The cottage has been prepared; the lamps were lit and a fire flickered on the hearth. Simple country furniture decorated a cozy living room. To the right there was a dinning room with a table and four chairs with an arched entry to the kitchen. Down the hallway were doors to two bedrooms and a guest bathroom.

"Yasmina." He murmured, watching her back tremble at the deep hungry heat of his voice.

She closed her eyes as his fingers lightly brushed her neck from behind her. He was restraining himself, she could feel it as he went very still. All her awareness seemed to be focused where his fingers hovered. His fingertips caressed the side of her neck just beneath her ear, slowly down the curve of her neck to her shoulder where raindrops remained.

Jasmine offered no protest as he continued touching her sensitive skin.

"You're wet." He breathed.

"You're sick." She replied, shivering as her pulse quickened.

The stem of the rose she still had a firm grip on snapped and she instantly opens her palm leaving it to fall on the floor.

His fingers traced her shoulder, coming down the back of her arm to her wrist. He captured her fingers in his hand and for a moment she nearly clasped them back. He raised her arm to give a soft kiss across her knuckles.

"How could you do this to me?" She whispered. "I never did anything to you."

Jasmine heard him take an intake of breath.

"If it's any consolation, I would sell my soul at this very moment to make love to you." He huskily whispered against her ear.

To her amazement, her stomach fluttered at his sensual words. Something inside her came awake at his hands like a harp and his deft fingers brought out of her heavenly music.

But her mind quickly protested his attention, fighting the spell he wrapped around her.

"Stop it. Just stop." Finally finding her voice and whirling to face him. "This isn't real."

She found him gazing down anxiously at her, a world of feeling in his dark stormy eyes. "The marriage ceremony was indeed real. Legal in every sense of the word. You're mine. . .as I am yours."

Jasmine swallowed hard, freezing and numb, the horror of his words clinging to her. She passed him, approaching the crackling fire, not knowing what to say to him or what to do. Sitting before it, she held her numb hands over the flames. Cristiano joined her before the fireplace, much too close for her liking. He had taken his suit jacket off and tossed over the back of a chair.

The way she felt in his arms, it seemed to him less and less likely that his Yasmina would emerge from the cottage still a virgin. With every minute they spent together he began to feel strangely split off from himself. The planning stages of his vendetta were verging off track. He kept reminding himself she was an object to be used to achieve a desired result.

"Since you dragged me into this mess. I have some terms I'd like to share with you."

For long moments, Cristiano had forgotten how to breath when he first saw her coming into the ballroom–beautiful and regal as any Italian princess who'd ever lived. He'd never dreamed he'd see such a gorgeous sight. She was his Princess now and she will be treated as such.

"Share away, Princess." Cristiano replied with a slight tilt of his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"This marriage is to be based strictly on legal terms." She began, turning to face him. Her face was flushed pink and her eyes were dancing with challenge. "If you insist on a physical union, you will have to force me. I want your word this marriage will remain unconsummated. This marriage will not be complete in the natural sense. Ever."

"I may be many things, but I'd never rape a woman. They usually come to me with legs wide open." He answers with an arched eyebrow, his eyes glittering with victory at the way she bristled in discomfort.

Cristiano shook his head. He had but to crook his finger to be worshipped by women and bring them to their knees with one look. But this exquisite creature in white fought everything he tried with her. She truly was one-of-a-kind. Loyal. Brave. Strong. Willful. Rebellious. Challenging. Tempting. Gorgeous.

He certainly got more than he bargained for and he was delighted. As long as she was under his roof, under his protection, she was his responsibility and he was planning to make the best of it until the time came when he must let her go.

His enraptured gaze moved a few inches lower to her beautiful dress and how the bodice cupped her glorious breasts.

