Читать книгу The Gold Collection - Ким Лоренс, Maggie Cox - Страница 17

FLORENCE lived up to its reputation as the most beautiful city in Italy. After three days of sightseeing, Rebekah was blown away by the exquisite architecture of many of the buildings and fascinated by the city’s rich history, particularly that of the powerful Medici family, whose influence had contributed to making Florence the jewel of the Renaissance.

On their last evening Dante took her to dinner at an exclusive restaurant close to the famous bridge, the Ponte Vecchio, and they sat at a table overlooking the River Arno. The fading sun set the sky ablaze and turned the river to molten gold.

‘The view is breathtaking,’ she murmured.

‘It certainly is,’ Dante agreed. Something in his voice drew Rebekah’s attention to his face, and she was startled to find that his eyes were focused on her rather than the view of the river. ‘And you’re breathtaking too. You look stunning in that dress, cara.’

She flushed with pleasure at his compliment and glanced down at the jade silk gown that had been among the clothes he had bought for her. She had decided to wear the clothes, but had insisted that he should not pay her any wages for the month and instead reimburse the money he had spent on her. ‘It’s a matter of pride,’ she’d explained when he had tried to argue. Dante had clearly been reluctant but he had agreed to do as she had asked.

‘The dress is beautiful, but it’s a bit too low-cut and I’m scared I’m going to fall out of it.’

‘I can hope,’ he said softly. The wicked glint in his eyes sent a quiver of anticipation through her and she wished they could finish dinner quickly and return to the hotel. Their luxury suite included a hot tub, and the memory of how he had made love to her in the water last night had lingered in her mind all day.

‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ she said softly. ‘Florence is a wonderful city, and I’ll always remember this trip.’

‘I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. Maybe we’ll come back another time,’ he said casually. ‘I often spend a week or two in Tuscany in the autumn.’

Rebekah did not remind him that she would no longer be working for him then.

‘You’ve gone very quiet.’ Dante’s voice interrupted her bleak thoughts. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘I’m worried about my grandmother,’ she replied, not entirely untruthfully. When she had phoned home the previous day her mother had told her that Nana had suffered a fall. Fortunately, she hadn’t been seriously hurt, but her increasing frailty was a concern. ‘When we leave Tuscany at the end of the week I intend to go straight to Wales to spend some time with her.’

‘I’ll arrange for you to fly there on the jet as soon as we arrive in England. I imagine you will want to stay with your family for a few days.’ His grey eyes sought hers across the table. ‘After that, why don’t you come back to London?’

Rebekah stared at him, wishing she could read his mind. Was he asking her to continue working for him, or was there another reason for his invitation? If he asked her to carry on their affair she would have to refuse, she told herself firmly. His interest in her would last for a few months at most. But while he would simply move on to another affair, she feared she would be left with a broken heart.

‘We made an agreement that I would leave you when I had served my notice, and nothing has changed.’

‘Of course it has,’ he replied imperturbably. ‘We’re good together, mia bella.’ He gave a laconic shrug. ‘Why change what is good?’

Because, for Dante, what they had amounted to great sex, while for her … Rebekah swallowed when he reached across the table and captured her hand, lifted it to his mouth and grazed his lips across her fingers.

‘Let’s go back to the hotel and I’ll show you how you make me feel,’ he murmured huskily.

There had been no point in continuing the argument, she thought when they left the restaurant and strolled hand in hand through the quaint narrow streets of Florence. They arrived at their hotel and, as soon as they stepped into the lift and the doors closed, Dante pulled her into his arms and kissed her so thoroughly that she stopped worrying about the future and focused on the sensuous anticipation of knowing that they would soon be enjoying the pleasure of making love once more.

In the bedroom he undressed her by the light of the silver moon and the diamond-bright stars that were visible through the open curtains.

‘Sei così bella,’ he whispered as he drew the jade silk dress down and cradled her voluptuous breasts in his palms. He kissed her mouth, her throat and breasts before he sank to his knees and explored the heart of her femininity with his tongue.

