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Claimed For The Italian's Revenge
Natalie Rivers






‘It’s not the cold that’s making you tremble.’ His voice was deep and sexually loaded, his Italian accent more pronounced than usual.

She stared up at him, wanting to deny what he’d said. But she knew it was pointless—he’d never believe her. It was a long time ago, but they had been lovers—passionate lovers. He knew her body well, and from the very beginning of their affair he’d been able to take her to unimaginably wonderful heights that she had never dreamed possible.

But now, for so many reasons, she could not let it happen again.

‘Thank you for getting me back to the cottage…and for the shower,’ she said. ‘But I’m okay now. I’m going to get changed.’

She turned to get out of the shower, but as she did so Marco moved too. With one step he blocked her way, and at the same time his hands closed on her waist, pulling her tight to him so that their thighs brushed together and her nipples pressed against his chest.

‘We haven’t finished yet.’ His voice rumbled through her with a sexual promise so potent that it started an insistent throbbing at the very core of her.


Natalie Rivers grew up in the Sussex countryside. As a child she always loved to lose herself in a good book, or in games that gave free rein to her imagination. She went to Sheffield University, where she met her husband in the first week of term. It was love at first sight and they have been together ever since, moving to London after graduating, getting married and having two wonderful children.

After university Natalie worked in a lab at a medical research charity, and later retrained to be a primary school teacher. Now she is lucky enough to be able to combine her two favourite occupations—being a full-time mum and writing passionate romances.




CLAIMED FOR THE ITALIAN’S REVENGE


BY

NATALIE RIVERS




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)



CLAIMED FOR THE ITALIAN’S REVENGE


For my friend, Rosemary




PROLOGUE


MARCO DE LUCA stood at the open window of the cottage, looking out into the clear, calm night. A full moon hung in the black sky and the sea stretched away into the darkness, lit only by the occasional silvery ripple of reflected moonlight.

For too many years he’d lived and worked in big cities, where the night sky was a hazy amber glow and the stars were virtually invisible. He’d driven himself so hard, building his business from scratch into the global enterprise that it was today, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to slow down for a moment, to celebrate what he had achieved, or to appreciate the simple pleasures in his life.

There were no street-lamps here on this remote stretch of the Welsh coastline, filling the sky with their artificial light. And around the rugged bay where the cottage was nestled there were no other houses in sight.

It felt good to gaze out at the unblemished beauty of twinkling starlight in the inky black heavens, and at that moment the peaceful isolation seemed as far from the intensity of his business life as it was possible to be.

He was glad Claudia had brought him here.

It had meant a lot to him when she’d asked him to come with her to the beautiful part of the world where her mother had grown up. Marco knew that her mother had died when she was just five years old—and that this place, with all its treasured memories, held a special place in Claudia’s heart.

He turned away from the window to look down at her lying sleeping on the bed. Her long naked limbs were tangled in the sheets after hours of passionate lovemaking, and her hair was spread out in beautiful waves across the pillow. The gorgeous copper colour didn’t show in the dark, but even in the moonlight her hair had a rich lustre and her perfect skin had a pearly luminescence.

As he gazed at Claudia, an unaccustomed feeling of warmth spread through him. They’d had a good day. It was an amazing place and Marco was touched that she’d wanted to share it with him—and that she’d already opened up her heart to him about something so personal and precious to her. And, although she was sad to have lost her mother when she was so young, it was wonderful to see the joy she was able to take from her memories.

Marco had not seen his mother for eight years—and his heart was full of anger and bitterness whenever he thought about her. She was a treacherous Jezebel who had allowed herself to be used against her own family, by a man called Primo Vasile—a corrupt and despicable con man of the very worst kind.

Then, after her treachery was complete—when the family had been utterly destroyed and Marco’s father and grandfather were both dead—she had chosen to disappear. She had totally abandoned her eleven-year-old daughter, Marco’s sister Bianca.

A band of tension tightened across Marco’s chest, but he shook his head sharply to clear his mind. He would not think about his mother and about what she had done eight years ago.

He would not let her ruin his perfect day with Claudia.

His mother’s appalling betrayal had made it hard for him to completely trust anyone. And when his sister had introduced him to her new friend, Claudia, he had been wary of her at first.

Her family was involved with Primo Vasile—her father was one of Vasile’s business partners—and that had been enough to make Marco suspicious. But, for his sister’s sake, he’d taken the time to get to know her. And now he was glad that he had, because they had become so much more than just friends—more than the simple relationships he was used to with women.

As he looked down at her sleeping, he knew that the time he’d spent with Claudia was truly special.

Suddenly, the sound of his mobile phone vibrating on the bedside table broke into his thoughts. He sprang across the room and picked it up quickly so that it wouldn’t disturb her.

‘Ciao, Ricardo,’ Marco said, slipping out of the small bedroom and walking down the narrow staircase to the living room below. ‘Everything all right?’

It was very late at night, an unusual time for someone to call, and he’d felt an immediate rush of concern when he’d seen his friend’s name on the caller display.

‘Yes, everything’s fine—at least it is now,’ Ricardo said. ‘But you should know, an hour ago I ran into Bianca at a party here in Turin. She was in trouble—’

‘What happened? Is she all right?’ Marco interrupted, fear for his now nineteen-year-old sister slamming into him like a sledgehammer.

‘I hate to tell you this—but she was with Primo Vasile,’ Ricardo said.

‘Vasile!’ Marco exclaimed, cursing savagely. What was he doing with his sister?

‘She was very confused. I think he may have spiked her drink with something worse than alcohol.’ Ricardo paused, clearly reluctant to say what he knew was going to cause his friend distress. ‘When I came across them, he was asking her questions about your business and trying to get her to leave with him.’

Marco swore again, grinding his hand into a fist at his side.

‘She’s all right,’ Ricardo reassured him. ‘I got there in time.’

‘Only just in time,’ Marco bit out. ‘That bastard’s going to pay for this. Bianca is off limits—he should have known better than to try to get at me through her.’

‘I was surprised to see her at a party organised by one of Vasile’s PR agencies,’ Ricardo said. ‘I know how you feel about Vasile.’

‘Are you telling me Vasile wasn’t just a guest—that he was involved with the party?’ Marco demanded, starting back up the stairs, two at a time, to the bedroom.

‘I thought you knew—it was a publicity event for a new restaurant he’s backing,’ Ricardo said. ‘I saw Claudia talking to him last week at the Miretti wedding.’

‘What?’ Marco stopped abruptly outside the bedroom door.

His blood ran cold and he felt the agonisingly familiar pain of betrayal slice into his guts like a vicious blade. His suspicions that Claudia might somehow be involved with the man who had destroyed his family had turned out to be true.

‘I saw Claudia talking to Primo Vasile,’ Ricardo said. ‘I heard him tell her the time and place of tonight’s party.’

For a moment Marco couldn’t talk—he couldn’t breathe. The shattering truth of the situation knocked the breath right out of his body.

