‘Niccolo, I don’t think you’ve quite understood what’s going to happen here,’ she told him. ‘You are biologically going to become a father in around eight months’ time, yes, but not—not a hands-on father. Not a permanent, day-to-day fixture in this child’s life!’ she added slightly desperately.

Niccolo shook his head and smiled, seeming totally unconcerned by the vehemence in Dani’s announcement. ‘I think that it is you who does not understand, Daniella,’ he contradicted her. ‘The child you are carrying is a D’Alessandro. More than that, as my son or daughter, he or she will be the D’Alessandro heir.’

She nodded. ‘I do understand that, Niccolo—’

‘No, you obviously do not.’ He sat forward to lean across the table, his face only inches from hers now. ‘As soon as the arrangements can be made, Daniella, you and I will be married,’ he stated.

Carole Mortimer was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and forty books for Mills and Boon. Carole has four sons—Matthew, Joshua, Timothy and Peter—and a bearded collie called Merlyn. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’

THE VENETIAN’S MIDNIGHT MISTRESS

BY

CAROLE MORTIMER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Peter

PROLOGUE

‘SO, I’VE been having wild, orgasmic sex every day with my tennis coach for over a month now.’

‘What?’ Dani gave a start as she stared across the drawing room at her friend Eleni.

The two women were putting the finishing touches to the décor of the country home Eleni would share with Brad following their Christmas wedding in a week’s time. As an interior designer, Dani had spent the last month helping Brad and Eleni choose both the furniture and décor for the spacious house that she knew the two hoped would one day be filled with their children.

‘Hang on a minute.’ Dani’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘You don’t have a tennis coach, Eleni.’

‘True.’ Eleni, a beautiful Venetian, laughed at Dani’s frowning expression. ‘But it caught your attention, didn’t it?’ She smiled wryly. ‘I’ve been talking to you for the last ten minutes, Dani, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t heard a word I’ve said!’

‘Sorry, Eleni,’ Dani apologised with a grimace.

She had been doing her best, she really had, but obviously Eleni knew her too well to be fooled for a moment. Well, for any longer than ten minutes, anyway.

The two women had first met when they were both fourteen and Eleni had arrived at Dani’s boarding school from her home in Venice, sent there for a year by her brother Niccolo, the head of the D’Alessandro family, in order to improve her English. The two girls’ friendship had been so strong by the end of that year that when it had been time for Eleni to return home she had pleaded with Niccolo to let her come back to the English school for four more years and complete her education there. A battle she had lost…

Dani gave a shudder just at the memory of her first meeting with Niccolo D’Alessandro, after Eleni had insisted that Niccolo take both girls out to lunch so that she might introduce him to her English friend. Intimidating didn’t even begin to describe the arrogantly assured Venetian.

Head of the D’Alessandro banking family for four of his then twenty-seven years, Niccolo D’Alessandro had been imposingly tall, his shoulders wide beneath his tailored suit, his stomach taut, legs long and muscular. Seeing his overlong black hair that he’d brushed back from his aristocratically handsome face, eyes of deep, brooding brown, high cheekbones, a long arrogant nose, a firm mouth that looked as if it rarely smiled, and a hard square jaw, it hadn’t been in the least difficult for Dani to imagine that Niccolo D’Alessandro was descended from pirates as well as princes; she had a little more trouble imagining any D’Alessandro male could ever have been a priest, although she had been assured some of them had.

It had been also obvious what Niccolo had thought of Dani after that single meeting—he had flatly refused to let Eleni remain at school in England, only relenting in his decision when Eleni had reached eighteen and wanted to go to university in London.

‘Man trouble?’ Eleni prompted knowingly now.

Dani shook her head as she dragged her thoughts back from that first meeting with Niccolo D’Alessandro, almost ten years ago now. ‘Not in the way you probably think.’

Eleni, her hair darkly luxurious, her brown eyes warm and glowing, shrugged slender shoulders. ‘Let me guess. Either you have a man and he’s being uncooperative. Or you don’t have a man and you want one.’

‘I had a man, remember?’ Dani pointed out dryly.

Eleni frowned. ‘I’m not sure I would call Philip that.’

‘I was married to him!’

‘Technically, yes.’ Her friend nodded. ‘But in reality we both know that the two of you didn’t even last through the honeymoon.’

To Dani’s everlasting mortification.

Philip had looked like a Greek god, and he had been charming, thoughtful, and funny. Until the honeymoon following their lavish wedding, when the jealousy he had been hiding until that point had suddenly reared its ugly head. He had turned into a monster, accusing her of being too friendly with every man she met, from the elderly porter who had delivered their suitcases to their hotel suite, to the waiter who served them dinner on their first evening in Florence.

The scene that had followed in their hotel suite after that last accusation was something that Dani preferred not to even think about!

The two of them had arrived home from the honeymoon separately. Dani had filed for divorce almost immediately, and since that time she had stayed well away from any sort of romantic involvement, no longer trusting her own judgement when it came to men.

‘I don’t have a man.’

‘Then it’s about time you did,’ Eleni said, having been happily engaged to Brad for the last year. ‘Not all men are like Philip, you know—’

‘I have no guarantee of that,’ Dani interrupted firmly. ‘And until I do, I have no intention of getting involved with anyone again. Well…not by choice,’ she muttered, sighing as the heavy weight of her earlier distraction came crowding back.

Damn her grandfather, anyway. What person in his right mind would put a clause like that in his will, for goodness’ sake? Her grandfather, apparently. If she hadn’t complied with the terms of that particular clause by the time her grandfather died, then her parents were going to lose Wiverley Hall, their home in Gloucestershire, where her father had spent years building up the reputation of his stable for training racehorses.

Eleni raised dark brows. ‘That last statement sounded very intriguing…?’

Dani gave herself a mental shake. It was a problem, yes, but not an immediate one when her grandfather was still so fit and well.

‘Not really,’ she dismissed briskly. ‘So, tell me how your plans for the reception are progressing? Have you—?’

‘Oh, no, you don’t, Daniella Bell,’ Eleni cut in. ‘I’m not going to be put off by a change of subject. Tell all,’ she demanded, her dark brown gaze avid with curiosity.

Dani couldn’t help but smile. It was difficult to believe now that Eleni’s English had ever been other than what it was. In fact, apart from the darkness of Eleni’s colouring, nowadays her friend was almost more English than Dani.

She should never have given Eleni, of all people, even an inkling that something was troubling her. Eleni was like a dog with a bone when she got her teeth into something, and she wouldn’t let this go until Dani had ‘told all’, as she had so succinctly put it.

