by Penny Jordan
Her saviour! He was no better than Antonio in what he had done, even if in his arms she had learned and discovered true sexual pleasure. Just as in hers he had learned and discovered what it was to love?
A shudder ran through his body, causing him to push back from his desk and stand up. From the window of his office in his Florence apartment, in the beautiful eighteenth-century palazzo that had come down to him through his mother’s family, Falcon looked down into the elegant courtyard garden.
He had stolen from Annie, abused her just as surely as his half-brother had done—even if Annie herself was not aware of that as yet; even if before she had finally fallen asleep in his arms she had whispered to him her joyful thanks for what they had shared.
Somewhere, somehow, during their intimacy, a line had been crossed that he had had no right to allow her to cross. He owed her an apology and an explanation. The former he could and would give her, but as for the latter...
What would he explain? That he had concealed the truth from himself and thus by default from her when he had not admitted to himself that his actions were in part motivated by his own desire for her? That admission should have been made, and with it a choice given to her. He had not been honest either with her or with himself, and Annie would have every right to treat him with anger and contempt. Those were certainly the emotions he felt towards himself. And was he really sure that his motivating need right now to be with her stemmed from a desire to admit his failings to her? Was he really sure that the reason he wanted to be with her wasn’t that he wanted to repeat the intimacy they had already shared?
What he had done was, in his own eyes, a gross violation of all that he believed his duty to Annie to be.
He had seen his brothers fall in love and find their love was returned, and he had envied them their happiness. Now he envied them even more.
Because he was falling in love with Annie?
He could not, must not, would not do that. He had after all promised her the freedom to make her own choice. He must never burden her with his feelings. From now on they must be his secret and his alone.
He had a dinner engagement here in Florence tonight, with a fellow architect and his wife.
But there was only one place he wanted to be right now, and one person he wanted to be with.
CHAPTER TEN
THEY WERE WITHIN sight of the castello when a taxi coming away from it passed them on the road, causing Annie to feel a fierce spiral of joyous anticipation, and the hope that it meant that Falcon had returned earlier than planned.
But after Rocco’s driver had dropped her off, she asked Maria if Falcon was back, and the housekeeper shook her head and said that no, the taxi had brought a visitor—the second that afternoon—for the Prince. She grumbled that she suspected Falcon knew nothing of these two visits, and that she hoped that two visitors in one day would not be too much for the elderly man.
Nodding her head, Annie was more concerned about the danger of her disappointed reaction to the fact that the taxi had not brought Falcon back to the castello, than curious about the Prince’s visitors.
Now, having fed and changed Ollie, she was walking round the enclosed courtyard garden adjacent to the terrace with him. He lay back in his buggy enjoying the warmth of the late-afternoon sunshine.
She was totally oblivious, until she happened to catch sight of her own reflection in the tranquil goldfish pond beside which she had stopped, of just how accustomed she had become to her new clothes, and how relaxed she now felt about the way they subtly enhanced her womanliness. It was a sweet moment of true female pleasure and one that made her smile.
She had Falcon to thank for that, of course. He had given her the confidence to accept that only she had the right to decide what she would wear, and to believe that she was perfectly capable of deciding for herself what was and what was not appropriate. Her skin had begun to develop a light tan, and her hair was loose on her shoulders. She lifted Ollie out of his buggy and, holding him securely showed him the goldfish pond, sitting down at the side of it with him on her lap and disturbing the smooth surface of the water so that he could see the fat goldfish swimming off. This was an idyllic place for him to grow up. He would have the company of Rocco and Julie’s little boy, and no doubt there would be other children to come. He would be surrounded by love, and best of all he would have Falcon to guide and protect him.
Falcon. She let her lips form his name, savouring the luxury of the heady pleasure of doing so, knowing that he wasn’t here to witness and object to her folly.
The evening stretched out ahead of her, lonely and empty without Falcon’s company, just like the previous two evenings had been. She missed him so much. It made no difference that she had known him for such a short space of time. How much time did it take to fall in love? No time at all. A mere heartbeat was enough to change the whole course of a person’s life. And Falcon had done that for her. She already owed him so much. She must not add another burden to those she had already given him. Motivated as he was by duty, and his sense of responsibility toward others, no doubt if he found out she loved him he would be concerned on her behalf.
She could see Maria coming towards her through the garden, no doubt to ask her what she wanted for dinner, Annie decided.
But when Maria reached her she announced breathlessly, ‘The Prince wishes to see you and Oliver in his apartment.’
‘What? Now?’ Annie questioned the housekeeper uncertainly.
‘Yes. Now.’
He asked for me too?
Previously it had been Falcon who had taken her son to see his grandfather, the Prince having shown no interest in her after their initial meeting.