Claudia—his beautiful lover—had betrayed him. And her treachery had led Bianca into danger. Just like his mother, eight years ago, she had betrayed them both.

He pushed the door of the bedroom open and stared down at her. She was still sleeping—her face the image of angelic peace. Wasn’t she at all concerned for her so-called friend—the girl who she’d sent into the jaws of the shark that evening?

‘Marco, are you still there?’ Ricardo asked.

‘Yes, I’m here,’ Marco said. ‘I’m coming home at once—to take care of my sister.’

‘What about Vasile?’ Ricardo asked.

‘I’ll deal with him,’ Marco said flatly. ‘Thanks, Ricardo. You’ve been a good friend. I’ll call you when I know what time I’ll be back in Turin.’

He snapped his phone shut. It wasn’t just Vasile who would feel the full force of his vengeance.

Claudia would also pay for what she had done—but not yet.

At that moment, his top priority was Bianca. He must make sure for himself that she was unharmed. He reached for his clothes and pulled them on. Then he put his wallet and his mobile phone in his pocket, picked up his bag and turned to leave.

He walked silently out of the room without a backwards glance.


CHAPTER ONE

Four years later

‘MARRY you!’ Claudia Hazelton gasped, too startled to mask her appalled reaction to the shocking proposal she’d just received. She set her cup down on her saucer with a clatter. ‘You’re not really asking me to marry you, are you?’

She was suddenly shaking like a leaf and her heart was pounding horribly, but she held her head high and forced herself to look straight across the beautifully laid table at the Ritz Hotel, into the face of the fifty-year-old man who had just proposed to her.

His name was Primo Vasile. He was her stepmother’s cousin and her father’s business partner. But, despite her family’s connection to him, he had always made her skin crawl. There was no way in a million years she would ever consider marrying him.

‘I’m not asking you,’ Vasile said quietly, a nauseatingly smug expression on his smooth Italian face, ‘I’m telling you. Or would you rather see your father face a criminal investigation and then go to prison for embezzlement of the company pension fund—if he even lives that long?’

Claudia stared at him in shock, horrified disbelief leaving her speechless for a moment. Surely Vasile could not really be saying that her father had stolen money from their joint business and that he expected Claudia to marry him, as a way of repaying that debt?

Suddenly, a painful image of her father lying critically ill in hospital flashed through her mind, pushing all other thoughts aside for a moment and making her throat constrict with grief. He was so frail and was already suffering terribly. She couldn’t bear to think of him facing a criminal investigation or—even worse—prison.

But why was Vasile threatening that? She’d never liked him. But she couldn’t believe he was actually trying to blackmail her into marriage.

‘I don’t understand why you are saying these awful things,’ Claudia said. Her golden brown eyes were wide with confusion as she looked at him. ‘Why would you want to hurt my father?’

‘I don’t want to hurt him,’ Vasile said. ‘But, if you don’t accept my proposal, I may be forced to. He took a great deal of money, which needs to be repaid.’

‘I can’t believe my father would do something like that.’ Claudia pushed her hair back from her stark white face with a jerky gesture and turned in appeal to her stepmother, who was sitting with them at the table.

They’d never been close. Francesca was not the type to let motherly responsibilities get in the way of her extravagant and self-indulgent lifestyle. But she must know the truth about the money—and surely even she wouldn’t condone what her cousin was doing.

‘I’m afraid it’s true, darling. Marrying Primo is the only way to get us all out of this terrible mess,’ Francesca said. ‘When you are married, you will get access to your trust fund. We need that money to pay back what your father took from the company pension fund.’

Claudia bit her lip, trying to take in what they’d told her. The family business really must be in terrible trouble for things to have got this bad—bad enough for blackmail.

‘There has to be another way,’ Claudia said. ‘I can help repay the debt.’

‘Foolish girl!’ Vasile scoffed. ‘Apart from your trust fund—how could you ever raise the money needed?’

‘I’ll sell my flat and my car,’ she replied. ‘And maybe I could get a bank loan. I’ll do whatever it takes—work as hard as I can to pay off the debt.’

‘Don’t be so naive!’ The contempt in Vasile’s voice clawed viciously across her nerves. ‘We’re talking about the pension fund here. Even I can’t raise the amount of money needed. Hundreds of workers have paid contributions into that fund for years—and, if the money isn’t replaced, they’ll all lose their pensions.’

‘How long will it be until the money is missed?’ Claudia asked. She felt sick at the thought of all those loyal employees losing the income they were counting on for their retirement. She was sure her father could never have intended that innocent people should suffer—they had to find a way to put things right. ‘What did my father do with the money? Surely we can get at least some of it back.’

‘It’s gone,’ Francesca said. ‘You must understand, darling—this really is the only way. You must marry Primo.’

‘If we are not married by Christmas,’ Vasile said, ‘I’ll be forced to go to the police.’

‘Christmas!’ Claudia gasped. ‘It’s already mid-December. Why does it have to be so sudden? Why would you want to go to the police so quickly—surely you have some loyalty to my father after all this time?’

‘Embezzlement is a serious crime,’ Vasile said. ‘If I’m not careful I’ll be implicated too. I won’t sacrifice myself to save your father.’

‘You mean you’ll have nothing left if my father’s business goes under,’ Claudia said. ‘You’re just trying to save your own skin.’

‘It wouldn’t be necessary if your father hadn’t stolen the money,’ Vasile sneered.

‘I just can’t believe my father could do such a thing,’ Claudia repeated. She lifted her hands to cover her face for a second and let her long hair fall forward over her eyes. She closed them momentarily—still trying to come to terms with the fact that her father might have taken money that wasn’t his.

‘It’s a bitter pill to swallow.’ Vasile’s heavily accented voice jarred intrusively in her ears, dripping with self-satisfaction. ‘Your precious father is not so perfect after all.’

‘I want to see proof. See the figures for myself,’ Claudia said resolutely. It was unbearable that Primo Vasile was gloating over her father’s mistake.

‘No.’ Vasile’s voice was hard. ‘There’s no time for that.’

‘Then I won’t go through with it—not without proof that it’s definitely necessary,’ Claudia said. A wave of desperation rose up through her as she realised she might really have to marry Vasile to save her father from prison.

‘Don’t push your luck,’ Vasile said, but he picked up his briefcase and pulled out a wad of documents. ‘Here’s your evidence—proof that your father ordered the money transfers into various private accounts.’

Claudia took the papers with a sinking heart. There, right in front of her eyes, were the documents to prove that her father had transferred company money into his own accounts. The numbers were huge—and there was a whole pile of transfer orders, each with her father’s characteristic signature at the bottom.

‘You’re asking too much of me,’ Claudia protested.

‘No. Your father took too much,’ Vasile said. ‘And now you must give up the money he put in trust for you—if you want to save him from prison.’

‘I don’t care about the money!’ Claudia brought her hands down to the table with a bang and her eyes snapped back up to Vasile’s hateful face.

It was true that she didn’t care about it. In her mind she had always associated the family wealth with personal loss—first the death of her real mother when she was just five years old and then her grandmother.