Then he stood and she stripped him with trembling hands. Dropping to her knees, she gifted him the same pleasure he had given her, caressing him with her tongue until he groaned and pulled her to her feet.

‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he bade as he lifted her and held her against his hips. When she complied, he entered her and she cried out with the joy of his possession. The world disappeared and only she and Dante existed. He made love to her with a passion and an exquisite tenderness that captivated her soul and brought tears to her eyes.

As for Dante, lying with Rebekah in the sweet aftermath of their mutual pleasure, he wondered why she was insisting that she intended to leave him when it was quite clear she did not want to go. Surely she realised how much he desired her? Perhaps she was afraid that if she continued their relationship she could end up getting hurt, he brooded. Knowing how her ex-fiancé had betrayed her, he could not blame her for being wary.

Turning his head, he saw that she had fallen asleep and he felt a curious little tug on his insides as he studied her rose-flushed face and long dark eyelashes that curled on her cheeks. She was so beautiful—a beguiling mix of sex kitten and gut-wrenchingly generous lover.

He did not want to lose her, he acknowledged. So did that mean he was prepared to make some sort of commitment to her? He gave a sigh of frustration. If only they could remain in Tuscany in the private little world they had created. There would be no reason for them to discuss their relationship and he could simply enjoy being with her. But that, he realised heavily, was a coward’s attitude. At some point he was going to have to come to terms with his past because he understood now that holding on to his bitter memories was preventing him from moving on with his life.

The storm broke two days after they returned to the Casa di Colombe. Ominous clouds had gathered over the distant hills and the air prickled with static electricity.

The strange tension seemed to reflect Dante’s mood, Rebekah thought as she pegged the washing on the line, hoping it would dry before the rain fell. He had been behaving oddly ever since she had mentioned on the drive back from Florence that Nicole had told her he had once lived in New York. For some reason he had stiffened and muttered that it had been years ago.

She should have let the matter drop, but her curiosity to know as many details about him as she could had prompted her to ask him about Lara.

‘She was someone I met in the States,’ Dante had said tersely. ‘I don’t know why Nicole had to drag up the past.’

‘Was she a girlfriend?’ Rebekah could not help asking.

‘What does it matter who she was? I told you, I knew her years ago.’ He had given a careless shrug, but Rebekah had wondered why he had tightened his hands on the steering wheel until his knuckles had turned white. Realising that her prying had annoyed him, she had tried to make light conversation for the rest of the journey, but his responses had been monosyllabic. And that night, for the first time since they had been in Tuscany, he had not made love to her, but rolled onto his side, saying coolly that she was no doubt tired after their trip and she should get some sleep.

Maybe he was becoming bored of her, she thought bleakly as she walked back into the house. Maybe he was glad that they would be leaving Tuscany in a few short days, while she was dreading saying goodbye to him for ever. She was almost glad he had asked her to sort out his grandmother’s room. At least being busy stopped her from thinking about next Saturday, when they were due to leave.

Perlita’s personal belongings had not been touched since her death and Dante had requested Rebekah to empty the wardrobes and pack up his grandmother’s clothes so that they could be sent to a charity shop.

He walked in while she was pulling out boxes from beneath the bed. One storage chest contained old curtains but the contents of the second box were puzzling.

‘Children’s clothes,’ she said in surprise, ‘for a baby or toddler, I should think, from the size of them. And I guess, as they’re mainly blue, that they belong to a little boy. Oh, there’s a photo of a child …’ She reached into the box, but Dante leaned over her and snatched the picture out of her hand before she could study it properly.

‘Don’t touch anything in the box,’ he ordered curtly. ‘Shut the lid and leave it alone. In fact, you can leave the room. I’ll take over packing up my grandmother’s things.’

‘All right—keep your hair on!’ Rebekah sprang to her feet, but her irritation at being spoken to in such a peremptory tone faded when she saw Dante’s unguarded expression. It was the same agonised look she’d glimpsed in his eyes when he had shown her the photograph of his grandmother the day they had arrived at the house, nearly a month ago. She had sensed his grief at Perlita’s death was still raw. But why did he look devastated as he dropped to his knees in front of the box and lifted out a child’s teddy bear?

