Читать книгу The Mills & Boon Stars Collection - Мишель Смарт, Cathy Williams - Страница 16
ОглавлениеCARLOTTA WAS ANXIOUSLY rocking Nicky in her arms. His little face was scarlet with tears and he was sobbing noisily.
‘He doesn’t like being rocked when he’s upset,’ Jemima told the brunette in an apologetic tone, thinking that it would have made more sense if she had been given the opportunity to consult with the nanny before the other woman started taking care of Nicky.
A voice spoke up in Italian from the doorway and Carlotta gave Jemima a frowning look of surprise before turning rather abruptly to hand Nicky over to her. Although conscious that Luciano was present and had acted as an interpreter, Jemima ignored him and concentrated on his son. Nicky went rigid as he was passed over and then sagged against her, shoving his face into the curve of her neck and whimpering.
‘He has nightmares. He’s frightened when he wakes up. He only needs to be soothed,’ Jemima declared, walking the floor of the elaborately decorated room with Nicky cradled in her arms. She was still alarmingly conscious of the ache at the heart of her body and hot pink flushed her cheeks as she buried her face in Nicky’s tumbled curls, revelling in the clean baby scent of innocence. With a heavy sigh she sank down into the rocking chair beside the cot.
Luciano had paused long enough to grab up a shirt and don it on his way to the nursery, but nobody seeing his bare feet and rumpled damp hair could doubt that he had recently undressed only to get dressed again in a hurry. Naked below her sensible dressing gown, Jemima could feel her face burning as if she were on fire. Their mutual state of undress was noticeable and embarrassing. She didn’t want anyone to know or guess that she had slept with Luciano. That was her private disgrace and not for public sharing. Carlotta, however, simply smiled at Jemima, clearly relieved that the baby had calmed down.
His son’s sobs had subsided almost immediately, Luciano registered without surprise while he watched. The baby’s fingers clutched convulsively at Jemima for reassurance. Niccolò had missed her. Obviously he had missed her. How much of the little boy’s misery had been caused by the sudden change in his routine and surroundings and the equally sudden absence of the one person he trusted? Luciano paled beneath his dark skin, shaken by the reality that he had set down rules that could well have hurt his son and caused him unnecessary suffering. He had instructed Carlotta to deal with the baby alone and to involve Jemima as little as possible in his care.
But how could he love his son and yet deny the child the one person whom he so clearly loved and wanted? Shame writhed inside Luciano, a reaction he had not experienced in more years than he cared to count. He watched her smooth the baby’s head with a tender hand and read the softness in her eyes.
‘He knows his mother,’ Carlotta said quietly in Italian to her employer.
It seemed a terrible irony to Luciano at that moment that Jemima was not his son’s mother because the boy was deeply attached to her and she was equally attached to him. He realised he needed to talk to his lawyer to find out exactly what kind of woman Jemima Barber was. How could he trust his own instincts now? Nor could he have any faith in what Jemima’s version of the truth might be. Anyone determined to speak up in defence of Julie Marshall would have failed to inspire Luciano with confidence.
As he stepped unconsciously closer to the woman in the rocking chair Nicky lifted his head off Jemima’s shoulder and stared at Luciano with wide dark eyes. And then he smiled with sudden brilliance, freezing his father to the spot in shock for it was the very first positive response Luciano had received from his son. It was significant too that the child had smiled only when he was secure in Jemima’s presence, he acknowledged ruefully.
Resting his head back down drowsily again, Nicky fell asleep. Getting to her feet, Jemima lowered him with care into the cot, straightened his sleep suit and covered him up gently. ‘He should sleep the rest of the night now,’ she whispered.
Luciano stared down at his slumbering son, then glanced up again and noticed that Jemima was deliberately avoiding looking at him. Annoyance skimmed along the edges of his sensitised awareness as they left the room. She tried to step past him out in the corridor but he rested a staying hand on her arm.
‘Jemima...we—’
‘I’m really hungry,’ Jemima proclaimed in a rush, jerking her arm back out of reach and addressing his shirt-clad chest. ‘Would it be too much trouble for me to have something to eat in my room? Even a sandwich and a cup of tea would do.’