His fingers flexed as he though about what it would be like to cup her softness and then stroke her hardened nipples until she moaned with pleasure. He could almost feel her twisting against him, begging for his mouth to take the place of his hands. His own body tightened painfully. It he hadn't looked away, he was in danger of breaking his vow to keep their union based on strictly legal terms.

Still, he was powerless to resist the sight of his bride–at that moment he reveled in thinking of her in those terms. She was prepared for him. Beautifully so.

"You look beautiful today." He found himself blurting out his thoughts.

"Beauty is what you feel not what you see." She replied haughtily.

Jasmine felt more heat from him than from the blaze. Cristiano threw a log on the fire. The muscles in his broad back flexed as he grabbed another log and tossed it in the burning flames. He crouched on the floor as he studied the fire for a moment before rising.

"You'd better take off that dress." He spoke, nodding at her figure. "Before you fall ill."

She shivered at the open invitation. It was wet and heavier since the rain absorbed through the expensive material.

"Where is the bedroom?" She asked, standing and bunching the damp material in her hands so she'd avoid tripping over it.

"Come, I will show you."

Cristiano turned and led her to the room as she reluctantly followed. They passed a hallway with multiple doors. The house, although old on the outside, the inside had the opposite look. It was modern yet cultured at the same time. The floor was tiled, the doors perfectly painted white. The floor boards were broad, lining the floor. The ceiling was high and arched. The paint was a soft beige with floral paintings hanging on the walls.

He stops at a set of double door, opened them and stood aside so she could enter first. "After you."

Jasmine passed him, slowly entering the large bright room. A large king sized bed stood against a wall. It was majestic with its large posts, covered in a heavily embroidered duvet that looked stolen out of a history book. Another fireplace was against the wall with a single plush chair facing it. Shelves of hard bound books were set on either side.

Did he read? She wondered as she listened to him close the doors quietly and faced him.

"I will need privacy." She reminded him, gesturing to her dress.

"I'll take a shower. . ." He suggested, nodding to the en-suite bathroom she never noticed. "As you undress. You will find all the clothing you need in the closet." Gesturing to another door on the opposite wall. "Robes, nightgowns. . ."

Jasmine huffed in annoyance. "I need to shower too."

"Join me." He challenged with a smirk, his gaze making a heated perusal of her body.

"Nice try." She replied, shaking her head in displeasure. "Is there no other room I can use? I'm not particularly eager to share a room not to mention a bed with you."

"I'm afraid not. There's only one."

He slid his tie from his neck and began unfastening his stiff collar and the rest of the buttons of his shirt while keeping his heated stare on her. He moved slowly, letting her see each shift of his fingers. There was an arrogance about the way he was moving, the set of his shoulders, the challenge in his eyes almost showing her that he knew she didn't have a choice.

He walked towards her purposefully, almost stalking her as he came closer and closer. And then he walked past her and she heard the water turn on.

Jasmine let out a sigh of relief. She sat down on the bed and fell backwards and stared at the ceiling, realizing she was lying on his bed. But she was too drained to care as she gazed unseeingly above her. Her entire body was shaking in anxiety. What's next? She thought. Every minute of the day was now controlled by him. They were glued by the hip and that meant she couldn't try another escape attempt.

She turned her head, looking at the pillows. Which side did he sleep on? It didn't matter–they were not sharing a bed. She touched the pillows, skimming her fingertips over the top when she heard the water shut off.

She dashed over to the fireplace instead, sitting in the chair, looking blankly on the shelves of hard bound books. She heard water again, seeing Cristiano in only a towel now that she had a better view of the inside of the bathroom since he hadn't bothered to close the door. He was brushing his teeth.

He came out of the bathroom–hair damp, drops of water clinging to his shoulders and naked chest. Her chest felt too tight, her dress felt too tight, her body sensitive and open. She could see his erection under the towel, heavy and huge, pressed flat against his stomach.

She quickly looked away and bit her lip, her anxiety skyrocketing through the roof.

"Do you need help undressing?" He asks, in a raspy voice.

