Mistress Arrangements. Helen Bianchin

an awesome arsenal of high-tech equipment as well as a large mahogany desk, and wall-to-wall bookshelves.

      The southern wing comprised an informal family room, dining-room and an enormous kitchen any chef would kill for.

      A pleasantly plump middle-aged woman turned as they entered, and her kindly face creased into a warm welcoming smile as Stefano effected introductions.

      ‘Lunch will be ready in ten minutes,’ Sylvana declared.

      ‘Is Prince outside? Can I see him?’ Ann-Marie asked, and she made no objection when Stefano reached forward and caught hold of her hand.

      ‘Come and be properly introduced.’

      The dog was huge, and looked incredibly fearsome, yet beneath Stefano’s guidance he became a docile lamb, his eyes large and soulful, his whimpering enthusiasm as close to canine communication as it was possible to get.

      ‘After lunch we’ll take him for a walk round the grounds, and you can watch him go through his paces.’

      Lunch was served in the informal dining-room, and Ann-Marie did justice to the tender roast chicken with accompanying vegetables, as well as the delicious crème caramel dessert.

      The excellent glass of white wine Carly sipped through lunch helped soothe her fractured nerves, and afterwards she walked quietly with Ann-Marie as Stefano led the Dobermann through a series of commands.

      It was very warm outdoors, and Carly glimpsed a few tell-tale signs of her daughter’s tiredness. The symptoms of her condition could descend with little warning, and it was essential that her reserves of strength were not overtaxed.

      ‘Shall we go upstairs?’ Carly suggested, catching hold of Ann-Marie’s hand. ‘You can lie down while I unpack your clothes.’

      Stefano shot her a quick glance, his expression pensive as Ann-Marie stumbled slightly.

      ‘Can I see Prince again before dinner?’

      ‘Of course. You can watch Joe feed him.’

      Carly lifted her into her arms, and Ann-Marie nestled her head into the curve of her mother’s shoulder, her small hands lifting to link together around Carly’s neck.

      ‘Let me take her,’ Stefano bade quietly, and Carly made to demure, barely able to control her surprise as Ann-Marie allowed Stefano to transfer her into his arms without protest.

      Ann-Marie fought against encroaching lassitude as they made their way indoors, and by the time Stefano deposited her gently down on to the bed she was asleep.

      His eyes were dark and slightly hooded as he watched Carly deftly remove the little girl’s shoes then draw up a light cover before crossing to the window to close the curtains.

      ‘She just needs to rest,’ she said quietly. ‘She’ll be all right in an hour or two.’

      Carly turned and walked from the room, supremely conscious of a distinct prickling sensation feathering her spine as he followed close behind.

      It was damnable to be so aware of him, and in the hallway she quickened her step towards the main suite. ‘I’ll begin unpacking.’ Her voice sounded incredibly stilted and polite, almost dismissing, for he had the power to ruffle her composure more than she was prepared to admit.

      Their combined luggage was stacked neatly on the floor, and her eyes swept the room, hating the invidious position in which she’d been placed and the man who deliberately sought to put her there.

      ‘Afraid, Carly?’ a deep voice drawled from behind, and she turned slowly to face him, her eyes steady.

      ‘You intend me to be,’ she said with hesitation, aware of an inner resentment. ‘This is part of a diabolical game, isn’t it?’ she flared, on a verbal rollercoaster. ‘Separate beds, but having to share the same room. An en suite with no lock, ensuring you can invade my privacy any time you choose.’ A degree of bitterness made itself apparent. ‘And you will choose, won’t you, Stefano? Just for the hell of it.’ Her eyes darkened measurably, the gold flecks appearing like chips of topaz against brown velvet. ‘Don’t ever mistake your bed for mine,’ she warned with deadly softness. ‘I’d mark you for life.’

      His gaze raked hers, harsh and unrelenting. ‘Be grateful I’ve allowed you a separate bed,’ he drawled smoothly. ‘It wasn’t my original intention.’

      Her heart lurched, then missed a beat as sensation unfurled deep within her, the pain so acute that she almost gasped at its intensity. For one horrifying moment she held a clear vision of their bodies locked in lovemaking, aware that if he chose to take her now it would be a violation motivated by revenge.

      Her eyes grew large, expressing a mixture of shock and anger, yet she refused to be subjugated to him in any way. ‘Rape, even between husband and wife,’ she reminded stiltedly, ‘is a criminal offence.’

      Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, then it was successfully masked. ‘You know me well enough to understand that rape would never be a consideration.’

      No, she thought shakily. He was too skilled a lover to harm his partner with any form of physical pain. His revenge would be infinitely more subtle.

      As it had been on one previous occasion, when she’d driven him to anger with a heated accusation she’d refused to retract or explain, and he had simply hauled her unceremoniously over his shoulder and carried her into the bedroom where he had conducted a deliberate leisurely assault on her senses until she was on fire with a desire so intense that she had possessed no reason, no sanity, only base animal need and a wild driven hunger for the release that only he could give. Except that he had taken pleasure in making her wait until she was reduced to begging unashamedly like a craven wanton caught in the throes of some primeval force, and then, only then, had he taken her with a merciless mastery that knew no bounds in a totally erotic plundering of her senses. With no energy left to move, she’d drifted into sleep, only to waken in the early morning hours, where self-loathing had surfaced, and a degree of shame. It had been the catalyst that had motivated her to leave.

      Carly shivered suddenly, hating him more than she thought it was possible to hate anyone, and she watched in silence as he crossed to a concealed wall-safe, activated the mechanism, then removed a small jeweller’s box before covering the distance between with calm, leisurely steps.

      ‘Your rings,’ Stefano declared, extracting the exquisite square-cut diamond with its baguette-cut diamond mounting, and its matching band.

      Surprise momentarily widened her eyes as she recalled tearing both from her finger in a fit of angry rage. ‘You kept them?’

      His gaze was remarkably steady. ‘What did you expect me to do with them?’

      She was lost for words, her mobile features hauntingly expressive for a few seconds before she schooled them into restrained reserve, unable in the few ensuing seconds to make any protest as he took hold of her left hand and slid both rings in place.

      Of their own volition her fingers sought the large stone, twisting it back and forth in a gesture that betrayed an inner nervousness.

      His proximity disturbed her more than she was prepared to admit, and she was aware of a watchful quality in his stance, an intentness so overpowering that she felt almost afraid.

      Her whole body stirred, caught up in a web of sensuality so acute that it seemed as if every vein, every nerve cell in her body flamed in electrifying recognition of his, which was totally opposite to the dictates of her brain.

      To continue standing here like this was madness, and without a further word she turned away from him, crossing to her luggage to begin the chore of unpacking.

      Carly’s movements were steady and unhurried as she placed clothes on hangers in a capacious walk-in wardrobe, and she was aware of the instant he turned and left the room.

      Dinner was a simple meal comprising minestrone followed by pasta, and afterwards Sylvana served coffee in the informal lounge.