Captive in his Castle. Chantelle Shaw

she was simply reacting to the cool night air after the stifling warmth of the car.

      He must have noticed her shiver, because he pulled off his jacket and handed it to her, saying roughly, ‘Here—put this round you.’

      Not wanting to appear ungrateful, she draped the jacket over her shoulders. The leather was as soft as butter, and the silk lining still retained the heat from his body and the scent of his aftershave. Oh, hell, Jess thought ruefully, feeling her heart rate accelerate in response to his potent masculinity. He started the boat’s engine and as they moved away from the jetty her sense of apprehension grew. It had been a mistake to come to Italy with Drago, and an even greater mistake to have allowed him to talk her into agreeing to stay at his home, but bar diving over the side and swimming back to shore she had no choice but to go with him.

      Her thoughts were distracted by the breathtaking sight of Venice in the moonlight. The Grand Canal wound through the city like a long black ribbon dappled with silver moonbeams, while the water at its edges reflected the golden lights streaming from the windows of the houses that lined the two banks.

      ‘What a beautiful building,’ Jess murmured as the boat drew steadily towards a vast, elegant house which had four tiers of arched windows and several balconies. ‘It looks like a medieval palace.’

      ‘That’s exactly what it is. It was built in the early fifteenth century by one of my ancestors and has belonged to the Cassari family since then.’

      ‘You’re kidding—right?’ Her smile faded when she realised Drago was serious.

      ‘The name Palazzo d’Inverno means Winter Palace—so named because traditionally the family lived here during the winter and spring, but spent the hot summer months at a house in the Italian Alps.’ Drago steered the boat alongside a wooden jetty and looped a rope around a bollard before jumping out. ‘Give me your hand,’ he ordered.

      It was a fair leap onto the jetty so Jess reluctantly obeyed, feeling a tingling sensation like an electrical shock shoot up her arm when his fingers closed around hers.

      ‘Does Angelo live here?’ she asked, staring up at the magnificent house rather than meet Drago’s far too knowing gaze.

      ‘He has an apartment in one of the wings, and my mother and aunt have accommodation in another wing.’

      Jess fell silent as she followed Drago along the stone walkway that ran beside this part of the canal. He led her up a flight of steps and through a huge, ornately carved front door. ‘I told the staff not to wait up,’ he explained as he ushered her into the quiet house. ‘They are all fond of Angelo and the past few days have been a strain for everyone.’

      The entrance hall was vast, and their footsteps rang on the marble floor and on the sweeping staircase that wound up through the centre of the house.

      ‘This is your room,’ Drago announced at last, stopping at the far end of a long corridor. He opened the door and Jess could not restrain a startled gasp as she walked past him. The proportions of the room were breathtaking, and as she lifted her eyes to the ceiling high above she was amazed to see that it had been decorated with a series of frescoes depicting plump cherubs and figures that she guessed were characters from Roman mythology.