‘I don’t normally kiss men I’ve only just met,’ she protested.

‘Well, they don’t know we’ve only just met.’

‘But I don’t even know your na-’

The gentle pressure of his lips cut off the last word, and she felt his arms tighten about her just a little, not enough to be threatening, just enough to say he meant business. He was laughing too, inviting her to share the joke even while he kissed her with lips she instinctively sensed had kissed a thousand times before.

Those lips knew far too much, she thought. They were experts in teasing a woman until her head was in a whirl. And they brought back the visions that had assailed her when she first saw him, visions of abundance, riches and sunshine. The wind was as cold as ever, but now she was filled with warmth, melting her, overwhelming her.

‘It would look more convincing if you kissed me back,’ he murmured. ‘Put your arms around my neck.’

Her mind told him to stop his nonsense, but her hands were already sliding up until she could touch his hair, wind her fingers in it, relish the soft, springiness against her palm. She was pulling him closer because she wanted more of him, longed for what only the firm warmth of his mouth could give her. And when she found herself kissing him fervently back it was useless to pretend that she was only trying to ‘make it convincing’. She was doing this because she wanted to.

She flattened her hands against his chest. ‘I think we’ve done enough,’ she said in a shaking voice.

‘We haven’t even started,’ he whispered, and even then she noticed that his voice too was shaking. Looking up she saw his eyes in the near darkness, and thought there was a look of astonishment.

‘Let me go,’ she said urgently. She was suddenly full of alarm. She had to be free of him before it was too late. Trying to strike a lighter note she said, ‘If Lorenzo Martelli saw that he might take a stiletto to you.’