Claimed For The Italian's Revenge

‘It’s not the cold that’s making you tremble.’ His voice was deep and sexually loaded, his Italian accent more pronounced than usual.

She stared up at him, wanting to deny what he’d said. But she knew it was pointless—he’d never believe her. It was a long time ago, but they had been lovers—passionate lovers. He knew her body well, and from the very beginning of their affair he’d been able to take her to unimaginably wonderful heights that she had never dreamed possible.

But now, for so many reasons, she could not let it happen again.

‘Thank you for getting me back to the cottage…and for the shower,’ she said. ‘But I’m okay now. I’m going to get changed.’

She turned to get out of the shower, but as she did so Marco moved too. With one step he blocked her way, and at the same time his hands closed on her waist, pulling her tight to him so that their thighs brushed together and her nipples pressed against his chest.

‘We haven’t finished yet.’ His voice rumbled through her with a sexual promise so potent that it started an insistent throbbing at the very core of her.

Natalie Rivers grew up in the Sussex countryside. As a child she always loved to lose herself in a good book, or in games that gave free rein to her imagination. She went to Sheffield University, where she met her husband in the first week of term. It was love at first sight and they have been together ever since, moving to London after graduating, getting married and having two wonderful children.

After university Natalie worked in a lab at a medical research charity, and later retrained to be a primary school teacher. Now she is lucky enough to be able to combine her two favourite occupations—being a full-time mum and writing passionate romances.

BY

NATALIE RIVERS

For my friend, Rosemary

MARCO DE LUCA stood at the open window of the cottage, looking out into the clear, calm night. A full moon hung in the black sky and the sea stretched away into the darkness, lit only by the occasional silvery ripple of reflected moonlight.

For too many years he’d lived and worked in big cities, where the night sky was a hazy amber glow and the stars were virtually invisible. He’d driven himself so hard, building his business from scratch into the global enterprise that it was today, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to slow down for a moment, to celebrate what he had achieved, or to appreciate the simple pleasures in his life.

There were no street-lamps here on this remote stretch of the Welsh coastline, filling the sky with their artificial light. And around the rugged bay where the cottage was nestled there were no other houses in sight.

It felt good to gaze out at the unblemished beauty of twinkling starlight in the inky black heavens, and at that moment the peaceful isolation seemed as far from the intensity of his business life as it was possible to be.

He was glad Claudia had brought him here.

It had meant a lot to him when she’d asked him to come with her to the beautiful part of the world where her mother had grown up. Marco knew that her mother had died when she was just five years old—and that this place, with all its treasured memories, held a special place in Claudia’s heart.

He turned away from the window to look down at her lying sleeping on the bed. Her long naked limbs were tangled in the sheets after hours of passionate lovemaking, and her hair was spread out in beautiful waves across the pillow. The gorgeous copper colour didn’t show in the dark, but even in the moonlight her hair had a rich lustre and her perfect skin had a pearly luminescence.

As he gazed at Claudia, an unaccustomed feeling of warmth spread through him. They’d had a good day. It was an amazing place and Marco was touched that she’d wanted to share it with him—and that she’d already opened up her heart to him about something so personal and precious to her. And, although she was sad to have lost her mother when she was so young, it was wonderful to see the joy she was able to take from her memories.

Marco had not seen his mother for eight years—and his heart was full of anger and bitterness whenever he thought about her. She was a treacherous Jezebel who had allowed herself to be used against her own family, by a man called Primo Vasile—a corrupt and despicable con man of the very worst kind.

Then, after her treachery was complete—when the family had been utterly destroyed and Marco’s father and grandfather were both dead—she had chosen to disappear. She had totally abandoned her eleven-year-old daughter, Marco’s sister Bianca.

A band of tension tightened across Marco’s chest, but he shook his head sharply to clear his mind. He would not think about his mother and about what she had done eight years ago.

He would not let her ruin his perfect day with Claudia.

His mother’s appalling betrayal had made it hard for him to completely trust anyone. And when his sister had introduced him to her new friend, Claudia, he had been wary of her at first.