The Baby Gambit Part 18

Grace could only stare helplessly at him. 'Is this why you came to England?'

'Why else?' Matteo's breath was warm against her cheek. 'I should have got to your apartment yesterday eve ning, but my flight was delayed-'

'The air traffic controllers' strike.'

'The strike. That's right.' Matteo nodded. 'It was after midnight by the time I reached the city so I checked into a hotel-'

'Not-not the Dorchester?' she breathed, still barely able to believe what was happening to her, and Matteo frowned.

'No. The Savoy,' he said uncomprehendingly. 'Does it matter?'

'No.' Grace shook her head, content that her doubts about the man who had answered Julia's phone had not been misplaced.

'But you spoke to my mother?'

'I rang her this morning when I discovered you were neither at work nor at your apartment. She seemed-un surprised that I was looking for you.'

Grace smiled. 'My mother is an optimist.'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

'It doesn't matter.' Grace explored his face with a hunger she'd hardly dared to acknowledge until now. 'You came back. That's what matters.'

'Does it?' Matteo released her hands to cup her face between his spread fingers. 'Oh, cara, have you any idea of how I felt that morning when Julia said the words that almost ruined my life?'

'I think I have a fair idea,' she responded, a little breathily.

'Even though I thought your behaviour was-was to tally reprehensible.'

Matteo groaned, his thumbs probing the faint lines be neath her eyes. 'That was your fault,' he murmured, brush ing her mouth with his in a tantalising little caress. 'I wasn't prepared for the fact that meeting Julia had just been fate's way of bringing us together.' lie kissed her again, more deeply. 'I knew, from the minute you opened the door of Julia's apartment, and looked at me in that supercilious way you have, that you and I had unfinished business.'

Grace protested. 'I don't have a supercilious look,' she cried, and Matteo's hands slid possessively to the back of her scalp.

'Yes, you do. And I love it,' he a.s.sured her softly. 'Just as I love every single thing about you. I want you. I want you so much, cara. I want to kiss you, and hold you, and make love with you-' He broke off abruptly, resting his forehead against hers as he fought for restraint. 'But,' he went on, 'you haven't eaten, and Signora Carlucci is ex pecting us to do justice to her most excellent dinner-'

'I'm not hungry,' said Grace at once, and Matteo ex pelled an unsteady breath.

'I am,' he told her honestly. 'But only for you.'

'So...' She trembled.

'So, come with me,' he said, his voice rough with pas sion, and she took the hand he held out to her without hesitation.

She was hardly aware of where he was taking her, only that this was not the way to her apartments. But she would have followed him to the ends of the earth, she thought, quivering a little at how vulnerable that made her.

When they finally arrived at their destination, she knew that these were Matteo's rooms. Heavy wooden doors opened into a lamplit sitting room that was essentially mas culine in design, with deep armchairs upholstered in glove- soft leather and thick velvet drapes at the long windows. /The curtains in the living room weren't drawn, and through the windows she could see the lights twinkling across the valley.

Unlike her apartments, which had a door to divide the rooms, here an archway revealed the adjoining apartment where a huge four-poster bed was set squarely on a dais. The curtains were drawn across the windows in the bed room, creating an intensely intimate atmosphere that she could not ignore.

Matteo closed the outer door and came to stand beside her as she lingered by the archway. 'Don't blame me,' he said softly, looking at the bed. 'It's a family heirloom.'

Grace took a breath and then, turning towards him, put her hands up to his face. 'Is it comfortable?' she asked provocatively, and Matteo pulled her possessively into his arms.

'Do you want to find out?' he asked, looking deeply into her eyes, and she felt her heart turn over with love for him.

'Please,' she breathed, her hands dropping to the open neck of his shirt and lingering against his warm skin. 'But I think I'd better take your mother's gown off first.'

'Let me,' he said, his hands moving surely to the b.u.t.tons at the back of her neck. Then, turning her round, he bent his mouth to the soft flesh he'd exposed. 'I hoped you'd choose this one,' he added, his fingers causing a gathering swell of sensation to ripple down her spine. 'Nonna had a picture of my mother wearing it when she was about your age, and it was always my favourite.'

Grace swung round as he peeled the outer layer of the dress away. 'You chose it?' she exclaimed. 'But Ceci said-'

'What I told her to say,' Matteo informed her, with gen tle arrogance. 'Do you mind?'

Grace glanced down at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her nipples taut against the fine silk of the undergarment. 'Is there any point?' she asked helplessly, and he lifted his hands to cover the rebellious peaks.

'Not really,' he conceded, his palms driving her mad with the desire to feel them against her naked flesh.

And, as if he knew exactly how she was feeling, he re leased the shoulder fastenings then so that the slip pooled about her feet. Her bra a rather plain eyelet cotton-followed it, and she was left wearing only cotton bikini briefs.

Matteo gazed at her with obvious hunger for a moment, and then his hands went to the b.u.t.tons of his own shirt. 'Help me,' he said as her eyes followed his hands down to where his erection swelled the front of his black trousers, and, kicking off her sandals, Grace obeyed.

