Marchese's Forgotten Bride by Michelle Reid Read Free Book Online Page B

worryingly sapped of strength.
    And it was only then that she allowed it to truly sink in that something much more serious than too much wine was making Sandro behave like this. He looked really ill.
    ‘Are y-you all right?’ she asked when she couldn’t stand his stillness any longer.
    ‘Sí…’ It was low and husky and it ran down through her like a hotline wired to her hips and thighs.
    Cassie drew in some air, let it out again then, moistening her lips, which still felt hot and swollen after that terrible kiss, she gave in to the need nagging at her and reached out with a tentative hand and gently placed it on his knee.
    ‘Sandro, please,’ she begged huskily. ‘You’re frightening me.’
    I’m frightening myself , Alessandro thought in an attempt to dry-humour himself out of this thick cloud which kept on blanketing him after each lightning strike. He managed to lift a limp hand and dropped it down on top of her hand as she would have withdrawn it from his knee. Small and fragile though her fingers felt to him, they seemed to possess a power of their own because he felt his energy begin to seep back through him.
    ‘I suppose, Cassie Janus, you are wondering if this alcoholic requires a couple of shots of hard whisky to supplement his wine-soaked blood.’
    ‘It isn’t a joke,’ she rebuked him sharply. ‘And stop saying my name like that.’
    ‘Like what?’ Opening his eyes, he looked at her pale, strained, heart-shaped face with its beautiful emerald eyes darkened by concern for him.
    ‘Like you’re mocking me.’
    Alessandro allowed a wry smile to stretch his lips. ‘And here I sit believing I was mocking myself.’
    ‘And you talk in riddles.’ Sliding her hand out from beneath his and retreating into the seat, Cassie put as much distance as she could between them then sat staring out at London’s night glitter, recognising famous landmarks which put them right in the centre of one of the city’s most prosperous districts.
    No cheap inner-city housing here, she thought dully. No dismal tenement blocks taken over by developers and crammed to their doors with as many apartments they could pack into them. Her own rented apartment shared the floor with two other tenants. She had two tiny bedrooms, a cramped living-dining room, a rabbit hutch for a kitchen, and the tiniest bathroom in the world. The hallway was not much bigger than the vestibule at the bottom of the restaurant steps back there where Sandro had—
    Oh, don’t go there , she groaned silently, shutting off her brain with a painfully tight swallow.
    ‘You wear no wedding ring…’
    ‘What?’ Startled, she jumped, her head twisting round on her slender neck to find he was studying her hands.
    ‘No rings,’ he repeated.
    ‘No. Why should there be?’ she demanded defensively, her fingernails coiling into her palms.
    ‘I did not say it as a criticism, merely as an observation.’
    Her guarded gaze fluttered down to where his long-fingered hands lay relaxed on his lap. ‘You wear no rings, either.’
    ‘I am not the proud parent of twins.’
    As if he’d reached across the gap between them and grabbed her by her throat, Cassie gave a choking gasp then froze. She’d forgotten the twins! How could she have done that? How could she have let herself forget that this man—this cold, heartless man—had rejected both her and her children before they’d even been born?
    ‘I am presuming that you are not married,’ he prompted in the same even tone.
    He’d shifted his attention to her face now, carefully shielded eyes watching her expression in a way that made Cassie wish she knew what was going on inside his head.
    ‘No,’ she husked out.
    ‘So who is taking care of them while you’re out tonight—a live-in boyfriend perhaps?’
    Her heart began to beat like a hammer drill. Where the heck was he intending to go with this line of questioning? ‘No,’ she said again.
    ‘Then who?’ he persisted.
    ‘M-my