Page 24 of His Royal Bride Replacement

‘No, strictly speaking, Giuseppe rescued her.’

‘But he wouldn’t have noticed the sack had it not been for you,’ Alessio corrected as they reached the landing, which was also an upper gallery exposed to the elements on one side. ‘To keep the house cool,’ he added.

Rosy surged over to the gallery wall to look across at the other wing of the house and then down. ‘Is that a medieval cloister?’ she asked in wonderment.

‘Yes, the cloisters and the chapel from the convent were preserved, although the duke’s piety ensured that the chapel was appropriately embellished.’ He walked her on down the gallery where Jorge awaited them, clearly keen to throw open the very large and heavily carved double doors at the foot.

‘We will sleep in splendour tonight,’ Alessio murmured teasingly.

And she discovered that he had not been joking. A giant carved four-poster bed sat on a dais in a chained-off alcove. ‘Gosh, we’re going to have our own state bed,’ Rosy remarked. ‘I hope the mattress has been renewed since the duke’s days here.’

Two maids were already busily occupied unpacking their luggage in a big dressing room furnished with wall-to-wall closets.

‘Have we got a bathroom?’ Rosy whispered anxiously to Alessio.

He laughed, humour dancing in his glorious green eyes. ‘Yes, we have a plethora, installed before architectural heritage prevented such alterations. Some bedrooms were sacrificed, giving us all the modern necessities, but, as there were so many bedrooms, they aren’t missed. Jorge will serve us tea in the cloisters and then we will explore to our hearts’ content.’

‘Let me change into something more comfortable first,’ she urged, nipping into the dressing room to grab shorts and a top and a pair of casual sandals.

‘Will you share the bathroom?’ Alessio enquired.

Rosy coloured. ‘Of course,’ she conceded, wondering when the concept of being truly married would sink in so that she was not self-conscious about such unimportant things.

Furthermore, Alessio’s was a helpful presence when he unzipped her out of the formal, neat-fitting dress she wore but he was undressing himself as well and that was distracting even in a huge bathroom with both of them stationed at opposite sides.

‘You look incredible,’ Alessio husked as she stepped free of the dress, clad only in wispy peach-coloured undies, her slim, curvy body stilling beneath his intense scrutiny.

Rosie was convinced that she was reddening like a traffic light from top to toe as he studied her. Her breasts swelled in the cups of her lacy bra and she instinctively pulled her stomach in as a hot liquid feeling pooled at the very centre of her body. Etched in her mind’s eye, even as she turned circumspectly away, was a shirtless Alessio, his bronzed torso and tattoos and rippling muscles leading down into long, strong legs. In haste, she dressed, wanting him, not wanting him, still afraid of feeling too much for him while all the time wondering if Alessio had ever been in love.

‘I’m serious. You look amazing,’ Alessio husked, long fingers touching her shoulder to turn her round again, potent green eyes laser-beam sharp focused on her and smouldering hot in temperature. ‘That shower is big enough for both of us.’

Rosy tensed and reached for her shorts instead, for she wasn’t quite up to the stage where she might consider stepping stark naked into a shower with Alessio and she didn’t know if she would ever be. That level of intimacy stretched way beyond even her imagination. Flushed and taut, she zipped her shorts and pulled on her top, saying merely, ‘Jorge has refreshments waiting for us.’

‘This is still our honeymoon,’ Alessio chided softly, and his hand slid down to enclose hers, turning her back to him again.

‘Alessio…’ she began anxiously.

His other hand framed her cheekbone and his erotic mouth claimed hers, teasing and parting and delving with only the tip of his tongue until a shudder ran through her, igniting a burst of heat deep down inside her, ensuring that her legs wobbled. He ran his lips down the slope of her neck, pausing to nip and tease and she shivered again. She fell back from him in a sensual daze of tense anticipation as his dark head lifted. He gave her a slow-burning smile and reminded her that Jorge was waiting for them downstairs.

Suspecting that had been one-upmanship on display by a more skilled player than she was herself, she walked slowly down to the charming sunlit cloister where Jorge awaited with a prettily decorated table and a choice of tea or coffee and a selection of sweet treats. She rested back in her comfortable seat and waited for Alessio to reappear.

She was nervous of having sex for the first time; she knew that that was the real problem. She didn’t want to be a disappointment. She didn’t want to come over all shy and unsure and embarrass herself. She didn’t want to think or behave as though the act of sex would actually be important to him. After all, she assumed it wouldn’t be to a guy who had once figured in the media as an irrepressible Casanova. Consummating their marriage might well be the only way she prevented Graziana from sneaking back in as a marriage candidate again. How was she to know otherwise when Alessio already seemed to have forgiven his ex and hadn’t uttered a single critical word about that interview she had given?

Sipping her favourite Earl Grey tea, she pulled out her phone and called her sister. She hadn’t spoken to Vittoria since the wedding, had only contrived to send her a couple of texts. Her sister burst straight into excitable speech, complaining bitterly about Graziana’s interview and the implied slur laid on Rosy’s behaviour. Firming her slight shoulders, Rosy brushed off the sting of her sister’s feelings on that topic and brought Vittoria up to date on the cabin, the Spanish house and Clover. But, of course, what her sister really wanted to know was how Alessio was treating her.

‘I’ve got no complaints whatsoever,’ Rosy framed stiltedly because Alessio was currently striding down the gallery to join her. ‘It’s been really good…look, I have to go for now.

‘Vittoria,’ she explained. ‘She’s got herself in a bit of a temper over Graziana’s interview.’

‘Yes, I’ve dealt with that,’ Alessio startled her by claiming. ‘There will be a statement made by the palace that I first met you on the day you were knocked off your bike and that it was only after Graziana’s departure that we first got to know each other. I was remiss in not immediately understanding your feelings on the matter. In any case, why should we support Graziana in her attempt to excuse herself by smearing us with a lie?’

Rosy was entirely thrown by that succinct declaration on her behalf. She was finally receiving the support she had unconsciously expected from him and had been disappointed not to receive. Bereft of breath, Rosy stared back at him. His change of heart came as a huge relief. ‘That’s what I thought. Thank you for that. I was annoyed by it,’ she muttered unsteadily, unprepared to admit as yet that she had been more hurt than angered.

‘You don’t need to thank me for what I should’ve seen instantly. You’re my wife and you should always be able to rely on me to defend and protect you. I’ve grown more cynical over the years and I won’t always see matters in quite the same light as you do,’ Alessio warned her tautly. ‘But neither of us deserve the rumours that Graziana is happy to use against us. I, after all, was the fool who has not been with a woman since the week of our engagement last year.’

Rosy was so disconcerted by that unexpected revelation that she said doubtingly, ‘Even though you and sheweren’t… Are you serious?’

‘I believed it would be disrespectful for me to seek solace with anyone else. No matter how discreet I would’ve tried to be, there was too big a chance of any fling ending up splashed across the tabloids,’ he breathed tautly. ‘When I realised she’d been involved in an affair throughout, you can imagine how I felt.’

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