She’d never looked forward to her thirtieth birthday, when she was due to receive the money from her trust fund. It seemed so far away that she rarely thought about it. It had been her father’s intention that by then she would have found her own way in the world. She would only receive the money earlier if she married. That was her father’s way of providing for his grandchildren.

‘Lower your voice,’ Francesca hissed. ‘Remember where we are.’

Claudia glared across the table at her stepmother. She looked so poised and confident.

A sudden, irrational jolt of irritation jarred through her. At that moment she hated Francesca’s chic Italian style. Even now, when they were discussing something so important, Francesca still looked as if she had stepped out of the latest edition of Vogue.

‘Only you would bring us here,’ Claudia said crossly, glancing round at the opulent cream and gold room. She knew Francesca felt at home surrounded by the sophisticated splendour of the Ritz Hotel—the clink of silver teaspoons against bone china and the gentle hum of conversation was comforting to her. ‘Only you could blackmail your stepdaughter over afternoon tea at the Ritz!’

She looked down at the white tablecloth, wishing for the millionth time that her father had never married Francesca. But it wasn’t his fault. He had been devastated by the death of Claudia’s real mother and had been easy prey for the gold-digging Italian.

Even at seven years old, Claudia had not been fooled by Francesca. She’d instinctively seen through the Italian woman’s fake charm and two-faced behaviour. But her father had been blinded by grief. Out of desire for companionship, and to provide a mother for his daughter, he had fallen into Francesca’s trap. And with Francesca came her cousin, Primo Vasile, an unscrupulous businessman, keen to use Claudia’s father—and his money—in any way he could.

‘Blackmail?’ Francesca echoed, looking almost genuinely bemused. ‘No, no…it’s nothing like that. It’s just an arrangement that Primo has suggested in the interests of your father’s health.’

‘It’s blackmail,’ Claudia said frostily. ‘Don’t try to pretend it isn’t.’

‘No—’ Francesca protested.

But Vasile lifted a hand to silence her. ‘Claudia understands the situation,’ he said, fixing her with his shrewd black eyes.

She shuddered. The sound of him saying her name and the way that he smiled at her made her stomach clench in revulsion.

‘I will provide all the necessary paperwork,’ Vasile continued. ‘You just need to come to the Caribbean for our wedding and sign the documents that will keep your father from prison. Allow him to end his days peacefully in hospital.’

Claudia stared at Vasile in disgust, hardly able to believe the situation she had found herself in.

‘There is one more thing,’ Vasile added. ‘Given the fact that your father is far too ill to talk, it’s scarcely necessary to say this, but I must be absolutely clear on this point. You are never to discuss our arrangement with your father—or with anyone else. If you do, I will cut my losses by going to the police immediately.’

A flash of anger flared through Claudia at the cold-hearted way Vasile dismissed her father and at this extra barb he’d added to his blackmail—as if it wasn’t hateful enough already.

Then, suddenly, all she could think about was how much her father was suffering. Her anger evaporated and her eyes filled with tears as she pictured him—his face a pallid grey next to the starched white hospital sheets as he drifted in and out of consciousness, his terrible pain and pitiful frailty showing whenever he was awake.

‘It will be all right, darling,’ Francesca said, startling Claudia by covering her hand with her own. ‘There’s no need to get upset.’

‘My father is dying.’ She paused, struggling to speak past the sadness that was closing her throat. ‘How can you say it will be all right?’

‘I meant we can keep him happy and comfortable,’ Francesca said. ‘Protect him from any more worries.’

Claudia pressed her teeth gently into her quivering lip, momentarily overwhelmed by a barrage of conflicting emotions. She’d spent most of her life longing for a loving mother who could take care of her and comfort her when she was upset.

Now, for the first time she could remember, Francesca was trying to offer comfort. But, coming straight after joining forces with a man Claudia despised, with the purpose of blackmailing her into marriage, it was a hollow pretence.

‘You don’t care about him,’ Claudia cried. ‘You’ve never cared about him—you’ve only ever been interested in his money.’

Francesca withdrew her hand stiffly, but she did not respond to Claudia’s impassioned comment.

‘This will cheer you up,’ she said, pulling a wedding dress brochure out of her designer bag. ‘Just for inspiration, of course. After tea let’s pop down to Harrods and see what they have.’

‘I’m not going to Harrods to choose my wedding dress.’ All Claudia wanted to do was get away on her own.

‘Just for inspiration,’ her stepmother repeated. ‘Nothing off-the-peg for you, darling, but what do you think about something like this?’

Claudia looked at the fur trimmed December bride gracing the cover of the brochure.

‘It’s not exactly suitable for the Caribbean, is it?’ She picked up her bag and was on her feet before she fully realised what she was doing. She couldn’t bear to think of flying to the Tropics to present herself as a trophy bride to the despicable and vile Primo Vasile.

But the thought of her father ending his days in prison was absolutely unbearable. She would do whatever it took to spare him pain in his last few months of life.

‘Where are you going?’ Francesca asked. ‘We have plans to make.’

‘You don’t need me to make plans,’ Claudia said as she turned to leave. ‘You just need me to carry them out for you.’

They said that revenge was a dish best served cold. And, as Marco De Luca waited outside the Ritz Hotel for Claudia Hazelton to appear, his heart felt as cold and hard as steel.

He stared straight ahead, oblivious to the hordes of Christmas shoppers thronging the streets in London’s fashionable West End. He was completely disinterested in the Christmas lights that sparkled everywhere because, at any moment, Claudia would leave the hotel.

It was more than four years since he’d seen her, but he could still picture her face perfectly. Porcelain fair skin with a dusting of freckles. Fine bone structure and delicate features, framed by rich coppery hair that tumbled past her shoulders. Those large eyes that gave the appearance of angelic innocence.

But Marco knew Claudia was far from innocent. She had betrayed him and she’d made the unforgivable mistake of conspiring to hurt his sister.

And now, unbelievably, she planned to marry Primo Vasile—the man who had viciously ripped Marco’s family to shreds twelve years earlier.

A knot twisted nastily in his stomach as he thought about Claudia and Vasile together. Their forthcoming marriage was utterly repellent to him—but it proved just how low Claudia was prepared to stoop. The only possible reason she could have for marrying a man like Vasile was to get her hands on her trust fund early.

Marco would make sure that marriage never happened.

A movement from the hotel’s entrance caught his eye.

It was Claudia.

A sudden surge of unexpected emotion powered through him and his heart started to thud. Even though he’d been waiting for her, actually seeing her in the flesh hit him like a punch to the solar plexus.

He jerked into motion, falling into step behind her as she set off along Picadilly. She walked swiftly, weaving her way with single-minded determination through the crowds of Christmas shoppers filling the London street.

She looked every bit the sophisticated city woman, wearing a sleek chocolate-brown suede coat over tailored trousers and high-heeled boots. But in his mind’s eye he suddenly saw her dressed in the faded T-shirt and old jeans she had worn the last day they’d spent together, trekking along the Pembrokeshire Coast Path.

