To Wear His Ring Again (10 page)

Santa Madonna!
Would the images in his mind ever fade? He finished his drink, but as he was about to turn away from the window a movement outside caught his attention. Isobel had stepped onto the balcony, and Constantin was transfixed as the breeze moulded her long white silk nightgown against her slender body. In the moonlight she was ethereal and so very lovely that the ache inside him intensified.

For her sake he had to ignore the hot throb of desire that skewered his insides, he reminded himself. But despite his good intentions he could not stop looking at her. She had her back to him and his eyes lingered on the twin curves of her bottom beneath her silky gown. As he watched she leaned further forwards over the balcony railing.

A vision from the past flashed into his mind. His stepmother leaning over the balcony rail; falling, falling... Lorena's scream echoed inside his head.

‘Get away from there!'
The calm of the velvet night air was shattered by Constantin's loud shout. Startled, Isobel looked round, and gave a cry of fright when he clamped his hands around her waist like a vice and lifted her off her feet, bundling her through the sliding glass doors into his bedroom.

‘What are you
doing
?'

‘What am
I
doing?
Mio Dio
, what were
you
doing leaning over the railing like that?' He swore savagely and raked his hair back from his brow with a hand that was actually shaking, Isobel noticed. He was grey beneath his tan, and the expression in his eyes was like none she had ever seen before. For a few seconds she saw stark terror in his eyes before he swung away from her, poured whisky from the bottle into a glass and gulped it down.

‘I was trying to get a better view of the fountains. Constantin...I was quite safe. The balcony rail is too high for me to have fallen over.'

He slowly turned back to her, and she was relieved to see he had regained some colour in his face. To her surprise, he looked almost embarrassed by his strange behaviour.

‘I guess I overreacted,' he muttered. ‘It's just that I hate heights.'

Her eyebrows rose. ‘You hate heights, yet you live in a penthouse with a balcony.' She compressed her lips in an unsuccessful attempt to disguise their betraying quiver.

‘It's not funny,' he snapped.

‘Oh, come on, Constantin, it is a bit,' Isobel giggled. Her shock when he had grabbed hold of her and hauled her in off the balcony—coming so soon after the shock of being attacked by the stalker—had left her feeling slightly crazy. ‘You must have one of the best views of Rome but you're too scared to enjoy it.' She gave a peal of laughter. ‘It's the most human reaction you've ever shown.'

Constantin closed his eyes and tried to block out the memories that swirled like black storm clouds in his brain. It was no good. He could not prevent the film reel in his mind from playing.

He was seventeen and spending the summer at Casa Celeste. He saw his father and Franco's young, pretty second wife standing on the balcony at the top of the tower. He heard his father's harsh voice and Lorena's high-pitched tones. Standing below in the courtyard, Constantin had realised they were arguing again. For years afterwards he had been unable to remember who had moved first—his father, or Lorena. His heart had crashed with fear as he saw Lorena topple over the balcony railing and fall through the air. He would never forget the sound of her scream. Moments later he had watched his father fall after Lorena. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion but it must have only been seconds before he heard two thuds. Thankfully he had closed his eyes at the moment of impact. For years he had blanked out the details of what he had witnessed—until his nightmares had revealed exactly what had taken place on the balcony.

He jerked his eyes open and saw Isobel staring at him. She had teased him for being scared of heights, but she had no idea of the stark terror that had seized him when he had seen her lean over the balcony.

‘Surely not,
cara
,' he said grittily. ‘I have never failed to react like a normal human male when I'm with you.'

Isobel belatedly realised that he was furious with her for teasing him. Remembering the strained look on his face when he had rushed onto the balcony, she acknowledged that her amusement had been misplaced.

‘I'm sorry,' she muttered. But her apology was also too late. The glitter in Constantin's eyes warned her that she had pushed him beyond his limit. But while her brain urged her to run from his room, her limbs refused to obey. The atmosphere between them trembled with tension that built, second by simmering second, until it was an explosive force.