But maybe she should tell Eleni what was worrying her. Eleni was her best friend, after all, and Dani badly needed to talk to someone about her grandfather’s will!

She heaved another heavy sigh. ‘Do you remember my grandfather Bell?’

‘How could I forget him?’ Eleni snorted. ‘I met him at your wedding, of course, and once before that, when I came to stay for a weekend at your parents’ home years ago. But that was certainly enough! He’s even more formidably conservative than Niccolo with his “young ladies should be seen and not heard”,’ she quoted in a fair imitation of Daniel Bell’s harsh tones. ‘How your poor mother has put up with him living with them all these years I’ll never know! I—Oops.’ She gave an apologetic grimace. ‘I’m sorry, Dani, that was extremely rude of me.’

Dani shook her head. ‘The fact that he’s my grandfather doesn’t make me blind to his faults. He’s always been a tyrant and a control freak,’ she confirmed disgustedly. ‘But the thing is, Eleni, it’s actually my parents who have lived with my grandfather all these years. Not the other way around. He owns Wiverley Hall.’

‘So that’s why your mother has had to put up with him,’ her friend realised.

‘Yes,’ Dani said. ‘And my grandfather has never made any secret of the fact that he’s disappointed he only had the one grandchild—’

‘How could he possibly be disappointed with you? You’re gorgeous!’ Eleni looked indignant. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a tiny redhead. Do you remember how I dyed my hair red like yours five years ago?’ Her giggle was almost girlish. ‘I thought Niccolo was going to shave my head and then send me back home on the next plane!’

Dani remembered only too well Niccolo’s visit to England five years ago. And the fury in the accusing look he’d shot in her direction when he’d arrived and seen what Eleni had done to her normally rich brown hair…

‘And I’ve always been envious of your amazing green eyes,’ Eleni continued longingly. ‘Plus, you’ve become one of the most successful interior designers in London.’

‘Mainly due to you and other mutual friends employing me,’ Dani pointed out dryly.

‘That’s irrelevant,’ Eleni said firmly. ‘Your grandfather should be proud of you and your achievements!’

Dani couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s chagrin on her behalf. ‘The thing is, my mother couldn’t have any more children after me, so that pretty well took care of there ever being a male heir.’

‘Your grandfather is only a land-owner, for goodness’ sake, not nobility!’ Eleni scoffed.

And, being descended from nobility herself, Eleni was in a position to know the difference!

Dani smiled wistfully. ‘Same thing as far as Grandfather Bell is concerned. “Land is wealth”,’ she quoted in almost as good an imitation of her grandfather as Eleni’s a few minutes ago. ‘Anyway, whatever the reason, he’s never made any secret of his disappointment that he only has one grandchild—me. When my marriage to Philip ended in divorce, and childless to boot, I thought he was going to have a heart attack!’

‘Doesn’t he know why it ended in divorce?’

‘Can you imagine any of the family even attempting to explain Philip’s problem to Grandfather Bell?’

Her grandfather was approaching ninety years of age; trying to explain Philip’s pathological jealousy, his violent behaviour after he and Dani were married, would probably only result in her grandfather stating that the demand for equality from woman nowadays—that he so disapproved of!—was obviously to blame.

‘But the failure of your marriage wasn’t your fault, Dani.’ Eleni reached out a hand to grasp one of Dani’s. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’ She frowned. ‘I only ask because I know there hasn’t been a single man in your life since that awful marriage.’

‘Nor a married one, either!’ Dani retorted cheekily.

Although, in all honesty, it wasn’t a subject she found in the least amusing. Not when her sex life, or lack of it, was the basis of her current problem!

‘Very funny,’ her friend drawled sarcastically as she straightened. ‘But I still don’t see how any of this affects you, Dani.’

In the normal course of events it shouldn’t have; when her grandfather died, Dani’s father should quite naturally inherit Wiverley Hall and the stables. Except her grandfather had decided otherwise…

‘My father will only inherit Wiverley Hall and the Wiverley Stables if I have produced—or at least shown signs of producing—an heir before my grandfather dies.’ Dani winced at just putting into words the terms of the clause that her grandfather had recently told her he had added to his will, let alone actually acting on it! ‘Otherwise the whole thing is to be sold and the money given to charity.’

Eleni gasped as she sat back in obvious shock. ‘But that’s—that’s positively Machiavellian!’

‘Tell me about it,’ Dani agreed, relieved to have talked to someone other than her parents about this at last.

Her parents had obviously been distressed a week ago, when Daniel Bell had called them all together to inform them of the changes he had made to his will, but not as shocked as Dani herself.

As Eleni had already pointed out, Dani had stayed well away from becoming involved in any sort of relationship since her ill-fated marriage to Philip, so how she was supposed to produce this heir any time in the near future she had no idea. Solicit some poor unsuspecting man off the street? Pay someone to get her pregnant? The whole thing was ludicrous!

As she might have known they would, her parents had totally dismissed the clause, advising Dani to ignore it too. They’d stated that when the time came they would move the stables elsewhere.

But Dani knew that was easier said than done when her grandfather controlled the purse strings, too.

Eleni gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘So is his idea that you get married again?’

‘I have no intention of marrying again. You know that,’ Dani said.

‘But Dani—’

‘I will never put myself in such a vulnerable position ever again, Eleni,’ she stated emphatically. ‘Even seeing your own happiness with Brad as an example of how good a relationship can be,’ she added tactfully. ‘Besides, Grandfather hasn’t said I have to actually get married again, only produce the Bell heir.’

‘Incredible.’ Eleni still looked dazed. ‘I thought Niccolo was being unreasonable a year ago when he was so against my wanting to marry an Englishman, but your grandfather’s behaviour is positively archaic!’

Dani had been present on the day that Eleni told her brother she intended marrying Brad and living in England with him—moral support, Eleni had called it!—and could clearly remember Niccolo D’Alessandro’s icy disapproval that his sister should be contemplating marrying anyone who was not a Venetian.

She also remembered the way Niccolo had looked so coldly down his arrogant nose at her that day, as if he suspected her of being responsible for Eleni’s stubborn refusal to back down. Not true, of course, but Dani had known there was no point in even trying to defend herself against such prejudice.

As Eleni and Brad’s wedding was due to take place next weekend it was obvious who had won that particular battle—and that was yet another thing Niccolo D’Alessandro would no doubt blame Dani for!

‘I know that, and you know that, but my grandfather has never claimed to be a reasonable man,’ Dani said.