‘Put on something in your new wardrobe and come downstairs to join me for dinner instead,’ Luciano suggested, falling into step beside her as she walked down the corridor.
Her facial muscles clenched tight. ‘Thanks but no, thanks... I’m not in a very sociable mood.’
As she descended the stairs she saw a huge portrait of an exquisite brunette on the landing and, already regretting her tart reply to his invitation, she said in an effort to break the pounding silence, ‘My goodness, who’s that?’
‘My mother, Ambra. It was painted shortly before she married my father. She probably never smiled like that again,’ Luciano breathed harshly.
His intonation made Jemima wince. ‘When did she die?’
‘When I was three years old,’ Luciano admitted between gritted teeth, fighting off his terrible memories with all his might.
‘Did your father remarry?’
‘No.’
Jemima was already scolding herself for surrendering to her low mood and turning down the dinner invite. She had allowed Luciano to believe that she was the surrogate mother of his son and had used that pretence as a means of staying in Nicky’s life. Was it any wonder that he despised her? Or that he had assumed that she was like her sister and after his money? Julie had worshipped rich men and money. Yet no matter how much money Julie had had it had never been enough and money had trickled through her fingers like water.
‘We’ll talk over breakfast in the morning,’ Luciano breathed in a driven undertone as he came to a halt outside his bedroom door, which was mere feet from hers.
‘I shouldn’t have lied to you,’ Jemima began, and then an unfamiliar stab of angry bitterness powered through her regret and she added, ‘But you had no right to insult me by suggesting that I would use sex as a means of making money!’
Luciano ground his teeth together and watched her long, unbound mane of golden hair slide off her shoulders and fall almost to her waist as she moved her head. He wanted to run his fingers through that glossy golden hair so badly that he clenched his hand into a fist to restrain himself. So, he liked the long hair? OK, he really, really liked the long hair, particularly now that he suspected it was one hundred per cent natural. He also liked her body...and her eyes...and... With a huge effort he focused on what she had said and murmured grimly, ‘I’ve met a lot of women who sell sex like a product.’
Jemima was so shocked by that blunt admission that she turned up her head to stare at him, ice-blue eyes visibly dismayed. ‘Seriously?’
Teeth gritted more than ever at such naivety, Luciano nodded and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Now she was probably thinking that he consorted with hookers and he didn’t want her thinking that. What the hell does it matter what she thinks? he snarled at himself, thoroughly disconcerted by his loss of concentration and self-discipline. What was wrong with him? Had the few drinks he had imbibed in his bad mood completely addled his brain? Telling Agnese to hold dinner, he strode downstairs to call his lawyer.
Charles did a great deal of groaning and apologising during the lengthy exchange that followed. Nothing about the situation was quite as anyone had assumed or as clear. Charles still couldn’t answer all his employer’s questions and reluctantly gave Luciano the phone number of his own chief informant. Breathing in deep, Luciano telephoned Jemima’s adoptive father, Benjamin Barber. And not one thing that Luciano learned in the subsequent conversation made him feel happier. Instead he came off that call marvelling at the older man’s optimistic and forgiving outlook while feeling a great deal worse about his own opinions, suspicions and activities. Knowing that the least he owed Jemima was a polite warning about what he had done, he mounted the stairs again and knocked on her bedroom door.
Half asleep after her delicious meal, Jemima rolled off the bed and lifted her tray, assuming someone was calling back to collect it. Instead she was faced with Luciano, infuriatingly immaculate again in tailored chinos and a black tee shirt. ‘Yes?’ she said discouragingly, clutching the tray and feeling horribly irritated that she had not known it would be him at her door.
He leant down and took the tray, setting it down on the table to the side of the door. ‘I have something to tell you—’
‘Can’t it wait until breakfast time?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Soft pink mouth compressed, Jemima grudgingly stood back to allow him into her room. Since she had no idea what he had to say to her, keeping him out in the corridor where their conversation could be overheard struck her as risky.
