Pregnancy of Revenge (23 page)

Face it, she told herself. Knowing the reasons why Jake kept such a close control on his feelings or lack of them, and why he was so cynical about her sex had done her no good at all. Because Jake was perfectly happy the way he was. He wasn't prepared to listen and had walked away.

Feeling listless, Charlotte refused young
Aldo'
s
requests to play with him after lunch, and decided to take a siesta instead. She hadn't slept or eaten much since Jake's departure five days ago. He had called her every day but the conversations had been short and stilted and yesterday she had put the phone down on him. She could not be bothered to talk to him as a polite little wife. She had reached her limit. And she wasn't sure she cared any more.

She felt as if she were living in a deep fog, where there were no longer any clear lines to follow, any certainty or purpose in her life, except for the baby she carried. She had been a woman of action, but she now seemed incapable of taking any and she didn't like the woman she had become. Not bothering to remove her shorts and top, Charlie flopped down on the bed and closed her eyes, hoping that in sleep she could forget her troubles.

The sun was low in the sky when she awakened and, rising off the bed, she straightened her T-shirt and slipped her feet into white canvas loafers. She was thirsty and, running a hand through her
dishevelled
hair, she headed for the kitchen. A glass of juice would be good.

She filled a glass, drained it thirstily, and replaced the glass on the bench. Idly she looked around and wondered where everyone was. She strolled out onto the patio, and heard the sound of voices raised in what sounded like argument and the plaintive cry of some animal in distress. Walking around to the rear of the house, she glanced between the clutter of outbuildings to the rock garden and cliff
beyond that provided a natural security barrier to the outside world, and her mouth fell open in shock.

Marta
was at the entrance to
Aldo'
s
cave and crying her eyes out.
Tomas
was trying to comfort her, and Marco was speaking on a cell phone. The other security man from the gatehouse was surveying the cliff face.

Charlie heard the cry again before she reached the others, and as she lifted her head her heart turned over with shock. It wasn't an animal, but
Aldo.

A couple of feet from the cave was a deep narrow fissure in the rock that widened out some twenty feet up and reached almost to the top of the cliff.
Aldo
had somehow managed to climb to where the gap widened and a narrow ledge protruded slightly. A
colourful
kite was visible on the ledge, no doubt
Aldo'
s
reason for the dangerous escapade. Unfortunately, with his small hands gripping the slight overhang and unable to haul himself up, he appeared to be stuck.

Tomas
was struggling to climb up the fissure, but he was too large. Swiftly assessing the situation, Charlie did not hesitate. All three of the men were far too large to navigate the narrow chimney, and hastily she explained to Marco, who spoke the best English, what she was going to do. He tried to argue that the rescue
team were
on their way. But one glance at the perilous position of
Aldo
told Charlie they might be too late and she said as much, adding as reassurance, 'I am an expert rock climber and I free climb for fun. Trust me.'

And seconds later she began to climb. Looking up, she cried words of encouragement to
Aldo.
She had no doubt she could reach him—she had to. But she had grave doubts that she could get him back down safely. Her expert eye quickly concluded the ledge was her best hope. With luck she could lift him onto it and wait for the rescue service.

She quickly
realised
how
Aldo
had managed to get so far.

The first fifteen feet were quite simple, providing a choice of finger and toe-holds. But she was a good deal larger than him and as she grazed her thigh, her knees and her back she cursed the fact she was wearing shorts and canvas shoes. As she got higher and the fissure widened again, she felt the sweat break out over her whole body as she struggled to find finger holds.

She paused for breath and thought of her unborn child, praying her exertions would not cause any harm. With one hand she sought the next hold, a tiny gap. It was big enough for
Aldo'
s
small fingers but she had to grasp it with her fingertips. Her knuckles white with the strain, she hauled herself up a little further. She chanced a brief glance down and they were all staring up at her, degrees of fear on their faces. She forced a confident smile to her lips for
Marta'
s
benefit, and then searched for the next hold, vaguely registering the sound of a racing car and sirens in the distance.

Her chest heaving, she looked up at
Aldo.
'Keep still, stay still,
Aldo.
Fermaressere
,
^,
she called softly and hoped it was the right word—she didn't want him any more frightened than he already was. Taking a deep, ragged breath, her heart pounding fit to burst, she made one final effort. Legs and arms aching, she struggled on until she was alongside him.

'Charlie.' He stared at her, his dark eyes terrified and his little face streaked with tears.

'Don't move, it's all right.
I'm here.' Using all the skill of years of training, she found toe-holds either side of him, her own body covering his, and with her superior height and reach she curved one arm over the ledge, her long fingers searching to find the safest grip.

This was the difficult part, Charlie knew. She could simply hang there and wait for the rescue service—but if he panicked and let go, would her body take the weight? She doubted that would work, because any sudden movement on
Aldo'
s
part would probably dislodge her. The alternative was to tighten her grip on the ledge with one hand and hope to push him up and onto the ledge taking his weight at her own time.

Quietly she spoke to him, telling him to be brave, to stay calm and do exactly as she said, and prayed he understood.