‘But—’

‘Can we please not talk about this anymore today, Eleni?’ Dani cut in. ‘I’ve thought of nothing else for the last week, and it just gives me a headache.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Eleni frowned. ‘You should have talked to me about it before, Dani,’ she admonished her friend. ‘I can’t believe your mother and father would really lose Wiverley Hall and the stables if you haven’t—’

‘Eleni, please! Can we talk about your wedding next week instead?’ Then Dani shuddered as a thought occurred to her. ‘Has Niccolo arrived yet?’ she asked tentatively.

Eleni, diverted by Dani’s obvious aversion to seeing her brother again, shook her head. ‘I’ve never understood why you and Niccolo have never become friends.’

‘Probably because we are both of the opinion that the less we see of each other the better,’ Dani retorted.

‘But you’re the two people I love most in the world—apart from Brad, of course—and I can feel the antagonism start to rise the moment the two of you are in the same room together!’ Eleni wailed.

Niccolo D’Alessandro was thirty-seven now, to Dani’s almost twenty-four, and the crush Dani had once had on the arrogant Venetian had—as Eleni so rightly pointed out—developed into antagonism on both sides. Out of dislike and disapproval on Niccolo’s side—especially after Dani’s brief marriage and divorce—and out of pure self-defence on hers.

She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘We just don’t like each other.’

‘But why don’t you?’ Eleni pressed, frustrated. ‘I know I’m his sister, but you have to admit that Niccolo is the epitome of “tall, dark, and handsome”, and he has such a dangerous sexual aura about him he should come with a public health warning. And you’re absolutely gorgeous—’

‘So you already said,’ Dani teased. ‘None of which alters the fact that your brother makes me break out in a rash every time I see him, and that I seem to have the same effect on him.’

‘It’s a total mystery to me,’ Eleni continued. ‘Niccolo is usually so stiffly correct, so—so Venetian, that I simply don’t understand his behaviour whenever he’s around you.’

Dani chuckled softly. ‘One of life’s mysteries you’re just going to have to live with, I’m afraid.’ She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Now, I really will have to go; I have another appointment in town later this morning.’

‘But I haven’t told you about our plans for the honeymoon yet,’ Eleni protested.

‘And I would really rather you didn’t. Besides, I really don’t have any more time.’

‘Don’t forget we have the final fitting for your brides-maid’s dress in the morning,’ her friend reminded her.

‘As if!’ Dani slung her capacious bag over her shoulder. She was wearing her usual work clothes: fitted black trousers and, today, a cashmere sweater the same deep green as her eyes. ‘Although I doubt anyone will even notice what I’m wearing once you appear in that delectable froth of white lace.’

‘I have every intention of introducing you to all my eligible male cousins next Saturday, you know,’ Eleni promised.

Dani shook her head. ‘Introduce away, Eleni, but I can assure you I won’t fall for any of them.’ Especially if they were anything like the arrogantly forceful Niccolo D’Alessandro!

‘Maybe not at the wedding next weekend, but how about at my masquerade party here next summer?’

Dani knew that was part of the reason that Eleni had fallen in love with this particular house. Her friend had taken one look at the spacious garden with its numerous trees and shrubs and instantly decided that the following August she would throw a real Venetian masquerade party there. In fact, her friend was almost as excited about the party next summer as she was about her wedding next week!

‘Not then, either,’ Dani said dryly.

‘But everyone falls in love during the Venetian Festival,’ her friend protested. ‘I remember my Aunt Carlotta telling me that she once spent the whole evening at one of the festivals flirting with her own husband—my Uncle Bartolomeo—without even realising it!’

Dani grinned. ‘I bet he was surprised!’

‘From the becoming blush on my aunt’s cheeks when she told me about it afterwards I would say they both were!’

‘Eleni!’ Dani chided laughingly.

‘You’ll see at the party next year,’ her friend promised. ‘The festival is a way for everyone to misbe have without anyone needing to feel guilty about it.’

‘Even your brother?’ Dani taunted.

‘Well…perhaps not Niccolo,’ Eleni conceded. ‘But the party is months away, Dani, and if you haven’t solved the problem with your grandfather’s will by then, an evening of anonymity could be the answer.’

‘No, Eleni,’ Dani said, easily able to guess what her friend was about to suggest, and having no intention of being seduced into the shrubbery by one of Eleni’s male cousins in order to become pregnant. ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking, and the answer is most definitely no,’ she repeated firmly.

‘But—’

‘No, Eleni.’

‘It was just an idea.’ Her friend shrugged ruefully.

‘Well, it was a lousy one—oh!’ Having intended making her way out of the house to her car in the driveway, Dani instead found herself crashing painfully into something very hard and unyielding.

A man’s chest, she realised, once the pain in her jarred chin had abated to a mild throb.

Niccolo D’Alessandro’s chest, Dani discovered breathlessly when she raised her gaze reluctantly to look at his handsome face above a black silk sweater.

Brooding dark eyes chillingly returned her startled gaze, and that same coldness was in the derisive twist of Niccolo’s sculptured lips as he grasped the tops of her arms with elegantly long hands and put her firmly away from him.

‘Daniella,’ he acknowledged as he released her. ‘I should have guessed.’

Dani’s eyes narrowed at his sarcastic tone. ‘Should have guessed what, exactly?’ she challenged, two bright wings of colour in her cheeks. Colour she knew would not be complementary to the bright red of her straight below-shoulder-length hair.

But at least she had the answer to her earlier question—Niccolo had obviously arrived in England for the wedding next Saturday.

And he was looking even more devastatingly gorgeous than ever, making Dani’s pulse race and her breath catch in her throat. The colour burning her cheeks was from physical awareness this time. Complete physical awareness. Of Niccolo D’Alessandro.

Her breasts tingled uncomfortably and a fierce heat gathered between her thighs.

Oh, God!

She had thought she was over this infatuation—had imagined that no man would appeal to her ever again after what Philip had done to her. But she knew she had been wrong as every nerve ending, every part of her, silently screamed her attraction to Niccolo—of all men!

She looked up at him from beneath lowered dark lashes. Maturity had given him lines beside those chocolate-brown eyes and the firmness of his mouth, but instead of detracting from his good looks they merely added another layer to his attraction, giving him that dangerous sexual aura Eleni had alluded to earlier.

Niccolo was dangerous, Dani acknowledged to herself. He exuded power, a complete domination over everything and everyone within his vicinity.

Well, not her. She’d had enough of domineering men—Philip and her grandfather to name but two—to last her a lifetime.

She turned away abruptly. ‘Never mind,’ she said, in answer to her own question.