‘Boppa Bear,’ he murmured, as if he had forgotten Rebekah was there. ‘I had no idea Nonna had kept some of Ben’s things.’

She felt she should slip quietly from the room and leave Dante alone. He had told her once that he did not need anyone, but she did not believe it. The haunted look in his eyes evoked an ache in her heart and, without conscious thought, she placed her hand gently on his shoulder.

‘Who … who is Ben?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Shrugging off her hand, he dropped the toy bear into the box and closed the lid with a sharp thud before standing up. ‘It’s not your concern.’ He stared at her, his eyes no longer full of pain, but hard and unfathomable. ‘I came to tell you I heard your phone ringing somewhere in the house. You’d better go and find it.’

It was possible Dante had made up that he had heard her phone, but Rebekah had more sense than to ignore his strong hint that he wanted to be left alone. ‘I left it in the kitchen,’ she muttered as she walked out of the room. She could not help feeling hurt by his refusal to confide in her about the identity of the mystery child. Clearly the toys and other items in the box had held a sentimental meaning for his grandmother. Perhaps, many years ago, Perlita had lost a son, she mused. But the baby clothes were made of modern material and the bear looked much too new to have been fifty or more years old.

She heard her phone ringing. As she hurried along the glass-covered cloister and into the kitchen, the rain started to fall, smashing against the windows with awesome force that almost drowned out the low rumble of thunder.

The caller’s number on the screen was instantly recognizable and, with a sense of foreboding, she picked up her phone. ‘Mum?’

Ten minutes later, Dante swung round from the window, where he had been staring out unseeingly at the rain and frowned as Rebekah entered his grandmother’s room. ‘I told you I would take care of things in here,’ he said harshly. He controlled his impatience when he noticed her ashen face. ‘What’s the matter? Did you find out who was calling you?’

‘It was my mother. My grandmother is in hospital.’ Rebekah strove to keep the emotion from her voice but failed. ‘She … she’s not expected to last much longer. I must go home.’

‘Yes, of course.’ As he was speaking, Dante pulled his phone from his pocket to contact his pilot. In a strange way it was a relief to focus on something else rather than dwell on the fact that his grandmother had kept some of Ben’s things.

He glanced at Rebekah and his gut clenched when he saw the way she was biting her lip to prevent the tears glistening in her eyes from falling. For a moment he was tempted to take her in his arms and offer her whatever comfort he could. But a chasm seemed to have opened up between them. He could almost see her barriers going up and it was hardly surprising after the way he had snapped at her, he thought heavily.

He wished he had explained things to her. Perhaps if she knew about his past she would understand why he found it hard to open up and reveal his emotions. But now was not the time. She had problems of her own to deal with and his priority was to arrange her immediate return to Wales.

‘The pilot will have the plane ready in an hour,’ he told her. ‘Go and pack whatever you need, and I’ll arrange for the rest of your things to be sent on to you.’

‘Thank you.’ Rebekah blinked hard and willed her tears not to fall. So this was the end. It was possible that after today she would never see Dante again. It was better this way, she told herself, better that he had no idea she had fallen in love with him. At least she still had her pride. But it seemed a cold comfort and, as she turned in the doorway for one last look at him, she felt as though a little part of her had died.

Nana Glenys passed away peacefully a week after Rebekah returned home. The book of her recipes was still with the publishers, but Rebekah had taken copies of Nicole’s photos to the hospital. Nana had seemed more like her old self that day, and she had squeezed Rebekah’s hand and whispered how proud she felt that both their names were going to be on the front of the book. It was the last conversation Rebekah had with her but her grief at Nana’s death was eased a little by the knowledge that she had made her beloved grandmother happy.

The funeral was attended by the whole village, and in the days afterwards Rebekah helped her parents with the task of clearing out Nana’s cottage. Dante phoned when she had been in Wales for three weeks and asked if she would be returning to London. She had secretly hoped he would try to make her change her mind when she told him she wouldn’t be going back to him. But he merely wished her well in a cool, faintly bored voice which told her clearly that if she had not ended their affair he would undoubtedly have done so.