Jake swore violently as he gunned the Ferrari through the wide-open security gates. What the hell was the point of paying for security if they left the damn gates wide open? Someone would pay for this, he thought savagely as he stopped the car with a spin of wheels outside the house. He didn't actually know what he was doing back in Italy when he had meetings lined up in Japan. But ever since yesterday, when Charlotte had quietly put the phone down on him, he had had an irrational need to see her again. Charlotte was feisty and sometimes furious, but never apathetic. Something was definitely wrong. He had ordered the jet and flown straight back to Italy, and now as he marched up the steps he was sure of it.

The great double doors were wide open.
Dio!
Please, no, Charlotte,
he prayed as he stormed through the house calling her name. Run away, kidnapped or worse—he didn't know; he just knew he had to have her back.

Pain squeezed his chest. How could he have been so stupid? He, Jake
d'Amato,
head of an international company and renowned for his business acumen, his ability to make the right decisions, his rapier-like intelligence, hadn't been able to protect his wife of barely two weeks.

Entering the kitchen, he saw the open exit door, and walked back outside and around to the back of the house. He saw Marco and the security guard staring at the cliff through a red haze of rage and strode purposefully towards them.

'What the hell do you think you are doing?' he roared at Marco, and froze when they pointed to the cliff, with a gesture of silence.

As if in slow motion he glanced up and the sight that met his eyes made the blood freeze in his veins. Charlotte, his Charlotte, was suspended halfway up the cliff. He dashed to the base of the cliff, scrabbled for a handhold, anything. But strong hands hauled him back telling him it was useless—he was too big and too late, the
signora
was almost there, and he had to be quiet.

Wild-eyed he looked at them and back at Charlotte. He opened his mouth to yell he would kill her for being so stupid, and closed it again as it struck him like a knife in the gut that she was in grave danger of doing that for herself.

'No.
Dio,
no,' he groaned and watched, his heart in his throat, as her lithe body moved closer to the young boy. He saw her straddle him and her fingers grip the ledge. He saw her hesitate and then her toes sought a firmer hold and in that moment he guessed what she was going to do. He wanted to scream and yell at her not to be so foolish, and, God help him, he didn't care if
Aldo
made it; all he cared about was Charlotte.

He didn't hear the sirens; he was deaf and blind to everything in the world except Charlotte. For the first time in his adult life he was utterly powerless. Neither his strength nor his wealth could do anything about the tableau unfolding before his eyes. He saw her slender figure tauten and the breath stopped in his lungs as she let go with one hand and reached an arm around the young boy's waist. Ashen- faced, he watched. He felt the strain, the agony she must be feeling with every cell in his body, and he saw her with superhuman strength haul them both onto the ledge.

But it wasn't over yet. Suddenly he was aware of the police cars and the specialist fire appliance, the men all around him, and furiously he berated everyone in sight for their tardiness while scarcely taking his eyes off the ledge.

When it was decided the fire crane was the safest option, he demanded to be the one to go up in the cradle.

'No, sir,' the fire chief told him. 'Only an experienced operative is allowed—'

Jake didn't wait to hear the rest, and moved impetuously forward. A bunch of officers grabbed him. He lashed out wildly and managed to throw them off, but he was too late. The cradle with a fireman on board was winging skyward.

Cold terror gripped him, and he stood frozen to the spot as the rescue cradle was inched higher and higher.

Charlotte lay back on the hard rock fighting to breathe, her arm firmly around
Aldo.
She felt him squirm and cry. 'No, don't move,' she rasped, and tucked him gingerly into the curve of her shoulder, closed her eyes, and said a quiet prayer of thanks.

When she opened them she gave a sigh of relief. A metal cradle with a man on board was gingerly edging towards the ledge.
Aldo
moved and she tightened her hold on him.

'But I want my kite,'
Aldo
objected. 'The string broke,' he said with the simplicity of youth and she had to smile at the irony of it as the kite did a graceful dive off the ledge.

Still smiling, she commanded the man in the cradle, 'Take
Aldo
first,' slipping into the role of rescuer as she had done countless times before, and easing the little boy up into the officer's waiting arms. Then with
Aldo
clinging safely to the officer's leg, Charlie was hoisted on board.

The descent to the ground was accomplished in seconds, and as the cradle locked back onto the appliance a mighty cheer went up—
'Brava
Charlotta
,'
and much in the same
vein she did not understand as she stepped back onto firm ground.

The first person she saw was Jake dressed in his usual garb of elegant suit, but with his tie loosened, and she thought she was hallucinating. 'Jake! What are you doing here?' And she smiled, more from relief at the successful completion of the rescue than any great desire to see her husband.

Fury roared through Jake. She was wearing shorts and a skimpy top, her hair was falling around her shoulders, her arms were scratched and her knee was bleeding, and she was smiling. She was actually smiling as if she had been for a damned walk in the park, and she had calmly asked him what he was doing here. He was damn near dying with fright for her and
she
... 'Shut up, Charlotte, just shut up!' he growled and took her in his arms and held her close to his chest, a great shudder coursing through him.