‘I thought this morning would be the perfect opportunity for Niccolo to come by and look at the house,’ Eleni said awkwardly.

Dani knew by the way Eleni refused to meet her gaze that there was a lot more to it than that. By inviting him here at the same time as Dani, Eleni had perhaps been hoping for yet another chance of reconciling her brother with her best friend.

Dani sighed in irritation. ‘I really do have to go now, Eleni.’

‘Surely you are not leaving on my account, Daniella?’ Niccolo taunted softly, his voice moving like husky velvet across Dani’s already sensitised flesh.

Dani’s chin rose at the challenge she heard in his tone. ‘No, I was leaving anyway,’ she snapped.

Niccolo watched Daniella Bell from between narrowed lids, noting that she wore her red hair longer than when he had seen her at Eleni’s engagement party a year ago. Now styled in layers, it tumbled fierily onto her shoulders and down her spine. Long, dark lashes were lowered over eyes he knew to be an unfathomable green. Her nose was small and pert and dusted with a dozen or so freckles. Her face was thinner than he remembered, her cheeks hollow, giving those softly pouting lips a fuller appearance above her determinedly pointed chin. Her loss of weight was also borne out by the slenderness of her waist and narrow hips, although her breasts were still firmly full.

And unless he was mistaken—and Niccolo felt sure that he wasn’t—they were also naked beneath that clinging green sweater!

His mouth tightened. Ten years ago he had not approved of or understood Eleni’s affection and friendship for the gawky English girl she had only known for less than a year, and had absolutely refused to allow his sister to complete her education in England so that she could remain in England with her new friend. Eleni had eventually complied with his decision, of course, and instead continued the friendship by telephone and letter.

Then, at the age of eighteen, a much more stubbornly determined Eleni had informed him that she intended attending an English university, and she had instantly met up with Daniella Bell again. If anything, the friendship between the two women had become all the stronger as they had matured.

Admittedly Daniella had grown into a self-assured woman of passable beauty, and Eleni reported she was very successful as an interior designer, but Niccolo still did not approve of her as a friend for his young sister. Even less so after Daniella’s brief marriage two years ago, followed by an equally hasty divorce. It just proved how fickle she really was.

‘I’ll see you later.’ Daniella moved to kiss Eleni on the cheek. ‘Mr D’Alessandro.’ She gave him a curt nod as she straightened.

Daniella didn’t exactly approve of him either, Niccolo recognised with wry self-mockery.

‘What? You have no parting kiss for me, Daniella?’ he asked, a smile curving his lips as she stared at him incredulously.

‘We’re hardly kissing acquaintances, Mr D’Alessandro,’ she finally managed to splutter in disgust.

‘Possibly not.’ He drawled his amusement. ‘Perhaps when we meet again at the wedding…?’

Those green eyes flashed. ‘I believe I will forgo that dubious pleasure!’ she came back waspishly.

Niccolo’s gaze was intent on Daniella as he ignored his sister’s snort of laughter at his expense.

Daniella, he knew, had been in awe of him when they’d first met almost ten years ago—an awe that had quickly turned to infatuation. An infatuation he had been aware of, but had chosen to ignore, even to deliberately rebuff; to a man of twenty-seven years of age Daniella Bell’s calf-like devotion as she’d watched his every move with those deep green eyes had been a danger as well as a nuisance.

It was an infatuation she’d seemed to have got over completely by the time the two of them had met again years later, when he’d delivered Eleni to England at the start of the university term.

But Daniella had grown up in the last five years, Niccolo recognised, and in her maturity she was certainly no longer in awe of him.

In fact, it was safe to say that over the last five years Daniella had become less in awe of him than any other person of his acquaintance!

As head of the D’Alessandro family, and of D’Alessandro Banking, Niccolo was accustomed to wielding power and authority, to having his every instruction obeyed. His domestic needs at the D’Alessandro palace—his title of prince had fallen into disuse several centuries ago—were supplied quietly and efficiently, usually before he had even made them known. And no one, in any sphere of his life, stood up to him or answered him back in the frank way that Daniella Bell did on the rare occasions they met.

‘The prospect of the two of us ever kissing seems just as unpleasant to me, I do assure you,’ he said, deliberately baiting her.

‘Then it’s so nice to know we’re agreed on something!’ Daniella snapped, before turning sharply on her heel and leaving.

‘Why do you do that, Niccolo?’ Eleni asked gently once the two of them were alone.

He turned to look at his sister. ‘Do what?’

‘Behave like such a—a—an overbearing Venetian!’ she accused.

‘But Eleni, I am an overbearing Venetian,’ he returned mockingly.

‘Yes, but you don’t have to keep proving it!’ His sister glared at him.

Niccolo gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘Your friend brings out the worst in me, I am afraid.’

‘And you bring out the worst in her!’ Eleni muttered with a frown.

Niccolo was unconcerned. ‘Then it seems we are all agreed it is best if Daniella and I stay well away from each other.’

‘I suppose so,’ Eleni conceded heavily, disappointed they both so obviously felt that way.

‘Cheer up,’ Niccolo teased affectionately. ‘After the wedding she and I will probably have no further reason ever to meet again.’

‘What about my masquerade party in the summer?’ his sister protested. ‘The two of you are sure to meet again then.’

Not if Niccolo first ensured that he knew exactly which of Eleni’s masked guests was Daniella Bell—and then avoided her like the plague!

CHAPTER ONE

Eight months later…

DANI was feeling hot and bothered by the time she arrived very late—it was well after ten o’clock—to Eleni’s masquerade party.

A problem with a client had come up at the last moment, delaying her in getting ready. Then, when the taxi had arrived to drive her here, she’d realised she had another problem. It was an extremely warm evening, and her gown was made out of soft gold and very heavy velvet, and the hoops beneath the skirts kept springing up and almost hitting her in the face.

How on earth, Dani wondered wrathfully, had women ever managed to move around in these clothes two hundred and fifty years ago, let alone eat or drink in them?

Dani gave her cloak to Jamieson the butler after being admitted to the house, before moving to the mirror in the hallway to check her appearance. The gold mask she wore covered her face from brow to top lip, and her red hair was covered with the white powder that had been the fashion of those days. The low neckline of the gold gown showed an expanse of breasts pushed up to a creamy swell by a corset, which also held her waist nipped in tightly, and the full skirt billowed out and over the gold slippers that matched the dress.

Yes, she was as ready as she was ever going to be to face all the other guests, who were already outside in the romantically lit garden.

