadn’t really thought she was serious about walking out on him. She had threatened to many times, but he had always thought it was just her letting off steam. He had planned to ask her to marry him that very night. He had wanted to wait until he got back from the workshop so she would have had time to think about how much she had missed him. But then she had shown him a photo on her phone, of her with a man, sitting at the bar, smiling over their drinks. The anger he had felt at seeing the evidence of her betrayal had been like a hot red dust storm in front of his eyes. She had stood there, looking at him with a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it-look and he had snapped.

He wasn’t proud of the words he had flailed her with. He was even more ashamed that he’d pushed her up against the wall like a cheap hooker and given her a bruising parting kiss that had left both of them bleeding.

He shuffled through his thoughts as he looked at her lying next to him like a sleeping angel.

She had wanted him to believe she had betrayed him.

But why?

Hadn’t he shown her how much he had loved her? He had said it enough times and shown it in a thousand different ways. She had never taken him seriously. Funny that, since she took life so seriously herself. She rarely smiled unless it was a self-effacing one. He couldn’t remember ever hearing her laugh other than one of those totally fake cackles that grated on his nerves because he knew them for the tawdry imitation they were.

Why had she been so desperate to get him out of her life?

He was still frowning when she opened her eyes and stretched like a cat. ‘What time is it?’ she asked.

‘You didn’t do it, did you?’ he asked.

A puzzled flicker passed through her gaze. ‘Do what?’

‘You didn’t sleep with that guy from the bar.’

She made a business of sitting upright and covering herself with a portion of the sheet. ‘I went home with him,’ she said after a moment.

‘But you didn’t sleep with him,’ he said. ‘You wanted me to think you had. You wanted me to believe that because you knew me well enough to know I would never have let you go for anything less.’

A tiny muscle began tapping in her cheek and her eyes took on a defensive sheen. ‘I wasn’t ready for commitment. You were pressuring me to settle down. I didn’t want to lose my freedom. I didn’t want to lose my identity and become some nameless rich man’s husband just like my mother.’

‘You’re nothing like your mother, cara,’ he said. ‘You’re too strong and feisty for that.’

She got off the bed and wrapped herself in a silky wrap. ‘I don’t always feel strong,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I feel …’ Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

‘What do you feel?’

She turned to the dressing table and picked up a brush, started pulling it through her hair. ‘I feel hungry,’ she said. She put the brush down and swung around to face him. ‘What does a girl have to do around here to get a meal?’

Angelo knew it wasn’t wise to push her. He had to be patient with her. She was feeling vulnerable and had retreated back to her default position. It was her way of protecting herself.

He only wished he had known that five years ago.

Natalie sat across from Angelo in a restaurant in Sorrento an hour later. He had given her the choice of eating in or out and she had chosen to go out. It wasn’t that she particularly wanted to mingle with other people; it was more that she wanted to keep her head when around him. She couldn’t do that so well when she was alone with him.

The passion they had shared had stirred up old longings that made her feel uneasy. She was fine with having sex with him—more than fine, truth be told. It was just she knew he would want more from her.

He had always wanted more than she was prepared to give.

How long before he would ask her to think about staying with him indefinitely? Then he would start talking about babies.

His mother had already dropped a few broad hints when she had helped her choose her wedding dress. Natalie’s stomach knotted at the thought of being responsible for a tiny infant. She could just imagine how her parents would react if she were to tell them she was having a baby. Her mother would reach for the nearest bottle and drain it dry. Her father wouldn’t say a word. He would simply raise his eyebrows and a truckload of guilt would land on her like a concrete slab.

Angelo reached across the table and touched her lightly on the back of her hand. ‘Hello, over there,’ he said with a soft smile.

Natalie gave him a rueful smile in return. ‘Sorry … I’m hardly scintillating company, am I?’

‘I don’t expect you to be the life of the party all the time, cara,’ he said. ‘It’s enough that you’re here.’

She looked at his fingers entwined with hers. She had missed his touch so much in the years that had passed. She had missed the way his skin felt against hers, the way he felt under the caress of her hands. She had lain awake at night with her body crying out for his lovemaking. Her body had felt so empty. So lifeless without the sensual energy he shot through it like an electric charge.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked, stroking the underside of her wrist with the broad pad of his thumb.

She met his chocolate-brown gaze and felt her insides flex and contract with lust. ‘Do you want dessert?’ she asked.

‘Depends on what it is,’ he said with a sexy glint.

She could barely sit still in her chair for the rocket blast of longing that swept through her. ‘I’m not in the mood for anything sweet,’ she said.

‘What are you in the mood for?’ Still that same sexy glitter was lighting his eyes from behind.

‘Nothing that takes too much time to prepare.’

‘I can be a fast order chef when the need arises,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you want and I’ll deliver it as fast as humanly possible.’

Natalie shivered as he came behind her to pull out her chair for her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up as his warm wine-scented breath coasted past her ear. She leaned back against him, just for a brief moment, to see if he was aroused.

