Claimed by the Sicilian. Kate Walker

can do this,’ he told her. ‘Don’t forget, I’ll be with you. At your side. You’re not alone.’

      And to reinforce his words, to drive that point home, he bent his head and took her lips, replacing the soft pressure of his fingers with the firm demand of his mouth. He meant only to deliver a brief caress then move away but, as before, as soon as his mouth touched hers he knew such a twist of hunger, hard and hot and savage, that he had to fight against the need to grab at her there and then, pull her close, crush her against him.

      He couldn’t even blame the fury in his blood on the way that she responded to him. Because she didn’t respond but simply took his kiss with calm compliance, her mouth lying passive under his, her lips warm and soft but unresponsive, not opening under his, giving nothing, just accepting.

      And it was because she didn’t respond that he had the devil’s own trouble controlling himself.

      He wanted her to respond—needed to make her respond. He wanted to take her mouth so hard, so strong—so softly, so enticingly-each and every possible way he could so that she was forced to respond to him—to open to him. It outraged him that she could stand there, so calm and submissive, giving nothing, when inside the claws of lust were threatening to rip him in two.

      But now was not the time. Already the uniformed major domo provided by the hotel had spotted them and, opening the door, was looking at them enquiringly. He even gave a discreet little cough to get their attention.

      With a savage effort, Guido wrenched himself away from the kiss and turned just in time to see the man’s obvious astonishment and confusion.

      ‘I’m sorry…’ he began stumblingly. ‘I thought…’

      His bewildered eyes went to Amber, taking in the long white dress and the veil.

      ‘Mr St Clair is already here,’ he said, frowning in puzzlement. ‘I understood…’

      ‘It’s all right,’ Guido reassured him. ‘There’s been a change of plan.’

      Stepping forward, he murmured swift instructions in the man’s ear. A generous tip slipped into his hand eased some of the remaining discomfort in his face.

      ‘You understand?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      With a curt nod of satisfaction, Guido turned back to Amber.

      This was it, he told himself. This was when he put into place the last part of his plan to make sure that Amber and the St Clair family parted for ever and went their separate ways. After this, there would be no chance at all that they would want her to marry any one of them. And that was exactly how he’d planned it.

      After tonight, Amber Wellesley would be all his.

      ‘Come…’

      Once more her hand was enclosed in his. Once more she was obliged to move forward with him or risk embarrassment.

      The double doors to the ballroom were flung open and, with Amber stumbling apprehensively at his side, Guido strode forward to stand firmly in the middle of the carpeted landing at the top of the short flight of stairs that curved its way down into the huge blue and gold ballroom.

      And there he stopped. Stood still and silent, his spine straight, his shoulders back, dark head held arrogantly high.

      Stood and watched and waited as first one person and then another noticed their arrival. Conversations died. Women elbowed each other in the ribs to draw their attention to what was happening. Men stared then nodded furiously in the direction of the sight.

      And like the sea rushing away on an ebbing tide, the buzz of chatter stilled, a deathly silence fell, and eventually every eye in the room was turned on them.

      Only when the silence was complete did Guido move. Turning slightly towards the man who was hovering at his back, he gave another small, commanding nod.

      Immediately the maître d’ moved forward, cleared his throat.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ he announced into the frozen silence, his words seeming to make the air shatter as he spoke. ‘I give you—the—the bride and groom. Mr and Mrs Guido Corsentino.’

      CHAPTER SIX

      THIS is your room, madam.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Amber waited until the maid who had shown her to the room on the second floor of the hotel had retreated before she slid the key card into the lock and waited for the light to turn green.

      She had just endured the worst few minutes of her life. She had been peered at, examined, looked up and down.

      She had had to watch in disbelief as, on Guido’s orders, bottles of vintage champagne appeared from the hotel’s cellars and were opened. Glasses were filled with a lavish hand, and to her horrified amazement Guido announced that he hoped that everyone there would drink a toast, ‘To my reunion with my beautiful bride.’

      They were frightened of him, she realised on a sense of mind-blowing shock. Terrified of what he might do and—yes—there was a little touch of admiration there, a grudging respect that kept their tongues on the right side of civil, no matter what their minds might have been thinking.

      In his all-black outfit, Guido prowled amongst them like a sleek black panther wandering lazily through a huge flock of birds of paradise. A sleek black smiling panther who was obviously enjoying himself while they all waited and watched, frozen in apprehension, not daring to make a move in case it was the wrong one and drove the jungle cat to pounce with deadly intent.

      But Amber couldn’t find any cause for enjoyment of anything in the whole ordeal. To her, every second was an endurance test, her worst nightmare ever come true and actually existing in the real world. She didn’t even have the hope that she might wake and find it all behind her. To make matters worse, the elegant white satin shoes were beginning to pinch unmercifully, a brutal, pounding ache had set up in her head, and she felt as if someone had put a hard steel band around her temples and was slowly twisting it tighter and tighter.

      So it was with a rush of intense release that she saw Guido beckon one of the staff to him and obviously make some sort of request. A moment later he had come close to her, touched her lightly on the arm.

      ‘It’s time you left now,’ he said in a tone that made it clear it was not a suggestion but a command. ‘This young lady will take you to your room—where your clothes and your cases are. Get changed and wait for me there.’

      She had been so relieved at being released, at escaping from the torment of the reception that should have been hers and Rafe’s but that had, like her wedding, been hijacked and completely overturned by Guido’s intervention, that she fled from the room, like a bird freed from its cage, seeking the sanctuary of the haven provided for her.

      ‘Well, you have done well for yourself, haven’t you?’ a drawling voice said close by, jolting her out of her thoughts and making her look up into a familiar pair of cold blue eyes.

      Of course. Rafe must have left his going-away clothes in the room next door and by some appalling stroke of fortune he had been coming out of his room just as she had reached hers. He had already changed out of his formal morning coat and was now dressed in the elegantly cut suit and silk shirt he had planned to travel in.

      ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

      Amber tried twisting the door handle, but the light on the lock had already gone out. She would have to take out the key card and insert it once again.

      ‘She doesn’t know what I mean,’ Rafe echoed cynically, coming close and lounging back against the wall. ‘Why, setting yourself up with a handsome Italian billionaire who could buy us all in the blink of an eye, of course. If that’s not doing well for yourself, I don’t know what is. So tell me,’ he went on, not giving her a chance to speak, or even to think. ‘Was that what our marriage was all about, hmm? A way of bringing