‘I spoke to your father an hour ago and we talked for quite some time.’
Transfixed by that staggering announcement, Jemima stared back at him in horror. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I phoned your father and he’s now aware that you were pretending to be your sister for my benefit,’ Luciano divulged.
‘Oh, my goodness...how could you do that?’ Jemima was aghast at the news. ‘I just can’t believe you told him!’
‘The investigators my lawyer employed had already contacted him and it made sense for me to address my questions to your father direct. He was troubled that you hadn’t told him what you were doing but he understands why you did what you did and he wants you to know that he forgives you. I had to warn you in case you were planning to phone home.’
Knees weakening, Jemima sank down on the foot of the bed and bowed her head into her raised hands. ‘I can’t believe you approached Dad... I’ve tried so hard to keep my parents out of all this!’ she exclaimed reproachfully.
‘I wanted a clearer picture of what happened and you’re too emotionally involved,’ Luciano drawled in self-defence. ‘It was...enlightening to hear the facts from your father’s point of view.’
‘I hate you!’ Jemima flung at him furiously. ‘You had no right to go snooping and interfering!’
‘I’m as trapped in the mess your sister left behind her as you are,’ Luciano contradicted coolly. ‘The legal ramifications of her having stolen your identity will take a long time to unravel. She gave birth to a child using your name. She contracted debts in your name and she broke the law using your name—’
Jemima flew upright in one tempestuous movement. ‘Do you think I don’t know all that?’
‘She took advantage of you and your parents,’ Luciano delivered grimly.
‘There’s no way my father said that!’ Jemima accused furiously.
‘Your father is a rather unworldly man and I imagine he has had little contact with the criminal element. I’m rather less innocent and much more accustomed to dealing with life’s users and abusers.’
‘Bully for you!’ Jemima snapped back childishly, marching back to her bedroom door and dragging it open in invitation. ‘Right now all I want to do is go to bed and forget you ever existed!’
Luciano lifted his hand and a forefinger flicked the full tense line of her lower lip in reproof. ‘What a little liar you can be. Without me there would be no Niccolò...and somehow I don’t think you’d give him up so easily.’
The touch of his hand against her lip made her entire skin surface tingle. Her breathing quickened and she pressed her thighs together to suppress the tiny clenching liquid sensation low in her pelvis. Her lashes swept up fully to collide with stunning dark golden eyes welded to her every move and change of expression. Her cheeks coloured, her lashes swept down and she backed away from him, furious that without even trying he could still get a physical reaction out of her.
‘Goodnight,’ she said flatly.
Luciano wanted to scoop her up and carry her back to his bed. It was pure lust, he told himself furiously, the sort of irrational, ungovernable lust that sent a man into cold showers and the depths of neurotic desire. And unlike his late and unlamented father, who had once become obsessed with a woman, Luciano was not the obsessive type. He stayed up late working and by the time he finally fell into bed he was too exhausted to do anything but sleep.
The next morning, Jemima felt more like herself and less traumatised. The truth had come out and she couldn’t hide from it. Lying had gone against her nature and weighted her conscience and she was relieved not to be pretending any more. Her parents knew. She chewed her lower lip and decided to phone home that evening, although she dreaded dealing with her father’s disappointment in her behaviour. Luciano and Nicky, however, were an even bigger challenge.
Presumably over breakfast Luciano would tell her what he wanted to do next and when she would be flying home. She had lied to him. She might have convinced herself that she had lied for her nephew’s sake but in her heart she knew she was lying to herself. In reality, she had not been able to face parting with Nicky and that had been selfish when Nicky’s father was available to take charge of his son. While she thought unhappily about her mistakes, she rooted through her suitcase, grimacing at the reality that there was really nothing in her case suitable for a hot day. At least nothing presentable, she affixed ruefully, choosing not to examine why what she wore had to be more presentable than usual when Luciano was around. After a few moments, she stalked into the dressing room and skimmed through the hanging dresses. What would he do with them after she had gone? Chuck them out? Pass them on to staff or recycling? She lifted down a fitted blue cotton sundress, plainer in style and less revealing than most of the other garments, and began to get ready.