Eleni had telephoned Dani yesterday so that she could tell her all about her plans for the masquerade party. The garden was to be lit only by lamps and strings of coloured lights in the trees and bushes, with a small orchestra hired to add to the romance of the evening. But even so Dani was totally unprepared for the magical appearance of everything and everyone when she stepped outside on her way to the rose garden where Jamieson had told her Brad and Eleni were greeting their guests.

The costumes of the two hundred or so guests were exquisite, and the masks even more so—a lot of them intricately decorated, especially those worn by Eleni’s Venetian relatives—giving Dani a feeling of unreality, as if she really had stepped back into another time.

It was easy to see how and why, with so many corners of the spacious garden left in darkness, those flirtations Eleni had spoken of took place!

Dani quickly made her way to the rose garden, keeping a wary eye out for Eleni’s obnoxious brother—a man she thankfully hadn’t seen in the eight months since Eleni and Brad’s wedding, an occasion when they had all but ignored each other.

‘Is that you, Dani?’ Eleni greeted her warmly as soon as she saw her, her own Georgian-style costume an elegant red, her mask silver and her dark hair unpowdered.

‘You aren’t supposed to know it’s me.’ Dani frowned behind her mask.

‘We discussed these dresses once—don’t you remember?’ her friend said as Dani moved to kiss a Duke-of-Wellington-costumed Brad.

As it happened, Dani did remember the time she and Eleni had lain under an oak tree in the school grounds, waxing lyrical about how romantic it must have been to live in the seventeen hundreds, with all those manly heroes from the historical novels they’d devoured. Until they had remembered that there had been no plumbing for instant hot baths in those times, nor the convenience of the telephone!

But like Eleni, Dani hadn’t been able to resist wearing a beautiful gown in the style of that century this evening.

‘You both look very beautiful,’ Brad told them gallantly.

He was nothing like those dark, almost satanic heroes Dani and Eleni had once drooled over, with his hair a golden blond and his eyes blue, but there was no doubting the happiness of Eleni and Brad’s marriage, Dani recognised almost wistfully, as Brad turned to give his wife a lingering kiss.

‘Just tell me what Niccolo is wearing so that I can once again avoid him!’ Dani begged of her friend as she realised she was holding up the receiving line.

‘He’s a p—’

‘Just think of the D’Alessandro ancestry and you’ll know him,’ Eleni cut smoothly across Brad. ‘And you see all those good-looking men gathered by the bar?’ She nodded towards five men laughing and talking together as they sipped champagne. ‘D’Alessandros every one,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘You met them all at the wedding last year, and I’m sure that any one of them would be pleased to oblige you, if you know what I mean…?’

‘Very funny.’ Dani shot her friend a silencing glare before moving off to join the rest of the guests strolling in the garden, knowing exactly what her friend was referring to even if Brad didn’t. In the eight months since she had spoken to Eleni about her grandfather’s will, Dani hadn’t even come close to finding a solution to that particular problem.

But Eleni was right about the D’Alessandro men all being good-looking, Dani acknowledged ruefully as she stood a short distance away from them. All of them were dark-haired, very tall, with athletically fit bodies. In fact any one of them could be Niccolo, she realised in dismay.

One was dressed as a nobleman. Another as a priest. The third as a gondolier. The fourth was a nineteenth-century Italian soldier. The fifth was in Regency-style clothes.

Exactly what had Eleni meant by her cryptic comment about the D’Alessandro ancestry in reference to Niccolo’s costume?

‘Champagne…?’

She turned to find a rakish-looking pirate standing at her side—another one of Eleni’s D’Alessandro cousins? This man’s dark hair was pulled back and tied with a black bow at his nape, and a black mask covered his face from brow to top lip. Tight black trousers were tucked into black boots, emphasising the long length of his legs, a black sash was about his waist, and a long black leather tunic was worn over the white billowy shirt that was de rigueur for any respectable pirate.

Except pirates weren’t respectable by definition, were they?

This one certainly didn’t look as if he was. Dark, dark eyes glittered through the slits in the mask as his gaze roamed boldly over Dani, from her toes to her powdered hair and then back to her face behind the gold mask.

‘Champagne…?’ he prompted again huskily, and he held out one of the two glasses he held in his hands.

Dani swallowed hard, not taking her gaze off the pirate for even a second. It was one thing to fantasise about meeting a man like this when you were an impressionable teenager. Another thing altogether, at the age of twenty-four, to find yourself face to face with a man who looked as if he were every bit as dangerous as the pirate he was dressed as.

Which meant he definitely had to be a D’Alessandro cousin!

Still, it was a masquerade party, where no names were exchanged and there would be no expectations after tonight. Eleni was right; it could be fun for Dani to just anonymously enjoy herself for one evening.

Until ten minutes ago Niccolo had been finding the evening tedious. Conversation became louder as bottles of champagne began to disappear, the laughter too shrill, the flirtations more obvious—and the culmination of those flirtations was obvious as couples began to disappear off into the darkness of the garden.

But Niccolo had never particularly enjoyed the Venetian Festival, and he certainly had no intention of being lured into the privacy of the surrounding trees by any of the women who had so far tried to tempt him.

As usual, he had kept a wary eye out for the sharp-tongued Daniella Bell as each of the female guests had arrived, but at ten o’clock he had assumed that she either wasn’t here at all or he had missed her in the crowd.

In fact, until he had seen the woman in the gold gown enter the garden, he had been considering taking a bottle of champagne and disappearing into the relative privacy of Eleni’s conservatory.

The woman’s hair was powdered white, and she had a heart-shaped beauty mark above her top lip. The creamy swell of her breasts was inviting above the low neckline of the gold gown, and her arms were white and slender, a gold fan held in one of her delicately graceful hands.

Her very stillness made her stand out from the rest of the guests as she looked slowly about her with an almost untouchable air of separation from those about her.

It was a feeling Niccolo easily recognised and related to. As head of the D’Alessandro family and banking consortium he had to keep himself apart out of necessity. The fact that he hadn’t yet found a woman suitable to become the D’Alessandro bride only added to his aloofness.

But he put on hold his plan to disappear the moment he saw the woman in the gold gown. Instead he collected two glasses of champagne and made his way determinedly towards her before any of the other men present sensed her air of detachment and saw it as the same challenge he did.

She was even more alluring close up, her skin as pale as milk. The colour of her eyes was not discernible behind the mask in the poorly illuminated garden, but somehow Niccolo thought they would be blue. Her perfect bow of a mouth was highly erotic, with that heart-shaped beauty mark above the fuller top lip, and Niccolo believed the hair beneath the powder would probably be a rich burnished gold.