He pictured her lying on the springy grass on the cliff top, the scent of wild thyme mingling with the sea breeze as he’d leant forward to kiss her. It had been an amazing day, for both of them he had thought, until he’d discovered it was all a smokescreen. She’d been deceiving him in the worst possible way—for the worst possible reasons.

‘Claudia.’ His voice caught in his throat and a strange sensation burned through him—a combination of the betrayal he’d felt when he’d discovered what she had done and the memory of the red hot passion they’d once shared. ‘Claudia, is that you?’ he asked, reaching out to lay his hand on her shoulder.

He felt her jump as his hand made contact, as if an electric shock had run through her.

‘Marco.’ His name formed soundlessly on her lips as she turned to face him, an expression of profound shock on her fine features.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. In the thin colourless light of the winter afternoon her skin glowed with almost ethereal paleness, but there was something achingly fragile about her that he didn’t recall. His eyes roamed over her, trying to detect even the smallest changes in her appearance.

There were dark smudges under her eyes and her cheekbones seemed more pronounced than before. But maybe it was simply knowing what he had planned for her that made her seem vulnerable to him.

Despite her elegant London grooming, she looked slightly dishevelled. Her gorgeous copper toned hair was caught up inside her collar, as if she’d thrown her coat on hurriedly, and his fingers longed to slip under its silken weight and ease it free.

Then, as she lifted her gaze to meet his, he found himself looking down into her golden brown eyes.

‘Marco.’ Claudia repeated his name out loud this time, hardly able to believe it as she stared up at his face. Her heart was racing and it was impossible to think straight.

It truly was him—Marco De Luca.

He had filled her thoughts for four long years and now he was really here, transported out of her dreams on to the London pavement beside her—except everything about the flesh and blood man was more vivid than the memory.

‘I thought it was you,’ he said. His voice tingled down her spine, deliciously deep and sexy, setting her quivering inside. ‘I saw you walking.’

Claudia opened her lips and tried to speak again, but all she could think was how badly she’d missed him. He’d hurt her terribly when he’d dumped her four years ago, but he’d been in her thoughts every day since then. And now he was here, completely out of the blue, on what had seemed like the worst day of her life so far.

‘Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ Curiosity glittered in his dark eyes as he looked down at her startled face. ‘Have I caught you at a bad time? You appeared to be hurrying somewhere.’

All of a sudden, a wave of anger rose up and crashed through Claudia’s initial shock at seeing him again. She drew in a deep breath, finding her voice at last.

‘A bad time?’ she demanded incredulously. He had broken her heart when he’d left her, but she’d never discovered the reason why he’d finished their relationship so abruptly. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell her he was leaving. ‘When would be a good time to run into an ex-lover—a man who dumped you without even bothering to tell you it was over?’

‘Well…when you put it like that…’ Marco paused, his wide expressive lips curling into a smile that took her breath away and swept through the ache that had filled her heart since the day he’d disappeared from her life.

‘How would you put it?’ she challenged him. ‘Considering you walked out on me four years ago, without even telling me you were going.’

‘I’d say how wonderful to see you, despite everything,’ Marco said, holding her transfixed with his dark gaze. ‘And what a fantastic opportunity to put things right between us.’

Claudia drew in a breath and tried to speak. She wanted to say that she wasn’t naive enough to fall for his charming ways a second time. But she was caught by the power of his gaze. A sizzling, sensual energy was flowing between them, just as it always had. She felt it in every cell of her body. Every inch of her skin longed to be close to him. It was impossible to ignore.

‘Then I’d say you’re four years too late.’

Her voice sounded steady, but her body and mind were a churning mass of conflicting feelings. She took a hasty step away from him—as if putting a little distance between them would help her get a grip.

Making a sudden sideways move on the busy street was foolhardy and she felt someone crash heavily into her back almost immediately.

‘Sorry!’ A stocky man in a dark overcoat grunted as he put out his hands to steady himself.

‘No…sorry…my fault,’ Claudia gasped, trying to catch her breath. Then Marco’s arms closed around her as he pulled her out of the flow of pedestrians into a shop doorway.

She stared up at him, thinking that he was still the most amazingly good-looking man she’d ever seen. From the moment they’d met, her attraction to him outstripped anything she’d ever experienced before.

When he’d turned his fathomless espresso coloured eyes on to her, it was as if she were the only woman in the world. She’d felt beautiful and special.

But she’d been a fool to let herself think that—things between them hadn’t been what they’d seemed. He wasn’t her soul mate. In fact, he’d shown just how little he cared for her when he’d discarded her so heartlessly.

‘You seem out of place here, in all this hustle and bustle,’ he said, tugging her closer to him as a group of people pressed past them into the London store they were sheltering beside. ‘I’d rather be with you somewhere quieter—more private,’ he added, tightening his hold on her.

Claudia looked at him, her heart beating erratically. He was holding her so close that she couldn’t think clearly.

Secure in the powerful circle of his arms, her senses were going into overload. She could feel the warm strength of him, even through her winter coat, and her legs were brushing against his, sending little darts of awareness shooting through her.

The chemistry between them had always been incredible, but now she knew that chemistry was all it had ever been. If she’d known their affair had been meaningless to him—a casual fling that he could easily cast aside—she would never have got so deeply involved. She’d never have told him her secrets.

And she would never have fallen in love with him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Marco said. ‘I’ve unsettled you by turning up like this.’

He moved to the side, breaking the contact between them to let another group of Christmas shoppers past. When he let go of her it felt like a rejection.

‘It’s not turning up unexpectedly that you should be apologising for,’ Claudia said, the sting of losing physical contact with him making her voice sharper than she’d intended. ‘What about the way you left me in the middle of the night, without bothering to tell me why? You didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face that it was over between us!’

‘I do owe you an explanation,’ Marco said. ‘Let’s go somewhere and talk.’ His dark gaze slid down her in a way that made her think he wanted to do more than talk.

For a split second Claudia wondered what had made him call out her name when he’d spotted her in the street. He could easily have watched her walk away and she would have been none the wiser that they had passed by so close to each other. But now, the way his eyes were burning right through her clothes gave her an answer that made the pieces of her broken heart weep.

It was still just about sex.

And, shockingly, the look in his eyes told her that he wanted to pick up where they’d left off.

‘It’s too late for that,’ she replied stonily, folding her arms resolutely across her chest.

Then suddenly the horrible realisation that she’d spoken the truth in more ways than one slammed into her like a lead weight. It was only a matter of days until she would have to marry Primo Vasile.

She slumped back against the shop window, hardly aware of the constant stream of shoppers brushing past her. Even if she was foolish enough to want to hear Marco’s explanation, it made no difference what he had to say for himself. Because, even if her wildest dreams had come true and Marco had genuinely been in love with her, she could never be with him again.

Because she was committed to Vasile now. And if she didn’t go through with her wedding to him, he would report her father’s crime to the police.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Marco said, stepping close so that his broad shoulders shielded her from the crowd of people that had built up in the bottleneck of the shop doorway. Then he slipped his arm around her waist to guide her out into the street.