Seated on the floor in the nursery, Nicky was happily playing with his new toys. Carlotta was friendly, addressing Jemima in broken English to let her know that he had slept well and eaten. A maid met Jemima at the foot of the stairs to show her where she was to go to join Luciano. They trekked across the vast building, mounting stairs and crossing hallways before walking down a long picture gallery that opened to an outdoor area that overlooked the sea and the shore.
The panoramic view and the sunlight blinded her and she had a split-second sizzling snapshot of Luciano, rising with fluid grace from his seat, his lean, powerful body sheathed in an exquisitely cut pale grey suit teamed with a black shirt. ‘Buon giorno,’ he murmured smoothly. ‘You look amazing.’
Jemima flushed. ‘Let’s not get carried away,’ she told him reprovingly. ‘I’m wearing this because it’s so hot and I have nothing suitable and—’
‘Rest assured I will not assume that you are wearing it either to please or attract me, piccolo mia,’ Luciano incised as drily as though he could read her mind.
Her flushed cheeks turned a solid mortified red and she averted her eyes as she dropped down hurriedly into a seat. Dishes were proffered by one manservant, beverages by another. Her attention briefly falling on the bodyguards standing several yards away, it occurred to her that Luciano lived rather like a king in a medieval court with an army of staff and everyone bowing and scraping and doing their utmost to ensure his protection and his comfort. It was an isolated lifestyle, divorced from normality, and she wondered how it would affect Nicky to grow up like a crown prince in the lap of such indescribable luxury.
From below her lashes she stole a helpless glance at Luciano. He was looking out to sea, his flawless classic profile turned to her. Her heart thumped very loudly in her ears because she was remembering his mouth, that wide, sensually skilled mouth, roaming over her and making her writhe with raw need and then the dynamic flex and flow of his lithe body over hers, driving her to the apex of excitement. Perspiration broke out on her skin and she quickly looked away from him again. No, try as she might to be sensible, she could not forget the intimacy, the first she had ever known and, much like Luciano, utterly unforgettable.
‘So, what next?’ she muttered in the pulsing silence.
Lustrous dark golden eyes ensnared hers and her breath tripped in her throat. ‘That’s what we have to decide.’
Jemima tore her eyes free and bit into her fresh fruit. He was using the royal ‘we’; she didn’t think she would have much actual input into what happened next.
‘Tell me how your sister got hold of your passport,’ he invited, startling her with that request.
‘It happened by accident. The first time we met she showed me her passport because she had worn her hair long then too, and I got out mine and we were laughing and somehow our passports got mixed up.’
‘And?’ Luciano prompted.
‘Julie only realised she had my passport when she was flying out to Italy and she travelled on it because she didn’t want to miss her flight.’
‘She lied,’ Luciano murmured without any expression at all. ‘She had already used your passport in her application to be the surrogate I hired. And the reason she lied was that she had several criminal convictions in her own name. She probably tracked you down quite deliberately. She set you up to steal your identity, Jemima. Accept that.’
Jemima paled. She was remembering laughing with her sister as they compared unflattering passport photos. ‘It was months before I found out about the...er...exchange and when I contacted her about it, she said she’d give it back when she returned from Italy.’
‘Only she never did,’ Luciano completed.
‘Obviously you think I’m very stupid,’ Jemima said tartly, burning her mouth on an unwary sip of coffee and swallowing hard, burning her throat into the bargain, tears starting into her eyes at the discomfort.
‘No, I think you were scammed. She was a practised, confident trickster and she was your sister and you didn’t want to accept the truth,’ Luciano said in a surprisingly uncritical tone. ‘I can understand ignoring the evidence and wanting to believe the best of someone close to you. It happened to me once.’
‘Oh...’ Jemima was taken aback by that admission. ‘I loved her—I felt an immediate sense of connection with her.’
‘Scammers have to be attractive to pull people in.’
Jemima concentrated her attention warily on eating.
‘Why didn’t you go to the police about your passport when she refused to give it back?’
