Читать книгу Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal - Catherine Spencer - Страница 8

“WHERE are we going?”

“Away from a confrontation grown too painful for all of us.”

Callie’s rational mind cautioned her not to trust every word that came out of Paolo’s mouth, nor blindly follow where he led, just on his say-so. He might be a much more admirable man than he’d once been, but he was still a Rainero and, not five minutes ago, had admitted his first loyalty lay with his family. But the sure clasp of his fingers around hers warmed her soul; the compassion and, yes, the tenderness in his voice, soothed her battered spirit. In a house suddenly filled with such a wealth of enmity and mistrust, he was her only friend, because even Lidia must have lost sympathy for her now.

Taking her hand, Paolo led her out of a side entrance and along a path to a miniature two-story villa, some fifty feet removed from the main house, and hidden from it by a high hedge of flowering shrubs. Lights showed behind the draperies at the upper windows.

“Who lives here?”

“Jolanda and her husband.”

“We’re visiting them?”

“No. The night is mild. We’ll take adrive around the island.”

“I didn’t know there were any roads here. I’ve only ever seen the helicopter pad and the boat dock.” Not that Callie in fact cared, one way or the other, but it was easier to focus on the insignificant than dwell on the scene they’d left behind: Lidia weeping and distraught, and Salvatore almost foaming at the mouth with rage and hatred.

“Hardly roads,” Paolo said, sliding back a huge metal door on the main floor of the housekeeper’s quarters, to reveal a late model Jeep parked inside a garage that also served as a handyman’s workshop. “More like dirt tracks which can be accessed only by a four-wheel-drive vehicle like this, especially during the winter rains. Rather basic transportation, I’m afraid,” he commented dryly, helping her climb into the passenger seat, “but it’s the best I have to offer.”

“Basic” was too kind a description. Once clear of the welltended grounds of the villa, the Jeep bucked and jolted over the rocky terrain, sometimes veering frighteningly close to the edge of the cliff. Yet rather than fearing for her life, Callie felt safer and more comfortable than she had, back in the luxury of the villa. At twenty-four, Paolo had driven his low-slung luxury sports car like a maniac bent on self-destruction, but he handled the Jeep with masterful skill, and her pulse, which had raced erratically during the showdown with Salvatore, gradually settled back to normal.

“Thanks for rescuing me from your father’s wrath,” she ventured, the knots in her neck and shoulders lessening. “For a moment there, I thought he was actually going to hit me.”

“My father would never strike a woman, Caroline.”

“You could have fooled me. He was out of control.”

Paolo debated her statement for a moment, then conceded grudgingly, “Sadly, I must agree with you. He hasn’t been himself since we learned of the accident. But even if he’d so far forgotten himself that he’d attempted to touch you, I would have prevented it, even if it meant physically restraining him.”

At that, a comforting warmth stole through Callie. Paolo was a big, strong man, but so was Salvatore. Restraining him would not have been easy. “You’d have fought your father? For me?”

“I would fight any man threatening a woman,” Paolo replied flatly. “But if you’re asking me if I would embark on such a course lightly with my father, be assured I’d do so only as a last resort. A better solution by far was to defuse the situation by removing you.”

“Why? Because I dared to tell him things he didn’t want to hear?”

“Because it’s not good for him to become so disturbed. His heart cannot take such stress. But seeing my mother hurt and suffering is never easy for him.”

“I’m truly sorry I upset her. She’s a remarkable, lovely woman, and it hurts me to know that I hurt her. But don’t ask me to feel sorry for your father, Paolo. He’s nothing but a bully when someone dares voice an opinion that doesn’t coincide with his, especially if that someone happens to be a woman—and a Leighton, to boot.”

“And again, I apologize for his behavior. He should not have treated you as he did.”

“I don’t want your apology, nor his, either,” she said wearily. “All I ask is to be recognized as having the right to some say in the future of my niece and nephew.”

“I give you my word that no one will deny you that right. One way or another, I’ll find a way to keep everybody happy.”

Before she could ask him how he expected to achieve the impossible, he turned off the main track and steered the Jeep down a narrow, less traveled path which ended on a small promontory overlooking the Adriatic.

“This last week has taken a toll on all of us,” he said, bringing the vehicle to a stop on the lip of the cliff. “We’re each dealing with grief in our own way, and liable to speak hasty words we immediately regret. My father’s certainly guilty of that.”

Shame-faced, she stared at her hands, clutched tightly in her lap. “No more than I am. I spoke out of turn. I should never have phrased my concerns in such a way that they came out as a threat.”

