The Forced Marriage by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online

of them instead?’
    He said reflectively, ‘Perhaps, cara , because I prefer to do my own—hunting.’
    She stiffened, eyes flashing. ‘I am—not—your prey.’
    He grinned unrepentantly. ‘No, of course not. Just an angel who has taken pity on my loneliness.’
    Her face was still mutinous. ‘I’d have said, Signor Valante, that you’re the last person in the world who needs to be lonely.’
    ‘Grazie,’ he said. ‘I think.’
    ‘So why, then?’ Flora persisted doggedly. ‘How is it that you’re so set on having dinner with me?’
    ‘You really need to ask?’ His brows lifted. ‘Are there no mirrors in that apartment of yours?’ His voice dropped—became husky. ‘ Mia bella , there is not a man in this restaurant who does not envy me and wish he was at your side. How can you not know this?’
    Her skin warmed, and she took a hasty sip of her drink. She said stiltedly, ‘I wasn’t—fishing for compliments.’
    ‘And I was not flattering.’ He paused. ‘Is the truth so difficult for you to acknowledge?’
    She gave a small, wintry smile. ‘Perhaps it convinces me that I should have stayed at home.’
    ‘But why?’ He leaned forward. Flora thought, crazily, that his eyes were filled with little dancing sparks. ‘What possible harm can come to you—in this crowded place?’
    She made herself meet his glance steadily. ‘I don’t know. But I think you’re a dangerous man, Signor Valante.’
    ‘You’re wrong, cara ,’ he said softly. ‘I am the one who is in danger.’
    ‘Then why were you so insistent?’
    ‘Perhaps I like to take risks.’
    ‘Not,’ she said, ‘a recommendation in an accountant, I’d have thought.’
    His grin was lazy. ‘But I am only an accountant in working hours, carissima . And now I am not working but relaxing—if you remember.’
    Flora bit her lip, conscious of the fierce undertow of his attraction, how it could so easily sweep her out of her depth. If she wasn’t careful, of course, she added hastily.
    Thankfully, at that moment the waiter reappeared to tell them their table was ready.
    And once the food was served, and the wine was poured, she would steer the conversation into more general channels, she promised herself grimly as she accompanied Marco sedately into the main restaurant.
    She was faintly ruffled to discover that they were seated side by side on one of the cushioned banquettes. But to request her place to be reset on the opposite side of the table would simply reveal that she was on edge, she reflected as she took her seat.
    There was a miniature lamp on the table, its tiny flame bright, but safely confined within its glass shade.
    A valuable lesson for life, she thought wryly, as the waiter shook out her napkin and placed it reverently across her lap. She needed to keep the conflict of emotions inside herself controlled with equal strictness.
    But she was already too aware of his proximity—the breath of cologne, almost familiar now, that reached her when he moved—the coolly sculptured profile—the dangerous animal strength of the lean body under the civilised trappings. The sensuous curve of the mouth which had once so briefly possessed hers…
    This, she was beginning to realise, was a man to whom power was as natural as breathing. And not just material power either, although he clearly had that in plenty, she realised uneasily. His sexual power was even more potent.
    She was glad to be able to focus her attention, deservedly, on the food. The delicate and creamy herb risotto was followed by scallops and clams served with black linguine, accompanied by a crisp, fragrant white wine that she decided it would be politic to sip sparingly.
    The main course consisted of seared chunks of lamb on the bone, accompanied by a rich assortment of braised garlicky vegetables. The wine was red and full-bodied.
    ‘I’m not surprised you come here,’ Flora said after her first appreciative mouthful. ‘This food is almost too good.’
    He smiled at