In fact, life could almost be described as happy. They swam in the pool and took drives into the mountains in an attempt to escape the oppressive heat. And Vito took Santo and a small group of his friends out for the day so that Catherine could help Luisa. Then a job cropped up that Catherine quite fancied, because it involved working freelance from home, translating manuscripts for a publishing company.
‘I must be getting lazy,’ she confessed to Vito that evening as they lay stretched out on the bed together.
‘It could not be, I suppose, that you are merely contented?’ he suggested.
Is that why I’ve been working so hard through the last few years? she asked herself. Because I was so discontented with my life?
It could be, she had to admit, because she certainly hadn’t felt this relaxed with herself in a very long time.
‘Well, I am going to have to commandeer the library to use as my workplace,’ she warned him. ‘It’s either there or your study, and I don’t think you would like it if I moved in there with you.’
‘We would neither of us get much work done,’ he agreed. Then, ‘Mmm,’ he groaned. ‘You are very good at this.’
He was lying stretched out on his stomach and Catherine was running her nails down the muscle-cushioned tautness of gold satin skin covering his long back while he enjoyed the sensation with all the self-indulgence of a true hedonist.
‘I know,’ she replied with a bland conceit. ‘I’ve had loads of practice, you see.’
She’d meant with him, because once upon a time they’d used to lie for ages just doing this. But from the way his muscles tensed Catherine knew he had misunderstood her.
‘How much practice?’ he demanded.
Sighing, she sat up and away from him.
He moved too, rolling onto his back to glare up at her. ‘How many lovers have there been, Catherine?’ He insisted on an answer.
‘You know there was no one before you,’ she reminded him. ‘So why start asking questions like that now, all of these years later?’
‘I meant since we married.’
Turning her head, she looked down at this man who was lying beside her in all his naked arrogance, with the power of his virility on blatant display, and wished she knew what made his mind tick as well as she knew his body.
‘How many for you?’ she counter-challenged.
‘None,’ he answered unhesitatingly.
‘Same here,’ she replied, and knew they both thought the other was lying. ‘Does it matter?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He grimaced, and she knew that was a lie also.
Her hand reached out to lightly stroke him. Releasing a small sigh, he closed his eyes. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I can take a hint. You can ravish me.’
Coming on top of him, Catherine eased him inside her then sighed herself. ‘Talking never did us any favours, Vito,’ she murmured sombrely. ‘Let’s make a pact not to do it more than is absolutely necessary.’
Then, before he could answer, she closed her own eyes and began to move over him. And she rode him with a muscular co-ordination that soon sent any arguments he might have been about to voice fleeing in favour of more pleasurable pursuits.
CHAPTER NINE
THE house was on show tonight, lit by strategically placed halogens that turned its white walls a seductive gold, and its many garden features were subtly lit from within the shrubbery that lined its many pathways. Inside, everything had been cleaned or swept or dusted or polished, and in the large formal dining room attached to the ballroom a buffet banquet fit for kings had been laid.
Which left only the house occupants to dress themselves up in the kind of clothes that would complement the house. Catherine had achieved this by deciding to wear a striking long red silk gown with a strapless and boned basque-style bodice that was as bold as it was stunning with her colouring. She had dressed her hair into an elegant twist held in place by a diamond clasp that allowed a few stray tendrils to curl around her nape and around the diamond earrings she had dangling from her earlobes. And on her feet she wore very high, very strappy, shiny red shoes that forced her to move in a way that set men’s pulses racing.
It certainly set Vito’s pulses racing as he watched her come gliding down the stairs towards him. He had just returned from delivering Santo into the care of Paolo’s mamma, where he was to enjoy his first sleep-over.
Which did not mean he had missed out on the fun. Luisa had been all for thoroughly enjoying her whole day, so when Santo decided that she should have a special birthday tea party with him and his friends, his nonna had been more than willing to play along. So it had been a balloons and red jelly party, with a novelty cake and the kind of games children believed a prerequisite for birthdays.
It had been fun. Probably would turn out to have been more fun than the grown up party that was about to follow, Catherine mused wryly as she watched Vito watch her come towards him. And the dark gleam in his eyes was telling her everything she wanted to know. Pride and appreciation were the words that came to mind, underpinned by the ever-present sexual vibrations that were such an integral part of what they had always shared.
‘You look as if you have just stepped out of one of my father’s Pre-Raphaelites,’ he murmured deeply as she reached him, then frowned. ‘But something is missing...’