He swore as he caught hold of her and dragged her towards him. ‘It will be my pleasure to demonstrate that I have all the normal human reactions,
mia bella
,' he told her harshly. Without giving her a chance to reply, he brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her with savage possession.

Constantin slid his hands down and clasped Isobel's bottom in a statement of bold intent. She felt the heat of his touch brand her through her thin nightgown and she gasped as he dragged her hard against him, forcing her pelvis into contact with the solid length of his arousal. He gave her no opportunity to voice her objection as he plundered her mouth and stole his pleasure, thrusting his tongue between her lips and exploring her with a flagrant eroticism that turned her bones to liquid.

The fire had been building all evening. Long before that, she conceded, remembering the electricity that had sizzled between them when she had watched him working out in the gym at his London home. Their hunger for each other had always been a driving force in their relationship, and however much her common sense told her to stop the madness her body recognised its master and was a willing slave to the delicious sensations he was creating with his hands and mouth.

He trailed his lips down her throat, each kiss sending a little shockwave through her that made every nerve-ending tingle. She arched her neck and gave herself up to hedonistic pleasure that intensified when he drew the straps of her gown over her shoulders and peeled the sheer silk away from her breasts.

She knew she should stop him, but the realisation that she was playing into his hands was driven from her mind when he cupped her breasts in his palms and kneaded them gently. It felt so good, but good became unbelievably wonderful as he flicked his thumb pads across her nipples, sending starbursts of sensation from her breasts down to her pelvis. The ache there grew to a desperate need that made her press her hips to his so that the hard bulge beneath his trousers rubbed against the hidden sweet spot at the heart of her femininity.

He growled something against her mouth and with one fluid motion yanked her nightgown over her hips and it slithered to the floor, leaving her naked to his glittering gaze. She made a little murmur of embarrassment as he slid his hand between her legs and gave her a mocking smile when he parted her and discovered the moist heat of her arousal.

‘It appears that your human reactions work well too
, tesorino
.'

She closed her eyes to block out his cynical expression. ‘Constantin—
don't
!' Taunting her about her weakness for him was bad enough, but his casual use of the endearment that she had once hoped meant that he cared for her was heartbreaking.

He caught hold of her chin and tilted her head up. ‘Tears, Isabella?' An expression of pain flitted across his hard-boned face. She looked fragile and achingly vulnerable, the bruises on her arms a grim reminder of her narrow escape from the mentally disturbed stalker who had become obsessed with her. ‘Do you honestly believe I would hurt you?'

Isobel recalled his stark expression when he had leaned over her hospital bed
. I will never forgive myself for putting you in danger
, he'd told her with a roughness in his tone that she had never heard before.

She shook her head. ‘I know you were trying to protect me when you saw me on the balcony.' She met his gaze, her clear hazel eyes containing a breathtaking honesty. ‘I know I'm safe with you.'

Santa Madre!
He did not want to go there. He did not want to think of the past and all its secrets. What he wanted, needed, was to lose himself in the sweet seduction of Isobel's body. To kiss her and have her kiss him back, to caress her silken skin and feel her gentle hands on his body as she stroked his own aching body and brought him to the edge of ecstasy. He would take her with him on that tumultuous ride for they shared a passion that he had never experienced as intensely with any other woman.

Isobel gave a broken sigh as Constantin claimed her mouth once more, but this time his passion was tempered by a beguiling tenderness that shattered her soul. He was
everything.
The love of her life. The two years they had been apart had been unendingly lonely. She had thousands of fans around the world and sang in front of vast audiences, but every night she had slept alone and her heart had ached for one man.

He traced his lips over the fragile line of her collarbone and made a muffled sound almost as if he were in pain as he kissed each black bruise on her arms. A shiver of pleasure feathered down Isobel's spine as he moved lower to caress her breasts, painting moist circles around each aureole before he suckled her nipples in turn while she closed her eyes and gave herself totally to his sensual magic.