A shiver ran through her as he pulled her tight to his body and she drew in a shaky breath. For a moment the sheer pleasure of being held close to him took over, mercifully blotting everything else out.

But she wasn’t in love with him any more. She couldn’t be. No sensible, self-respecting woman would love a man after he’d dumped her so decisively. But the intervening time—and common sense—had done nothing to dull her physical awareness of him.

‘Let me go.’ She stopped suddenly, slipping out of his grip before he could react. Then she turned to look him straight in the eye. ‘I don’t want to hear what you have to say—it won’t change anything.’

That was the simple truth—and the sooner she faced up to it the better. Whatever he said wouldn’t change the fact that he had callously discarded her four years ago. And it wouldn’t change the fact that she had to marry Primo Vasile.

‘Then let’s not talk about the past,’ Marco said.

He stared down at Claudia’s deceptively innocent face.

He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t want to discuss the night he’d left her in Wales—her reluctance to talk about it was further proof of her guilt. Another nail in her coffin.

It was obvious that he’d discovered she was in league with Primo Vasile. That she’d callously set Bianca up, then purposefully taken Marco out of the country to ensure his sister was alone and vulnerable.

His blood ran cold as he remembered the phone call he’d received from Ricardo that night in Wales. It had been a monumental stroke of luck that Marco’s friend had come across Vasile and Bianca before something truly awful had happened.

‘Let’s not talk at all,’ Claudia said, turning to walk away from him.

‘Wait.’

A bolt of fury shot through him. He wasn’t finished with her yet—how dared she walk away from him? He reached out and caught her arm, spinning her round so that they were face to face once more. He stared down at her and a strange feeling hit him in the chest.

Suddenly, it was as if he were seeing her for the first time.

He remembered only too well the afternoon that Bianca had introduced them. The minute he’d laid eyes on her at that high-society Turin wedding, he’d felt his blood quicken with desire. Dressed simply, with her long hair falling in natural waves around her shoulders and her pale English skin glowing in the Piedmont sunshine, she was a rare beauty. So refreshingly different from the chic Italian women he knew.

He had taken her slim hand in his and gazed down into her incredible eyes, experiencing an exquisite rush of pleasure as he’d anticipated getting to know her.

Then Bianca had told him her name.

Claudia Hazelton.

Like an unexpected icy wind scouring his skin, he had known at once who she was. Had known that eight years earlier her family had destroyed his.

But, as he’d started to talk to her, he’d been impressed by her openness and simple charm. He’d resolved not to judge her, based on a family background she’d had no control over, and he’d suppressed his natural suspicions of her, taking the time to get to know her.

It hadn’t been long until they had fallen into bed, where he’d discovered to his great pleasure that she was a virgin. As the days had gone by, Marco had increasingly let down his guard, distracted by the extraordinary delights of spending time with her—making love and simply being together.

It was his sister who had paid the price.

Looking at Claudia now, standing on the busy London street, he knew that he’d never be fooled by her beauty or her charm again.

Her delicate face shone like an angel’s in the dark and her gorgeous copper hair, still caught inside the collar of her brown suede coat, was picking up rich multicoloured reflections from the Christmas lights.

She looked like an angel—but she was poison.

And she would pay for what she had done.

He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, sensing a ripple of sensual awareness pass through her. That was the only thing between them that had been true—there was no way she could have faked her physical response to him.

Marco was going to taste the delights of her body one last time. But this time it would be on his terms. He knew now exactly what kind of woman she was and what she was capable of. And he would enjoy taking his revenge on her.

He let his fingers trail down the side of her neck, then slipped his hand underneath her hair. It was cool and heavy against the back of his hand, but her skin was hot under his palm. He felt her start trembling and a surge of potent desire powered through his body.

‘I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you,’ he murmured, tipping his head to one side and leaning slightly closer.

Claudia stared up at him, almost mesmerised by the intensity of the expression on his face. He’d been gazing down at her for the longest moment and now she knew he was going to kiss her. She was sure of it.

The sultry tone of his voice had set her senses buzzing and her nerve-endings were already zinging where his hand touched her neck. But she knew she could not—must not—let him kiss her.

Then suddenly she felt him gently tugging her long hair, pushing the back of his hand against it and slowly pulling it free from where it was caught inside her coat.

It wasn’t what she’d been expecting, yet somehow it felt intensely erotic. It was almost as if he were undressing her, teasing her body slowly out of a close-fitting, sexy garment. As the last strands of hair slipped free of her collar an uncontrollable shudder rippled through her. She couldn’t mask her response. He’d seen it and felt it. All she could do was continue to gaze at him.

The moment stretched on but she couldn’t break eye contact.

‘The chemistry between us is still as hot as ever.’ Marco spoke quietly, but his voice tingled across her body like a sensual caress.

Claudia could see the desire burning in his eyes and she felt her stomach tighten with the thrill of sexual anticipation.

Then, out of nowhere, a bubble of panic started to rise within her.

Suddenly nothing felt real. She couldn’t believe that she was really standing there with Marco. She’d thought about him so many times over the last four years, desperately wishing things could have been different—wishing she could be with him.

But he had dumped her. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces and it had felt as if her life was over when he’d left. She’d be crazy to get involved with him again.

Besides, she didn’t have only herself to think about now. Now there was her marriage to Primo Vasile. That didn’t seem real either—it was more like a terrible nightmare—but she knew she had to go through with it. She couldn’t do anything that might make Vasile take the incriminating information he had about her father to the police.

She would never forgive herself if her father was forced to face the humiliation of a criminal investigation and imprisonment. Not if there was anything—anything at all—that she could have done to prevent it.

‘You’re wrong. There’s nothing between us,’ Claudia said, pulling back, out of Marco’s hold. ‘I never want to see you again.’

Without giving him a chance to reply, she turned and fled.

Marco watched impassively as she ran away from him, quickly disappearing into the crowds of Christmas shoppers.

A slow smile spread across his cold face. That was quite a dramatic departure—he hadn’t expected to have her running scared quite so soon. But it was of no matter.

She could run, but she couldn’t hide from him.


CHAPTER TWO

CLAUDIA ran until she could run no more. Then she kept on walking, trying not to dwell on the complicated mess her life had suddenly become. Soon she’d have to face up to it—she had to travel to the Caribbean to marry Primo Vasile. But now, for just a couple of minutes, she needed to blot it out of her mind.

She wouldn’t think about the appalling scene at the Ritz, when Vasile and her stepmother had blackmailed her. And she definitely wouldn’t think about her encounter with Marco De Luca. It was far too distressing.

Instead, she found herself heading automatically towards the offices of the magazine she worked for, writing reviews of new digital cameras. She’d always intended to pop into work that evening to pick up a new model she was testing—and there was no reason to change her plan. She needed to cling on to normality—that way everything else didn’t seem so bad.

