Too Devious to Tame (The Giovanni Clan) (16 page)

"Let's take this somewhere more comfortable and do that again. I can do better than this."

Better than that? Jemima wasn't at all sure she would survive that, but she was certainly willing to try. Anything to stop her thinking. At least in this they connected, and she refused to let herself dwell on the fact that she could feel his seed trickling out of her slowly … again.

****

Giorgio listened to the soft sounds of Jemima's retching that could be heard clearly in the peaceful early morning atmosphere, and he threw an arm over his eyes. He should go to her and hold her hair out the way or something, but that would mean acknowledging the elephant in the room, and neither he nor she seemed ready to have that conversation.  Giorgio had been around enough pregnant women over the years to recognize the signs. He hadn't needed Giada's quiet word in his ear, to make sure he would take care of Jemima. The Dons' wife saw everything, and he had not been surprised to hear that Jemima had been sick the last three mornings running. She'd also avoided the coffee, and seemed to have developed a liking for bananas. Jemima didn't eat bananas, ever. It was the one fruit she couldn't stand at all.

Add to that her sudden need for naps, and it all pointed to the glaringly obvious. Rita had known she was pregnant with Maria within days of conception, when she had developed a sudden craving for sauerkraut, so he knew it wasn't too soon. Was that the reason he hadn't bothered with a condom again last night, this instinctive knowledge that it was already too late for damage control?

Jemima appeared out of the bathroom then, interrupting his brooding thoughts. Huddled inside her bath robe she looked frail and deathly pale. Faint purple smudges under her eyes testament of her exhaustion, and unease tied his guts in knots. Early pregnancy was hard enough on women when they were at their physical and mental best, let alone on someone as waif like as Jemima. Silently he cursed himself for a fool. He'd failed her again. He should have taken much better care of her already.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" She gave him a wobbly smile and pulled the robe tighter round her middle. "I guess sea journeys and I don't go too well together." She didn't look at him when she spoke, and wandered over to one of the portholes.

"Have we stopped?"
             

"Yes,
cara,
we moored a while ago. Once we've had breakfast we'll be on our way to London." Jemima went even paler at the mention of breakfast. She hugged herself and swayed slightly as though she felt faint. Giorgio swore under his breath, and jumped out of bed to steady her. She leaned into him for a second, and his half erect cock roared into action with predictable speed.

She noticed, of course. She would have to be blind not to. His prick seemed to be on a trip back in time to its teenage years when he'd had absolutely no control over that particular appendage. He was a grown man for fuck's sake. The last thing Jemima needed right now was him with his own version of the leaning tower of Pisa.

"Ignore that,
cara.
The thing has a mind of its own when you're around." She giggled in response, and his lips twitched in answering amusement. Some of the old Jemima showed in the mischievous glint of her eyes when she pursed her lips and ran a fingernail down his shaft.

"I don't know. I find it quite a compliment that you find me so irresistible." She proceeded to cup his balls and knead them, and he growled low in his throat, as his balls grew tight, and his pre cum seeped out of his slit. She swiped her thumb through the moisture and used the lubrication to run her hand up and down his cock. Giorgio closed his eyes and grabbed the wall for support, willing his body to behave.

With his free hand he grabbed her wrist, halting the up and down glide of her fingers curled around his dick. "
Dio Santo
, have mercy, woman." He opened his eyes to see hers darkened in her own desire, her pale skin now flushed, and he gave in to instinct and kissed her. She whimpered into his mouth, and he fisted his hands into her hair, crowding her against the wall, as his tongue dueled with hers in an ever more passionate dance that left them both breathless by the time he pulled away. He fought for control and rested his forehead against hers for a few precious seconds. When he finally trusted himself to speak, and the throbbing in his loins had subsided enough for him to be able to move without shooting his load like a thirteen year old, he straightened and pulled her to the bed.

"You sit here and rest. I'll rustle us up some breakfast. You need to eat to keep up your strength."

She came willingly and sat on the edge of the bed, but she shook her head at the mention of breakfast.

"I couldn't eat a thing, really. My stomach—"
             

"Will feel much better once you've had some dry toast," he interrupted her murmured words, and she flushed a bright pink under his silent scrutiny. "Giada anticipated this. Her potion for …
sea sickness
is legendary." One of her hands strayed to her abdomen, and Giorgio locked his jaw and turned his back on her, lest she read the truth in his expression. Oh, yes, she was pregnant all right, but he was damned if he was going to bring this up, and admit how much his insides jumped for joy and desperate hope for the future at the thought of becoming a father. If she didn't trust him enough to tell him, it didn't bode well for the future of their relationship at all.

He threw a pair of jeans on and almost ran from the cabin. A sheet of rain greeted him, and he welcomed the cool water on his bare skin. It was only fitting that their first day back on English soil should reflect the turbulent state of their marriage. They'd never discussed kids back then, but surely she'd want them? Jemima had been reserved around his goddaughter, and Alfonso's kids, but he'd put that down to the situation they'd been in. A cold sweat broke out all over his body at the thought that she may not want
his
baby. He knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do if she didn't. All he could do was sit and wait, and pray to all the powers that be, that the cluster of cells that had taken up residence in her womb would be allowed to reach their full potential.