Dani felt slightly flustered by the intensity of that dark gaze—not sure that encouraging this man by accepting a glass of champagne would be a good idea. Although she had no doubt that the more mischievous Eleni wouldn’t have hesitated.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky as she took the glass of champagne the pirate presented to her, not quite managing to avoid touching the man’s long, slender fingers as she did so, and feeling something like an electric jolt up her arm as her own fingers briefly made contact with his.

‘Our hostess has strictly forbidden us the use of our own names,’ he said with a wicked smile. ‘So, if you have no objection, I would like to call you Belladonna.’

His voice was very deep and very sexy. Dani suddenly became aware that she was slowly being seduced.

‘As in the poison?’ she said pertly.

His teeth gleamed very white in the darkness as he grinned at her appreciatively. ‘As in beautiful lady,’ he corrected softly. ‘And you are very beautiful.’

Dani’s smile widened at the compliment. ‘How can you possibly tell?’

‘Would you really like me to tell you?’

Slowly being seduced? This man’s intent had just gone up a couple of notches!

But it was fun, she realised with dawning wonder. More fun than she’d had in a very long time.

‘Yes, please,’ she invited.

‘You have skin like white satin, a mouth that was surely made for kissing, and breasts—’

‘I think perhaps you should stop there!’ Had she thought only a couple of notches? Make that a dozen or so! She was starting to feel light-headed from all this flattery, and she had only sipped at the champagne.

‘Perhaps for the moment…’ He gave in gracefully with an inclination of his head. ‘Would you care to dance?’

Would she? The idea certainly had its appeal. But who was this man? The dark hair, swarthy skin and slight accent gave no clue other than that he was probably a D’Alessandro relative. What if he should turn out—horror of horrors!—to be Niccolo D’Alessandro himself?

It would be just her luck, when they all removed their masks at midnight, to discover she had spent the evening flirting with Niccolo!

No, she realised with some relief as she glanced briefly across at the other D’Alessandro men. They had just been joined by a sixth man, even taller than they were and dressed very lavishly, and his regal air of arrogance was unmistakably that of Eleni’s brother.

Dani relaxed slightly as she turned back to the pirate at her side. ‘And what do I call you?’

‘What would you like to call me?’ he countered.

Dani felt a quiver of excitement down her spine as her body was suffused with a heat that was in no way connected to the warmth of this beautiful summer evening.

This really was a seductive experience, she thought. To be complimented, enticed by a man she didn’t know, and who didn’t know her, and whose attention seemed to be fixed intensely on her. No wonder the Venetian Festival was so popular!

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, that butterfly fluttering in her stomach increasing as she sensed his dark gaze watching the movement.

‘Come, Bella, what is your fantasy? Tonight I will be whoever you wish me to be.’

Dani hadn’t even known she had a fantasy until now. ‘Morgan,’ she breathed. ‘I would like to call you Morgan.’

‘After the pirate Henry Morgan?’ the pirate said with a nod. ‘It is appropriate.’

Dani tilted her head. ‘Although I somehow think you must be a relative of Eleni’s…?’

He laughed. ‘No names. No personal details. Those are the rules, are they not? Now, would you care to dance? Or perhaps a walk in the garden would be more to your liking?’

Dani eyed the dozen or so couples moving slowly to the music on the temporary dance floor that had been set up in front of the small orchestra, tempted by the idea of being taken in his arms—more than tempted. But did she really want to be that close to a man who already made her feel like behaving more recklessly than she ever had before?

For the moment, no…

‘A walk, I think,’ she accepted, careful not to touch him this time as he took the champagne glass from her and placed both of them on the tray of a passing waiter.

Despite her care in not touching him, he immediately took hold of her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm as they strolled through the dimly lit garden. His arm felt like tempered steel beneath her fingertips, the billowy sleeves of his shirt hardly any barrier to the heat of his skin at all.

Niccolo, sensing that his Belladonna was about to remove her hand from his arm, moved to place his other hand over the top of hers, determined not to relinquish this small contact with her.

She was enchanting, tiny perfection, her hand small and delicate beneath his much larger one, and the coloured lanterns and the light of the moon threw the beauty of her breasts and the bareness of her arms into shadowed relief.

He could never remember being this immediately attracted to any woman before. The muted lighting and softly romantic music no doubt added to the seduction of the evening, but nevertheless Niccolo knew it was the intriguing air of mystery that surrounded the woman at his side that gave such enchantment to the meeting and held him captive.

For once he didn’t have to be the respected and respectable Niccolo D’Alessandro. His anonymity allowed him to be bolder, less reserved than was his normal custom. And he already knew where he wanted that boldness to take him with this woman… No doubt Eleni would be able to tell him exactly who his Belladonna was if he were to ask her, but Niccolo found that he didn’t want to do that, preferring to savour each new discovery about this woman as it emerged.

He turned to her in concern as he felt the slight tremor of her tiny fingers beneath his. ‘Are you cold?’ he enquired as he looked down at her.

Those softly pouting lips curved into an enigmatic smile. ‘Not at all,’ she assured him.

Cold? Dani’s thoughts echoed shakily. She was so aware of this man, so sensitised to the almost feline strength of his body as he walked beside her, to the touch of the fingers that curved so possessively about hers, that she wasn’t sure she could even think straight, let alone know whether she was hot or cold!

She was hot, she discovered when she concentrated on the question. Hot, hot, hot!

Every part of her felt tinglingly alive, and she was totally aware of the man beside her as she breathed shallowly, her breasts feeling full, her nipples hard and oh so sensitive as they pressed against her corset.

Again Niccolo felt the slight quiver of this woman’s fingers beneath his. ‘You are cold,’ he insisted.

‘Well—perhaps a little,’ she allowed breathlessly.

Niccolo’s gaze was riveted on the fullness of her slightly parted lips as she looked up at him. Their softness was an invitation he was finding it more and more difficult to resist.

He could no longer resist!

She tasted of champagne and honey, those lips as soft and delicious as Niccolo had imagined they would be. He gathered her close against him and feasted, sipping, tasting, deepening the kiss as he felt the surge of desire course through his body when he moulded her slender curves against him.

Dani was lost from the first moment those firmly sculptured lips claimed hers. And as she felt the leashed power behind her pirate’s kiss, the hard throb of his thighs against hers, she knew that he wanted to do much more than just kiss her.

And, dear Lord, she wanted so much more than that too!

Tonight she wanted to forget everything else but this man and the seduction of the evening. Wanted to lose herself in the passion of his kisses and the promised pleasure of the hardness of his body.