She hung on to her dignity long enough to say an equally cool goodbye, but as soon as she put the phone down she had a good cry and told herself how stupid she had been for falling for a playboy. Then she blew her nose and reminded herself that she could not remain at her parents’ farm indefinitely. She needed to find a job and get on with her life. Gaspard Clavier was still keen for her to work for him when she contacted him and suggested she meet him at his London restaurant to discuss plans for his new restaurant in St Lucia.

It was while she was studying her diary to pick a date to visit Gaspard that she realised she was late. It was now early September and when she flicked back through the diary’s pages she saw that her last period had been in the middle of July, while she had been in Tuscany. With all the upset over Nana’s death, it hadn’t occurred to her that she had missed a period in August. At first she tried to reassure herself that it was just a blip in her cycle. She couldn’t be pregnant. For one thing, she was on the Pill, and most of the time Dante had used a condom. But, as the days passed with no sign that would put her mind at rest, she did the only sensible thing and bought a pregnancy test.

As she sat on the edge of the bath, waiting as the minutes ticked past agonisingly slowly, she could hardly believe she was in this situation again. On the one previous occasion that she had done a test she had been looking forward to marrying the man she loved and had excitedly hoped the result would be positive. She had been overjoyed when she’d discovered she was expecting Gareth’s baby, but her dreams of a family had been shattered by his terrible behaviour, which she was convinced had caused her to lose the child.

Now, as she stared at the two lines in the little window of the test kit, she was swamped by a host of conflicting emotions. A new life was developing inside her. Dante’s baby! The child would not replace the one she had lost, but she felt an overwhelming sense of joy and fierce protectiveness. She would do everything possible to ensure this baby was born safe and well. And she would love it—dear God, she loved it already. But what would Dante’s reaction be? She felt sick as memories of Gareth’s angry rejection of her first baby haunted her. Would a notorious playboy react any differently to the news that he was to be a father?

Her GP had a further surprise in store when he said she could potentially already be ten weeks into the pregnancy. The unusually light period she’d had in Tuscany might have been what was known as spotting that sometimes occurred in the first month after conception.

‘It’s vital with the type of mini-pill you are on that you take it at exactly the same time every day,’ the doctor explained when she pointed out that she used oral contraceptives. ‘Also, sickness or a stomach upset can stop the Pill from being effective.’

Rebekah recalled the night Dante had taken her to the theatre—the first time she’d had sex with him. At the party she had unwittingly drunk alcohol in the fruit punch and the next morning her body had reacted badly and she had been sick for most of the day. She must have conceived Dante’s child that first time. He had almost stopped making love to her until she had assured him she was protected, she remembered.

‘I can’t believe I didn’t have any sign that I was pregnant,’ she said to the GP, who knew her history. ‘With my first pregnancy I had dreadful morning sickness, but this time I’ve had nothing, apart from feeling a bit more tired than usual.’ She had put her lack of energy and her uncharacteristic weepiness down to the fact that she missed Dante unbearably.

‘Every pregnancy is different,’ the doctor told her. He gave her a kindly smile. ‘You’re fit and healthy, and there is no reason why you shouldn’t give birth to a healthy baby in seven months’ time.’

Reassured by the doctor’s words, Rebekah walked out of his surgery feeling that her heart would burst with happiness as she imagined being a mother. Of course the situation wasn’t ideal. She had always assumed she would be married before she started a family. Her heart jerked painfully against her ribs at the prospect of telling Dante her news. But he would have to be told that he was going to be a father, she decided. The baby developing inside her had been created by two people, and she and Dante both had a responsibility towards their child.

Dante stared unenthusiastically at the cod in white sauce on his plate. A sample mouthful had revealed that it tasted as bland as it looked. But he could not put all the blame for his lack of appetite on his new cook, he acknowledged. Mrs Hall did her best and the meals she provided were edible, if unexciting.

