The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (19 page)

“As you say.”

He was anxious that there should be no consequences. It
should not have mattered. She should even have been glad of his consideration.

Instead, she was vaguely insulted, even saddened. And she
realized that she didn’t care if she was pregnant. Despite all the changes it
would bring, and even the hardships, she would like to have his child as a
remembrance of this time and place.

“I did ask you to make love to me,” she replied, lowering
her lashes. “If anything should come of it, I will not hold you responsible.”

“You absolve me of responsibility for my child.”

His voice was low and without inflection; still, she
flinched. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“How can you ask it when you know—” He stopped, pressed his
lips together.

“Your sense of duty, yes. You would want to know.”

“Of course, I would wish it. I would want to see that you
have the best of care, the best doctor, the best hospital. I would need to know
that you aren’t overworking out of sheer, pig-headed independence, also that you
eat as you should and have all the comforts you need. I would want to see that
the child had everything—”

“You would want your child.” It hurt to say the words when
the flip side of them was that he would not necessarily want its mother.

“
Dio
, yes,” he said, his voice rough, “though we
don’t always get what we want. Except for now. Now, what I want is you. I don’t
suppose you have a condom in that carry-on bag.”

She shook her head. “I don’t, no, but since a second time
without protection can hardly matter after a first…”

His eyes were so dark as he met hers that the pupils seemed
to disappear. She had the feeling he saw through her, knew exactly what was in
her mind. She didn’t care if he did, didn’t care about anything except this
moment and his hand that was centered over the hard beat of her heart.

Long seconds past, then his lashes swept down. “
Di
o,”
he said again with the sound of both prayer and imprecation, and leaned to set
his lips to hers.

~ ~ ~

He had taken advantage of Amanda, and in
the worst possible way, Nico thought as he had his morning espresso while
dressing in his room. The problem was that he would do it again, often, and
without regret. In fact, it was difficult to prevent himself from going to her
this instant.

He could take her a cup of the hot, strong brew he
preferred, and, while she drank it, see how the flavor that lingered on his
tongue blended with her sweetness.

Gran Dio
! He must stop thinking of such things.

He could not enter her room in the morning light. Anyone
might see him coming or going. He was amazed they had not done so yesterday
afternoon or again later last night.

The wider world might think little of such a thing, but it
was not that way at the Villa de Frenza. Here the old values, old manners
applied, and would as long as Nonna lived, or as long as he lived. That meant
it would be best if he went away for a few days. He would stay away until the
fever in his blood began to cool. Surely it would, eventually.

Amanda had been so very enticing in her thin robe with damp,
sweet nakedness underneath it. She had been responsive beyond imagining,
passionately sensuous beneath her lady-like exterior, just as he’d known she
would be. The way she stood up to him, telling him exactly what she thought,
fired his blood. Something about her made him forget the lessons in duty and
honor that had been impressed upon him since childhood. All he wanted was to
have her, hold her, to banish all her lovely defiance with his touch and his
kisses so she surrendered in his arms.

He should not have made love to her, regardless. It was not
well done while she was upset over her brother, out of her element in a country
not her own, dependent on his hospitality.

His grandmother and Aunt Filomena would be shocked and
disappointed if they knew. They would not believe him capable of it. They could
feel Amanda must have tempted him beyond his power to resist. And so she had,
though not in the way they might imagine, certainly not on purpose. No, all
she’d had to do was breathe.

That fact was why it was best that he take himself to his
Florence office to catch up on the work that had accumulated while his
attention was elsewhere. He would fly to Naples as well and possibly to Rome if
it was required. It was not only best, but necessary.

If he remained at the villa, he would take every chance that
offered to have Amanda again, and if none appeared, he would make one — or
more, probably many more. To keep the affair secret in the close confines of
the house would be next to impossible. He would not have his family think less
of Amanda when the fault was not hers.

How ironic that he had thought to seduce her as an act of
vengeance. That he had caught himself in that particular trap was suitable
penance for the impulse. The problem was how he was going to escape it.

Yes, he would at least go to Naples. And before he returned
to the villa, he must remember to have his driver stop at the
farmacia
so he could lay in a supply of condoms.

Gran Dio
! Was he an idiot that he could not stop
thinking of these things?

~ ~ ~

Nico was gone. Flowers had been delivered
to her room, an arrangement of five perfect green orchids in a crystal bowl.
With them had been a note in a few slashes of black ink.

For remembrance.

A rare and perfect flower for each time he had made love to her
during the afternoon and night. Something for remembrance, as if she needed
such a thing.

She would have preferred a morning kiss, breakfast on the
terrace, a smile, a word, something, anything, to show that what had taken
place between them had meant something more than an incident easily marked by a
florist delivery.

It wasn’t going to happen. He was the one who had run away
without a word of goodbye.

Neither his aunt nor his grandmother seemed surprised or
concerned at his sudden departure. They were sure he’d gone to his office where
much was pending after his absence over the past several days. Yet Erminia had
heard him speaking by phone with his personal assistant, arranging a meeting
with the Naples executives and readying the corporate apartment there for his
arrival.

Amanda had no right to expect a personal accounting of his
movements, and she knew it. Neither of them had made any promises. The
attraction between them, as powerful as it might be, had little future. A few
days, a week or two at the most, and they would go their separate ways. They
were too different, their lives too far apart, for it to be any other way.

Still, she had expected better of Nico. He did not seem the
kind of man who would make passionate love to a woman, whisper such lovely,
ravishing phrases in his own language, tend her responses with such care that
her nipples beaded now just thinking of it, only to leave her flat.

It troubled her that he slid so quickly from her bed and
went to such pains to make certain the coast was clear before leaving her room.
If being discovered with her would be such an embarrassment, he should never
have risked it in the first place.

