Lost in the depth of the kiss, she felt him begin to walk toward the great door. “Close your eyes,” he said, and she did so, letting him take her where he wanted, knowing his destination would be a bedroom.

She knew when they passed into the cool dimness of the interior by the lessening of the light perceived through her eyelids. Marco’s lips left hers, but he still held her close to his body and his footsteps echoed on stone or tile. She felt him begin to climb some stairs. Her arm brushed a wooden balustrade.

She hid her face against his shoulder and counted twenty steps up until he walked again along a flat surface. She played the game of remaining blind, not wanting to see her surroundings until she opened her eyes to find him beside her in bed.

He thrust open a door with his shoulder and the light grew brighter again. She smelled lavender and wax polish. Five paces into the room, he stopped and lowered her. She sank into a nest of coolness and starched linen.

“Open your eyes, bella donna,” he whispered. “Here is our room.”

She looked around and gasped in delight. It was a beautiful room. It was the room she would have described if she’d been asked to dream of it. White walls, lace curtains stirring in the breeze, dark furniture and gleaming silver. The wood shone with deep luster, nothing was out of place. Quite different from the approach to the house.

“How…what?” she asked.

Marco sat on the bed, sending a small wave through the soft pillows. “I sent Pietro on ahead,” he said. “I told them to make this one room fit for a queen.”

She looked toward the window. High clouds floated across the blue of the sky. She gave a deep sigh. “It’s magic. Which is real, the caves or this?”

“Both.” He took her hand and kissed the fingers. “Both are reality in this world.” For a moment a shadow flitted across his face, but then he smiled at her again. “A bath, food, bed,” he said. “I think the doctor prescribes them in that order.”

“I can’t walk,” she reminded him unnecessarily.

“I know.” His grin was wicked. “You are at my mercy.”

He poured her a crystal goblet of white wine from the carafe by the bed, handing it to her by the stem. She leaned on one elbow and inhaled the aroma of apricots and peaches.

“It is wine from our own grapes,” Marco said, pouring another glass. “We call it Bel Amore, beautiful love.” He touched her glass with his own. “We need a toast. Shall we drink to justice and love?”

She nodded. “And to home. May everyone reach there safely.” She raised her glass and placed her lips to the cool liquid. The first sip slid down her dusty throat like nectar. It tasted of honey and spice.

He nodded as he watched her savor the wine. “My father spent years perfecting it. Now we sell all over Italy and abroad. This wine was one reason the Comandante coveted our property.”

She drained her glass. “I can understand why. It’s like heaven. Is that all it took to get it back? Finding the documents?”

Marco took her empty goblet. “Maybe a little more than that, but the deeds are nine-tenths of the law. I know what I have to do. I am back in possession and the Comandante is gone.”

A dark expression she couldn’t quite read flickered across his face as he said the last words. He set the glasses down on the little table and turned to her again. The wine had sent tendrils of awareness coiling through her, and she felt at once drowsy and yet completely alive.

Her lethargy forbade her to move, but her nerve endings were alert, expecting his touch. She lay still, watching and waiting, anticipating the feel of his hand on her bare skin.

He ran his hand up her leg, under her skirt, and despite her anticipation, she jumped. Immediately she felt the wetness between her legs and her nipples began to ache.

“Bella donna.” His voice deepened as he stroked her thigh. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

The melting sensation in the pit of her stomach made it difficult to catch her breath. She had a flash of memory of her fears of pregnancy, but that was all it was-a flash that came and went in an instant. Right now she ached for him, yearned to pull him inside her.

He placed one hand flat on her breast. The nipple stood to attention, and the dart of fire streaked down between her legs. “Just thinking about your body excites me,” he murmured. “I want us to make love again. I want it very badly, right now. Anywhere and anyhow. Up against the wall, on the floor, in the bed-” The other hand rose higher on her leg, and he touched the dampness on her inner thighs. He gave a deep sigh. “I promised myself I would wait-”

“There is no need to wait.”

She hitched her skirts up around her waist, exposing herself to him. Whether it was the wine, the relief of tension, the sensual feel of the room, or a combination of all three, she wanted it as much as he did. Wanted it hard and fast this time.

He nodded. They understood each other perfectly. Her fingers found the damp folds of her cunt and she pulled them apart, giving him a glimpse of the petals waiting for him. She stroked her clitoris with one exploring finger, encouraging it to swell, relishing the sensations that pulsed through her.

His eyes on her caressing fingers, he opened his trousers to free his cock. It stood ready for her, too thick to encircle with her curved fingers, too long to slip easily into her expectant sheath. She shivered a little at the thought of how he would have to ram it into her to fit inside. He stroked her slowly, kissing her, drawing the tension taut, bringing her need to a peak until she trembled beneath him. He slid his mouth down her body, throat and breasts and belly, dipping his head briefly, firing her with tormenting flickers of his tongue, coming back to skim her lips.

“Now,” she pleaded against his mouth. “Now, please.”

“Soon,” he said. “No need to hurry.”

He took one of the big pillows and placed it under her hips. Then he grasped the hem of her tunic in both hands and ripped it in two, spreading the two halves to bare her breasts. For a long moment he gazed at her naked torso and her waiting cunt, and his breathing grew more shallow. His cock quivered and rose higher, seeking its destination.

Before he mounted her he climbed with slow deliberation onto the bed and opened her legs wider. He took hold of her hands and removed them from between her legs and spread her arms at her sides. A pearly drop of liquid fell like a tear from the tip of his penis onto her thigh. Her nerves were so exquisitely on edge that the light touch made her quiver. As if this tiny movement broke his control he descended onto her, impaling her with his rock-hard cock, driving it deep, making her cry out. The tilt of her hips on the thick pillow forced him up against the far wall of her vagina, nudging the mouth of her womb, caressing a secret spot that spurted in rhythm with his thrusts.

She wound her legs around his waist and clasped him to her. It was hard and it was fast. She felt his teeth on her shoulder as the wave began inside her. Their cry of release came at the same instant.