‘You must hurry,’ Maria told her, looking anxious. ‘The Prince does not like to be kept waiting.’
Ideally, Annie would have preferred to be given an opportunity to freshen up—to make sure that both she and Ollie, especially Ollie, were looking their best before they were subjected to what she suspected would be a very critical inspection by the Prince. But Maria was making it very plain that there would be no time for that kind of luxury.
Indeed, the housekeeper had put out her hand to the buggy, quite obviously wanting to hurry them along.
There was nothing Annie could do other than go along with what was happening, and she wheeled Ollie in his buggy over the immaculately polished floors and priceless antique carpets of the castello’s succession of formal reception rooms until they reached the discreetly tucked away lift that went up to the Prince’s private apartments on the first floor.
Maria went up in the lift with them, and once it had stopped and the doors had opened handed them over to the manservant who was waiting for them.
The old Prince was a stickler for tradition, Annie had learned from Julie, and lived very much in the style of the early nineteen-hundreds, waited on by a formidable retinue of equally elderly retainers.
This part of the castello felt and looked very different from Falcon’s modern apartments. The decor of the two empty salons she was almost marched through was very baroque—the ceilings intricately plastered, gilded like the heavily carved woodwork, the wall panels hung with silks that matched those used for the curtains and the soft furnishings. These rooms felt more like a museum than a home, Annie reflected, shivering a little in her sleeveless sundress.
A liveried footman stood on guard outside the final pair of double doors which he and Annie’s escort drew back, so that she could enter the room beyond.
Here, if anything, the decor was even more imposing than it had been in the two previous salons. Huge paintings in sombre colours dominated the walls, whilst over her head the ceiling fresco could, she thought, have rivalled the Sistine chapel.
The heavy velvet curtains either side of the room’s four windows shut out almost all the natural daylight, so that the room was ablaz
e with chandeliers, whilst a fire burned in the enormous fireplace.
The air smelled of old age—both human and non-human—but Annie no longer had the luxury of assessing her surroundings. She was unable to drag her shocked, disbelieving gaze from one of the two dark-suited men standing beside the shrunken figure of the Prince, wrapped in a rug and seated in his wheelchair beside the fire.
Colin! What was he doing here?
Her heart started to jolt sickeningly inside her chest, thudding with familiar fear, and she began to shiver and then tremble as her stepbrother’s familiar disapproving gaze focused on her bare shoulders and arms.
How much she wished now that she had insisted on having time to go to her room and get herself a cardigan to cover herself with—or even better to change completely.
She knew—just knew from the way Colin’s lips were thinning—what he was thinking.
‘Colin. What...what are you doing here?’
The words were out before she could silence them. Uttering them, she recognized, angry with herself, had made her sound like an immature schoolgirl, caught out in some forbidden activity.
‘It’s all right, Annie.’
How soft and reassuring Colin’s voice always sounded. So kind and caring and reasonable. No wonder her mother had never understood her fear of him.
‘No one’s going to be angry with you. I’m here to make sure of that. You know I’ve always had your best interests at heart.’
No one was going to be angry with her? But he already was. She mustn’t let him do this to her. She must not slip back to being the fearful creature she had been before Falcon had rescued her. Falcon. If only he had been here...
‘I don’t understand why you are here,’ Annie told him flatly. She must be strong and firm. She must behave as though Falcon were standing at her side, guiding and guarding her.
‘I’ve come to take you home.’
Fire, like a petrol-soaked rag to which someone had just applied a flame, shot up inside her, ravaging and out of control.
But she must control it.
‘This is my home now. Mine and Ollie’s.’
Colin was smiling at her now—the triumphant, gloating smile she remembered so well, and which before he had only shown her in private. Her heart turned over in a sickening lurch of fear when she realised how confident he must feel if he was showing it to her now, in public....
‘This is Oliver’s home now, yes. But your home is with me, Annie. You know that. It always has been and it always will be.’
‘Let’s get this over with.’ The Prince spoke for the first time. His English was good but his voice was shaky and unsteady. ‘Where are the papers?’ he demanded turning to the third man, who had not spoken as yet. ‘She must sign them, and then he can take her away. He must take her away before she hurts my grandson. Bring the child to me.’
Hurt Ollie? What was the Prince saying? What was going on?
As the third man came towards her Annie snatched Ollie up out of his buggy, holding him tightly. As though her fear had communicated itself to him, Ollie suddenly started to cry.
‘See,’ Falcon’s father announced fiercely. ‘Her brother is right. She is not fit to have charge of the boy. He is afraid of her.’
Ollie afraid of her? Colin her brother? What was going on?
