‘RICARDO, darling.’
The husky voice reached him from across the terrace of the Royal Yacht Club and there was no mistaking its origin. Ambrosia stood tall and elegant, her long tanned legs showing below her short tennis skirt, her sleek blonde hair falling on her trim shoulders. She swung her racket casually as she approached. ‘It’s been an age, darling. I hear that you married?’ She looked straight into Ricardo’s eyes, a flash of anger quickly concealed as she smiled generously, then let her tongue flick her lips before reaching up to kiss him lightly on both cheeks.
Ricardo caught a whiff of her familiar perfume and experienced a moment’s regret. He’d had good times with Ambrosia, even if she was a handful and could never have become his wife. He allowed his hand to slip to her waist. ‘You look wonderful, Ambrosia. Tennis obviously suits you. A new lover, perhaps?’ he murmured in a lower voice, aware that half the club was watching them.
‘Oh, Ricky. We aren’t all as faithless as you,’ she said with a pout. ‘Did you think I would bounce back that quickly?’ She leaned back and looked up into his eyes.
‘You’ve never lacked for male company.’
‘And I could say the same to you about women,’ she snapped. ‘As soon as my back was turned you went off and married. A nineteen-year-old virgin, I hear. How charming. How very quaint. You must be enjoying teaching her all your tricks.’
‘Ambrosia, you sound positively jealous,’ Ricardo remarked smoothly.
‘What if I am?’ She raised a suggestive brow and raised her mouth to his ear. ‘If you get bored teaching your novice, you can always give me a call.’
‘Well, they say that jealousy can provide a lot of spice,’ he murmured, ‘but we must remember that I’m a married man now.’ He was breathing in her scent, seeing the sexy curve of her breast and taking note of the obvious offer she was making.
‘I’m not difficult,’ she responded in a low, husky voice that left him in no doubt as to her intentions. ‘We’re sophisticated people, Ricky, darling. What has marriage got to do with us? I like you in bed. You like me. Do your duty to your little brood mare; get her pregnant and get yourself an heir. I presume that this is what all this is about, right? Then we can get on with having fun.’
Ricardo looked down at her for a brief moment. Then he tweaked her cheek and laughed. ‘You are always full of surprises, Ambrosia. A man could never become bored with you.’
‘Perhaps you should have remembered that sooner,’ she responded waspishly. Then, with a smile, she turned and raised her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, my goodness, isn’t that your wife over there? She really does have a spectacular figure. Funny. She still looks awfully…untouched, if you know what I mean. I’ve heard half the men here at the club are taking bets.’
‘Bets on what?’ he frowned glancing in Gabriella’s direction.
‘Oh, nothing, really. There’s just this rumour going about that says she’s still a virgin. The odds on it are pretty high. I must say, it would be funny if she was. Though unlikely, I imagine?’ Ambrosia raised her finely pencilled brows once more, then moved away before he could answer.
Ricardo watched as Gabriella and his sister Constanza entered the club, accompanied by Constanza’s husband, the handsome blond Count Wilhelm of Wiesthun, and their children, to whom Gabriella seemed to have taken. He watched as she kneeled down in the most natural fashion to tie his niece’s trainer lace, which had come undone. Then she raised her head and their eyes met across the large terrace, past the white wicker furniture with the blue and white striped cushions, past the tropical plants and the waiters weaving in and out among the tables with trays of cocktails.
So the whole club was betting on whether he’d bedded his wife or not? Well, damn them! He would not be made a public fool. So much for all the gentlemanliness he’d shown towards Gabriella. Now he was determined to make love to her—whatever the consequences!
Who was the woman Ricardo had been smiling at in such an intimate fashion? Gabriella sensed her pulse race and a rush of heat grip her. She’d never felt anything like this before. But seeing him so close, so intimate with another woman, had left her seething. She might not want him herself, she thought, taking little Anita’s hand and leading her to their table, her head high, but she wouldn’t be humiliated in front of the whole Principality. So that was why Ricardo hadn’t tried to sleep with her again—hadn’t attempted to make love to her. He had a mistress.
At the first opportunity, she leaned across to Constanza. ‘Who is that woman over there?’ she asked, pointing discreetly to the table where Ambrosia sat holding court, laughing expansively, throwing her head back and crossing her long slim legs provocatively.
‘That? Oh, that’s no one important,’ Constanza lied, fussing over her daughter. ‘Now where on earth is Nanny? Gabriella, have you seen her?’
‘She was taking little Ricky to the loo. But, please, Constanza,’ Gabriella insisted, ‘don’t pretend you don’t know. Tell me who she is.’
‘Who?’ Constanza still acted as if she didn’t understand.
‘That blonde woman Ricardo was talking to so intimately only moments ago. I got the impression that perhaps—’ Gabriella cut off, twisting her hands agitatedly in her lap, unable to continue. It was ridiculous to be nervous. Why should she care what he did? She wanted a divorce, didn’t she? So what was she worried about? Who cared what Ricardo got up to?
Constanza glanced up, relieved at the sight of Ricardo crossing the club restaurant towards them. ‘Ah, here he is. You can ask him yourself,’ she said quickly.
