And knew she was asleep. Asleep, in his arms.
Nicolo sat without moving, his heart filled with a sweet, soaring emotion. Tenderness, he thought in surprise.
Tenderness.
Time slipped by. Finally, carefully, he depressed the button that reclined the leather seat. He lay back, drew Aimee even closer until she was lying in his arms, her body softly pressed against his, this woman fate had brought into his life.
This wife he hadn’t wanted. This wife he didn’t want…
She sighed, curved her arm around his neck. He felt the warmth of her breath, the warmth of her.
Something shifted inside him.
Nicolo closed his eyes and buried his face in Aimee’s hair. He held her that way until he knew they were on their approach to Rome.
Then, carefully, he eased his arms from around his sleeping wife, rose and went back to his seat in the rear of the cabin.
It was a lot safer than staying where he was.
CHAPTER TEN
SOMEONE was gently shaking Aimee’s shoulder. She came awake slowly, lips curved in a hesitant smile.
“Nicolo?” she whispered.
“No, Principessa. Scusi.” The attendant smiled in apology. “The prince is in the rear of the cabin. Shall I get him for you?”
“No!” Flustered, Aimee sat up and ran her hands through her sleep-tangled curls. “That won’t be necessary.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but we’ll be on the ground in a few minutes. Safety regulations require you to fasten your seat belt and return your seat to an upright position.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
The flight attendant nodded and made her way to the cockpit. Alone again, Aimee checked her watch. Had she really slept for most of the flight? It was too long a time; it had left her feeling groggy.
She always reacted that way to transatlantic flights. Groggy. Disoriented…
Had she dreamed of being in Nicolo’s arms? Dreamed he’d begun to make love to her?
She had responded. God, yes, she’d responded….
And started to weep, knowing it was wrong. Wrong to want him, to need him, to yearn for his possession.
“Shh,” he’d murm
ured, going from passion to tenderness in a heartbeat, holding her close, rocking her in his arms, promising that she had nothing to fear, that he would always take care of her…
It had to have been a dream.
If Nicolo had tried to make love to her, she wouldn’t have let him. And he’d never have been satisfied with simply holding her in his arms. He hadn’t married her for that.
He’d married her for the bank. For the child in her womb.
For sex.
The plane gave a gentle lurch as the wheels touched the runway. Aimee undid her seat belt. By the time she rose to her feet, Nicolo was at her side. His hand closed around her elbow.
“Thank you,” she said politely, “but I’m perfectly capable of managing on my own.”