That was how she had got through the last few months when her father, Hector, had become terribly ill. She’d visited him in Italy as much as she could, taking long weekends and using flexitime, then eventually she’d persuaded her boss to let her work from home for a while. But all the time she had been working hard, taking pride in her professionalism, she’d secretly known at the back of her mind that she was simply making a futile effort to keep life the way it was.

She’d been devastated by Hector’s illness. He was her only living relative and she loved him dearly. She’d already lost her mother when she was just five years old, her beloved grandmother who had been so important to her throughout her childhood. Now her father was leaving her.

It seemed that everyone she loved eventually left her.

Even the only man she had ever loved, Marco De Luca, had left her.

Suddenly, the sound of someone calling her name caught her attention. It was her friend, Rosie, from work.

‘What are you doing here so late?’ her friend asked curiously. She was just leaving the building where the magazine had its offices.

‘I came to collect a camera.’ Claudia smiled warmly at her friend, despite the way she was feeling inside. ‘What about you?’

‘I’ve got a date later on and there wasn’t any point going home first,’ Rosie said. ‘We’re going ice-skating. Have you met my boyfriend, Rob?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Claudia said, noticing that Rosie was following her back into the building. Although a large part of her wanted to be left alone right then, she knew instinctively that a little distracting company wouldn’t hurt. ‘Is he the tall, gorgeous one?’ she asked, thinking of another man that description could equally well apply to.

‘Yes.’ Rosie grinned. ‘Walk with me to Somerset House and I’ll introduce you.’

‘I’d love to,’ Claudia said, ‘but I don’t think I’d be very good company this evening. I’m feeling really tired.’

‘Come on,’ Rosie said. ‘You don’t have to stay—actually, I’d prefer to keep him all to myself—but I just want to show him off!’

‘All right—’ Claudia laughed ‘—I promise I’ll just admire him, then I’ll take myself home and leave you two together.’

They walked down to The Strand, where an ice rink had been set up in the courtyard of the magnificent eighteenth century building of Somerset House. A giant Christmas tree was illuminated at one end of the rink and the ice was glittering under the sparkling coloured lights.

It wasn’t long before Rosie’s boyfriend arrived, then a few minutes later Claudia waved goodbye as they joined the queue for the next skating session.

She stood beside the railings for a moment, watching the skaters circling the rink. It was a beautiful scene, full of happy couples and families skating together.

Suddenly a wave of sadness washed over her. She felt more alone than ever before.

‘You know where everything is,’ Gwen said, handing Claudia the key to the old fisherman’s cottage. ‘Stay as long as you want—there’s no one booked in till the New Year.’

‘Thanks, Gwen,’ Claudia said, leaning forward to kiss the eighty-year-old Welsh lady affectionately on the cheek. She was an old friend of her grandmother’s, but she was still as sprightly as someone ten, or even twenty, years younger. ‘I can only stay a night or two, but I just had to get out of the city for a little while.’

‘Should I call Rhys to give you a lift down the hill?’ Gwen asked in her wonderful accent.

‘No thanks. My bag isn’t heavy,’ Claudia said, turning to leave. She didn’t want to bother Gwen’s son, Rhys. He must be close to retirement age, but she’d seen him busy working in his vegetable garden as she’d walked from the bus stop. ‘After the train and bus, I could do with some fresh air.’

‘Plenty of that here,’ Gwen laughed as she wrapped her woolly cardigan tightly around herself and closed her front door.

Claudia hefted her bag on her shoulder and set off along the winding road that led down to the cottage. She’d been coming to this part of Wales all her life and it was like a second home to her. In fact, until her grandmother died when she was thirteen, it had felt more like her home than the pristine town house she’d lived in with her father and Francesca.

Gwen had been her grandmother’s friend and neighbour for sixty years. After her grandmother died, Gwen had extended a permanent invitation for Claudia to visit whenever she wanted. Gwen and her son Rhys owned a little cottage that they rented out to holidaymakers for a bit of extra income, but whenever it wasn’t booked Claudia was welcome to stay in it.

It was mid-afternoon by the time she got to the cottage and, as she wanted to fit in an hour’s work before it got dark, she grabbed her camera and headed straight down to the sea.

It was good to be back in Wales. It was the one place in the world where she felt a strong connection with her mother. Maybe here, far away from all her troubles, she might find some much needed peace of mind—if only for a day or two before she gave herself over to Francesca and Vasile’s unthinkable scheme.

It was at this cottage that Marco had left her four years ago, and she’d briefly wondered whether it was wise to come here and risk stirring up memories. But it was already too late—meeting Marco yesterday had seen to that. Besides, she’d been to the cottage lots of times since he’d left, and right now the blustery conditions couldn’t have been more different from the glorious summer weather they had enjoyed when she’d brought Marco to her mother’s home village.

The water foamed around the slick black boulders as she carefully picked her way out across the rocky beach towards the incoming tide. The water was already filling the deeper recesses between the rocks and she had to tread carefully so as not to slip. She knew there was still plenty of time to make it out to her favourite vantage point—a particularly giant rocky mound that stood higher than the surrounding beach.

It felt good to be working. For a few minutes she could put all her troubles out of her mind and concentrate on taking photos. Photography had always been her passion. She felt so fortunate that her job included taking photos to assess how each camera performed in different conditions.

The sky was low with dark clouds and the churning sea was a deep slate grey with an ever-moving pattern of white water as the waves broke across the rocks. A strong wind whipped her hair about and roared in her ears, combining with the sound of the crashing waves to create a wild, atmospheric soundtrack. It was a dramatic scene—and it suited her mood.

But, despite her efforts to clear her mind, Claudia’s thoughts turned to Marco. She bit her lip and stared out across the bay, but she wasn’t seeing the view. She was remembering how devastated she’d been when Marco had left her.

She’d woken up early in the morning, the thin dawn light filtering through the curtains in the cottage bedroom, to find him gone. At first she’d been frantic with worry, imagining something terrible had happened to him. But then she’d realised that his sports car was gone and he’d packed and taken all his things with him.

Then she’d remembered he’d received a phone call late in the evening. At the time she hadn’t thought anything of it. He had always worked, day and night, and phone calls had been an inevitable part of that. But, when she’d thought about it, she didn’t remember him coming back to bed afterwards—she must have fallen into a deep sleep after hours of lovemaking that evening, and had been oblivious to him packing and leaving.

She’d started to worry that he’d received terrible news, that maybe his sister had been in an accident or perhaps there’d been an incident at one of the businesses he owned.

But she’d never found out what had happened.

His mobile phone had been switched off, then later on the number had been discontinued. His PA had changed immediately to someone she didn’t know—a brisk Italian woman who’d stonewalled all her attempts to contact him by any method.

She tried to get in touch with Bianca, but her number had been changed too. Eventually, the only information she ever received to explain what happened, was a brief text message from Bianca, saying that Marco was taking her to America, to set her up with contacts in the fashion industry.

And that was it.

After a while Claudia had been too upset to try any more. It was clear that she hadn’t been anything more to Marco than a summer fling. He had broken her heart and it had taken a long time to heal. Maybe it had never healed.

