have everything the world could provide.
She cast him a surreptitious glance through the thick fringe of her lashes—but would the child have love? He was so cold, so controlled, but, beneath the hard exterior was he capable of love? As a teenager she had once thought so; he had been light-hearted and had made her laugh, for a few short weeks they had had fun… Later he had made her cry. Perhaps it was not impossible to recapture something of the past.
But for the duration of the meal the conversation was limited to generalities.
Later, acting as though he were a tourist guide, Solo showed her around his home. She stared in amazement at the paintings in the main salon. She recognised a genuine Matisse, and her eyes boggled at the exquisite oriental china, the bronze statues.
His collection of objets d’art was eclectic, but everything the genuine original. He had not been joking when he had told her he collected only perfect objects. His home was beautiful, and she told him so after leaving a purpose-built gallery that housed modern art, a Picasso and Jackson Pollock just two of about twenty.
‘You are like a human magpie, Solo.’ She slanted a smiling glance up at him. They were in his study, and even the desk was magnificent, made of polished walnut, and the silver and crystal ink set had no modern use but was perfect all the same.
His lips curled sardonically. ‘If by that you think I am a thief…’ he gripped her arm just below the elbow, his fingers biting into her flesh ‘… let me disabuse you of the notion. Everything I have I have bought legitimately, and that includes you.’
Then he pulled her into his arms, crushing her breasts against his hard, muscular chest, moulding her slender thighs and stomach into the rocklike contours of his body. He lowered his head and his hard mouth covered hers.
Penny could not move, so she did the only thing possible and clung to his wide shoulders as he kissed her with a deep, burning, angry passion.
At last he lifted his head and moved back and her legs trembled, her breathing ragged. ‘I never meant…’ She suddenly realised the insensitivity of her comment with a background like Solo’s and wanted to apologise, but he didn’t give her the chance.
‘Shut up, Penny, and listen.’ His chiselled features impassive, his expression was hard. Walking around the desk, he said, ‘I have the pre-nuptial for your signature. Read it, and I think you will find I have not robbed you, then sign,’ he commanded cynically.
Penny looked warily at the papers he slid across the desk, rubbing her arm—she would probably have a bruise there tomorrow—then picked up the document.
‘More than generous,’ she said flatly into the long silence and signed it.
Penny’s wedding day dawned bright and clear. Anna insisted on doing her hair—apparently she had been a hairdresser in her youth—and swirled the blonde tresses into a fantastic concoction on top of Penny’s head. The final touch was a number of tiny rosebuds from the garden inserted in the soft curls.
Penny glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and hardly recognised herself. The strapless dress lovingly clung to her slender body, the tiny pearls glinting in the sunlight. She slipped on the short jacket with the pearl-studded stand-up collar, and she had never felt so elegant. The three-inch high-heeled matching shoes helped.
The ceremony at the civic hall was thankfully brief. Anna and Nico were the witnesses, and half a dozen other people appeared. Solo introduced her but she was too numb with nerves to take in their names. Penny stood still as a statue at Solo’s side as he signed the necessary documents, and she took the pen from his elegant fingers and added her own name where he indicated, and it was all over. It seemed unbelievable to Penny that a few words in a language she barely understood had changed her life.
She glanced up at the man who was now her husband looking as cool and remote as ever. Dressed in an expertly tailored pale grey business suit and looking for all the world as if he had just concluded another business deal. Which she supposed in a way was what their marriage was.
Suddenly, as Solo cupped her elbow in his warm palm, and ushered her out into the bright sunlight, a dozen cameras all seemed to go off at once.
In the noise and confusion that followed Penny felt totally lost. Somebody shouted Solo’s name and something else in Italian, and Solo chuckled, and the rest went off in peals of laughter. Penny did not get the joke. But then she didn’t get much through the meal that followed in a very plush restaurant—the conversation was quick-fire Italian.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Solo murmured during a lull in the conversation. ‘Are you all right?’ His mouth was close to her ear and she was aware of several things at once. Gleaming silver eyes alight with amusement, and the faintly cynical curve of his sensuous lips, and the gentle touch of his hand over hers on the table. She caught the glint of the gold wedding band Solo was wearing and wondered why he had insisted on them both wearing a ring. ‘You look a little flushed.’
‘It is rather warm,’ she murmured. ‘And I have had rather a lot of champagne.’ She made the excuse because she could hardly confess she was worried about what would happen next.
Since signing the pre-nuptial Solo had treated her with cool indifference. In fact she had begun to think he had changed his mind. He had made no attempt to touch her or kiss her, and when she had suggested again last night after dinner that they did not have to get married he had looked at her with a sort of lazy possessiveness, and reiterated it was too late to change her mind.
‘Not too much. I have been counting,’ Solo remarked softly. ‘But I think it is time we left.’
‘Already?’ Penny exclaimed, coming back to the present with a jolt. She glanced around the guests and saw they all seemed to be settled in for a long liquid lunch. ‘But what about your friends?’
‘Our guests, my dear wife,’ he said pointedly, ‘can take care of themselves. Whereas I have an overwhelming desire to take care of you,’ Solo drawled silkily, standing to his feet. He caught hold of her arm and pulled her up.
Solo said their farewells and thanks in a mixture of Italian and English for Penny’s benefit, and instructed Nico they would be away for three days, and began walking towards the door.
When they reached the street a sudden thought made her blurt out, ‘Three days—where are we going?’
‘A surprise.’ Solo opened the door of the sports car and saw her seated before sliding into the driving seat. ‘Obviously not far, as your penchant for being sick in an aircraft curtails the choice somewhat,’ he mocked. ‘I want you fit for our wedding night.’
She ignored his quip about the night ahead. ‘But I have no clothes,’ she declared.
‘Anna has taken care of everything, just relax and enjoy the ride.’ He flicked her a glance of mocking amusement. ‘I know I shall.’
In the close confines of the sports car she was aware of several things at once. His long, muscular body, the faint scent of cologne mingled with the male scent of him, the gleaming silver eyes, and the faintly mocking curve of his sensuous lips. She shivered and closed her eyes, battling against the strange fascination this one man aroused in her.
She opened them twenty minutes later and glanced out of the window ‘Oh, my God, no! You can’t drive down there.’ Penny grabbed Solo’s arm. ‘It’s a cliff.’
‘Trust me.’ He slanted her a grin, his typical macho excitement at the drive ahead obvious. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘God save me from would-be racing drivers,’ she murmured and squeezed her eyes shut, and did not open them again until she felt the car come to an abrupt halt. Warily she looked out of the window again, and saw only water.
‘Where are we?’ She turned to Solo but only his jacket and tie lay on the seat. He was already out of the car, and in a moment was holding the door open for her. Penny climbed out and the heat struck her. She slipped off her jacket and looked around, and looked again.