But when she would have knelt to ease the trousers off his legs Matteo could stand it no longer. 'Don't,' he groaned, flinging off his shirt and balancing on each leg in turn to free himself from the constriction of his trousers. Then, when he had rid himself of his silk boxers as well, he pulled her against him.

It was the first time she had felt his naked body against hers and the sensation was incredible. He was so hot, his skin coa.r.s.er than hers, except between his legs where it was as silky soft as it had been in her dream.

'Do you know how much I've longed for this moment?' he said, his voice m.u.f.fled against the curve of her neck. 'When I thought I'd lost you, I used to torment myself with images of you with some other man.'

'I dreamed about you,' confessed Grace, lifting her shoulder to his seeking lips. She spread her palms against his chest. 'But it wasn't as good as this.'

'Nothing's ever been as good as this,' muttered Matteo, pulling her even closer. His manhood thrust urgently against her stomach. 'I've never wanted any other woman as I've wanted you.'

Her sigh whispered against his throat, her knees sagging as he caressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Every sensation he was inspiring seemed to be centred on her stomach and between her legs, tiny darts of excitement that tightened her muscles and moistened her skin.

His hands moved to grip her upper arms, sliding up and down, up and down, as his mouth finally sought her parted lips. His tongue thrust into her mouth, filling her with its heat and maleness, a hot wet possession that brought her arching helplessly towards him.

He stroked her back now, his fingers finding all the sen sitive pulses of her spine, before his thumbs hooked the waistband of her briefs. With his mouth devouring hers, she could only give a little moan of pleasure as he peeled the briefs away, and then the power of his arousal nudged the silvery crest that hid her s.e.x.

It was too much; she had to clutch his neck to prevent herself from falling, and, containing his own impatience, Matteo drew her across to the bed. Grace wasn't sure if she was going to make it, but he swung her up into his arms, and, climbing onto the dais, he lowered her gently onto the soft quilt.

He knelt beside her then, taking the time to loosen her hair from its braid and spread her hair on the pillows as he'd once promised he would. The silk scarf he fanned across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, before suckling her through its gauzy sheath, and Grace, found there was something incredibly erotic in his actions, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s twice as sensitised when he drew the gauze away.

He traced the line of her stomach down to her navel, following his fingers with his tongue, licking away the heated moisture that filmed her skin. He parted her legs, finding the delicate petals that opened to his fingers, strok ing the cleft that pulsated between her legs.

But when Grace would have stroked his erection he gripped her hand around him in instant denial. 'No, cara,' he said, 'my control is far too thin. Let me please you first; let me play with your body a little longer; it responds so sweetly.' He bent her leg and insinuated a tantalising kiss behind her knee. 'You see,' he said, when she jerked au tomatically against him. 'I want to taste every inch of you tonight.'

'But, Matteo...'

Grace sighed, levering herself up on her elbows, and with a lithe shift he stretched his length beside her. 'What, cara?' he asked huskily, his thumb teasing the edge of her desire, and when she looked down and groaned he pushed his thumb into her aching flesh.

It was all that was needed. Her body bucked beneath his hands, and her low moan of surrender seemed to scar his need.

'Now, cara,' he said, moving to kneel between her legs as the shock waves of emotions reached a climax. And, sliding his hands beneath her rounded bottom, he lifted her to meet his thrusting shaft.

Grace hadn't believed it could get any better, but it did. When Matteo impaled her, the pleasure she was feeling rose in counterpoint to his need. For a few brief moments they rode together to the rim of the volcano, then Matteo's explosive climax tore the barriers away.

It was like falling through s.p.a.ce. Her mind ceased to react, and her senses took over. Her body throbbed in the aftermath of an almost spiritual fulfilment, the physical tremors she was feeling echoing deep inside her soul.

For the first time she realised the difference between hav ing s.e.x and making love. Matteo had just made love with her, and the weight of his body crushing hers into the mat tress was a privilege and not an invasion.

She was smoothing the damp hair at the nape of his neck when Matteo stirred and rolled immediately onto his side, facing her. 'I'm sorry,' he said huskily. 'I'm afraid I haven't been very sensible, have I?'

'Sensible?' Grace frowned. 'I don't understand.'

'I didn't use any protection,' replied Matteo roughly, us ing both hands to comb back his hair. He propped himself up on one elbow, stifling a profanity as he did so. 'Til make sure it doesn't happen next time.'

Grace took a breath. 'So there is going to be a next time, then?' she murmured carefully, and his eyes darkened with unmistakable impatience.

'What are you saying?' he demanded, 'I want you to marry me.

My G.o.d. you didn't think I meant anything else?'

Grace quivered. 'I didn't know, did I?' she protested, her excitement scarcely held in check now. 'You did say you had no intention of getting married again.'

'A foolish boast,' he said, his fingers brushing her lips.

