have had a very traumatic journey and you need to recover,’ Solo said smoothly, walking towards her, his mouth curved in a brief smile, and to her astonishment he walked straight past her.
‘Here is your bathroom.’ She turned and he had opened a door, and beyond it was the gleam of cream and gold tiles and sparkling mirrored walls. ‘Drink your tea, then take a shower and have a rest.’
He was ordering her around like a child. ‘Now, wait a minute…’ Penny muttered, burning with resentment and other feelings she preferred not to recognise, but, ignoring her, he continued.
‘Your dressing room is over here, but don’t waste too much time unpacking.’ His grey eyes clashed with her rebellious green. ‘On Monday you will be moving into the master suite as my wife.’
Wife hit her like a thunderbolt. She glanced wildly around, then back at Solo. He had moved to stand only inches away from her, and it finally registered in her tired mind—Italy, this man, this room, this was reality.
Her head jerked up and she stared at him. ‘It’s impossible, Solo. You can’t get married just like that.’ She was panicking. ‘I mean, you need documents, a birth certificate, and papers.’ She tossed back her head, and hoped he would not recognise her panic. ‘What about my family, friends?’
‘All arranged. I spent a constructive hour in your father’s study. It wasn’t possible for us to marry in England quickly. Luckily I have some pull in Italy and I have the documentation.’ He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. ‘I have an appointment with the relevant authority in an hour, and later today we are going shopping for some clothes for you.’
‘There is nothing the matter with my clothes,’ Penny cut in angrily.
His grey eyes made a slow, indolent appraisal of her slender form, and she was horribly conscious of her crumpled blouse and trousers. ‘Not quite bridal finery,’ he remarked, moving closer.
‘I don’t need you—’
He lifted one finger and pressed it over her parted lips. ‘All you need to do is to look your usual beautiful self on Monday, and keep your mouth shut, except to say sì.’ He looked at her mouth and then into her eyes. ‘Everything clear?’
He must have gone through her father’s papers in the study, and she had let him, she thought, angry with her own trusting stupidity. He tipped her head up, and her breath caught in her throat when she realised he was going to kiss her. She told herself it wasn’t what she wanted, but when his lips replaced his finger on her mouth she welcomed his kiss with a soft sigh of surrender.
Solo lifted his head and looked down into her dazed green eyes, the softly pouting mouth, and offered, ‘If you like we can have a wedding reception for your friends when we return to England.’
‘That would be nice,’ Penny said rather nervously as she glimpsed the deep, sensual warmth in his eyes.
‘Good, because there is no going back,’ he mocked. ‘You’re mine.’
Something Penny was made very much aware of at six o’clock that evening as, stripped to her briefs, she stood in the changing room of an exclusive boutique silently fuming.
She had slept for most of the afternoon. Anna had awoken her with a cup of tea and some very English cucumber sandwiches, and the information the master would be waiting for her downstairs in half an hour. Physically feeling much better, Penny had showered and dressed in a plain rose-coloured shift dress in fine cotton, a matching scarf held her long hair back and, with sandals on her feet, she had made it downstairs in time.
Solo had taken a brief look at her and said, ‘Very nice, but I think we can do better than that for your wedding dress,’ which did nothing for her self-confidence.
‘In that case, you can’t come with me. It is unlucky for the groom to see the wedding dress before the marriage service.’
With a sardonic tilt of one ebony brow, Solo said, ‘Foolish superstition. A man makes his own luck in this world.’
Solo certainly did, Penny thought wryly, and did not bother arguing.
A short journey in a fire-red sports car saw them arrive at this exclusive boutique in Sorrento. The owner, a stunning-looking woman named Teresa, greeted Solo with a kiss and a hug, while Penny was subjected to a brief smile and a comprehensive examination of her slender figure, before Teresa turned back to Solo and a discussion in Italian followed.
Roughly Penny pulled the cream creation over her head and smoothed it down over her slender hips, her temper simmering. Half a dozen times already she had paraded out of the cubicle into the salon, and had to suffer the indignity of Solo lounging on a satin sofa and studying every inch of her body. Then discussing the relative merits of the garments in his native language with Teresa, before saying yes or no.
At least that was what Penny thought they were doing, but they could have been arranging a hot date for all she knew, and she felt like an idiot. She did not even bother looking in the mirror this time before she marched back out into the salon.
‘So will this do?’ she demanded, her green eyes flashing fire. Teresa was now on the sofa beside Solo. The woman might as well sit on his lap, Penny thought angrily. It was perfectly obvious they were very good friends and probably more. Not that she cared, she told herself…
Solo’s grey eyes lifted, and an arrested expression crossed his hard features. Slowly his gaze raked over her face and down her throat, to her slender shoulders and lower. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured.
She felt the heat of his glance down her body, like a flame, and looked down. Then blushed scarlet when she realised the strapless gown, embroidered in tiny seed pearls, revealed the upper curve of her breasts, and fitted like a second skin into her narrow waist and down over her hips to end above her knee. ‘There is a jacket to go with it.’ She spun around.
‘No, wait,’ Solo demanded and slowly she turned back to face him.
He had stood up, and moved to stop in the middle of the floor. She glanced up at him, a tall giant of a man with silver-grey eyes, and then quickly lowered her eyes as he slowly walked all the way around her.
She half turned. ‘I’ll get the jacket.’ But long, tanned fingers closed over her shoulders and turned her back to face him.
‘Not yet, let me look.’ His grey eyes raked over her from head to toe. ‘This is the one.’ His deep, husky drawl feathered across her nerves as smooth as silk. ‘You look incredible,’ and, turning to Teresa, ‘You agree?’
Penny made her feet move. ‘Right, so that is that,’ she said flatly, dashing back into the changing cubicle. But she did not escape quite so easily. By the time they left the boutique she was the owner of three formal gowns, a whole load of mix-and-match casual summer clothes, if one could call designer labels casual—the prices certainly weren’t—and to her shame some very flimsy underwear Solo took delight in choosing for her.
‘Did you have to ask Teresa what she thought of lace thongs?’ Penny snapped when they finally got out of the shop. ‘I have never been so embarrassed in my life.’
He slanted a mocking sideways glance at her as he led her to an outside table at the restaurant next door, and held out a chair. ‘Sit, you’re looking rather flushed, and your naivety is showing.’ And he had the nerve to laugh.
‘Well, I would never wear one,’ Penny said sharply.
‘Shame.’ Solo smiled down at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I rather like the image of you in a tiny lace thong,’ he murmured as he took the seat opposite her.
‘You’re disgusting.’ Her flashing green eyes clashed with his. ‘But then at your age I should not be surprised—you probably need all the titillation you can get!’ she shot back, deliberately having a dig at his age in the hope of denting his massive ego.
His lips twisted into a cynical smile that held a hint of cruelty and his