“You mean, you aren’t serious in wanting to take the children back to America with you?”

The moment of truth came out of the blue and left her gulping back a sob. “Oh, Paolo, I’d be lying if I said it’s not what I’ve hoped for. But the more I see of them, the more I realize it’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s best for them. And I’m no longer sure I have the answer to that.”

“Perhaps none of us has,” he said quietly, “which is why I brought you here. Sometimes, focusing on something else, even if it’s only for a short time, helps restore our perspective and lead us to solutions we might never otherwise have considered.”

“I wish I shared your optimism.”

“There’s no reason you can’t, if you put your mind to it. Please, cara, try for a little while to forget about what the future holds, and simply enjoy this moment.” He stabbed a finger at the Jeep’s windshield. “Look out there, and tell me, did you ever see such a night?”

In truth, it was spectacular. Although the grounds of the villa were lushly planted with all kinds of tropical trees and flowers, there was little vegetation native to the island. By the light of the moon, hanging full and round and yellow just above the horizon, the bare landscape assumed an austere beauty that was almost ghostly.

Paolo leaned both arms on the steering wheel and gazed across the moon-dappled water. “Tell me about your life over the last nine years, Caroline. My mother has mentioned how very excited you were about attending Smith College, and that you spoke of it often, when you were here for the wedding. What made you decide against it?”

You did, she could have told him. Because of you, all my dreams turned into nightmares…

“You might as well take it off,” he’d said, lifting one corner of her mangled maid-of-honor gown. “It’s past saving.”

An unforgiving sliver of moonlight confirmed his assessment. The full, filmy skirt sagging disastrously where it had torn away from the bodice, and the smear of blood near the hem, indicated she’d done a lot more than take an innocent stroll in the garden.

“And wear what?” she cried, appalled at the thought of having to account for how she’d managed to ruin a dress that had cost a small fortune, never mind everything else she’d done.

“Nothing, of course. We’re going swimming.”

“In the nude?” More rattled by the minute, she stared at him. “Someone might see us!”

“I doubt that will happen, but what if it did?” he returned carelessly. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

No, he wouldn’t. The way he peeled off the rest of his clothes until he stood before her as naked as the day he was born, was proof enough of that. And the way she stared, as if she couldn’t get her fill of him, was nothing short of shameful.

“Well? Are you coming with me?” he said, standing straight and tall as a Roman god. “Or would you prefer to go back to the reception, looking like something washed up on the beach by the tide?”

Heaven help her, but at the sight of him, so beautifully male, so gloriously virile, that same prickling, giddy excitement swept over her afresh, and all she wanted was to go with him again down the illicit path of sexual discovery. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about looking her mother in the eye, about offering explanations for behavior that was inexcusable. Tonight was made for first love.

Her white kid shoes, satin panties and fine lace stockings already lay heaped on the cabana floor. Before she lost her nerve, she took off everything else and, worshiping him with her eyes, murmured breathlessly, “Of course I’m coming with you.”

Watching her strip had aroused him. Touching himself, he fastened his gaze on her small, high breasts, then let it dip to the shadow at the juncture of her thighs. And again, that wicked rush of heat left her damp and molten, and aching for something just beyond her frame of experience.

He stepped close enough for his penis to nudge gently against her. “That’s more like it,” he murmured huskily, rolling her nipple gently between his forefinger and thumb.

A quiver puckered her flesh and brought it to a vibrant, electric life that left her entire body yearning ever more desperately for that elusive “something.” She would have collapsed on the wooden floor and dragged him down on top of her, if he’d let her. But he backed away, teasing her with a smile, and catching her hand in his, ran with her across the sand to the water.

Once there, he dragged her, laughing, into the waves until they swirled around his chest. Only then did he pull her close and kiss her, tangling his fingers in her hair and driving his tongue deep into her mouth. Exhilarated, she returned his advances. His teeth were smooth, his lips warm, his tongue bold and hard, just like his erection.

She wound her arms around his neck, let her legs float up to encircle his waist. He slid his hands beneath her bottom, and with one finger, found the tiny bud of flesh hidden between the plump folds at her center.

It sprang to life like a wild thing, urgent and hungry for a satisfaction only he knew how to provide. Another slick, quick stroke from his clever finger, a little pressure in just the right place, and a lightning bolt shot through her.

“Oh…!” she gasped, and buried her face against his neck.

“Si, bella…now it begins for you,” he murmured, and touched her again, more insistently.

