A Dangerous Infatuation (15 page)

Rocco’s expression became grim. ‘I was horrified when I received a phone call from Rosalinda’s parents to inform me that she had taken an overdose, and that I was the reason why. I swear I gave her no cause to think I was in love with her. The closeness she believed existed between us was in her imagination only. Her parents were very understanding. They explained that she had previously been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and was prone to periods of depression, and also that she had unrealistic expectations about relationships. Without my knowledge she had been planning our wedding—even to the extent of buying a wedding dress.’

He looked away from Emma, not wanting to see the disbelief and disgust he was sure would be in her eyes. ‘If you want the truth, not a day goes by when I don’t feel guilty about Rosalinda,’ he said harshly. ‘Maybe I missed the signs of her emotional fragility, or maybe somehow I unwittingly led her to believe that I had deeper feelings for her.’

‘I doubt it,’ Emma said quietly. ‘Bi-polar disorder is a complicated issue, but even without that being a factor
it’s not uncommon for people who are in love to see what they want to see.’ And conversely to ignore warning signs that a relationship was not as perfect as they wished, she acknowledged silently. She had made excuses for Jack throughout their marriage because she had wanted to believe that he loved her as much as she loved him. She, more than anyone, could understand how Rosalinda might have kidded herself that Rocco cared for her.

She did not doubt that he had told her the truth. His remorse at what had happened was obviously genuine. He had not deliberately deceived Rosalinda, and he had been honest with
her
. He had made it clear that he wanted a sexual relationship with her, but that was
all
he wanted.

Why not take what he was offering and enjoy a few weeks of fun? she debated. Lord knew, she needed it. But to make love with him, to experience the seductive pleasure of his hands and his mouth caressing her naked flesh, would mean relinquishing her hold on her self-control. The prospect filled her with fear. What if sex wasn’t enough for her? What if she wanted more than he could give? He had the power to hurt her. Not physically—her instincts told her he would be a skilled and considerate lover—but he had already undermined her defences and she was afraid he posed a very real threat to her heart.

She stiffened when he walked towards her, struggling for composure while her treacherous body trembled with fierce sexual awareness.

Rocco wondered if she was aware that he could read each fleeting thought that crossed her features. She was a volatile mixture of emotions, and if he had any sense he would end his pursuit and walk away from her. But his much lauded common sense seemed to fly out of the window when he looked into her grey eyes that reminded him of storm clouds or woodsmoke, depending on her mood.

‘How old were you when you met Jack?’

Emma frowned at the unexpected question. ‘I was twenty, and midway through my nurse’s training.’

‘Did you have other relationships before him?’

‘Not really. I dated a couple of boys from school, but I studied hard to achieve the necessary grades for university and didn’t have much time for boyfriends. Why do you ask?’

‘It has occurred to me that if you haven’t dated since your husband’s death, and you weren’t involved with any other guys before you married, that only leaves Jack as the person responsible for your deep sense of mistrust.’ His eyes narrowed on her suddenly tense face. ‘But that doesn’t make sense, because you have led me to believe that it was a marriage made in heaven. So what is the truth about your relationship with Jack Marchant, Emma?’

What good would it do to admit that her marriage had been far from ideal? she thought dully. It would simply show what a gullible fool she had been. Jack was dead and no longer had the power to hurt her. But his parents and Holly would be hurt if she ever revealed that he had not been the perfect husband everyone believed.

‘I’m not prepared to discuss my marriage,’ she said stiffly.

He studied her intently for several moments, but to her relief did not pursue the subject. ‘That is, of course, your prerogative.’ He walked across to the door and this time opened it before glancing back at her. ‘I have a series of business meetings scheduled in various European cities and I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. If you have any concerns about my grandmother while I’m away you can contact me on my mobile phone.’

Emma’s heart lurched at the news that he was leaving the villa. She wanted to ask him when he would be back.

Did he have a mistress—more than one—who he intended to visit while he was away?

She masked her disappointment with a cool smile. ‘Fine, but I don’t suppose I’ll need you.’

