and delved inside her warmth, deepening the kiss until their tongues touched and twined together. Their movement set the slender trees to swaying. The leaves danced overhead, showering them with a fine mizzle of orange-scented mist. The sensation was intensely erotic.
Mindless of the glass walls, Marco slowly circled his palms over the swell of her breasts.
She shuddered. Her knees buckled and she clutched at the slope of his shoulders, her fingers digging into his knotted muscles.
Pushing away from the iron support, she found a path through a circle of unplanted palm trees and drew him into the shaded center.
Dark slivered shadows played over their bodies as Kate stumbled back against an ancient marble column, one of the many antique sculptures decorating the conservatory. The long fronds were thick, the interlacing leaves weaving an emerald screen to hide them from prying eyes. Still, there was always a danger that someone might stumble upon the shocking scene.
Ah, but danger was all that made him feel truly alive, thought Marco as he slid her skirts up over her thighs.
Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. He paused for a fraction, giving her a chance to say no.
“Si,” she whispered, nipping at his neck.
The temptation was too great to resist. Finding the slit in her drawers, he thrust his fingers between the feminine folds of her flesh. She was warm and wickedly wet to his touch.
“Dio mi aiut,” groaned Marco, the sensuous shiverings of the leaves nearly drowning out his words.
God help me, he repeated to himself. But it was the devil himself who guided his hands to the flap of his breeches and wrenched the fastenings open. His shaft sprung free.
With a heated moan, Kate clasped her arms around his neck.
His hands found the taut curves of her bottom and lifted her up. Bracing her back against the stone, he thrust his body hard against her heat.
“Wrap your legs around me, cara,” he urged. The earthy scent of damp soil and aroused sex swirled around them. This would have to be swift and savage. A rush of pure, animal passion amidst the jungle greenery.
Kate responded with equal abandon. Her knees clenched his hips as he drove himself deep inside her. She gave a soft cry as he withdrew and thrust in again. And again.
Her hips rocked to his rhythm, and he felt her body tighten with tension.
“Cara,” he rasped, feeling fire surge through his limbs. Hot with need, he pressed his mouth over hers, muffling her cry of climax as she came undone in his arms.
Somehow, he had the presence of mind to pull out just in time. High overhead, the sun glinted wildly off the glass as his seed spilled over the dark earth.
Dragging in a lungful of air, he eased her down until her feet touched the ground, and then he drew her into his arms. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and he held her until her hitching breaths grew calmer.
Marco had kissed countless women over the years, but his response to Kate Woodbridge left him a little shaken. Conflicting impulses stirred strange sensations. Dangerous sensations.
He found himself feeling a little uncertain. A little confused.
The clatter of a water cart being wheeled over the brick walkway cut short any further reflections.
Kate heard it, too, and shook off her daze to straighten her bodice and smooth her skirts. Her hands were shaking. But when she looked up, her composure suddenly turned hard as cold steel.
“Satisfied, Lord Ghiradelli?” she asked. “I trust you will consider the debt paid in full.”
Taken by surprise, Marco matched her sardonic edge. “The contents may have been paltry, but the purse itself was made of very expensive Florentine leather. By my reckoning, Kate, you still owe me something.”
Her eyes widened. “And who is to decide the final tally?”
He tugged at his cuff. “Oh, I am sure we can come to a mutual agreement.”
As the gardener’s cheerful whistlings grew louder, Kate darted a look over her shoulder. “Don’t count your pennies just yet,” she muttered, pushing past him and ducking under the low-hanging leaves.
A moment later, she was lost in a sea of green.
Pails rattled. Water sloshed.
Stepping over the broken pot, Marco picked up the basket of herbs Kate had dropped and placed it on one of the potting benches before clicking open the side door and letting himself out.
Chapter Fourteen
Fool, fool, fool!
The angry tattoo of her heels on the polished parquet seemed to echo her self-loathing thoughts. Taking the stairs in an unladylike rush, Kate