Of course he had. She bit her lip. “That’s Amelia’s mother? She’s beautiful.”
“Yes.” He stared out toward his aunt. “So beautiful that your grandfather wanted to marry her.”
“My grandfather proposed to her?” Lucy said in shock, wondering if she’d heard wrong. “But he’s so much older than she is!”
“He was a forty-year-old widower with a son when he moved to Aquillina, and she was fifteen. But he fancied himself desperately in love.” He gave a brief, humorless smile. “Of course, my grandfather scorned the offer. Who was Ferrazzi? Nobody. What right did the nouveau riche son of a Roman shopkeeper have to marry a princess d’Aquilla? My grandfather slapped him for even asking. Ferrazzi swore he’d get even for the insult.”
He stopped, clenching his jaw.
“And…did he?” Lucy breathed. “Get even?”
Maximo finally looked at her, his eyes as blue as a haunted sea. “Sì. Long after my grandfather was dead, long after my aunt was married to another man, Ferrazzi got his revenge on my whole family.”
She reached for him. “Maximo—what did he do?”
He just shook his head. “Silvana.” He rose to his feet as his aunt came within earshot. “I’m so glad you could come.” He picked up the baby, cradling her in his strong, muscular arms. “This is Chloe.”
“Faccia bedda!” Silvana exclaimed. “What a sweet little face!”
Smiling, she held out her arms, and after a brief moment of hesitation Chloe went to her. The older woman slung the Ferrazzi diaper bag over her other shoulder, then departed with a wave. It all happened so quickly that by the time Lucy reacted, it was too late. They were gone.
“Wait! Where are they going?”
“To my aunt’s palazzo. She’ll bring Chloe back home after dinner.”
Scowling, she turned on Maximo angrily. “That’s not fair! You distracted me with that story of my grandfather—it was never part of our deal to—”
“Fair?” He gave her a hot glance. “Let me show you fair.”
He swept her up in his arms, setting her down on the blanket in the field of flowers. For an instant, she was dazzled by the image of his silhouette against the bright blue sky, the warm Sicilian sun.
“After your trick last night, I wanted to make sure you had no excuses. Nowhere to run. Where will you flee now? You play dirty, cara,” he growled, “then so do I.”
Slowly he popped the buttons from her shirt. Removing her bra, leaving her naked from the waist up beneath the sun, he lowered his head between her breasts.
She gasped as he suckled one taut nipple, then the other. She strained beneath his weight, trying to twist away from his strong hands.
“No—” she whimpered, wanting him desperately. “Please. You can’t—”
He silenced her with a kiss. Taking off his black T-shirt, he pulled her onto his lap, facing him. Through the jeans, she could feel how much he wanted her. Against her will, she swayed against him with an intake of breath.
He gave her a wolflike smile.
“And now,” he ordered, brushing her hair off her face, “you are going to kiss me.”
Sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist and her blouse ripped open beneath the hot sun, she felt his skin against hers. Her breasts were crushed against his dark-haired chest. His heart against her heart. Her body snug against his. She heard the cry of birds overhead and felt the sun on her face.
And Lucy knew she was going to lose—everything.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WIND blew the flowers and grass of the field around them, waving the branches of the olive grove as Maximo looked at her beneath the hot Sicilian sun.
And he knew she was his for the taking.
Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark against her creamy skin. Her head was tilted back to expose her trembling neck. Dark hair tumbled down her shoulders, against the white cotton that barely clung to her arms, against her magnificent breasts, high and full with nipples the color of pale April roses…
He shook his head in amazement. How could he have ever thought Lucy was plain? She was more than a beauty. She was a goddess. And she didn’t know. Her innocence of her own power intoxicated him.