Chapter Twenty-Four
Emerald awoke to hear rain pattering down on the roof of the glass skylight and shifted onto her side, a vague feeling of incongruity washing over her. The shushing sound of pebbles retreating back into the sea, brought her quickly to her senses as she remembered where she was. Her eyes flew open when she registered the dead weight against her shoulder, an arm thrown casually around her waist.
Marco .
The sleepy contentment she’d felt morphed to a low-level panic and she twisted around quickly, checking that she hadn’t dreamed being in Marco’s bed.
Marco, large as life, watched her with guarded eyes. ‘No, cara mia , you did not dream it and I am still here with you.’
She did a quick analysis of her body. Yup, definitely stark staring naked but she didn’t need proof — the memory of last night flooded back releasing glorious sensations in her body. She smiled, closed her eyes. Marco. So be it. But still she tensed slightly, wondering what would happen next. Would he still want her? Was she any good at this sex thing?
Marco didn’t appear to have the same misgivings as he nuzzled into her hair. ‘Mm, you smell deliciously of sleepiness and sex.’ He kissed her neck, flipping her to face him in one easy movement as if she were feather light. He breathed in. ‘Too wonderful to resist, even though coffee is calling to me.’
With his arm still wrapped around her waist he drew her into the warmth of his body. ‘But first, I need you.’ He rolled her onto her back. ‘I just want to make sure you know you are mine now. Stay still . . .’
Emerald’s breath hitched in her throat as Marco, to her great surprise worked his way down her body, kissing every erogenous zone she had until she thought she would melt with the heat he stirred in her. Time seemed to warp as she lost her senses eventually coming back down to earth with a gasp, her head thrown back in abandon.
Eventually Marco returned to her side and cradled her in his arms, stroking her hair as her breathing steadied.
Marco studied her with glittering eyes. ‘You are mine now, Emms.’
‘Are you mine, too?’ She was surprised at him using her nickname, as only Finbar called her Emms, but she let it go.
‘Hmm?’ He looked surprised at her question.
‘It doesn’t only work one way, you know?’ Her lips quirked.
He gave the question serious consideration but answered simply, ‘Just give me time. I am a product of my Italian forefathers. We like to be macho — or at least appear to be so.’ He smiled at his words.
‘You think you can tame me, do you, Mr Cavarelli?’ She smiled back, lazily, as he stroked her hair.
His brows rose. ‘How am I doing so far?’
She laughed. ‘Not too bad, as a matter of fact.’ She stretched out languorously, feeling secure in his arms and enjoying her nakedness and their shared intimacy. ‘I think you might just have turned me into the wanton hussy you thought I was. We have turned full circle. If I could only wear the silk dress that I so foolishly wore the day I, err, visited your hotel.’
‘Why can’t you?’
‘I cut it up.’
‘And fed it to the hyenas?’ He stroked her arm, his tone teasing.
‘You know more about me than anyone else in the world. I don’t know how you managed it, but even Fin doesn’t know about the hyena.’
‘Even Fin, eh?’ His smile faded.
She hoisted herself up on her elbow. ‘I don’t understand how you can be jealous of him. The mighty Marco who has the world at his feet, resents my best friend, who drives a first-generation Volkswagen Up and shares an apartment with a giant mouse called Mousse that steals his food and leaves insolent mouse droppings on his carpet.’
Marco laughed mirthlessly. ‘I’m not sure jealous is the right word. I just don’t like the way you two are so tight.’
‘That’s called jealousy.’
‘You may be right. I’d like to sack him. He has too much freedom within the company ― and he is infuriating.’
‘He’s lovely and he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. He makes me laugh.’
Marco coughed. ‘Yes, because cutting off passengers’ ties is hilarious. He should have been shot for that.’
‘You would have a mutiny on your hands if you try to sack him. That and the small but very significant fact that he is Robert Clarke’s nephew.’
Marco growled again looking unimpressed, but changed the subject, moving on to other members of staff. ‘And what is the story with Michelle? She seems to be absent more than she is here.’
‘Yes, I really need to have a word with her. Her boyfriend lives in Spain and she cuts it too fine to catch flights home. She’s forever missing her connection.’ Emerald settled into his chest and Marco trailed his fingers in a circular motion on her back.
‘And before I forget,’ Marco said, into her hair, ‘we need to put a lock on the catering store cupboard. Someone is going in there and helping themselves.’
Emerald tutted. ‘That’ll be Jack, the engineer. He loves our biscuits — says you can’t buy them in any shop he knows. It is a small and friendly airline, Marco. We just all treat it as our own, I guess.’
‘Sounds more like Robert Clarke was running a charity than a business, if you ask me.’ Marco shook his head in disbelief as Emerald continued to recount tales of the staff, putting an interesting spin on each person to make the stories funny. She loved all her colleagues and hoped that Marco would begin to see them in the same vein as she did — even when, occasionally, their actions were less than admirable. She lifted her head off his chest and sighed happily. ‘You’re good at making me talk. It’s not something that comes easily to me.’
‘I have other skills too, you know.’ He arched an eyebrow and ran his hand down the length of her body.
She giggled in delight. ‘I did notice.’
‘I can make a mean pancake too. Want me to show you?’
‘If it comes with tea, I’m all yours.’
‘That’s what I want to hear — though I still need coffee.’ He threw his legs over the side of the bed and slung on a shirt.
Emerald drank in the smooth skin, the toned muscles, knowing how horrified the nuns would be by her unrestrained ardour.
She offered up a silent prayer, hoping that God might be more understanding than Sister Mary Bennett. Then she made a decision to stop with the guilt trips, enjoy the present, and stop second-guessing what the future might hold.