The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

an age before he lifted his head, and she could only stand there, supported by the strength of his arms.

      ‘Do you trust me?’

      She heard the depth in his voice, sensed his seriousness, and raised her eyes to meet his. There was no question. ‘Yes,’ she said simply.

      ‘Then let’s go.’

      ‘OK.’

      ‘Such docility,’ Carlo teased gently as he brushed his lips against one temple.

      Aysha placed a hand either side of his head and tilted it down as she angled her mouth into his in a kiss that was all heat and passion.

      His heart thudded into a quickened beat, and she felt a thrill of exhilaration at the sense of power, the feeling of control.

      Carlo broke the contact with emotive reluctance. ‘The temptation to love you now, here, is difficult to resist.’

      A mischievous smile curved her mouth. ‘But you’re going to.’

      His hands slid to her shoulders and he gave her a gentle shake. ‘Believe it’s merely a raincheck, cara.’ He released her and took hold of her hand.

      ‘Are you going to tell me where we’re going?’

      ‘Someplace special.’

      He led her outside, then turned to the side path leading to the rear of the grounds.

      ‘Here?’ Aysha queried in puzzlement, as they traversed the short set of steps leading down to the gazebo adjacent the pool area.

      Lights sprang to life as if by magic, illuminating the gazebo and casting a reflected glow over the newly planted garden, the beautiful free-form pool.

      Her eyes widened as she saw a man and two women standing in front of a small rectangular pedestal draped with a pristine white lace-edged cloth. Two thick candles displayed a thin flicker and a vaporous plume, and there was the scent of roses, beautiful white tight-petalled buds on slender stems.

      ‘Carlo?’

      Even as she voiced the query she saw the answer in those dark eyes, eloquent with emotive passion. And love.

      ‘This is for us,’ he said gently, curving an arm across the back of her waist as he pulled her into the curve of his body. ‘Saturday’s production will fulfil our parents’ and the guests’ expectations.’

      She was melting inside, the warmth seeping through her body like molten wax, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

      An hour ago she’d been curled up on a soft-cushioned sofa contemplating her shredded emotions.

      ‘OK?’ Carlo queried gently.

      Her heart kicked in at a quickened beat, and she smiled. A slow, sweet smile that mirrored her inner radiance. ‘Yes.’

      Introductions complete, Aysha solemnly took her position at Carlo’s side.

      If the celebrant was surprised at the bride and groom’s attire, she gave no indication of it. Her manner appeared genuine, and the words she spoke held a wealth of meaning during the short service.

      Carlo slipped a diamond-encrusted ring onto her finger, and Aysha slid a curved gold band onto his, listening in a haze of emotions as they were solemnly pronounced man and wife.

      She lifted her mouth to meet his, and felt the warmth, the hint of restrained passion as he savoured the sweetness and took his fill.

      Oh, my, this was about as close to heaven as it was possible to get, Aysha conceded as he reluctantly loosened his hold.

      The heat was there, evident in the depth of his eyes, banked down beneath the surface. Desire, and promised ecstasy.

      She cast him a witching smile, glimpsed the hunger and felt anticipation arrow through her body.

      There was champagne chilling in an ice bucket, and Carlo loosened the cork, then filled each flute with slightly frothy sparkling liquid

      The bubbles tingled her tastebuds and teased the back of her throat as she sipped the excellent vintage.

      Each minute seemed like an eternity as she conversed with the celebrant and two witnesses, and accepted the toast.

      With both official and social duties completed, the celebrant graciously took her leave, together with the couple who had witnessed the marriage.

      Aysha stood in the circle of Carlo’s arms, and she leaned back against him, treasuring the closeness, the sheer joy attached to the moment.

      Married. She could hardly believe it. There were so many questions she needed to ask. But not yet. There would be time later to work out the answers.

      For now, she wanted to savour the moment.

      Carlo’s lips teased her sensitive nape, then nuzzled an earlobe. ‘You’re very quiet.’

      ‘I feel as if we’re alone in the universe,’ she said dreamily. Her mouth curved upwards. ‘Well, almost’ A faint laugh husked low in her throat. ‘If you block out the cityscape, the tracery of street lights, the suburban houses.’

      ‘I thought by now you’d have unleashed a barrage of questions,’ he said with quizzical amusement.

      She felt the slide of his hand as he reached beneath her top and sought her breast. The familiar kick of sensation speared from her feminine core, and she groaned emotively as his skilled fingers worked magic with the delicate peak.

      She turned in his arms and reached for him, pulling his head down to hers as she sought his mouth with her own in a kiss that wreaked havoc with her tenuous control.

      Aysha was almost shaking when he gently disengaged her, and her lips felt faintly swollen, her senses completely swamped with the feel, the taste of him.

      ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Carlo directed huskily as he caught hold of her hand and led her towards his car.

      ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘I’ve booked us into a hotel suite for the night. Dinner at the restaurant. Champagne.’

      ‘Why?’ she queried simply. ‘When everything we need is right here?’

      ‘I want the night to be memorable.’

      ‘It will be.’ Without a doubt, she promised silently.

      ‘You don’t want the luxurious suite, a leisurely meal with champagne?’ he teased.

      ‘I want you. Only you,’ Aysha vowed with heartfelt sincerity. ‘Saturday we get to go through the formalities. ’ The elegant bridal gown, the limousines, the church service, the extravagant reception, she mused silently. Followed by the hotel bridal suite, and the flight out the next morning to their honeymoon destination.

      A bewitching smile curved her generous mouth, and her eyes sparkled with latent humour. ‘Tonight we can please ourselves.’

      Carlo pressed a light kiss to the edge of her lips. ‘Starting now?’

      ‘Here?’ she countered wickedly. ‘And shock the neighbours?’

      He swept an arm beneath her knees and carried her into the house. He traversed the stairs without changing stride, and in the main bedroom he lowered her down to stand in front of him.

      Slowly, with infinite care, he released her zip. Warm fingers slid each strap over her shoulders, then shaped the soft slip down over her hips, her thighs, to her feet. Only her briefs and bra remained, and he dispensed with those.

      She ached for his touch, his possession, and she closed her eyes, then opened them again as he lightly brushed his fingers across her sensitised skin.

      He followed each movement with his lips, each single touch becoming a torture until she reached for him, her fingers urgent as they released shirt buttons and tugged the expensive cotton from his muscular frame.

      His