But Bianca had hurt her too. She’d thought they were friends, but the nineteen-year-old girl had been quick enough to drop her when exciting new opportunities arose.

Claudia shook her head decisively. She wouldn’t dwell on the past. She took a deep breath of the fresh sea air, lifted the camera and concentrated on the task in hand. She was here to work.

She told herself firmly that the tumultuous conditions were perfect for some excellent shots, with huge waves rolling in and crashing spectacularly over the jagged rocks. Although the afternoon light slanting down in erratic bursts through the gaps in the clouds would be challenging.

Marco De Luca strode purposefully across the meadow that led down to the beach. He frowned as he glanced around, disconcerted by how familiar everything looked—the rocky beach, the spectacularly eroded dark grey limestone outcrops that flanked the bay and even the rickety wooden stile that led to the cliff path.

It was more than four years since Claudia had brought him here, and it was winter now rather than summer, yet for some reason he seemed to recall everything with absolute clarity.

He’d been surprised by how easily he’d found the old fisherman’s cottage but, as he’d wound his sports car through the maze of narrow farm lanes, he’d remembered exactly which turnings to take.

Claudia had not been at the cottage, so he’d come to the beach to look for her. He reached the edge of the shingle and paused to scan the small bay. It was cold and damp and, as the light was starting to fade, he guessed Claudia couldn’t be far away. Despite her love of the outdoors, she wouldn’t want to get caught on the beach or cliff path after dark. There were no street-lights here and, with the amount of cloud cover, it seemed unlikely there’d be much moonlight either.

It only took him a couple of moments to spot her, perched on top of a rocky mound that appeared to be surrounded by the sea. He realised she was taking photographs and started walking towards her.

Suddenly he was taken aback by the familiarity of her body language. Although she was quite a distance from him, and was crouched down looking out to sea, he knew with complete certainty what expression would be on her face. He could tell she was lost in her craft, only aware of the dramatic seascape in front of her and how it appeared through the lens of her camera.

That meant there would be a faraway look on her beautiful face. Her brow would be smooth and relaxed and she’d hardly notice as her hair blew in her almond shaped eyes, catching in her exquisitely long eyelashes.

He stopped abruptly and his dark eyes narrowed dangerously as he stared at her. What was he doing, letting his thoughts run away like that? He started striding purposefully towards her once more. Then, for the second time in as many minutes, he was suddenly brought up short again. It didn’t just look as if Claudia was surrounded by the sea—she really was cut off.

A bolt of alarm shot through him. The incoming tide had got the better of her while she had been distracted by her photography. And so far she still seemed completely oblivious to her perilous situation.

Foolish girl! He cursed her angrily and broke into a run, quickly assessing the terrain between them for the highest, safest route out to her. The black rocks were slick with sea water washing over them and were interspersed with deep, ankle-turning crevices that he had to avoid.

‘Claudia!’ He shouted her name, but the wind swept his voice away and she did not turn towards him.

Running as fast as he safely could, it didn’t take long to reach her. Then, as he splashed through knee-deep water foaming on the platform of rock that surrounded her vantage point, he knew he’d only just been in time. The water was continuing to rise with each new wave that crashed towards the beach.

He called her name again and this time she heard it. He saw her jolt back to her senses and she whipped round to look at him.

‘Marco!’ She stared at him in shock, then almost at once an expression of anger descended over her face. ‘What are you doing here? Did you follow me?’

‘Come on!’ Marco shouted above the sound of the crashing waves and held out his hand to her.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you!’ she exclaimed furiously. ‘How dare you follow me here—you had no right!’

‘There’s no time to mess about—look around you!’ Marco barked, stepping closer and reaching up to seize her arm. ‘We’re about to get cut off by the water.’

As Marco’s hand closed round her forearm, Claudia automatically pulled back against him, trying to shake him off. Then suddenly his words sank in.

Her eyes widened with alarm as she looked around, finally taking in the situation. The tide was coming in fast and she was surrounded. Marco, standing up to his knees in the churning water, was reaching up and trying to pull her down from her rock.

Anger that he had followed her to Wales still filled her, but now a surge of adrenaline mixed with it. If she didn’t move quickly she would be completely stranded and even the rock she was perched on would be submerged as the tide reached its maximum height.

But she did not need Marco’s help.

She jumped to her feet, jerking her arm out of his grip, and slid off the rock. The water felt freezing as it flooded into her boots. Then a wave hit her legs, knocking her off balance, and she stumbled backwards, bashing the camera that was clutched in her hand into the rock.

‘Come on,’ Marco snapped, seizing her arm and pulling her towards the shore. ‘There isn’t much time before we’ll be in serious trouble.’

‘Let go of me!’ She pulled her arm out of his grip again and started heading inland. It was almost impossible to see through the swirling water and she inched forward, feeling her way carefully with her feet. ‘I don’t need your help.’

Suddenly a particularly strong wave crashed into the back of her legs, making her stagger forwards. She plunged down into the cold, salty sea and felt her hand slide off the edge of the boulder they were standing on, into the deep water surrounding it. She sucked in a frightened breath, knowing she was about to dive headlong into the chasm between the rocks.

The next instant the water closed terrifyingly over her head. She flailed around in panic, trying to find something to grip on to. Then, a split second later, she felt herself being hauled upright.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and water streamed down her face. For a moment she didn’t know what had happened—then she realised Marco had saved her. She was still trying to catch her breath, but he was already pulling her towards the shore again.

‘We have to keep going,’ he said, his arm clamped tightly round her.

Claudia started moving through the water once more, but the waves continued to tug mercilessly at her legs. She was shaking from the shock of what had happened and it was hard to keep up with the fast pace Marco was setting.

Suddenly he turned and swept her up into his arms.

‘Put me down!’ she protested, automatically fighting his grasp.

‘Lie still!’

His voice shot through her, somehow compelling her to obey, and she stopped struggling immediately. Marco’s arms were strong and his body powerful, and the panic that had filled her when she’d plunged beneath the water gradually subsided.

The waves pushed and pulled around his legs, occasionally making his stride uneven, but Claudia felt secure. It didn’t take long to reach the edge of the water. But, when he didn’t put her down, she realised that he planned to carry her right across the beach to the meadow beyond. The dark grey shingle crunched and shifted beneath his feet and she felt him instinctively tighten his hold on her.

As his powerful muscles flexed, she suddenly became completely aware of his body. She was no longer distracted by the sea swirling around them, and she noticed every movement he made as he walked. She could sense the muscular strength of his chest and feel the resilient power in his legs as he carried her over the unstable shingle. She could feel the heat radiating off him, passing straight through the cold sea water that had soaked them both. It was as if a physical, sensual connection was growing between them.

Her heart started to beat faster and, despite the cold, she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. The next moment they reached solid ground and Marco dumped her unceremoniously on to her feet.

‘What the hell were you doing?’ He launched straight into her, gripping her upper arms and looking at her in a way that demanded an instant response.