This time, a hidden coil sprang free in a backlash of sensation so wicked that she’d have leaped clear of the water had he not locked his arm around her so firmly. A helpless moan, borne deep within her, escaped her lips and hung in the still night.

“E ancora,” he urged, tormenting her a third time…a fourth…a fifth, until, at last, her body responded with the elemental might of a sleeping volcano awakened at last.

She tensed, clenched her eyes shut, and sucked in a drowning, desperate breath as a wave of tremors, each more powerful than the last, gave way to an onslaught of earthshattering spasms. Then the world as she’d known it exploded on her soft, high scream.

“I didn’t know!” she breathed, long minutes later. “I had no idea…!”

“You do now, Caroline,” he said, droplets of water running over his shoulders, and the heat of passion in his voice. “So let us proceed to the next phase of your education.”

There was no question of returning to the villa after that. They didn’t even make it back to the cabana. Right there, under the stars, with the warm Adriatic curling around them, they came together in a wild tangling of limbs and lips; of hands and tongues and fractured breathing.

To have him fill her completely, and know that they were joined not just in body, but in mind and heart as well, was surely the next best thing to heaven. “Oh, Paolo!” she whispered when, panting and depleted, they staggered ashore together. “You’re a wonderful teacher!”

“And you, an exemplary student.”

She turned her head and looked back along the beach. The faint sound of music drifted on the air. Just beyond the limestone outcropping, a rocket shot into the sky and cascaded back to earth in a free-fall of brilliant stars.

Fireworks, she realized. The wedding celebrations continued unabated, not in the least diminished by the absence of the best man and maid-of-honor. “I don’t want to go back there tonight,” she told him.

“Nor shall you,” he replied. “There are showers in the cabana, and a supply of towels. We will stay there until the villa is asleep, and return before it awakes at dawn.”

They bathed together, a playful, happy experience, laced with the promise of greater intimacy to come. Later, when she lay on a bed of thick white towels, he parted her legs and put his mouth on her. Stroked her with his tongue. And after her initial shocked reaction, she reveled in the forbidden pleasure he gave, awash in wonder at the sensuality she’d never guessed was hers to enjoy.

If their first time together had been embarrassing, and the second amazing, the third offered an unequivocal taste of sheer paradise, such that, when he collapsed on top of her, spent, she couldn’t help herself. “I love you, Paolo!” she gasped brokenly. They were the only words to describe the depth of emotion rolling over her.

For the longest time, he didn’t reply. Seemed unable to look at her, even. When he finally spoke, it was to say with calculated indifference, “It grows late, tesoro, and you are tired. We should sleep for a few hours. Regain our strength for yet another pleasurable encounter.”

When he awoke, though, just as the sun crept over the sea, Paolo was no more interested in making love to her than he was to remain cooped up on the island a second longer than he had to.

“We had fun, yes?” he said, climbing in to his clothes. “But the wedding fever is over, and it’s back to life as usual. For you, that means returning to America and your fine university.”

“Don’t you believe in marriage, Paolo?”

“For some people, perhaps.”

His shrug spoke volumes. But she was a devil for punishment, and couldn’t let go gracefully. “But not for you?”

“The world is full of beautiful women, Caroline,” he said cheerfully. “How can I be expected to choose just one?”

“Do you even believe in love?”

“But of course! I love women—all women.” He smiled his charming, devil-may-care smile. “I am Italian. I love love!”

She tried to smile back, and started to cry instead as all her hopes went up in smoke. “I thought I was special, but I’m just the latest in a long line of willing conquests, aren’t I?”

“Don’t do this, cara,” he said, rolling his magnificent brown eyes. “Don’t spoil our glorious time together with tears and recriminations.”

“I suppose I should be flattered you spared me one whole night. Silly me, to have thought it was the beginning of something lasting, something b…beautiful!”

“Ah, Caroline…!” Briefly he touched her face and let his fingers linger almost regretfully at her mouth, before stepping firmly away. “You see your world through rose-colored spectacles, cara mia, whereas I learned long ago that mine is painted in ugly shades of gray.”

If she hadn’t known then that she meant nothing to him, he drove the point home a few days later. On the Thursday before they were to fly back to the U.S., Callie and her mother stayed overnight in Rome, with the Raineros. The next morning, just as they stepped out to the street where a taxi waited to take them to the airport, Paolo drove up in a fire-red Ferrari.