Reality faded, and was replaced with a new reality where only she and Constantin existed. She felt the mattress dip when he laid her on the bed. She watched him strip, and her heart beat faster as she studied every olive-skinned, muscle-packed inch of his body. He was a work of art, but unlike Bernini's incredible sculptures on the Fountain of the Four Rivers down in the
piazza
, his skin was warm beneath her fingertips and the wiry black hairs that covered his chest and arrowed over his flat stomach and thighs were faintly abrasive against her palms.

The jutting length of his arousal was further proof, as if she needed it, that hot red blood ran through his veins. She had forgotten just how powerfully he was built and her hesitation much have shown in her eyes because he smiled crookedly as he stretched out next to her and drew her into his arms.

‘Are you having second thoughts,
tesorino
?' he murmured.

And third and fourth thoughts, if he but knew it. She gave him a shaky smile. ‘Two years is a long time...and I'm out of practice.'

His eyes darkened. ‘There has been no one else?'

She would not lie to him. ‘No.'

‘Not for me, either.'

Now she was shocked. ‘You mean you haven't...in
two
years?'

‘We were living apart but you were,
are
, my wife.'

No wonder he was so hugely aroused, whispered a little voice in her head. Her husband was a highly sexed male and frustration must have had him climbing the walls.

He had the uncanny knack of being able to read her mind. ‘Believe it,' he said drily.

Their eyes met, and the sultry promise in his focused her mind on what he was doing with his hands as he trailed a path of fire down to the cluster of golden curls at the apex of her thighs. Despite the passing of time he had total recall of how to please her, knew the exact moment when she needed him to slide one finger into her, then two, and move them in a relentless dance until she gave a husky cry of delight and desperation.

He loved that she was so unguarded in her response to him. Aware that he was about to explode, Constantin felt his iron control shatter, and with a groan he pulled her beneath him, slid his hands beneath her bottom and drove into her with a powerful thrust that brought a gasp from her.

‘
Dio
, did I hurt you?' Remorse thickened his voice, but as he made to withdraw she wrapped her long legs around his hips.

‘No. It just feels so good.' Her shy smile reminded him of the first time he had made love to her, when her guileless enjoyment had made him come much faster than he had intended.

He focused entirely on giving her pleasure as he began to move, slowly at first, with strong, measured strokes that heightened their mutual excitement. She quickly learned his rhythm, lifting her hips to meet each powerful thrust. Their bodies moved in perfect accord, riding a sensual roller coaster that gathered speed—faster, faster, hurtling them towards the highest peak and hovering there for timeless moments before they crashed and burned in the climatic explosion of their simultaneous release.

A long time afterwards, Constantin rolled onto his back and immediately curled his arm around her and cradled her against his chest. The steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear soothed the knot of apprehension in Isobel's stomach. They needed to talk, and she was no longer sure what she hoped the outcome of the conversation would be. Had making love to her meant something to him, or was it simply to slake his sexual frustration?

‘Constantin...?'

‘Sleep now,
tesorino
,' he murmured. Was it her imagination, or did she sense that he was reluctant to break the languorous haze? The drift of his fingertips along her spine was hypnotic and she closed her mind to everything but the pleasure of simply being with him in the private world they had created.

* * *

Isobel had no concept of how long she'd slept, when something, a sound, woke her. Surfacing from the fog of sleep, she realised that she had heard a voice shouting. Her memory returned.

She'd had sex with Constantin last night
.

Why did things never seem such a good idea the next morning?

Pale grey light slivered through the blinds, and she saw on the clock that it was four a.m. Constantin was sitting up in bed, breathing hard, as if he had run a marathon. She put her hand on his shoulder and he jumped as if he had been shot.

‘
Dio!
Isobel—' he took a gulp of air ‘—I didn't realise you were awake.'