‘I didn’t need my passport because I couldn’t afford to travel at the time...and I didn’t want to get her into trouble. For a long time she made excuses about why she wasn’t returning it and I believed her,’ she admitted with a rueful roll of her eyes.
A manservant topped up Luciano’s black coffee. He rose lithely from his seat and lounged back against the stone balustrade girding the terrace. He surveyed her with satisfaction. She was elegant as a swan in the tailored blue sundress, her hair restrained in its usual braid, only stray little golden hairs catching the slight breeze round her troubled face. She had loved and cared for her sister, contriving to mourn Julie Marshall’s passing in spite of all the damage her sibling had done. Jemima had a lot of heart and a generosity of spirit that he admired even though he couldn’t emulate it. And he wanted what she had to offer for his son. He sensed that she could be the greatest gift he would ever give him.
For once he wasn’t going to be selfish and he wasn’t going to remind himself how often he had sworn never to surrender his freedom again. In any case he owed Jemima a debt. In the grip of ignorance and lacerating bitterness at her betrayal of trust he had seduced her and she hadn’t deserved that. Virginity had to matter to a woman who had reached almost twenty-four years of age without experimenting and he had taken it from her. Carelessly, thoughtlessly, cruelly.
‘I took advantage of you last night,’ Luciano breathed in a driven undertone. ‘I was angry. I was drunk.’
Her pale blue eyes widened and she set down her cup with a sharp little snap. ‘No, nobody took advantage of anyone last night. I’m an adult and I made a choice.’
‘You weren’t in any fit state to make a choice.’
Anger flared in her mutinous gaze. ‘I chose you because I’ve never been so attracted to anyone before. I’m not proud that I was that shallow but it was my decision!’
Silence lay thick and heavy between them in the heat and she shifted uneasily in her seat, embarrassed by her own vehemence. Had she really had to admit that she had never wanted any man the way she had wanted him? Didn’t that sound a bit pathetic?
‘The odd thing about decisions is that when you make major ones you’re always convinced that you’ll never change your mind. After my wife died in the crash I decided that I would never marry again,’ Luciano confessed tautly, unsettling her with that admission. ‘I did not want to share my life with another woman but I was grieving for the child I had lost and I did still want to be a parent. That is why I came up with the idea of a surrogacy agreement. I thought it would be a simple business contract and problem free, but I didn’t count on dealing with a woman like your sister.’
Jemima heaved a sigh but said nothing. By running away with Nicky after the birth, Julie had changed everyone’s lives and there was no getting away from that. She was, however, far more interested in wondering why Luciano had decided never to remarry. Had that been a tribute to the wife he loved? Gigi Nocella had been a gorgeous and very famous movie star. What woman could possibly follow in such gilded footsteps?
‘You have had complete responsibility for my son since he was only a few days old,’ Luciano pointed out.
‘Yes.’ Jemima snapped back to the present and shook irritably free of her futile speculation about Luciano’s past. ‘Julie went back to London to work. She told me that she earned good money working in PR and I had no reason to doubt her. I continued my teaching job and placed Nicky in a nursery nearby. Julie didn’t help with the expense and it was a challenge to afford it on my salary and my savings were soon gone. My parents were struggling too, so it made sense for me to give up my apartment and move home again.’
‘You’ve made sacrifices to look after my son,’ Luciano acknowledged grimly. ‘And you have looked after him well. I believe that you love him and that he loves you.’
‘I couldn’t help loving him.’ Jemima sighed.
‘But he’s not your child.’
Jemima grimaced at that unnecessary reminder. ‘That didn’t come into it for me.’
Luciano continued to study her with brooding intensity. ‘My son may not be your child now but he could be...’
Jemima stared back at him in bewilderment. ‘What on earth are you saying?’ she framed uncertainly.
‘I’m asking you to marry me to become my son’s mother and my wife,’ Luciano clarified with silken sibilance, his dark eyes glimmering golden as a lion’s in the sunlight. ‘It makes sense—in this situation it makes the very best sense. Think about it and you’ll see that.’