‘Hello,’ he said standing next to the table. ‘May I join you?’
‘Why, of course! Ricky, darling!’ Constanza exclaimed. ‘Sit down here, next to your wife.’ She smiled brightly as Ricardo allowed the waiter to draw up a chair. Then he sat down next to Gabriella and slipped his hand casually over hers.
‘Everything okay, cara? You look a little pale.’
‘I’m fine.’ She swallowed and tried to ignore the electric shock that pulsated through her the minute his skin touched hers.
‘I certainly hope so.’ His thumb began to caress the inside of her palm and Gabriella had to muster every inch of self-control not to let out a ragged sigh. She breathed thankfully when the waiter appeared with shrimp cocktails and he was obliged to let her go. Why, oh, why did he have this effect on her? Surely it was madness?
But instead of remaining coolly aloof, as he normally did, the next thing Gabriella felt was Ricardo’s hand gently caressing the inside of her thigh. She drew in her breath and sent a furious glance in his direction—to which he paid little attention. There was no room to move, no option but to pretend she wasn’t dying of desire. When his fingers reached further, only masterly self-control made it possible for her to continue to maintain her poise, which was evaporating fast. How could he do this? How dared he? What right did he have to ignore her one minute, then seduce her almost publicly the next? It was outrageous, and she would have something to say to him once they were alone.
Only when he knew that she was thoroughly aroused did Ricardo remove his hand and continue with his lunch, content in the knowledge that although his wife might pretend to dislike him, her dislike did not extend to her sexual attraction for him. But enough for now. He had given her a taste of what was to come. Let her simmer for a while.
At least until tonight.
The state dinner with foreign dignitaries had taken longer than expected. Gabriella was glad to kick off her high heels and throw herself onto the bed.
During the meal she’d been seated next to a Portuguese minister who spoke no English. It was fast becoming clear that her knowledge of languages and her ease and gifts as a hostess were considered a great bonus by the government of Maldoravia, which made every use of her it could. She was spared no dinner or luncheon where it was thought that she could be an asset. And, to her surprise, Gabriella found that she had a talent for diplomacy and entertaining. Even the Prime Minister had hinted to her that she might like to broach certain subjects to her neighbour and see what answers she got.
Despite her desire to find everything she could that was wrong with Maldoravia, Gabriella had to admit that it was rather fun to be given important missions and see if by directing the conversation with apparent insouciance she could pick up on what needed to be known through veiled comments. She also had the advantage of being very young. This misled a lot of people, who believed her questions to be mere curiosity and often revealed far more than they might otherwise have intended. Why, only tonight she’d learned of plans for a new trade agreement Portugal wanted to get into with Maldoravia simply by fluttering her long lashes at the Portuguese minister and hanging on to his every word. She had learned early that men loved being the centre of a woman’s attention, and played this card to the full. Tomorrow, first thing, she would tell the Prime Minister, who had a special affection for her.
Letting her head drop back on the armchair’s cushions, she closed her eyes. There was no sign of Ricardo, who had become increasingly elusive since that day at the yacht club. In fact that night he had left on a state visit to Denmark and had only returned this morning. They had barely spoken. He seemed so distant and inaccessible, and all her plans to seduce him had come to nothing. She let out a sigh. It really didn’t matter any more as he was probably making love to his mistress. And, actually, in view of her plans for the future it was probably better this way. What she must do was begin to map out her life after Ricardo. But that, for some inexplicable reason, seemed a difficult task to undertake. The future remained hazy.
Not that it was far off, she reminded herself severely. The time since their return from Brazil had sped by, and the remaining months of the obligatory six needed to complete the period of cohabitation would fast come to a close. She sighed, fiddled with the fringe of one of the cushions that adorned the bed, and tried to persuade herself that she was happy it was coming to an end. Soon they could separate, even if they couldn’t get a divorce. So why did she feel so melancholy every time she glanced at a calendar or caught sight of the date of a newspaper? There really was no explaining it.
Laying her head back, Gabriella gave way to exhaustion. Not physical exhaustion, but something else that she’d never known before. As though all the joy of life had suddenly seeped out of her being and there was nothing left to look forward to any more.
After seeing off the last of his official guests, Ricardo made his way up the wide marble staircase and approached the apartments he shared with his wife. It had been a long day, and an even longer evening. The past few weeks had been fraught, with too much work and too little time to relax, he reflected wearily. And too little time to dedicate to trying to save his increasingly chilly relationship with his wife. Perhaps tomorrow he would simply tell Baron Alfredo that he was taking the day off and take Gabriella out on his yacht. If she would agree to come.
He sighed as he turned the door handle of the apartment, and hesitated a moment. This was not proving to be an easy relationship. Gabriella was polite, but cold. She made it abundantly clear that she wanted as little to do with him as possible. He silently entered the small salon but she was nowhere to be seen. Then, tugging at his bow tie, he moved towards the bedroom and stopped in the doorway at the sight of her lying on the bed, eyes closed, her hair splayed over the velvet cushions. Goodness, she was lovely: so young, so beautiful, so enchanting—not to mention sexy.