Rocco’s eyes glittered. He was tempted to haul her into his arms and prove that her need to assuage the sexual frustration which simmered between them was as great as his. He did not doubt that she would respond to him. After a week of stolen glances and intense awareness smouldering below the surface of their polite exchanges, their desire for each other was at combustion point. One spark would set it aflame. But would it be fair to light the fuse, knowing that for him the beginning of an affair always signalled its end?

For the first time in his life he found that his desire to protect Emma was stronger than his urgent need to take her to bed. Even more astonishingly, he was actually contemplating a relationship with her that he could envisage lasting longer than a few weeks.
Dio
, how had an averagely pretty English nurse brought him to the point where he was considering abandoning his long-held principles of never getting emotionally involved with any woman?

He tore his eyes from her.
‘Buonanotte,’
he bade her harshly before he strode out of the door.

‘I’m going to stay with Nanna and Grandpa,’ Holly told Rocco, her big grey eyes glowing with excitement.

‘That sounds like fun,
piccola
.’ He smiled at the little girl and glanced enquiringly at her mother.

‘Jack’s parents have a holiday home in Nice and have invited Holly to spend a few days with them,’ Emma explained, relieved that her voice sounded normal and did not give away the fact that her heart was thumping.

The past week that Rocco had been away had seemed
interminable. She’d had no idea when he would return, and although he had phoned her twice, their conversations had been stilted and exclusively about his grandmother. The unexpected sight of him at the breakfast table this morning had sent the air rushing from her lungs. ‘Peter and Alison are flying into Genoa tomorrow. They plan to hire a car, collect Holly and drive along the coast into France.’

‘Can I go and tell Bobbo?’ Holly asked, seeing the dog run across the lawn.

At Emma’s nod the little girl slipped off her chair and ran out into the garden. ‘How do you feel about her being away from you?’ Rocco murmured, noting the faintly wistful expression on her face.

‘Fine.’ She smiled ruefully when he arched his brows disbelievingly. ‘It’s only for a few days, and she’ll have a wonderful time. Jack’s parents dote on her, and I know they’ll take good care of her.’

A necessary part of motherhood was learning to let go. She had no doubt that Holly would love spending time with her grandparents, but being parted from her little daughter
was
going to be a wrench, Emma acknowledged with a sigh.

‘Cordelia tells me she is going to spend today with Barbara and Andrew Harris.’

‘Yes, she’s upstairs getting ready, and I’m going to drive her there.’

‘How about we take Holly to the beach? We’ll take Cordelia to Rapallo and on the way back stop off at Santa Margherita. It’s a pretty seaside resort, and she’ll be able to make sandcastles to her heart’s content.’

Emma’s first instinct was to refuse. The wild burst of pleasure she had felt when she had walked into the dining room and discovered that Rocco was home was ample proof that he affected her way too much. While he’d been
away she had made the decision that she could not risk becoming involved with him. But his lazy smile undermined her defences. In faded jeans and a cream shirt open at the throat to reveal an expanse of olive gold skin and a sprinkling of dark chest hairs, he was irresistibly sexy. What harm would it do to spend one day with him? she argued with herself. After all, it would be purely for Holly’s benefit.

She set down her coffee cup and gave him a composed smile. ‘That sounds nice. Holly will love it.’

So cool, Rocco mused, his amusement mixed with an unexpected feeling of tenderness. The pulse beating erratically at the base of her throat told him she was not sure of herself, or of him, and once again her tangible vulnerability tugged on his insides.

Palm trees stood at regular intervals along the esplanade at Santa Margherita Ligure, which was lined with bars, restaurants and
gelaterie
, shaded by colourful striped awnings. The sea was crystal-clear beneath a cloudless blue sky, but Holly was more interested in the long sandy beach, and could barely contain her impatience as Rocco parked the car and lifted her out of her child seat.

Emma opened the boot and gathered up a plastic bucket and spade, a rug to sit on, towels and a bag containing all the paraphernalia required for one small child.

Her lips twitched when Rocco murmured, ‘I thought we were spending the day here, not a week.’

Their eyes met and held, before she quickly glanced away and took hold of Holly’s hand.

‘You go and set up camp, and I’ll get coffees for us.’

