‘With my great-uncle always on hand, I untangled the mysteries of art appreciation for myself. That meant I could combine new knowledge with my organisational skills, and propel Francesco Fine Arts into the twenty-first century. From there it was an easy move into international markets. I never waste my time, Beth. If I see something I want, I go for it. In this case, the project was to make a success of my family’s business.’

‘And there’s no doubt at all you’ve succeeded.’

Beth thought back to the efficiency of his head office, the copy of Time magazine, and the priceless luxury in which he lived. She wandered over to a small side table, made of glistening yew wood. A pretty little porcelain dish sat on it. She picked it up, turning over the delicate, shell-like piece in her hands. Its base was marked with cobalt-blue crossed swords.

‘You put Meissen on display in a room you never use?’

‘I may not use it, but I have plenty of guests.’

Luca gave a wolfish smile. Beth guessed he meant most of them were women.

‘That makes it worse,’ she muttered. Bewitched by the room’s beauty, she had hardly taken in the fine details at first. Now she began to look at its contents more closely. Some of her father’s enthusiasm for his work had rubbed off on her, and Beth could recognise the styles of Chippendale and Wedgwood. There were many other exquisite pieces of furniture, glassware and porcelain that she could not identify, but they all murmured of quality and taste. She had no doubt every item was as genuine as Luca. The things in this bedroom alone must be worth hundreds of thousands. She gave a silent whistle of amazement.

‘But you’re such a perfectionist, Luca. Aren’t you afraid your lovely things will get broken or stolen?’

‘What sort of a host would I be, if I worried about little things like that?’ he said airily, strolling over to the window.

Beth watched him walk away from her. In the past, she had done it dozens of times, but always when feeling the normal fear of any soldier’s partner—that he might not return to her arms. Back then, the pain had been all in her mind. Now, Luca’s new coldness had stamped it all over her heart as well. She gazed at his broad back and wide shoulders. The fine designer cut of his blue silk shirt could not disguise the power of his body. Gradually, her pangs dissolved into need. This time, she was feeling the agony of a separation from him that could never be repaired.

Her anguish was so real it trembled through her body, willing her to rush up and throw herself on his mercy all over again. As she watched he put up a hand to push aside the gauzy curtains with his slender bronze fingers. She saw the contrast of his olive skin against the white net. She remembered his touch so vividly that it hurt. Thoughts of what they had shared tugged at her like stitches in a wound that would not heal. Unable to fight her desire any more, Beth felt herself drawn across the few metres separating them. Although the thick Amritsar rug muffled all sound, Luca still sensed her movements. Turning his head, he looked at her with limpid dark eyes. They told her nothing. She was so close now she could breathe in the warm, familiar fragrance of his cologne, although the faint shadow along his jaw line showed it was hours since he had last shaved. Her whole body ached with the desperate urge to reach out and touch him—to feel his raw masculinity.

All he did was look at her, silently and steadily. It was a tigerish expression, daring her to get within his danger zone. There would be no open invitation any more. Beth had to risk making contact on instinct alone. Nervously, she raised her hand until her fingertips could no longer resist the magnetic attraction of his proud, carved cheekbones. His skin felt exactly as she remembered. As her index finger traced the slope of his jaw she felt where the smooth, flawless surface of his cheek became roughened at his beard line.

As inflexible as Sansovino’s statue of Mars, Luca allowed her caress to move slowly to his hair. Hardly daring to breathe, she continued to stroke him. Her touch drifted down around his neck to the front of the plain white fabric of his shirt. All the time his unblinking stare challenged her to continue, to tempt him beyond endurance. But there was not any direct response. Finally, Beth closed her eyes. She could not carry on laying her emotions bare like this without any encouragement. Her hand faltered and fell away. She was unable to go any further, in case he rejected her.

Then she sensed a sudden darkening of the world outside. Opening her eyes again, she saw Luca had moved his hand and let the curtain fall. Now they were both completely surrounded by shadows. He stood before her in his magnificence, a coiled spring perfectly contained by his tall, lean body. The challenge of his eyes was replaced by the defiance of his stance.

‘How does it feel to be denied the one thing you desire, tesoro?’ His native language whispered into the growing darkness but the endearment could not help her. His tone had been too painful.

‘Oh, Luca…it’s unbearable, especially when you speak to me like that.’

Her voice was hardly strong enough to tremble the nearest candle flame, but there was no doubt Luca heard it. In response, he moved towards her until barely a dream could slip between them. Beth dropped her head, unable to stand the pain of feeling him so close, and yet so far away. And it was then that he placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head so her gaze connected with his.

He met no resistance as he took possession of her as easily as he had always done. Beth should have known what was coming next, but she was still surprised when his mouth closed over hers. His tongue penetrated her with all the fierce passion she craved. For a few moments it was as though they had never been apart. Beth could fool herself she had never said goodbye to him, on that last terrible night in Balacha.

Luca’s thrusting urgency fired Beth’s desperate need for him. She clung to him with urgent hands. For five years she had quashed every emotion he inspired in her. Now her feelings rushed out in a torrent of release. She fretted over his body with her lips and tongue and fingers, but as quickly as he had embraced her he stood back.

He was breathing fast; his expression was masked. Beth felt herself crumble—Luca hadn’t changed at all! Despite everything, he was still, and always would be, in control. He might allow her to touch his body, but she would never reach his heart and soul. This was no bitter-sweet reconciliation between friends. All her fierce desire and need were useless in the face of his iron will. He was rejecting her as easily as he had snatched her up.

‘Don’t you want me after all?’ she asked, wide-eyed with realisation.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Want, certainly. But you answer your own question with those two little words “after all”, Beth. After all that has happened over the past few years I don’t need you,’ he said, his voice dangerous and dark.

Beth felt his scorn like a blow. She tried to take a deep, steadying breath. Seconds before, the perfume of lavender and candles had seemed so romantic. Now it seared her lungs like acid.

Luca smiled, but while his mouth might have softened, his eyes did not. He was watching her like a cat watching a mouse.

‘What is the saying— “Once bitten, twice shy?” I’m surprised a clever girl like you didn’t remember that, tesoro.’

Her hands reached out to him, but dropped to her sides before they made contact. Passion was still burning within her, but he had discarded her.

‘Luca…you were enjoying yourself… The feeling wasn’t only on my side, was it?’

He gave an eloquent shrug. For a few glorious seconds, they had been pressed together so tightly, the smallest movement of his body had rubbed against hers with wicked intent.