Anything else did not bear thinking about. He made a dash for the kitchen galley, and by the time he re-emerged with a tray full of breakfast essentials the rain had stopped, and the sun had come out. Judging by the steam rising off the yacht's surface it promised to be a hot day after all. He shouldered the door to the cabin open and found Jemima curled into a ball on the king size bed. It seemed she had gone back to sleep. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he put the tray on the night stand and shrugged out of his wet clothes. Having dried himself off with a towel he climbed into bed next to her. She moaned in her sleep, and he settled her into the crook of his arm and pulled her close, the need to hold her suddenly paramount. There were dried tears on her cheeks, and he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

He kissed the tear stains away, and his heart gave a suspicious lurch in his too tight chest, when she snuggled into him, as trusting, needy, and fragile as a new newborn foal in her sleep. He settled his hand on her abdomen and vowed there and then to do everything in his power to protect the woman he loved with every fiber of his being. He might not trust her, but he could no more not love her than he could stop breathing. It was useless to even try to fight the overwhelming feelings engulfing him. Like the swirling mass of water cascading down a waterfall, his feelings could not be denied. They pulled him under, tossed him against the rocks, and spewed him on dry land, only to yank him back into the maelstrom, when he was least expecting it. 

He was opening himself up to a world of hurt, but he was going to fight for this marriage or die trying.

The gravel of Stella Giovanni's driveway crunched underneath the tires of the car, and Jemima bit back a nervous sigh. As though he sensed her agitation Giorgio put his hand on her bare thigh, just underneath the hem of her dress, and squeezed.

"It will be okay. Relax." His deep baritone combined with the gentle pressure of his warm hand on her leg pulled her back from the brink of panic. She'd been fighting her agitation off since the moment she'd spotted the first signs for London. The closer they had come to Hampstead Heath, the worse those marching ants crawling over her skin had become. It was one thing to know she was Giorgio's wife; it was another thing entirely to have to face the entire English side of the Giovanni Clan, and from the difficulty Giorgio had trying to park his Jaguar on the packed drive way the entire clan had indeed turned up en masse. No doubt summoned by Mamma G to “welcome” Jemima into the family.

When Stella Giovanni said, "Jump," the whole family replied, "How high?" It had been fascinating to watch in Jemima's brief stint as Marco Giovanni's nanny. She'd been pretending to be Elise, before she'd run away with yet another good-for-nothing man, who'd led her straight back into the attention of the murky underworld she'd been hiding from. Though glancing at Giorgio now, maybe she didn't regret those events as much as she ought to, for they had ultimately led her back to him.

When she'd woken up in his arms back on the boat, with his hand placed in what seemed like a possessive manner on her abdomen, she'd been terrified that he suspected something. But he'd simply given her that sinful smile of his and let his hand trail lower. He'd kissed her so thoroughly and with so much emotion and tenderness that tears had pricked the backs of her eyes. She'd followed his unspoken demand without hesitation and opened herself to his questing fingers. He'd wrought several heart-stopping orgasms from her, before settling himself between her thighs and making love to her body with such fierce determination, that had she not already been in love with him she would have tumbled head over heels into the abyss.

He'd then insisted that she drank every last drop of Giada's “potion”. She hadn't dared refuse, and besides it did make her feel better. She'd even enjoyed the dry toast and had told him off for letting it grow cold in between fits of laughter. It had almost been like the early days of their meeting, when life had been uncomplicated and fun, before her past and questionable taste in men had caught up with her and driven a wedge between them.

She sighed again, and Giorgio pulled up the hand brake and shut off the engine. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. A mere brush of warm lips against hers, but it was enough to set her heart aflutter and for those ants to turn into tingles of aroused awareness of the man sitting next to her. His clean musk, laced with the hint of his expensive cologne, had wrapped itself around her senses from the minute they'd started driving. He smelled delicious, and he looked good enough to eat. The light shirt he wore clung to his torso in all the right places to accentuate the play of muscles every time he moved. His powerful arms were bare. The dusting of black hair along their tanned lengths reminded her of the light sprinkle of chest hair and that fine trail of hair she liked to trace down to the bulge hiding in his designer jeans. The faded denim showcased his butt and his powerful thighs, and her throat went dry.

"You keep looking at me like that,
cara mia,
and I'm going to have to insist on taking you straight upstairs to our room to
rest.
" Amusement laced those words, but the heat in his eyes and the way he adjusted his jeans made a little bubble of happiness pop inside Jemima's chest.

He might just be playing the devoted husband for the benefit of the Giovanni, but he did definitely still want her physically. It would have to do for now.

Her smile faded when the front door opened and Giorgio's cousins stepped out. Marco and Alex Giovanni were identical in looks, right down to the crystal blue eyes that made such a startling contrast in their olive tanned complexion. Alex was taller than Marco, and he still carried a slight limp following on from the accident that had almost cost him his life, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Had it not been for Giorgio's slate grey eyes he, too, would have been an exact replica. He matched Marco in height and build exactly.

Alex waved across at them when he spotted them in the car, whereas Marco scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, earning himself a punch on the arm from his cousin. Giorgio wiped his thumb over her lips and gave her one last reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, before he got out of the car and walked across to meet his cousins.

Jemima stayed where she was for a few precious seconds before several little human cannon balls shot out of the front door accompanied by manic screeching.  A football connected with the wind screen and made her jump. Two little boys looked rather chagrined when Marco shouted at them to watch it, before they grabbed the ball back and disappeared 'round the side of the house, followed by several other small people. The only one Jemima recognized was Marco's daughter Mimi. Taller than she remembered her being, she was still very much Mimi. The little girl stopped briefly to look at her, when Jemima's wobbly legs had finally carried her out of the car, gave her a big smile, and then issued a battle cry a Native American Indian would have been proud of. Marco rolled his eyes, Alex laughed, and Giorgio held his hand out for her to grasp. She took strength from his encouraging smile and crossed the driveway to take hold of his hand. He drew her in front of him. With his arms round her waist, and his chin resting on her shoulder, she had nowhere to go. She was also surrounded by his warmth and strength, and when Stella Giovanni joined them, her knees didn't buckle under her cool assessing glance. Neither did she disgrace herself by falling into Elise's arms and sobbing all over her summer dress the minute she saw her sister.