She watched him stride away, his height making him easy to spot among the crowd ambling along the esplanade, enjoying a leisurely Saturday. Dragging her gaze from his
broad shoulders, she smiled at her excited daughter. ‘Let’s get building castles.’

Holly needed no persuading, and played happily in the sand while Emma spread out the rug. The sun was warm enough for her to remove her jacket. Rocco had been right; she would have been uncomfortably hot in the jeans and sweatshirts she had brought from England. The white pedal-pushers and blue-and-white checked shirt she had chosen from the selection of clothes he had bought her were stylish and elegant, and had no doubt cost a fortune, she thought ruefully.

‘Mummy—a shell.’ Holly held out her hand to reveal her find. ‘I’m going to look for more.’

‘Stay close,’ Emma instructed. She kept her eyes on her daughter, but Holly did not wander far before she started to dig a hole in the sand.

A gull soared overhead, mewing plaintively, and gentle waves lapped rhythmically on the shore. Heavenly, Emma mused, lifting her face to the sun. It was hard to believe that only a couple of weeks ago she’d had to dress in umpteen layers to keep warm in the wintry conditions affecting Northumberland.

She glanced down the beach and squinted against the sunshine when she did not immediately see Holly. A bright pink bucket and spade were lying on the sand, but the little girl was no longer digging. Frowning, Emma looked along the beach to the left and right, sure she would spot Holly’s distinctive yellow T-shirt. But there was no sign of her.

‘Holly?’ Feeling a faint flutter of concern, Emma stared towards the sea. A group of children were playing on the shoreline, but her daughter was not with them.
‘Holly!’

‘What’s the matter?’

She swung round at the sound of Rocco’s voice. ‘I can’t see Holly. She was here a minute ago …’ Once again she
scanned the horizon, panic edging towards fear when there was no sight of the child.

‘I’ll look for her. She can’t have gone far.’ Rocco took his mobile from his pocket. ‘Keep your phone to hand and I’ll ring you as soon as I find her.’

Emma continued to scan along the beach, gnawing on her lip until she tasted blood. With every second that passed her tension went up a notch, but she forced herself to keep calm. Any minute now Rocco would walk back along the sand with Holly on his shoulders, she assured herself.

She spotted him striding towards her—alone. Terror swept through her and she ran across the beach to meet him

‘I can’t see her,’ he revealed tautly.

‘Oh, my God!’ Her legs felt like jelly, and she clung to him when he slid a supporting arm around her waist. ‘She
must
be here. I only took my eyes off her for a moment.’ Guilt surged through her and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand, as if to hold back the anguished cry building inside her. ‘Rocco …’ She stared at him wildly as he activated his phone. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Calling the police.’

‘The police!’
A cold hand of dread squeezed her heart as the seriousness of the situation hit her hard. ‘She
must
be on the beach somewhere,’ she cried frantically. ‘She must be.’ Tears burned her eyes and she brushed them away impatiently. She needed to think, to stay calm in a crisis. But she wasn’t dealing with an accident in the A&E unit; her precious daughter had disappeared and a multitude of terrible scenarios were swirling in her mind.

‘We need to report that Holly is missing,’ Rocco told her.

The quiet authority in his voice and the way he firmly
assumed control calmed Emma a little, and she took a shuddering breath.

‘Of course she’s here somewhere,’ he reassured her. ‘But the more people we have looking for her, the quicker we’ll find her.’

‘I
T
’
S
my fault.
I
didn’t watch her properly.’ Tears streamed down Emma’s face as her tight control on her emotions gave way. ‘What if something’s happened to her?’ She glanced fearfully towards the sea. ‘Or someone has taken her?’ she could barely voice her worst nightmare.

The utter devastation in her eyes caused Rocco’s heart to clench. He, better than most, understood what she must be feeling, he acknowledged grimly. The realisation that a child was missing, the desperate search … It was twenty years since his brother had disappeared in the grounds of Nunstead Hall, but the memory of the sick fear he’d felt as he had searched for Gio would always haunt him.
Madre de Dio
, please make the outcome be different this time, he prayed.