He had a woman with him; a sultry, voluptuous, darkhaired beauty in a skimpy top and a thigh-high skirt, who sat so close beside him that she was practically in his lap. But when he went to kiss her, she laughed, pulled away and rolled her tongue provocatively over her full, red upper lip.

Suddenly Callie saw herself through his eyes—a pathetically naive girl with a bad case of puppy love. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to continue their affair. He liked his women sophisticated, sure of themselves and elusive. The more difficult the chase, the better he liked it.

She was so far out of her league, it was laughable. Rather than being the object of his desire, she’d been an amusing bit player. Someone to laugh about with his male friends. A convenient and willing body to keep him entertained until a better prospect showed up.

If only it could have ended then, with her humiliation complete, her heart in pieces, but her future, at least, intact. But he was not to be so easily dismissed. A month later, she discovered she was pregnant, and all that bright and shining opportunity she’d thought was hers for the taking, lay in shambles.

There would be no Smith College, no graduation summa cum laude. She had let down all the people who believed in her: her mother, who’d been so proud of her scholastic achievements; the board of governors at her private school, who’d awarded her their highest scholarship prize; her headmistress, who’d written such a glowing letter of recommendation to the college on her behalf.

And Vanessa.

“You’re what?” she exclaimed, after Callie confided in her sister. Their mother was away at the time, visiting a cousin in Florida, but Vanessa and Ermanno were in New York on the first leg of their year-long honeymoon-cum-business tour, and drove up to spend the weekend with Callie, who’d stayed home. “Good grief, Callie, I didn’t know you were seeing somebody. Have you told Mom?”

“No. I found out just before she left for Florida. She’d have canceled the trip if she’d known.”

Still reeling, Vanessa said, “I can’t believe it! You always claimed you didn’t have time for a steady boyfriend. When…who?”

It had taken all Callie’s courage to mumble, “Your brother-in-law. The day you got married.”

“Paolo?” Vanessa clapped a hand to her mouth, aghast. “My God, Ermanno will kill him!”

“Ermanno can’t know. Don’t tell him, please!” Callie begged.

But Vanessa stood firm. “I’m not keeping a secret like this from my husband. He has a right to know.”

Outraged when he heard, Ermanno’s first reaction was that he’d see to it Paolo did the honorable thing and married Callie.

She flatly refused to consider the idea. “I’m not compounding one grievous mistake with another. Marriage is out of the question, even if you could drag Paolo to the altar, which I highly doubt.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Ermanno said, after a moment’s reflection. “The last thing you need is a husband incapable of fidelity. We must find another solution, one which will keep this shameful secret from my father. It would destroy him, to learn that his favorite son has disgraced our family in such a way.”

He spoke without rancor, and when Callie remarked on it, shrugged philosophically and said, “I accepted long ago that, in my father’s eyes, Paolo is the golden boy who can do no wrong. I’m not saying my father doesn’t love me, too, but my brother…it’s different with him, and that’s just the way it is.”

“Your father sometimes doesn’t use the sense he was born with,” Vanessa declared, planting a loving kiss on her husband’s cheek. “But I, thank goodness, do!” Then, turning to Callie, she said, “We’ll figure out a way to help you, honey. I take it you’ve seen a doctor?”

“Yes. He pointed out my choices—abortion, adoption or keeping the baby.”

“And?” Vanessa eyed her anxiously.

“I can’t terminate the pregnancy. I couldn’t live with myself, if I did.”

Visibly relieved, her sister asked, “What about adoption?”

“Oh, Vanessa!” Callie’s eyes overflowed again. “I don’t think I could go through with that, either. Giving my baby away to strangers—” She stopped to mop her tears. “I’m so ashamed. How am I ever going to face Mom.”

“Never mind the shame,” Vanessa declared. “The point is, pregnancy isn’t something you can keep secret for very long. Soon, everyone will know, including Mom.”

“No! I could move away. Get a job. Save my money—”

“There is no need to worry about money,” Ermanno said quietly. “That is one thing I can do something about.”

“And you have to tell Mom, Callie. She’ll be shocked, of course, but you know she’ll stand by you. Maybe, with her help, you’ll be able to keep the baby.”

“I don’t think I can stand to see the disappointment in her eyes,” Callie said miserably.

As it turned out, she didn’t have to. Tragically, on the drive home from Florida, their mother was killed in a headon collision in North Carolina. She never knew she was about to become a grandmother.

The hot splash of tears on her face drew Callie back to the present—that, and Paolo’s voice, low and concerned, observing, “What did I say to make you cry, Caroline?”