'Particularly as I already couldn't bear to leave you alone.'

Grace frowned again. 'Then why does it matter whether you used any protection or not? If I'm to be your wife...'

'Which is why it matters so much,' replied Matteo, his voice thickening with emotion. 'I will not risk losing you, cara, however much I might wish to see my child swelling your stomach.'

Grace caught her breath. 'But I'm not Luisa, Matteo!'

'No.' He conceded the point with a lingering kiss on the silky mound of her breast. 'No, you're not. But, G.o.d for give me, you mean more to me than Luisa ever did, and I don't think I could survive losing you.'

'You're not going to lose me.' Grace turned and cupped his face in her hand. 'Matteo, I'm probably nothing like Luisa-physically, I mean.' She grimaced. 'My hips are broad. I'm sure I'd have no trouble having a child.'

'I will not risk it.' Matteo's voice was flat. 'If you love me, you'll understand how I feel. If not-'

'If not-what?'

'Well, I won't let you go,' he declared grimly. 'I'll just have to try and persuade you, that's all.'

Grace shook her head. 'You know I love you. That I want to marry you whatever you decide.'

'And you won't reproach me for denying you your right to be a mother?'

Grace shook her head. 'If it's a choice between you and a baby...' she smiled wistfully '...I guess there's no com pet.i.tion.'

EPILOGUE.

One Year and Nine Months Later...

The sound of children's laughter echoed through the open doors of the loggia. Three-year-old Hannah was chasing her sister and her five-year-old cousin around the gardens, and the marchesa turned to give her granddaughter in-law a rueful smile.

'It's so good to have children at the villa again,' she said, rea.s.suring Grace that her nieces' high spirits weren't prov ing too much of a burden. And it was good to be able to invite her sisters and their families for a holiday. They had so much room at the villa that no one needed to step on anyone else's toes.

'I'll be sorry to see them go,' added the marchesa, pat ting Grace's arm with an affectionate hand. 'But I'm lucky that you and Matteo are prepared to put up with an old woman like me. If Matteo had married someone else, I might not have had the choice.'

Grace reached across to squeeze the marchesa' s fingers. 'This is your home,' she said. 'It always has been. Even when Matteo was married to Luisa.'

'Ah, yes.' The marchesa nodded. 'But Matteo married Luisa to please me. When he chose to marry you, it was a different matter altogether.'

Grace's cheeks turned pink. 'Did you mind?'

'Of course not.' The old lady was impatient that she should even doubt it. 'I love my grandson, Grace, and I know he's never been so happy in his life. I have you to thank for that, and that alone would have earned you my undying grat.i.tude. But the bonus of it is that I've come to love you, too.'

Grace didn't know what to say. 'I'm glad,' seemed in adequate, but it evidently pleased her companion.

'And you and Cecilia have become such friends,' the marchesa continued, gazing at her contentedly. 'I know when she and Domenico are married she'll be coming to you for all those important words of motherly advice.'

Grace grimaced. 'I don't know if I'm qualified for that,' she murmured, although she was delighted that Ceci and Domenico were engaged at last. He was such a nice young man, and he and Matteo had hit it off together. When he'd finished his degree, he was coming to work at the winery, and Matteo was going to teach him about growing grapes.

'Well, I don't know anyone better,' declared the old lady firmly, tapping her cane as she always did to make her point.

'When did you say your mother and the others were getting back from Florence? They must be here for the party. They must watch when Beniamino blows out the candle on his cake.'

Grace stretched lazily on the lounger, 'I expect they'll be here in plenty of time,' she a.s.sured the marchesa, with an indulgent smile. 'Oh, you know, I feel as if I've eaten too much pasta. I'll have to watch my weight or I'll be as fat as b.u.t.ter!'

'I don't think that's very likely,' remarked the old lady drily, viewing her granddaughter-in-law's lissome figure with an indulgent eye. She paused. 'Have you told Matteo that you're expecting another baby yet? Be prepared for him to have mixed feelings. He nearly went out of his mind with worry when Beniamino was born.'

Grace sat up rather abruptly. 'How did you know?' she asked, running a protective hand over her flat, stomach, and the marchesa sighed.

'Women know these things, my dear,' she said. 'Well, old women, anyway. But tell him, Grace. Don't wait for him to find out for himself.'

Grace shook her head. It was true, when matteo had learned that she had conceived that first night they had been together he had cursed his own incompetence. But gradu ally, over the weeks and months after their wedding, as grace had grown even more beautiful in pregnancy, he had managed to hide his fears. And when their soil was born it had happened so quickly, he hadn't had time to do anything but be there for her, sponging her forehead during the painful contractions, holding her hand as the baby thrust its way into the world.

Grace had soon realised that she was a natural mother. She'd fed Beniamino herself until he was six months old. and Matteo had shared every experience with her. There had been something so intensely intimate in Matteo watch ing his son suckling from her breast, and he'd confessed to feeling jealous until she'd a.s.sured him he had nothing to fear.

But another baby...