She wanted him. Wildly. Frantically. Heatedly.

The realisation shocked her at the same time as she pressed her body longingly against his, her arms moving up about the broadness of his shoulders as her lips parted to deepen the kiss.

Nothing else mattered other than the intensity of the desire, the arousal, that surged through her body. The need to feel. To live only for this moment and to hell with tomorrow.

She moaned low in her throat as his hand moved from her waist to her breast, lingering there, cupping her, those long, warm fingers a caress on the bareness of her skin above the gown before they dipped lower, seeking and finding the hardened nub, and that single touch across the sensitised tip sent rivulets of pleasure throbbing between her thighs.

Her pirate’s hands moved to cup her bottom and pull her against his thighs, against the rigid hardness there that told her of his own arousal. At the same time his tongue moved erotically across her bottom lip before surging beyond, capturing, claiming, as he tasted every part of her.

Niccolo wanted this woman now.

Right now!

His earlier aversion to couples disappearing off into the trees was totally forgotten as he held the woman of his dreams in his arms and tasted and caressed her with the same burning need, only the two of them existing as their kisses deepened hungrily.

Then a teasing laugh from somewhere amongst the shelter of the trees permeated the desire that had clouded his brain, and he drew abruptly back to rest his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.

‘I think perhaps we should go somewhere a little more—private. Do you agree?’ he murmured ruefully.

She hesitated only fractionally before giving an affirmative nod of her head.

Niccolo moved back slightly, his hand sliding caressingly down her arm before he laced his fingers with her much smaller ones, only lingering long enough to once more kiss her hungrily on the lips before he turned to guide her towards the relative privacy of his sister’s home.

Dani felt slightly dazed by the intensity of her arousal, was beyond thought, beyond anything but being the focus of this man’s single-minded desire.

She wanted to be naked with him, wanted to touch and caress the broadness of his muscled back, ached to feel all that nakedness against her own. There would be plenty of time tomorrow, all her tomorrows, to be the much more cautious and emotionally bruised Dani Bell.

On paper she was a twenty-four-year-old divorcee. But the reality was different—so totally different.

Her disaster of a marriage to Philip had made her wary of men and physical relationships. As Eleni had once pointed out so succinctly, there had been no one in her life since the end of her marriage to Philip two and a half years ago.

The failure of that marriage had made her doubt her own attractiveness to men. But there was no doubting that her pirate found her attractive, that he wanted her, and part of her so ached to feel wanted, to feel desired, if not loved.

Nevertheless, she kept a wary eye out for Eleni as she and her pirate strolled back towards the house; she would never hear the end of it if her friend should spot Dani disappearing with one of her D’Alessandro cousins!

‘I do not intend to do anything you do not want me to do,’ Niccolo promised as he sensed the onset of doubt in the woman who walked so gracefully and silently beside him. At least he hoped he would have the control not to take things any further than this woman wanted them to go.

The reality was he wanted her so badly that his normally rigid control was in jeopardy of deserting him. Only the earlier interruption of that laugh had stopped him from enticing her into the trees with him and making love to her right then and there.

This immediacy was totally out of character for Niccolo.

There had been many women in his life over the last twenty years, and some of them had become a mistress for several months, but with none of them had he felt this driving need to know, to touch, to make love until they were both weak and satiated. And then start all over again.

Eleni’s conservatory was in darkness as Niccolo opened the door and allowed the woman at his side to enter first, before closing and locking the door firmly behind them, shutting out the noise of the other party-goers and all but the muted strains of the small orchestra.

Dani’s hand moved to cover his as he would have switched on one of the lamps. ‘It’s more—in keeping with the evening this way,’ she whispered, inwardly knowing that if he switched on a light the magic of this encounter would be broken and she would run away—probably screaming.

Philip’s uncontrollable and unwarranted jealousy had made Dani not just wary, but actually fearful of physical relationships, and she was sure that the only thing that was giving her courage now was the mask each of them was wearing and the anonymity the darkness afforded.

In fact, the veritable forest of exotic plants and trees that Eleni nurtured in her conservatory effected such a feeling of privacy, of heightened expectancy, that it seemed to Dani as if the two of them were alone on some lush desert island. Which was very fitting, considering he was dressed as a pirate!

‘You’ve been here before?’ he asked, as Dani confidently made her way to where the sofa and chairs were situated.

‘Once or twice,’ she replied, not wanting to give away even that much of herself.

Behaving with uncharacteristic recklessness was one thing, having this man discover her identity as Eleni’s best friend was something else entirely!

She turned to face him, stepping closer to let her hands slide slowly up his silk-covered chest. ‘We aren’t supposed to be asking personal questions, remember?’

‘I remember,’ he murmured, as his arms moved about her waist to draw her close against him and his head lowered so that his lips could claim hers.

Heaven.

There was absolutely no other way for Dani to describe the pleasure that surged through her as the kiss deepened, as her lips parted to the silky caress of his tongue before it slowly entered her mouth.

Oh, God!

Dani’s legs went weak at this slow, sensuous plundering, her arms tightening on his shoulders as she clung. He moulded her against him from breast to thigh, their legs entwined.

It had been too long, she acknowledged achingly. Far too long. And it had never been like this before. Ever.

Dani’s head swam, her body feeling completely, totally alive as the man she knew only as Morgan continued to kiss her. His hands moved restlessly across her back before cupping her bottom and pulling her even tighter against him, allowing her once again to feel the heat of his arousal as her own thighs melted into liquid fire.

That heat intensified, became almost unbearable, as one of his hands caressed the bare tops of her breasts, igniting her so that she longed to have him caress her more fully, and her nipples were hard and aching for his touch as she pressed closer in silent appeal.

But the magic stopped, abruptly ceased, the moment she felt his hand move up to the ties at the back of her mask.

‘No!’ She broke the kiss to protest, breathing hard as she backed away slightly, cheeks burning, eyes feverish. ‘No,’ she repeated more calmly, as she sensed him looking at her questioningly. ‘It’s more—exciting this way, don’t you think?’

More exciting? Niccolo mused wryly. If things became any more exciting the two of them were going to go up in flames! But perhaps she was right—perhaps it was the fact that they were both masked, their identities secret, that made this whole experience so uniquely erotic.

She moved her body enticingly against his, the elusive perfume of her skin, the way her breasts swelled above her low-cut gown, once again holding him in thrall.

