The Italian's Final Redemption - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,28

father had done to her mother.

She had never regretted her decision. She didn’t think of the future beyond her mother’s promise. Have a life, Kathy had told her, but Lucy didn’t let herself think about what that life would contain, because it was only the escape that mattered.

But if she had thought about it, a man wouldn’t have featured anywhere. Yet a part of her now wondered if this would have been easier if she’d managed to find herself a lover.

Not that her father had given her any opportunity to find one, but still. Maybe if she had she might know what to do, how to use de Santi’s definite hunger to her advantage.

Because she could, couldn’t she? This could be a way for her to take control, to get some power for herself. She could offer herself in return for her freedom. Some women did that, didn’t they?

Of course, he could just take what he wanted from her whether she let him or not, but it was unlikely that he’d force himself on her physically the way some men did. Surely a man who’d held her in his arms while she’d been paralyzed with fear, who’d tended to her burn, wouldn’t be physically violent, not the way her father had been. De Santi was a much more controlled man.

Her heartbeat had speeded up, her breathing becoming unsteady. He watched her as if he could read every thought in her head and knew exactly what she was planning, his eyes gleaming obsidian black in the night.

Was she really contemplating using her sexuality to get what she wanted? Hoping that she could earn her freedom that way? Because what did she know of seduction? Nothing. She was a virgin in every way there was, while he was a man of no doubt infinite experience. Plus, she was a terrible liar and an even worse actress. She wouldn’t be able to pretend something she didn’t feel.

Are you sure you don’t feel it?

Her heart beat harder, fear like a fist slowly closing inside her. Yet...not only fear. Or maybe it was a different kind of fear, because this type didn’t feel bad. No, it felt...like a fine electrical current, sparking over her skin, sizzling wherever it touched.

She wasn’t a seductress. She didn’t know how to do this with any subtlety or grace. Direct was the only approach she knew. So she took another sip of wine—it was more of a gulp really—and put down her glass. Then she made herself hold his dark gaze and put one hand on the knot of her sash. ‘Are you sure I can’t get you to change your mind? Perhaps there’s something I can give you that might help.’

Then she pulled the sash and let her robe fall open.

The last rays of the sun had gone, leaving only a deepening purple darkness that crept over everything. The candles flickered and danced, catching the gleam of his ink-black eyes as he stared at her. A breeze moved over her skin, making goosebumps rise on the thin strip of flesh she’d bared. Though that could have been the heat of his gaze.

She didn’t look away, conscious that it wasn’t only fear inside her now, but something more complicated than that. Like a delicate fabric shot through with threads of silver and gold, her fear had other things woven through it, emotions she’d barely felt before. A breathless excitement. The tight coil of anticipation. A nagging ache right down low inside her, between her thighs.

‘What are you doing, civetta?’ The question sounded idle, as if she’d done something mildly curious that he was puzzled about. But there was nothing idle about the tension that gathered around his powerful form. He was very still, the panther about to pounce.

Her pulse was loud in her ears and she wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but she’d taken this step and there was nothing to do but go on with it.

‘Isn’t it obvious? I undid my robe.’

‘I can see that. Are you hot, perhaps?’

Had he misunderstood her? Were her seduction skills that bad? Or was he deliberately misreading the situation? Probably deliberately misreading it, surely?

‘I’m not hot. I would very much like not to be handed over to the police at the end of the week and I thought that perhaps I could...change your mind.’

She wanted to cover herself, conscious of how the flickering candlelight was illuminating the bare curve of one breast. It wasn’t the same as being wholly naked,