Her breath was overly loud in her ears, the room totally quiet. She could smell him, soap and shampoo. The humidity of his shower warming the air and making a warm flush spread over her skin.

"Well?" He prompted.

Jasmine gulped heavily and still couldn't look at him. In all honesty, she did need assistance reaching the zipper in the middle of her back. But she didn't like the desire she sensed in his voice. It matched the hard-on concealed by the towel.

"I can manage." She lied, standing, ready to pass him without sparring his near naked body a glance.

"Let me assist you. I promise to behave as a gentleman." He insisted, grasping her arm.

The close heat of his body pushed against her chilled skin as she stiffened. At least he didn't use the, I've seen you naked before, line which relieved her. He could have made her uncomfortable and reminded her but he choose his words carefully. Although she wanted him nowhere near her, especially touching her so intimately, there was no other choice but have him do it.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He turned, facing her back, his touch light on her back, and she flinched, as he fumbled around to locate the zipper that kept her encompassed in the dress. Jasmine was still and stiff as a board while he found the zipper and slowly released her. The sound was sensual as she felt herself be freed of the constraints of the material.

She trembled as he reached the end and completing the task. The fabric slightly slipped from her shoulders and her arms automatically crossed over her chest to keep it from slipping. She felt his hands hover, as if he was fighting the urge to touch her, to press her against his chest and kiss her shoulders once again.

Feeling feverish, Jasmine could not make herself stand still, as she stepped away from his close proximity.

"Thank you." She mumbled and made a quick escape stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

She sagged against it and closed her eyes in relief. A slight mist lingered in the air from his quick shower and it smelled of him. His personal scent–all man.

His footsteps could be heard as he moved around the room, Jasmine listening carefully as she rightened her posture and as discreetly as possible, clicked the lock on the door just in case he walked though uninvited. Satisfied her privacy was assured, she allowed the wedding gown to pool at her feet and stepped out of it. Approaching the mirror, still damp, she began removing the pins from her hair and releasing the veil, placing it on the counter. Running her fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp, she rummaged through the drawers in search of a clip or band to capture her hair. Finding nothing of the kind except toiletries, she found a shower cap and stuffed her hair inside so it wouldn't get wet from her shower.

Unclasping her bra and shimming out of her panties, she approached the tiled shower made of brown marble and turned the lever for the hot water. Testing the temperature, she went in feeling the water rush over body and kneading the muscles in her back to ease the tension still there.

Though she would have liked to stand under the shower all day, Jasmine forced herself to remember she wasn't in the house alone. After ten minutes she felt fresh and clean, stepping out of the shower and toweling herself dry, she wrapped a big plush white towel around her body. Tiptoeing to the door, she plastered her ear against it, listening for any movements or sounds coming from the other room. After a few seconds, hoping Cristiano hadn't lingered, she unlocked the door and turned the knob, cracking the door open barely an inch.

The bed was empty and so was the chair. The entire room was free of his presence, thank goodness. It was bad judgment on her part for not bringing in a change of clothes before she went in. But she was too overwhelmed to even think straight.

Darting quickly into the closet, she found the light switch and stared at a row of men's and women's clothing neatly piled in shelves or hanging. Closing the door softly, she approached the side with women's clothing and reached to open a drawer in hopes to find a bra and panties. After the third try, she found what she was looking for and slipped into a white bra that was exactly in her size and a pair of matching underwear. Snatching a long sleeved blouse and pulling it over her head from the shelf, she unhooked a pair of beige slacks and quickly yanked them on and finished her outfit with black pumps.

Inspecting herself in the large mirror against the wall, she ruffled her hair still curled to perfection as it fell down in waves around her shoulders and down her back. A bag full of make-up products stood in the corner beside the mirror and she decided to apply some blush, mascara and soft pink lipstick to give her pale face some color to soften her features.

