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That was why they were here, after all.
Eduardo paused for another moment, ensuring that she was balanced, but she had her iron core back. Something flashed in his eyes as he rapidly stepped away and silently signed the thick parchment spread on an ornate wooden table to the side of the altar.
Stella followed, her hand shaking, leaving her name an illegible mess. Giulia and Matteo signed as their witnesses.
‘Now leave us,’ Eduardo ordered, curling his hand around Stella’s wrist.
Her agitated pulse skipped and skidded against his fingers. Matteo threw his friend a broad smile and offered his arm to Giulia to escort her out. Giulia, Stella noted dazedly, was also smiling broadly. The pair followed the priest down the aisle and out of the building. Not one of them said anything more. Not one of them looked back.
Stella remained still, her knees locked, her emotions tumultuous. The intensity of her desire was out of control—and frankly it scared her.
He turned to her. His intention clear.
Another kiss and she’d lose her mind altogether, so searing was the heat that flared between them. Desperately she put her hand on his chest, stopping his progression towards her.
‘We can’t,’ she said, scandalised. ‘This is a church.’
‘This is the family chapel,’ he corrected huskily. ‘The De Santis sanctuary for centuries.’
‘Even more reason not to indulge in...’ She trailed off, surprised to see his face light with laughter.
‘What? Animal passions?’ He laughed aloud then. ‘These walls have seen worse. But come...’ He held out his hand to her.
His first command as her husband. And what an innuendo.
He looked so happy, so pleased with himself—as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders—and she was so surprised and seduced by that charming good humour that she’d placed her hand in his before she’d thought better of it.
He didn’t turn to walk her back down the aisle. Rather he led her to a small wrought-iron gate, hidden beyond the altar. Through the railings she could see a curved stone staircase, going underground. He took a key from his pocket, unlocked the gate and led her through it.
She tugged on his hand just as he took the first step of the spiral down. He paused and looked at her. ‘You’re taking me to the crypt?’ she asked, horrified.
‘You really do think I’m charming, don’t you?’ he said blandly. ‘First the chapel, and now you think I intend to desecrate the dead with lewd acts?’ He shook his head, and suddenly that laughing sparkle in his eyes was snuffed out. The ruthless solemnity returned and he spoke very quietly. ‘You must think you’ve married a monster.’
She couldn’t look at his expression, her body shrinking in shame at the tinge of hurt she’d heard. ‘I don’t really know the man I’ve married.’ And she didn’t know how to handle the feelings he aroused in her.
‘You could try to trust me, just a very little.’ He watched her intently. ‘I’ve given you no reason not to trust me.’
That was true. He was only trying to do what he thought was the right thing. As was she. But she didn’t trust easily.
‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll try.’ She curled her fingers around his. ‘You know...’ She offered a tentative, peace-making smile. ‘If this whole prince thing doesn’t work out for you, you could do really well as a wedding planner.’
He looked startled for a second, and then his laugh returned. An answering spurt of pleasure bubbled up within her.
‘Is that a compliment?’ He shook his head. ‘Undeserved, sadly. I have very good aides.’
Maybe, but he’d been the one to order it all.
‘Where does this lead, if not the crypt?’ she asked as they went further down the old narrow steps.
‘There is a safe escape. The pirates’ secret, as you’ve so often suggested.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Absolutely.’ The laughter burned in his eyes once more. So did the desire. ‘I’m dragging you to my pirate lair and I am going to have my wicked way with you.’
‘And you expect me to trust you?’ she teased, excitement fluttering low in her belly.
‘You can trust that it’ll be very wicked.’
At the bottom of the stairs there was a marble-lined tunnel. He hadn’t been joking about the passageway.
There were gas lanterns every eight feet, giving off a flickering romantic light. They turned a narrow corner and the tunnel opened into a small cavern. In the centre stood a massive bed decked with lush linen—white sheets, heaps of plump pillows, a charcoal-black mohair blanket folded into a neat square. More lanterns hung in each corner. Beyond the bed faint light flickered in one corner of the gloom—the tunnel must continue.