“You asked me why I didn’t go to Smith,” she said, swiping her fingers over her cheeks. “If you must know, it was because of my mother’s death.”

How plausibly the lie rolled off her tongue! Accepting it without hesitation, he said, “Ah, yes! I remember now that she died not long after Ermanno married Vanessa.”

“That same summer. My father left us when I was six and Vanessa eleven, so for most of my life it had been just my mother, my sister and I. Then, in the space of two months, I was alone.”

Except for your babies, of course!

That had been the next shock to hit her.

“Definitely twins,” the obstetrician to whom her doctor referred her had declared confidently. “Two for the price of one, young lady. You’re going to have to take very good care of yourself for the next five months. We don’t want a premature delivery.”

Oh, the blistering shame, to be the youngest daughter of the late, respected Audrey Leighton, president of the Junior League, pillar of society. To be pregnant and unmarried—with twins. Oh, God! Oh, God!

“You weren’t really alone. You still had your sister, and Ermanno, too.”

Oh, yes. More than you can begin to know! “I seldom saw them. They were traveling all over the world for the better part of a year.”

“So they were—until Vanessa was put on bed rest because of her pregnancy. They stayed in California then, until after the twins were born, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” she said, with guilelessly misleading honesty.

“And you were there for the birth?”

Callie stared fixedly at the moonlit sea, hating that she had to mouth another lie, albeit by omission. “Yes.”

“My mother planned to be there, also, but the babies came almost a month earlier than expected.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Actually only ten days early, thanks to the excellent care Callie had received. But Vanessa and Ermanno had planned their story carefully, to avoid just such a situation as Paolo described.

He shifted in his seat and then, shockingly, stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “Ah, Caroline,” he said softly. “I see how it hurts you, that you were there to welcome the children into the world, and yet could not be here, to see them grow up.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she cried, scrunching her eyes shut against the painful images forcing their way to the forefront of her mind.

To give birth, to hold her babies close to her heart and smell their sweet, newborn smell—and then, ten days later, to let them go? There were no words to describe the emptiness, the agony.

Even after all this time, the picture remained as painfully sharp as if it had happened just yesterday: Vanessa, wearing a yellow dress and matching jacket, Ermanno in a pale gray suit, and each of them holding a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft white blanket.

You know we couldn’t love them more, if they were our very own, Callie.

Never fear that they will want for anything, Caroline. They will have the best that money can buy.

Before stepping into the waiting limousine, Vanessa turned one last time to Callie. We’ll give them brothers and sisters. They’ll be part of a big, loving family—and so will you, Callie. You’ll be their darling aunt.

But the other children never materialized. Vanessa had been unable to conceive. Oh, Callie! she had wept. If it weren’t for you, I’d never have known the joy of being a mother. Thank you so much, darling, for the gift you gave us.

“Then tell me all of it,” Paolo urged. “Tell me what it is that haunts you with such sorrow.”

“My sister died last week,” she said, choking back a sob. “Isn’t that enough?”

Sliding his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close and cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “There’s more,” he insisted. “I hear it in your voice. I see it in your eyes. What is it you’re holding back? Please, Caroline, let me help you.”

“You?” Her laugh verged on the hysterical. “I hardly think so!”

“Why? Because, the first time I held you in my arms, I was too foolish to realize your true worth?” He expelled a huge sigh of frustration. “That was a long time ago, cara. Trust me when I tell you, I’ve changed for the better since then.”

Temptation nibbled at the edges of her resolve. Quickly, before it gained too powerful a hold, she replied, “Easy for you to say, Paolo, but where’s the proof?”

“Here.” He tapped a fist to his chest. “I admit that when I met you in Paris, I viewed you as a threat to my family, and was prepared to squash you flat at the first hint of sabotage. But I’ve watched you, this last week. I’ve seen your kindness to my mother, the way you sit with her and try to comfort her when your own heart is also breaking. I’ve seen how patient you are with the children, how loving, even though, more often than not, they rebuff your overtures.”

His hand strayed down her throat, stole around her neck. “If it were within your power to do so, I believe you would change places with Vanessa, just to give them back their mother. Yet something more than that is eating you alive. I know it, and it worries me, even as my heart tells me you’re incapable of sinister motives.”

“My heart hears your words and wants to believe them,” she countered tremulously, “but my head tells me actions are what count.”

“Then let your head be the best judge of this,” he said, and before she could guess his intent, let alone utter a protest, his mouth came down on hers and fastened there in a burst of heat that set her blood on fire.