Then there’d been the wedding in one of Rome’s most venerated churches, filled to standing with well-heeled, well-connected people she didn’t know.
Finally had come the reception. Hours of polite conversation, exquisite food that she’d been too keyed-up to eat and vintage wines she’d never heard of, but which had made her grandfather nod approvingly.
There’d been dancing till her feet ached and photographs till her face ached and stares from people who didn’t bother to conceal surprise or dismay that Cesare Brunetti had marriedher.
Yet Ida was too wired to think of sleep.
Because she was in the opulent prestige suite of Rome’s most famous and expensive private hotel. And her husband was in the next room.Waiting for her.
Ida shivered. Not with cold. And only with a little trepidation.
No, it was excitement that rushed through her like a scouring tide. Anticipation that made her skin tingle and her blood pump faster.
She looked in the mirror and saw the hard points of her nipples jutting against the midnight-blue silk of her new nightie. Her hands shook as she smoothed the whisper-thin fabric from her hips to her thighs.
The sensation was unfamiliar, and not simply because she’d never worn a sexy silk nightdress before. The brush of fabric under her palms made her think ofhishands on her. Would they be slow and easy or urgent and needy? Her breath quickened, intensifying the unfamiliar, heavy feeling low in her body, like a throbbing ache.
Ida met her eyes in the mirror, and they told the same tale. They were wide and bright, almost feverish with anticipation.
Had she done right to take her hair down? It rippled around her shoulders and even that felt like a caress.
Would Cesare know, just by looking, how she felt?
She frowned and reached for the dark blue silk robe, slipping her arms into it and tying it at her waist. Now her puckered nipples weren’t so obvious.
Ida shook her head. What did it matter? As soon as Cesare took her to bed he’d realise how eager she was.
She hoped her inexperience wouldn’t mar their first night together. Cesare, scion of an ancient, aristocratic family, blessed with stunning good looks, money, magnetism and an aura of power, could have any woman he wanted. No doubt he’d had plenty, even if he kept his romantic conquests private.
It still astounded her that he wantedher.
She wasn’t naïve enough to think he loved her. They’d met because he and her grandfather had become business associates and, as he’d explained, he needed a wife.
But he’d chosenher. Ida Montrose.
Not one of the uber-sophisticated socialites who’d looked daggers at her during the reception. Not the glamorous princess who’d flown in for the wedding and looked as if she’d like to gobble Cesare up.
To Cesare Ida was convenient. But there was more to it. There was an affinity between them, and Idaknewthey could build on that to make a success of this marriage.
She’d felt the powerful connection in the way he looked at her. In those rare, devastating smiles. The way he actually listened when she spoke.
There’d even been times, when her grandfather laid down the law about something, when Cesare had caught her eye and she’d felt their connection and shared understanding. She’d felt the impatience he was too well-bred to show, the riposte he was too polite to make.
Cesare...her husband...wasn’t cowed by her grandfather. That, above all else, gave her hope for the future and courage to go through with this. He’d chosen her as his bride because hewantedher.
As she wanted him.
Now he was hers.
She was nineteen and all her dormant female longings had rushed to the surface the moment she met him.
Life hadn’t given her opportunities to date or simply get to know many men. But she was ready to make up for that. Not because she was desperate for a man. That hadn’t been a priority. It wasCesarewho made her want to explore the sensual delights she knew he’d share with her.
Ida looked down at the rings weighting her left hand. The gold wedding band and the engagement ring with its enormous square-cut diamond solitaire.
She’d work hard at this marriage. She could imagine the pair of them, years from now, easy in each other’s company but sharing those glowing, loving looks she still remembered seeing her parents share.
Thinking about that lit a tiny spark of hope deep inside where for so long she’d felt cold and unwanted. Orphaned at eight, she still missed her parents’ love.