He laughed, then looked down at her. His tailored shirt hung down to her mid-thigh. “You look … cute.”
“So do you.” She ran her hand down his bare chest. “Because now you are far more suitably dressed …” She gave a sudden impish grin. “For the beach!”
He blinked at her.
“Woman!” he thundered. “When will you stop?”
“When you do what I want!”
“Not going to happen.” He hesitated. “There’s been a complication, Lilley. I need to leave for Rome.”
“What’s happened?”
He scowled. “Théo St. Raphaël happened.”
She sucked in her breath. To his surprise, she seemed to understand the gravity of the situation even before he explained. “What—what about him?”
“It wasn’t enough he stole the Joyería deal,” he ground out. “Now he’s after my expansion in Asia as well. Almost as if it’s—personal.”
“Maybe it is,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t get how you guys fight over things you don’t even need. You have his winery. Call him. Offer an exchange. A truce—”
“Is that a joke?” he said in amazement. “I’d burn down my palazzo before I’d ask Théo St. Raphaël for a truce.” He looked at her, and his voice gentled. “I am just sorry our honeymoon must end.”
She licked her lips, then shrugged. “It’s all right. I love Sardinia, but I’m sure I’ll love Rome as well. I’m excited to see the palazzo. Meet your friends.”
“Lilley.” His good humor fled. “We’ve talked about this.”
“You’ve talked about it,” she said sulkily, her fingertips curling against the dark hair on his chest.
“You’re my wife. You promised to obey me.”
Indignant, she stared up at him. “I did no such—”
“Your place is at home,” he interrupted.
“My home is with you.” She looked down at her bare feet. “Unless you’re ashamed of me.”
Taking both her hands in his own, he pressed them to his lips. “My friends aren’t the warmest, friendliest sort of people. I doubt you’d like them.”
The cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt hung over her hands, making her look very young as she looked away. “You mean they won’t like me.”
“I’ll send for you soon,” he said softly, pulling her into his arms. “I promise.” And to seal that vow, he lowered his mouth to hers in the gentlest, tenderest kiss he’d ever given her.
To his shock, she pulled away, her brown eyes flinty. “No.”
His eyebrows lowered. “Don’t you understand? I’m trying to protect you.”
“I don’t want to be protected, I want to be your wife!”
He exhaled, tried to keep his voice light. “If you’re weary of Sardinia, I could leave you at our country estate in Tuscany. You could see the famous paintings of Florence, decorate the nursery, learn how to make bread—”
“No!” She stamped her foot against the marble floor, a gesture marred by the fact that she was barefoot and it caused a grimace of pain across her face. Rubbing the sole of her foot, she scowled at him. “I’m going with you to Rome!”
“Lilley,” he tried, “please.”
“I’m not afraid of your friends.” When he didn’t answer, she tossed her head. “What do you think they’ll do? Fight me with their bare hands? Wrestle me into the mud?”
“No,” he said quietly. “They’ll be more subtle. They’ll attack any weakness they can find. Your manners, your clothes, even your dyslexia—”