Niccolo drew in a sharp breath as his body pulsed, throbbed in answer to all that she was offering. ‘I—’ He broke off as she pressed her fingertips against his mouth and played them lightly over his bottom lip before one dipped provocatively inside in silent invitation.

An invitation Niccolo was powerless to resist.

He held her against him and his tongue moved moistly across her finger, licking, enticing, making it hot and wet. The same way Niccolo wanted her as she lay beneath him. Or on top of him. He didn’t care which…

CHAPTER TWO

DANI quivered with excitement, with anticipation, as she turned in silent invitation and allowed him to slide the zip of her gown down the length of her spine, groaning low in her throat as his lips followed the same path before he straightened once again to turn her to face him.

She breathed shallowly as she lowered her arms to allow the gown to fall shimmering to the floor. She slipped her feet out of the gold slippers and dispensed with the cumbersome hoops to stand before him wearing only the tight corset with matching cream silk French knickers.

‘No, leave it,’ he growled throatily as Dani would have reached up to undo the twenty or so hooks down the front of the corset. His gaze was intent on her masked face as he threw off his waistcoat and the black sash before moving to stand in front of her. ‘I have always wondered what it would be like to remove one of these,’ he admitted. ‘I am going to very much enjoy finding out.’ His accent had thickened in his deepening desire.

Dani hoped that it felt as sensually arousing to him as it did to her as he slowly undid the hooks, one by one, as he savoured the moment her breasts were free and he could brush his fingers lightly over their pouting tips. Dani’s breath caught in her throat as he lightly caressed the taut and swollen nipples.

She felt her knees go weak as he lowered his head and his lips claimed one temptingly pert bud, his tongue licking slowly, rhythmically, making her skin wet. Her nipple swelled in arousal inside his mouth as his teeth gently rasped against that sensitivity and he continued to taste and suckle.

Her hands moved up instinctively to cradle the back of his head and she held him to her, her back arched, her breathing ragged as pleasure surged hotly between her thighs and dampened her until she was hot and aching.

He moved the attentions of his lips and tongue to her other breast, licking, gently biting, while his hand captured its twin and caressed that hardened nub in the same pleasurable rhythm.

God, she was so excited, so aroused, Dani realised in trembling wonder. She was going to explode into a million pieces right here and now while this man was still fully dressed and she was wearing only her panties!

Her fingers clenched in the dark thickness of his hair as she held him against her. He increased the rhythm of his caressing tongue and his other hand moved from her breast to seek lower, cupping between her thighs. The pad of his palm pressed subtly, rhythmically, against the hardened nub nestling there. Pressing, caressing, until Dani felt an aching pleasure all centred there, before it spread out to every part of her body, hot and fierce, totally encompassing, and she arched against his caressing hand in a climax that seemed never ending.

Her knees buckled slightly and her head dropped forward to rest against the broadness of his shoulder as those spasms of pleasure finally began to lessen, her breathing ragged and sporadic.

‘I don’t—I’ve never—That was so—’

‘You are beautiful!’ Niccolo assured her with husky force even as his arms moved about her and he lifted her up to carry her to the sofa. He laid her down on its length, his gaze once again holding hers captive as he straightened to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

No woman had ever looked more beautiful to him, the glow of the moonlight giving her skin the appearance of alabaster against the cream silk underwear she wore, her eyes dark and satiated behind her mask. The posture of her body—turned slightly sideways on the sofa, with those small graceful hands resting on her thighs and the long silken legs bent slightly at the knees—was sensually enticing.

Niccolo left his shirt unbuttoned, revealing the dark hair of his chest and the flatness of his stomach, as his fingers dealt deftly with the fastening of his trousers.

‘Let me.’ She held her hand out in invitation. ‘It’s my turn to undress you,’ she whispered, moving over on the sofa to make room for him to lie down beside her.

No part of Niccolo found objection to that invitation—not the surge in his already hardened shaft, the increased beat of his heart, or the clamouring inside him to feel those delicate hands against his naked body.

And God, those hands felt good as she pushed the sides of his shirt aside to lay them flat against his chest, light as butterfly wings as she moved up beside him, expression sultry, her bottom lip caught between tiny, even white teeth as she looked her fill of him and her hands touched and caressed him from shoulder to thigh.

Niccolo breathed in sharply, his stomach tightening, as one hand moved lower, beneath the waistband of his trousers, and she touched him lightly before curling her fingers about his rigid hardness.

He felt like steel encased in silk, Dani discovered as she pushed aside his clothing to slowly caress his arousal from tip to base and then back again. She revelled in the response of his long thickness as he moved slowly, sensuously, against her hand and fingers, in the increased raggedness of his breathing as her thumb caressed the sensitive tip and she felt the slight escape of moisture.

But she wanted more. Wanted it all. To taste him, not just touch and caress him.

She moved up on her knees beside him to slide his trousers and boxers down the long length of his legs and drop them down on the carpet beside them, holding his gaze as she parted his legs to move in between them and cup and hold him.

Then she finally looked down at him. He was long, hard and beautiful, she acknowledged, even as she lowered her head to capture him in her mouth, feeling emboldened, empowered, as she heard his groan of acceptance and surrender.

His hands came up to grasp her shoulders—not to push her away, as she had initially disappointedly thought, but to plead with her not to stop that rasping caress of her tongue or the rhythmic caress of her hands as she cupped and held him.

His groans became deeper, more ragged, with each caress, and Dani wallowed in his pleasure as surely as if it were her own.

It was her own!

She had never known anything like this before, had never felt so uninhibited, so free to express her enjoyment in a man’s body. In this man’s body.

It was a beautiful, perfect male body, muscled and yet silky, his shoulders wide, his stomach flat, his thighs—Oh, God, his thighs…

‘No more, little one!’ he suddenly rasped fiercely, his fingers tight on her shoulders as he sat up to gently hold her away from him. ‘I want to take off the rest of your clothes. Slowly. And then I want to kiss and caress you in the way you have just kissed me,’ he explained.

Dani smiled as she knelt back to lift her own breasts to his dark, appreciative gaze before he lowered his head to draw one of those darkened nipples into his mouth as he slid the silk panties down her thighs.

In seconds she knelt completely, unashamedly naked in front of him, knowing by the raggedness of his breathing and the intensity of that dark gaze that he liked what he saw.

It was exhilarating, liberating, to be with a man like this, to just enjoy without doubt or responsibility…

She was perfection in the moonlight, Niccolo acknowledged achingly as she slid the shirt from his shoulders and down his arms. Her breasts full and pert, her waist slender, hips curvaceous, a lush triangle of hair at their apex, and her smile enticing as she lay back against the cushions.

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