He was.

She smiled to herself and walked out of the restaurant with him, her body already quaking in anticipation.

Angelo had barely opened the door of the villa when she slammed him up against the wall as if she was about to frisk him.

‘Hey, was it something I said?’ he asked.

Her dark blue gaze sizzled as it held his. ‘You promised me dessert,’ she said. ‘It’s time to serve me.’

The entire length of his backbone shuddered as she ran her hand over his erection. ‘Who’s doing the cooking here?’ he asked.

She gave him a wicked look and brazenly unzipped him. ‘I want an appetiser,’ she said.

It was all he could do to stand there upright as she sank to her knees in front of him. He braced himself by standing with his feet slightly apart. When she was in this mood there was no stopping her. He was just happy to be taken along for the ride.

And what a ride it was.

Fireworks went off in his head. He couldn’t have held back if he had tried. She ruthlessly teased and caressed him until he was barely able to stand upright. His skin went up in a layer of goosebumps and his heart raced like a fat retiree at a fun run.

She stood up and gave him a wanton smile that had a hint of challenge to it. ‘Top that,’ she said.

‘I can do that,’ he said, and swept her up in his arms.

He took her to the master suite. He dropped her in the middle of the mattress and then pulled her by one ankle until she was right between his spread thighs. He leaned over her, breathing in her scent, his mouth coming down to claim her in a sensual feast that had her shuddering in seconds. She bucked and arched and screamed, and even batted at him with her fists, but he wouldn’t let her go until he was satisfied that he had drawn every last shuddering gasp out of her.

She lay back and flung a hand over her eyes, her chest rising and falling. ‘OK, you win,’ she said breathlessly.

‘It was pretty damn close,’ he said, coming to lie next to her. He trailed a finger down the length of her satin-smooth arm. ‘Maybe we should have a re-match some time soon, just to make sure?’

She rolled her head to look at him. ‘Give me ten minutes.’

‘Five.’

‘You’re insatiable.’

‘Only with you.’

A tiny frown puckered her brow and she turned her head back to look at the ceiling. ‘Have there been many?’ she asked after a pause.

‘Does it matter?’

She gave a careless shrug, but the tight set of her expression contradicted it. ‘Not really.’

‘I was never in love with anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘I’m not.’

He sent his fingertip over the silky smooth cup of her shoulder. ‘Is it so hard to admit you care for me?’ he said.

She shoved his hand away and got off the bed. ‘I knew you would do this,’ she said in agitation.

‘What did I do?’

She turned and speared him with her gaze. ‘I don’t love you,’ she said. ‘Is there something about those words you don’t understand? I don’t love you. I like you. I like you a lot. You’re a nice person. I’ve never met a more decent person. But I’m not in love with you.’

Frustration made Angelo’s voice grate. ‘You don’t want to love anyone, that’s why. You do care, Tatty. You care so much it scares the hell out of you.’

She clenched her fists by her sides. ‘I can’t give you what you want,’ she said.

‘I want you.’

‘You want more,’ she said. ‘You’ve said it from the beginning. You want a family. You want children. I can’t give you them.’

‘Are you infertile?’

She rolled her eyes heavenwards and turned away. ‘I knew you wouldn’t understand.’

He came over to her and took her by the upper arms. ‘Then make me understand,’ he said.

She pressed her lips together, as if she was trying to stop an outburst of unchecked speech from escaping.

He gave her arms a gentle squeeze. ‘Talk to me, Tatty.’

Her eyes watered and she blinked a couple of times to push the tears back. ‘What sort of mother would I be?’ she asked.

‘You’d be a wonderful mother.’

‘I’d be a total nutcase,’ she said, pulling away from him. ‘I’d probably be one of those helicopter parents everyone talks about. I would never be able to relax. So much can happen to a child. There’s so much danger out there: illness, accidents, sick predators on the streets and online. It’s all too much to even think about.’

‘Most parents manage to bring up their children without anything horrible happening to them,’ he said. ‘It’s easy to look at what’s reported in the press and think that the danger is widespread and unavoidable, but you’re disregarding all the positive parenting experiences that are out there.’

‘I just don’t want to go there,’ she said. ‘You can’t make me. No one can make me. You can’t force me to get pregnant.’

‘I sure hope you’re on the pill, then, because I haven’t always used protection.’

‘Did you do that deliberately?’ she asked with a hardened look.

‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘You were on the pill in the past … I just assumed … OK, maybe I shouldn’t have. I’m clear, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘Yes, well, so am I,’ she said. ‘It’s not like I’ve been out there much just lately.’

‘Have you been “out there” at all?’

She tried to look casual about it, but he saw her nibble at the inside of her mouth. ‘A couple of times,’ she said.

‘What happened?’

She gave him a withering look. ‘I’m not going to discuss my sex life with you.’

‘Did you have sex?’

She looked away. ‘It wasn’t great sex,’ she said. ‘More of a token effort, really. I don’t even remember the guy’s name.’