A memory came into his head of Rebekah’s fish pie—succulent pieces of cod, smoked salmon and prawns in a creamy parsley sauce, with a crunchy rosti and grated cheese topping. Her wonderful food was the first thing that had impressed him about her. It had taken him a little longer to appreciate all her other qualities, he mused. But she had kept her fabulous figure hidden beneath shapeless clothes until the night he had taken her to the theatre and she had blown his mind when she had worn a stunning evening gown that had shown off her voluptuous curves.

He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her that night, or all the nights during the month they had spent in Tuscany. An image of her slid into his mind and Dante felt a predictable stirring in his loins, followed by the dull ache of frustration that had been responsible for his foul mood over the past few months.

He still found it hard to believe she had rejected him. She had given every impression of being happy with him when they had been in Tuscany. They had spent practically every moment together and had made love every night with a wild passion that he was convinced she had enjoyed as much as he had.

But the stilted conversation they’d had when he had phoned her in Wales had put an end to his pleasurable anticipation of continuing their affair in London. He had felt a curious hollow sensation in his stomach when she had told him she would not be coming back to him. It had crossed his mind briefly to try and persuade her, but he’d dismissed the idea. She had made her choice and he certainly wasn’t going to let her know he was disappointed. He’d assured himself he did not care and that he could find a replacement mistress any time he liked. He had even dated a couple of women but, although they had both been beautiful, elegant blondes, he had realised halfway through dinner that they completely bored him and he had not asked either of them out a second time.

Giving up on dinner, he carried his plate into the kitchen and tipped away the uneaten meal. It was fortunate that Mrs Hall did not live in the staff apartment. She had no idea that most of the dinners she cooked for him ended up in the recycling bin. He wandered listlessly into the sitting room and poured himself a straight Scotch, his second since he’d got home from work an hour ago. He snapped his teeth together impatiently. Not only had Rebekah unmanned him and caused his current worrying lack of libido, but he could also blame her for the damage he was doing to his liver!

His frown deepened at the sound of the doorbell. He wasn’t expecting visitors and was half-inclined not to answer, but a second strident peal suggested that whoever was standing on his doorstep was not going to go away any time soon.

Muttering an oath, he strode down the hall, flung open the door—and froze.

‘Hello, Dante.’

Rebekah had to force the greeting past the sudden tightness in her throat and her voice sounded annoyingly husky rather than bright and brisk, as she had been aiming for. She hadn’t forgotten how good-looking Dante was, but seeing him in the flesh made her catch her breath. Dark trousers hugged his lean hips and his pale blue shirt was open at the throat so that she could see a few black chest hairs. Lifting her eyes to his face, she was struck by the masculine beauty of his features. His cheekbones looked more defined than she remembered and his olive skin was stretched taut over them. The firm line of his jaw was hard and uncompromising but his mouth evoked memories of him kissing her, and she wished with all her heart that he would sweep her into his arms and claim her lips with hungry passion.

For a split second Dante wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. It seemed an incredible coincidence that just as he had been thinking about Rebekah she appeared, like the fairy godmother in a children’s story book. But he would bet no fairy godmother ever looked as gorgeous as the woman who was hovering—somewhat nervously, he noted—in front of him. She looked achingly beautiful, with her long chocolate-brown hair falling around her shoulders and her incredible violet eyes staring at him from beneath the sweep of her long lashes.

Dragging his gaze from her face, he saw that she was wearing a cherry-red wool coat that brightened the gloom of the misty October evening. She looked wholesome and sexy and he was unbearably tempted to pull her into his arms and crush her soft mouth beneath his until she returned his kiss with sensual passion, the memory of which kept him awake at nights. Pride stopped him from reaching for her, and that same damnable pride demanded that he should not make it too easy for her. Did she think she could simply walk back into his life?

‘Rebekah—this is a surprise,’ he said coolly. ‘I didn’t know you were in London. Have you moved down from Wales, or are you visiting?’