Ricardo moved across the room and gazed down at her for a long moment. Then he sat down carefully on the bed and allowed his fingers to trail gently through the thick long mass of her silky hair until he reached the contour of her face.
Gabriella opened her eyes, startled. ‘Ricardo,’ she exclaimed, trying to sit up.
But he kept his hand to her face, bringing the other one down on the other side of her, forcing her back among the cushions. ‘My lovely wife,’ he murmured. ‘My beautiful, unattainable virgin wife.’ Then, before she could do more than let out a tiny cry, his mouth came down on hers—not tenderly or caringly, but with a firm, hard movement of possession.
Her lips parted and against her will she felt his tongue seek hers, felt the charge of molten lava shoot from her breasts to her core. Despite every urge to resist, every part of her brain telling her this was not what she wanted, her breasts ached and her body arched. This couldn’t be happening. She mustn’t allow it to happen. Yet when she felt Ricardo’s arm slip below her waist and he moved over her, his arms bracing on either side of her body, his eyes piercing into hers, there was little she could do—little she wanted to do.
‘Ricardo, no. We mustn’t—please,’ she murmured, making a half-hearted attempt to move. Part of her brain was remembering that what she wanted was a divorce while the other half gave way to the desire for his fingers to caress her once more. What was it about this man that riveted her so? What was it that made it impossible for her to refuse him?
One hand glided over her soft silk dress while the other reached to slide down its side zipper. She should resist, make it quite clear that she had no intention of…
But the next thing she knew she was lying naked before him. How it had happened she didn’t quite know, only that he was standing over her now, his hair windswept, still in his tux, his bow tie dangling about his neck, his shirt collar open, his expression completely different from that of the man she’d become used to in the past weeks.
‘You’re so lovely,’ he exclaimed, reaching down and trailing his fingers from her neck, down past the taut tips of her breasts until he reached the soft mound between her thighs, where he stopped, letting his fingers slip deeper.
A sigh escaped her and her eyes closed. She wanted to resist, wanted to play the game—as she was sure people like that woman she’d seen at the yacht club did. But she couldn’t, didn’t know how, only knew that at this moment she could refuse him nothing.
After several minutes of expert caresses, when he felt that Gabriella was ready and longing for him, Ricardo removed his hand and undressed himself.
Gabriella opened her eyes. Part of her longed for him, longed to become a woman—his woman. The shock of this revelation hit home as she watched him slip out of his tux. This man, whom she had every reason to detest, who treated her with cold indifference, was the one she wanted to love her. It made no sense. That she should feel this torrid, uncontrollable attraction for him held no logic; it went against everything about which she’d convinced herself: that she wanted to be free of him. Yet now she could not stop herself. For the truth was, she knew he would stop immediately if she requested it; he was a gentleman, as she’d discovered that night on the island. But that, she knew, would be impossible for her—she wanted him, wanted him more than anything else in the world right now, however bad she might feel tomorrow morning. After this it would be far more difficult to escape him. Although, to her deep distress, he had shown no signs of wanting to persuade her to stay.
All these thoughts conflicted in her mind as Ricardo lay back down next to her on the bed and took her in his arms. Oh, how she wished that she were less confused, Gabriella cried inwardly. That she knew what she really wanted.
‘Gabriella, my Gabriella,’ he murmured, in a voice she’d never heard before, which left her heart aching. ‘You may not want to be my wife,’ he muttered huskily, ‘but nevertheless I will teach you what it is to be a woman.’ His thumb grazed the tip of her breast while his other hand investigated further.
There was nothing she could do, no resistance she could muster. All reason flew to the wind as his lips came down on her breast, his hands roamed her body and sought her core. She was experiencing love for the first time. Suddenly she felt a deep rising ache within her that she thought would never end, and she arched her body towards Ricardo. Then the spiral gave way, and she shuddered with joy as he brought her to some peak and she experienced her first orgasm.
Ricardo smiled down as she lay limp in his arms, satisfied that, whatever happened after this, he—her husband—had been the first to give her the experience. Then slowly he positioned himself over her and looked down into her eyes. And it was then that he knew he could not let her go. This woman whom he’d been landed with so unexpectedly had, he realised with something of a shock, become part of his life. And now he was about to possess her.
‘I’ll try not to hurt you,’ he whispered, his voice turning gentle as he read the flash of fear in her eyes. This soft and pliant lovely creature was a very different woman from the Gabriella who had faced him every day with icy pride and from whom he had become so distant. This was the vibrant, feeling, sensitive creature whom he had been certain all along existed beneath her façade. Holding her now in his arms, he entered her in one quick movement, heard her tiny gasp of pain, and held her tighter, kissing her lips, her eyes, her hair while he thrust deep within her, unable to hold back from losing himself in her depths. Soon he felt her pain give way to pleasure, felt her body easing into the rhythm of his as naturally as if they had been making love for years. Now they were riding on the crest of a rolling wave, skimming the surf, roaring towards completion. Then, when he could bear it no longer, he felt her arch into him once more and gasp. Only then did he allow himself to let go, and the two of them rolled over the precipice and into oblivion…