Of course, he had been concerned about his family
discovering him in her room. They would not understand, he’d said, yet she
wondered if there wasn’t more to it than that. Would they, perhaps, believe the
fiction had become a fact, and she was truly his fiancée? Might they not expect
him to marry her if it was seen they were sleeping together under the family roof?

She would never hold him to such a quasi-commitment, but he
didn’t know that. Breach of promise suits had been filed for less, and he was
an excellent target for such a thing. He could not be blamed for being
cautious.

Despite her misgivings, she was fervently glad he had come
to her. How dreary life would stretch ahead of her without the memory of the
time spent in his arms. She might never have known exactly how love between a
man and a woman could be. Everything she had felt before was like the difference
between a candle flame and a forest fire. She had burned for him, shameless in
her need for more and more of him, of his caresses, his body moving against
her, inside her in its consuming power.

Perhaps it was a good thing that he had gone. She had come
to Italy to be with Jonathan. The distraction of an affair was the last thing
she needed.

It might not be the last thing she wanted, of course, but
that was a different matter.

Wherever Nico might have gone, he had sent his limo back to
the villa. It and the chauffeur, so Aunt Filomena told her while acting as
translator, were both at her disposal for the drive back and forth to visit her
brother. Nico’s aunt would give herself the pleasure of traveling with Amanda
for her visits, if she did not mind. It was Nico’s suggestion, certainly, but
she would be glad of the opportunity to know Amanda better.

Nico’s aunt was already in the limo when Amanda reached it
on the morning of the second day. She was reading an English tabloid as she
often did to keep in practice, so absorbed in the pages it was a moment before
she looked up. Immediately, she smiled a greeting and folded the rough sheets
of newsprint, dropping them onto the seat beside her.

Amanda’s reply was mechanical. A familiar name caught her
eye on the paper’s front page. As she took her seat and the car moved off down
the drive, she reached for it.

Conte’s Conquest!

De Frenza with Sister of Injured Race Car Driver!

“Do not distress yourself,
cara mia
,” Aunt Filomena
said. “It means nothing.”

“No.” Amanda knew that, but it didn’t stop her from scanning
the article. The writer had stretched the truth like a pair of old panty hose,
but stopped short of calling her Nico’s mistress.

The photo beneath the headline showed her in Nico’s arms as
he’d lifted her and thrust her into his Ferrari. She was looking up at him as
if he were her knight in armor, the expression on her face one of such naked
admiration she winced to see it.

Nico had been captured in the instant he returned her
glance, however. His shoulders were stiff, his arm like a steel band behind her
back and his features set in grim lines. Yet in his eyes was such protective
fury that it seemed the conte was claiming her as his own.

Amanda’s swallowed against the stinging pressure of tears.
She breathed with difficulty against their ache. When she was sure they were
under control, she folded the paper with care and tucked it into her shoulder
bag.

Of course it meant nothing. But she might one day be glad to
have the photo for a souvenir.

Aunt Filomena was a vivacious companion who allowed no
awkward pauses in conversation. During the days spent going back and forth
together, she made the miles zip past with directions to the best boutiques in
Florence for leather goods and shoes, tales of her various husbands, memories
of the grand parties held at the villa in her youth, and stories about Nico as
a mischievous young boy.

Amanda listened to the last with intense interest, though
she tried not to show it. She wasn’t sure she succeeded, however, as Aunt Filomena
embroidered a little more on his past misdeeds and triumphs every day.

They were not bothered again by the paparazzi. Whether they
had done their worst, Nico’s safeguards had discouraged them or some other
scandal had drawn them away was difficult to say. Still, it was a relief to be
free of their harassment.

At the end of the week, Nico’s aunt begged off the daily
visit because of a luncheon engagement. Amanda made the trip alone. She dressed
carefully, as she had every other day, being mindful that Nico might show up at
any time.

Her suit skirt had been discarded on the morning he left.
What was the purpose of hanging on to it, after all, when she had accepted him
into her bed? In any case, the dresses he’d chosen in natural linen and cotton
in luscious colors of rose and sea blue, ochre and sienna, were far more suited
to the climate.

Her choice today was a shift in robin’s egg blue with
grosgrain ribbon trim in lime green, one beautifully cut to skim the figure,
subtly enhancing even as it concealed. Slipping on the ballet flats that
matched it, she could not help hoping Nico might see her in it, might
understand that she was glad to accept his gifts, as she had accepted him.

“I am to be discharged in a couple of days,” Jonathan said
by way of greeting the instant she entered his room.

A pang of distress shifted through Amanda. It was another
reminder, if one were needed, that her time in Italy would soon end. “I know
you’re glad,” she answered, summoning a smile. “I suppose I should get on the
phone about a flight for us.”

“Not just yet. I only understood about two words in four of
what the doctor said, but it seems I’ll need physical therapy. I’m to go to a
special spa or facility of some sort.”

“Whatever is best. I hope he will arrange it, since I’ve no
idea how to go about it.”

“If he doesn’t, I suppose Nico will.”

“Yes.” Her relief at the thought was instant. Perhaps the
facility the doctor had mentioned was actually the villa. And if a part of her
gladness was because it might be so, because she need not think of leaving
Italy yet in that case, it was her secret.

“But I don’t want to leave here for a while yet,” Jonathan
said, echoing her thought unconsciously as he pleated the hem of his sheet
between his fingers.  “I can at least see Carita for five minutes here and
there during the day.”

Nico had, without fanfare, arranged for someone to escort
Jonathan down to Carita’s room while he navigated on crutches. Amanda was
grateful since it seemed to have speeded Jonathan’s recovery.