‘What were you trying to prove?’

She looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I’ve noticed you have a habit of using sex when you want to avoid intimacy.’

She pulled her chin back in derision. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said. ‘What sort of pop psychology is that? Isn’t sex all about intimacy?’

‘Physical, maybe, but not emotional,’ he said. ‘Emotional intimacy takes it to a whole different level.’

‘That’s way too deep for me,’ she said, with an airy toss of her head. ‘I like sex. I like the rush of it. I don’t need anything else.’

‘You don’t want anything else because you’re running away from who you really are,’ he said.

‘I’m sure you’re a great big world expert on emotional intimacy,’ she said with a scathing curl of her lip. ‘You’ve had five different lovers in the last year.’

‘So you have been counting.’

She stalked to the other side of the room. ‘The Texan heiress was way too young for you,’ she said. ‘She looked like she was barely out of the schoolroom.’

‘I didn’t sleep with her.’

She gave a scoffing laugh. ‘No, I can imagine you didn’t. You would’ve kept her up way past her bedtime with your silver-tongued charm.’

Angelo ground his teeth in search of patience. ‘I’m not going to wait for ever for you, Natalie,’ he said. ‘I have an empire that needs an heir. I’ve felt the pressure of that since I was twenty-one years old. If you can’t commit to that, then I’ll have to find someone else who will.’

She gave him a stony look. ‘That’s why you forced me into this farce of a marriage, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘It isn’t just about revenge or nostalgic past feelings. It’s a convenient way to get what you want. My brother played right into your hands.’

‘This has nothing to do with your brother,’ he said. ‘This is between us. It’s always been between us.’

Her slate-blue eyes were hard and cynical. ‘Tell me something, Angelo,’ she said. ‘Would you have done it? Would you really have sent my brother to prison?’

He returned her look with ruthless determination. ‘You’re still the only person standing between your brother and years behind bars,’ he said. ‘Don’t ever forget that, Natalie. His future is in your hands.’

She put up her chin, her eyes flashing their blue fire of defiance at him. ‘I could call your bluff on that.’

He nailed her with his gaze. ‘You do that, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘And see how far it gets you.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

NATALIE walked out in the moonlit gardens when sleep became impossible. She had tossed and fretted for the past couple of hours, but there was no way she could close her eyes without images of the past flickering through her brain like old film footage.

Tomorrow was the anniversary of her baby brother’s death.

The hours leading up to it were always mental torture. Was that why she had practically thrown herself at Angelo, in an attempt to block it from her mind? She hadn’t seen him since he had stalked out on her after delivering his spine-chilling threat.

She wanted to test him.

She wanted to see if he really was as ruthless as he claimed to be but it was too risky. Lachlan would have to pay the price.

She couldn’t do it.

He had a future—the future that had been taken from Liam. Lachlan didn’t just have his own life to live; he had that of his baby brother, too. No wonder he was buckling under the pressure. Who could ever live up to such a thing? Lachlan was his own person. He had his own goals and aspirations. But for years he had suppressed them in order to keep their parents happy. He had no interest in the family business. Natalie could see that, but their father could not or would not. Their mother couldn’t see further than the label on the next bottle of liquor.

She gave a thorny sigh and turned to look at the shimmering surface of the pool that had appeared as if by magic in front of her. She generally avoided swimming pools.

Too many memories.

Even the smell of chlorine was enough to set the nerves in her stomach into a prickling panic. Before Liam’s death she had loved the water. She had spent many a happy hour in the pool at Armitage Manor, practising what she had learned with Granny and Grandad at the beach at Crail. But after Liam had died the pool had been bulldozed and made into a tennis court.

She had never once picked up a tennis racket.

She looked at the moonlit water; a tiny breeze teased the surface. It was like a crinkled bolt of silver silk.

Had she come out here in a subconscious attempt to find some peace at last? Would she ever find peace? Forgiveness? Redemption?

A footfall behind her had her spinning around so quickly she almost fell into the water behind her.

‘Couldn’t you at least have said something before sneaking up on me like that?’ she asked clutching at her thumping chest as Angelo stepped into the circle of light from one of the garden lamps.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he asked.

She rubbed at her arms even though it was still warm. ‘It’s not all that late,’ she said.

‘It’s three a.m.’

She frowned. ‘Is it?’

‘I’ve been watching you for the last hour.’

She narrowed her gaze. ‘Don’t you mean spying?’

‘I was worried about you.’

She raised a brow mockingly. ‘What?’ she asked. ‘You thought I might do something drastic rather than face the prospect of being tied to you for the rest of my life?’

‘I was concerned you might go for a swim.’

Her eyebrow arched even higher. ‘Do I have to ask your permission?’

‘No, of course not,’ he said, frowning. ‘I was just worried you mightn’t realise the danger of swimming alone late at night.’

A hysterical bubble of laughter almost choked her. ‘Yeah, right—like I don’t already know that,’ she said with bitter irony.