JACQUELINE BAIRD - Mediterranean Men Unleashed - The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride

The only thing he had not expected was that she would still be a virgin. The man she had been engaged to before must have been a eunuch or an absolute saint.

He found it incredible that he was her first lover. He had never made love to a virgin before. Innocence had never appealed to him, he preferred experienced women who knew the score, and yet he was stunned by the uniquely erotic experience. And if he was honest, in a totally chauvinistic way he felt an overwhelming masculine satisfaction and pride that she had given her virginity to him. She was his … only his …

He didn’t believe in love, but there was something extremely beguiling in having a wildly sexy wife who did. He had intended revealing the true reason he had married her after spending one passionate night with her. But he had already virtually dismissed the idea on the plane over here, and now, having discovered how innocent she was, he would have to be the biggest fool in Christendom to disillusion her. Anton was no fool and he thanked his lucky stars he had kept his mouth shut about her father.

His body hardened just looking at her and his mouth tightened as he fought the temptation to join her in bed, captivated by her every movement as she reached for the cup he had left for her on the bedside table.

‘Good idea, drink your coffee,’ he finally answered, ‘and join me in the salon when you are dressed.’ He didn’t trust himself to keep his hands off her, and she needed time to recover. ‘The chef has prepared lunch and then I will give you a tour of the yacht and introduce you to the captain and crew.’ Turning on his heel, he walked rather stiffly out of the cabin.

Emily drank the coffee and, sliding off the bed, headed for the shower. Washed and wearing only a towel, she glanced around the cabin and saw her suitcase standing by a wall of cupboards. She had never thought of unpacking it the night before. In a matter of minutes she unpacked her trousseau so carefully bought over the last few weeks. One exquisite evening gown, and a host of smart summer clothes, some stylish if slightly risqué lingerie and bikinis courtesy of Helen.

As she closed the lingerie drawer a secret smile curved her lips at the thought of wearing them for Anton. She slipped on lace briefs and a matching bra, and a pair of white cotton shorts and a blue cotton top she had chosen to wear. She brushed her hair back off her face and fastened it with a slide. She didn’t bother with make-up, just a sun screen; she was in a hurry to get back to her husband.

After lunch, Anton spent the next three hours giving Emily a tour of the yacht and introducing her to the captain and crew. The chief steward and the chef, he explained, arranged all the catering and the domestic running of the yacht. She wowed them all with her natural ease and grace, and her obvious interest in the mechanics of the yacht. Surprisingly for a woman she was quite knowledgeable about the workings of a ship.

While he appreciated her interest, after half an hour all he wanted to do was get her back into bed. Her fantastically long legs were displayed in all their glory by the shorts she was wearing and he could not keep his eyes off her. It hadn’t escaped his notice neither could any other man around.

‘So what do you think, Emily?’ he asked as he leant against the ship’s rail, and clasped his hands loosely around her waist, and drew her between his splayed legs.

‘I think it is the ultimate boys’ toy.’ She looked up at him with such love and laughter in her eyes, inexplicably his heart tightened and his body followed suit. ‘I have seen cruise liners smaller than this.’ She shook her head in amazement. ‘I am not surprised we are anchored offshore—there is probably not a berth big enough even in Monte Carlo.’ She laughed. ‘I knew you were wealthy, but I had no idea how rich.’ She grinned up at him. ‘A helipad, a swimming pool and a wicked-looking motor launch to take us ashore. It is unbelievable, I love it, and I love you.’ And he felt the touch of her lips against his chin.

‘Then that is all right,’ Anton answered gruffly, swallowing a peculiar lump in his throat.

‘But what I want to know is when are we sailing and where to? The captain, when I asked him, did not seem to know. Is our honeymoon going to be a mystery tour?’ she demanded with a chuckle, and moved seductively between his thighs increasing the ever-present sensual awareness between them.

Her bare legs brushing his sent his temperature soaring and Anton hardened still further; he could not help himself. But her question reminded him of where they were and why, and he felt a bit selfish, not a feeling he was comfortable with. He tightened his hands on her waist and lightly urged her back, then dropped his hands from her far-too-tempting body.

He let his gaze rest on her lovely face; her luminous eyes revealed her every thought. She was so open, so affectionate and this was her honeymoon.

His black brows pleated in a frown as belatedly he realized his decision to use the long-standing arrangement he had made for his annual trip to the Formula One Monaco Grand Prix to double as a honeymoon no longer seemed quite so reasonable. Emily had probably been expecting a romantic out-of-the-way place and just the two of them. Whereas he, without a second thought given the reason he had married her, had decided to do what he always did at this time of year, confident that Emily would fit in with his plans.

His frown deepened. He had never had to consider a woman’s feelings before. Every woman he had known in the past had been quite happy to pander to his every whim, and why not? He was an extremely wealthy man and a generous lover for as long as an affair lasted. He had made it clear from the outset he never had any intention of marrying them, all he had wanted was good sex. He didn’t do romance, and he wasn’t about to start now simply because he was married.

Married to the daughter of the man who destroyed his sister, he reminded himself. He had been in danger of forgetting that fact in the throes of what was basically nothing more than great sex, he reasoned. Straightening his broad shoulders, he told her the truth.

‘There is no mystery; I stay here at the end of May every year for the motor racing. The Monaco Grand Prix is on Sunday. As a sponsor for one of the teams, I usually watch the race from the pits. Then there is an after-race party,’ he explained, studying her reaction through narrowed eyes.

‘Oh, I see.’ Her blue eyes shaded and Anton knew she did not see at all. ‘I never realized you were a racing-car enthusiast, though I suppose I should have guessed. Boys’ toys again, hmm? Well, it will be another new experience, I suppose.’ And her sensuous lips curled in a bewitching smile. ‘At least I will have you to myself until Sunday.’

Frustration and the fact she was so damn reasonable angered Anton. That and the unfamiliar feeling of guilt that assailed him because he had not told her the half of it yet. For a brief moment he wondered if he could just order the captain to set sail immediately, but dismissed the notion.

Emily was his wife, his extraordinarily beautiful, incredible, sexy wife, but he changed his plans for no one, and he wasn’t about to start now. He had his life organized exactly as he liked it, and although Emily had a career it was pretty flexible—she would quickly adjust and go where he led.

‘Not exactly …’ He paused. ‘I don’t use the yacht solely for my own pleasure; sometimes it is chartered out. It would not be financially viable otherwise. But also as a single man up until now,’ he swiftly added, ‘it has been a convenient way to repay hospitality rather than the more conventional house party.’ He was prevaricating … not like him at all, and bluntly he told her, ‘Anyway, it has become a bit of a tradition of mine to invite a few like-minded guests whose hospitality I have enjoyed in the past to join me on board for the Grand Prix weekend, and they usually stay until Monday.’