She stared at his furious expression in shock and pushed her dripping hair back from her face with a small, jerky gesture that was restricted by the way he was holding her so tightly. His brows were drawn low, making his eyes appear almost black with anger, and his lips were pulled into a fierce line.

A flash of irritation whipped through her. What did he have to be so angry about? What made him think he could sweep in and start manhandling her, acting as if she had to answer to him for something that was none of his business?

‘What was I doing?’ she asked incredulously, trying in vain to shrug her arms out of his iron grip. ‘What about you—what are you doing here? Why did you follow me to Wales?’

‘Didn’t you realise it was nearly high tide?’ he demanded, totally ignoring her questions and giving her a little shake that sent droplets of water flying from her hair.

‘I knew the sea was coming in—but I was working,’ she said, trying to sound as if she’d known exactly what she was doing when in fact she’d been shocked to see just how high the water had risen. ‘You get better photos that way. The splashes are bigger. There’s more dynamic energy in the water.’

She pulled back again but he tightened his grip, suddenly making her ultra-aware of his hands on her arms. The rest of her body was still cold and wet but, where his hands touched, a fiery heat was burning through her sodden clothes and penetrating the flesh beneath.

‘For God’s sake!’ Marco exclaimed. ‘You were cut off.’

‘You didn’t need to come out to get me,’ she said crossly, pulling her arms sharply out of his grip and stepping away from him.

She wobbled slightly, but she held her head high. She did not need to explain herself to him—and she wasn’t going to let herself be distracted by the feel of his hands.

‘You could have been swept away,’ he said harshly. ‘What would have happened if I hadn’t been here?’

‘I’m a good swimmer. And I can clamber over rocks just like anyone else,’ she said. ‘I didn’t ask you to come out to get me. And I didn’t need you to carry me!’

‘Swimming doesn’t come into it—not with those white horses pounding you!’ he exclaimed, gesturing fiercely towards the huge white crested waves that were breaking over the rocks.

Claudia turned and stared at the wild sea with startled eyes. Suddenly her head was spinning and her legs felt weak. But it wasn’t the power of the waves that was roaring in her ears and making her dizzy. It was hearing Marco describe them as ‘white horses’.

She had taught him that phrase.

Four years ago when she’d brought him to Pembrokeshire—to the tiny village where her real mother had grown up—she had told him how much she loved to photograph a stormy sea. The weather had been beautiful as they’d sat together on the headland, looking out over the mirror-flat surface of the bay. On that day it had been almost impossible to imagine the sea anything other than a tranquil backdrop to a perfect summer’s day.

Claudia had been so happy. So in love. She’d looked deep into Marco’s eyes and he had pulled her close to him. His lips had found hers and they’d tumbled down on to the springy thyme-scented grass, totally lost in each other.

But she had given her heart—and her body—to nothing more than a fantasy. Marco’s feelings for her had not been real. He had used her and discarded her. That exact same night, Marco had walked out while she had been sleeping—without bothering to tell her he was going, or even to leave her a message.

‘Claudia—’ Marco’s voice, hard and insistent, broke into her reverie and brought her hurtling back to the present ‘—you’re shivering!’

She stared at him with wide eyes.

He was right—she was shivering. But whether it was from the cold, or the shock of plunging into the sea, or from the unexpected force of her memories she couldn’t say.

‘Why did you follow me to Wales?’ she demanded—repeating the question he had evaded earlier. Her voice caught in her throat as she spoke, but she needed to know the answer. ‘How did you even know I was here?’

‘Your friend at work told me,’ he said.

‘You mean Rosie?’ Claudia looked up at him in surprise. ‘She shouldn’t have done that. And you had no right to go behind my back, asking questions about where I was.’

‘Why not—I wanted to see you,’ he responded. ‘To talk to you.’

She stared at him, knowing it couldn’t really be that simple. No one followed another person that far just to talk to them. There must be something else. He must want more.

He was standing with his back to the sea and she could hear the waves crashing dramatically on to the rocky beach behind him. It was an unfamiliar, wild and stormy setting for them to be together. Their brief, intense affair had taken place during the summer, mostly in the elegant and stylish northern Italian city of Turin—and that was where she’d usually thought of him.

But somehow Marco’s raw masculine presence seemed to fit the untamed beach in the wilds of Pembrokeshire perfectly. His clothes were soaked through, his black hair was spiky with salt water, and the edgy, slightly dangerous quality that usually characterised his expression seemed to echo their elemental surroundings exactly.

‘If you knew where I worked, why didn’t you just leave me a message?’ she asked, suddenly feeling unnerved by the brooding sexual energy that glinted in his dark eyes.

She wrapped her arms across her body and hugged herself tightly. It was an instinctive gesture, as much about defending herself from Marco’s penetrating gaze as about keeping warm. But he had seen her reaction to him, and his eyes glittered all the more.

‘Oh, but I forgot—you don’t do messages,’ she added quickly, determined to stand up for herself and not let the sheer force of his personality overwhelm her.

‘I couldn’t wait that long.’ He was unfazed by her barbed comment and deliberately let his eyes drift down across her body, leaving a sudden flare of heat where they passed. ‘I needed to see you—now.’

‘Why?’

But Claudia already knew the answer. And if the potent message in his dark and meaningful gaze wasn’t enough, his voice had dropped to a sensual purr that shimmied across her body like a lover’s caress.

‘After you’d gone, I couldn’t get you out of my mind,’ he said.

His eyes burned into hers and Claudia knew exactly what he was thinking about. And that was enough to fill her own mind with powerful images of Marco making love to her.

But it was not what she wanted. Although her pulse was racing and the deep, dark longing to lie in Marco’s arms again was making it hard to think straight—the thought that he had followed her all the way to Wales simply to bed her was utterly crushing.

Was that really all she’d ever been to him—someone to warm his bed? Didn’t he care enough about her to ask how she’d been since he’d left her? Of course not. If he cared at all, he would never have left her so heartlessly.

Terrible tremors ripped through her body, making the shivering that had gripped her even more intense. But it wasn’t just the cold and wet of her physical condition that was affecting her—it was the brutal reminder of just how little she’d meant to Marco.

‘We have to get you out of those wet clothes,’ he said, suddenly closing the distance between them. Then, before she could react, he lifted her up again and started striding across the meadow to the cottage.

‘Put me down!’ Claudia gasped, struggling against him. The idea of him undressing her flashed through her mind in a series of erotic images which aroused and scared her at the same time. ‘I said, put me down!’

‘We need to warm you up right away,’ he said, his voice showing no sign of effort as he hurried towards the cottage. ‘You’re soaked through—we stood in the cold wind too long.’

As Marco held her tight against his chest, he was shocked by just how hard she was shaking. He could even hear her teeth chattering.

He didn’t know much about hypothermia. A dip in the December sea obviously wasn’t ideal, but he wouldn’t have thought she’d be at serious risk that quickly. However, she was shivering so intensely that an unpleasant jolt ran through him and settled like a wedge of ice in his chest. He could not let anything happen to her!

‘Stop struggling!’ he barked. ‘If you catch your death of cold, you’ll be no good to anybody.’




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