‘I …’ Rebekah was completely thrown by Dante’s nonchalant greeting. This was the man who had been a passionate lover and someone she had thought of as a friend when she had spent a month with him at his home in Tuscany. From his careless tone, anyone would think they had been no more than casual acquaintances. But that was probably how he regarded her, she thought bleakly. He had enjoyed a brief sexual fling with her but now she was just another ex-mistress and it was likely that her replacement was waiting for him in his bed.

Feeling sick at the idea, she almost lost her nerve and half-turned to walk away from him.

‘So, how are you?’ He pulled the door open a little wider, and Rebekah glanced into the hall, half-expecting to see some gorgeous leggy blonde.

‘I …’ Running away wasn’t an option, she reminded herself. She needed to tell Dante he was the father of her child, but so far she hadn’t managed to string more than two words together. ‘I’m fine, but I need to talk to you—if you’re not … entertaining anyone tonight,’ she choked.

He gave her a quizzical look. ‘No, I happen to be free tonight. You’d better come in.’

The house was achingly familiar. Glancing round the elegant sitting room, she noticed that the potted ferns she had bought to give the room a more homely feel were thriving, as if someone had been taking care of them.

It was warm inside. She unbuttoned her coat but kept it on when she realised he might notice her slightly rounded stomach—which was silly when she was about to tell him about the baby, she thought wryly. Her mouth felt uncomfortably dry and she licked her lips nervously. His reaction to the news she was about to give him couldn’t be worse than Gareth’s had been. She suddenly realised how much she wanted him to be pleased about the baby. Was she being a fool to hope he would want his child?

‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,’ she said in a rush.

Dante shrugged. ‘Actually, I can guess your reason.’

She was flummoxed. ‘You … you can?’

‘Sure.’ He put down the glass he was holding and strolled over to her but, although he moved with his usual easy grace, the predatory gleam in his eyes caused Rebekah’s heart to miss a beat. ‘You miss what we had in Tuscany and you’re hoping I’ll take you back. And you know what, cara?’ he murmured as he halted in front of her and dipped his head so that his mouth was tantalisingly close to hers. ‘You’re in luck. I still want you too.’

In the flesh, Rebekah was even more gorgeous than his memory of her, Dante thought. He had missed her. He finally acknowledged the truth that he had tried to deny to himself for the past weeks. It was not just her gorgeous body and the passion they had shared that he had missed; it was her lovely smile and her beautiful eyes, the soft, lilting way she spoke, the sound of her laughter and just the pleasure of her company. Unable to resist the lure of her soft lips, he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her.

Rebekah was so surprised that she responded to him unthinkingly. Oh, she’d missed him, she thought, as he deepened the kiss to something so deeply sensual that she began to tremble, and when he pulled her close she melted in his arms.

‘I recall the sofa was a very comfortable place to make love,’ he murmured. ‘Or shall we attempt to make it to my bedroom this time?’

‘No … I mean … neither. I’m not here for that,’ Rebekah gasped. The sound of Dante’s voice shattered the sensual web he had woven around her and, with a little cry of despair that she had succumbed to him so weakly, she pulled out of his arms.

‘You could have fooled me,’ he said drily. Why was she playing hard to get? Dante wondered impatiently. He grabbed his glass and strode over to the bar. ‘Do you want a drink?’ he asked roughly, pouring himself another Scotch. ‘I forgot—you can’t drink alcohol. I can offer you a soft drink.’

‘No, thanks.’ Rebekah took a deep breath. ‘Actually, my strange allergy to alcohol is sort of the reason why I’m here.’

Dante lifted his brows but made no comment. On the train journey from Wales Rebekah had rehearsed what she was going to say to him, but the kiss had thrown her. She hadn’t expected him to still desire her. Perhaps it was a good thing, she thought shakily. It gave her hope that they might be able to make something of their relationship. But first she had to tell him, and the longer she hesitated the harder it was becoming.

‘I … I’m going to have a baby,’ she blurted out.

He went very still and for a second his shock showed on his face. His silence simmered with tension. Lifting his glass, he took a swig of his drink.

‘Congratulations. I assume that’s what you want me to say?’ His jaw tightened. ‘You didn’t waste much time, did you? I assume the father is someone you met when you went back to Wales.’