What should she do next? Go out there and pretend everything was alright? Make believe she was living in happiness and blessed matrimony? Maybe she should have just put on a nightgown and went to bed. But she was too apprehensive thinking about how they were to share the same sleeping space let alone a king size bed.

A clawing, desperate urge to be free and escape this whole awful situation grew inside her. She had to get away from him. He could pretend and play house with her for days but it wouldn't change the fact she was still his prisoner and he was still her enemy. They were from completely different worlds. For one crazy moment, she wished he would grow a conscious and realize what he was doing. The mistakes he was making before they piled up and exploded in their faces. There would be no going back. No saving any of them if he didn't wake up.

She only feared she was never going to get out of the crossfire without getting hurt even more. Things were drastically escalating and she was afraid if she kept pushing hard enough, it was all going to turn from bad to worse in one disastrous moment neither of them would be able to rise back from.

With her mind made, Jasmine left the dressing room and went down the hall, flickering light switches as she moved.

It was dark outside now. The day gone.

The scent of food hit her before she reached the dining room. Her eyes widened in surprise as she stepped into the room.

A beautiful candlelight dinner was set with two place settings. She spotted Cristiano sitting there, waiting for her as he took a sip of wine. When he saw her his eyes widened. He slowly looked her up and down.

"Very American." He complemented with a smile

Jasmine didn't smile back.

What'd he expect? A virgin bride in a virginal gown? Jasmine internally scoffed. If he were truly her husband she would have surprised him with something sexier than a gown. Perhaps it was time for her to torture him.

"You're just in time. The palace staff just delivered dinner–a wedding feast of sorts."

"If you were truly my husband," She began, with a lifted eyebrow. "I would have worn something more provocative, more alluring, more seductive."

A muscle tightened in his jaw. His gaze seemed shocked as it traveled slowly over her once more. She bet everything she had he was imagining her in something sexy. Let him suffer, she thought. She didn't realize how powerful lust could be. Perhaps she could have a little fun at his expense and torture him more.

"You look beautiful in anything, and better yet, nothing at all."

His voice sounded strangled.

Rising, he pulled out a chair for her. "Please sit."

Jasmine sat down carefully and exhaled. To her relief, Cristiano sat across the table from her.

Jasmine looked at pesto salmon salad, escalope, couscous, fresh fruit and crusty bread. It looked simple but delicious.

Their eyes locked, and she felt a flutter in her belly. Suddenly unable to meet his eyes, she dropped her own to the empty plate before her. Even across the table he felt too close. And too good-looking. Even in his casual attire of slacks and long-sleeve shirt, he looked sophisticated and powerful.

His dark eyes burned into her. His gaze traced downward, from her face to her slender neck. Although she didn't look up, she felt the heavy weight of his stare. Her full breasts tingled in the tight black blouse she wore, the lace clung tightly to her chest and waist. She downplayed his attention and began helping herself to the selection displayed in front of her and soon found her plate filled.

In spite of her best efforts, she was a quiver of nerves. She had no experience at being a tease. Perhaps she can use it to her advantage.

"Yasmina."

Jasmine looked up at his ruggedly handsome face and forced herself to swallow her food without chewing.

"How is everything?" He asks, catching her off guard.

Although she knew he was trying to make small talk and she had to be honest. "It's exquisite. How long will we be staying here?"

"Two to three days." He replied, taking a bite of food.

"I want Sammy placed in a room. Immediately." She declared, dabbing the sides of her mouth softly with a napkin, talking in a calm reassurance that befitted her new title.

Jasmine was still hellbent on helping Sammy. Much of the discomfort and turmoil burning her from the inside out was knowing he was suffering. And if she had any influence with Cristiano, she had to continue trying to help her dear friend.

The brief cold smile on his face made her shiver. He stared at her for a long time. She watched the flicking shadows from the candles move like fire against his taunt jaw as he took a slow sip of his red wine.

"I will grant your wish–In exchange for a kiss."