Confusion, horror and fear—she felt them all. Instinctively she tried to escape, turning towards the doors through which she had entered the room. But they were closed, with the two manservants standing in front of them.
Her fear increased, pounding through her, filling her and all but drowning out the courage Falcon had given her. Falcon. Just thinking his name steadied her, calmed her. Desperately she clung to it, willing herself to be strong and to remember that she was no longer a child in thrall to Colin; there was no need now for her to fear him.
But what about the Prince? He obviously wanted to take Ollie away from her, and Colin would encourage and help him to do that. Colin had never wanted her to have Ollie. She must not be afraid. She must try to be strong.
‘It’s all right, Annie,’ she could hear Colin saying, in his best kind voice. She struggled not to panic. ‘Everything’s all right. We know how much you love Oliver. But the best place for him is with his grandfather. And the Prince’s solicitor will ensure that the courts think that, as well. We all saw the way you held Oliver over the pond earlier, and I’ve already given testimony as to how you wanted to abort him before his birth. No one blames you for wanting to do that—not after what happened to you. It’s perfectly natural that there should be times when...when what happened to you overwhelms you. We’re only trying to protect you and Oliver. To protect you from doing something that you would later regret. It’s for your own sake and for his. Imagine how you would feel if you were to hurt him.
‘Now, if you’re sensible and sign these papers that the Prince’s solicitor has prepared, giving the Prince guardianship of Ollie, everything will be much easier for you. I’ll take you back to England with me and we can forget about all of this....’
‘No!’
The denial was ripped from Annie’s throat. Fear was crawling all through her. Surely she could only be imagining this? It couldn’t possibly be happening? But it was.
‘I’m sorry about this.’ It wasn’t her to whom Colin was apologizing, but the Prince. ‘As I’ve already confirmed to you, the breakdown Annie had after Oliver’s birth has left her very mentally and emotionally fragile. Which is why—’
‘She should be locked up with other madwomen, where she can’t hurt or harm my grandson.’
The Prince turned to his solicitor and said something to him in Italian, glaring at Annie as he did so.
Colin was responsible for what was happening to her. Instinctively Annie knew that. Somehow or other he had managed to put into action the train of events that had brought her here now, to this room and this horrifying situation.
‘I’m not signing anything,’ she told the three men firmly. ‘And I’m not going anywhere. Not until I’ve spoken to Falcon.’
Whilst the Prince and his solicitor exchanged looks that resulted in the solicitor giving a small shake of his head, Colin took a step towards her.
As though he sensed the danger they were in, Oliver started to cry in earnest.
‘Give me my grandson,’ the Prince demanded, setting his wheelchair in motion and heading for Annie. ‘He is a Leopardi, and there is no court in Sicily that would deny me my right to his guardianship. Especially when they know of the wickedness of his mother—a mother who tried to deny him life.’
‘That is not true,’ Annie protested.
‘Annie, it’s no use. I’ve already told the Prince everything. He knows that you wanted a termination, and that you tried to have Oliver adopted once you knew that Antonio wanted him.’
Annie gasped. ‘That’s not true.’
‘No, it isn’t.’
None of them had heard the doors open, but now all four of them turned to look towards them, to where Falcon was standing.
‘Falcon!’
Annie could hear the relief in her own voice. She could just imagine the way Colin was looking at her as she half ran and half stumbled across the room, all but flinging herself into Falcon’s arms, but she simply didn’t care.
‘They’re trying to take Ollie from me. They’re trying to say that I’m a bad mother.’
‘The child is a Leopardi,’ she could hear the old Prince insisting. ‘His place is here with—’
‘With me, Father.’ Falcon stopped his father in mid-rant. ‘And that is exactly where Oliver will be from now on. With me and with his mother—since she has agreed to be my wife and I shall be formally adopting him as my son.’
Falcon’s arm was round her, supporting her, tightening in warning as she made a small shoc
ked sound of protest.
‘I should warn all three of you that there is no law in this land or any other that will remove from me the right to be the guardian of my stepson, a child of my own blood, and protector of both him and his mother.’
‘You can’t do this. You can’t marry her—a whore who your brother—’
Whilst Annie flinched, Falcon stood firm.
‘An innocent virgin whom your son—thankfully only my half-brother—abused and defiled, but who, out of the sweetness and goodness she possesses in abundance, has given to this family the sacred trust of a new life—a child that I will never, ever allow to be damaged and corrupted in the way that his father was. However, I cannot blame Antonio alone for his shortcomings. He inherited the weakness and the love of vice that eventually destroyed him from his mother. So Oliver will inherit from his mother great courage and true strength of character.’
As he finished speaking Falcon lifted Oliver from Annie’s arms, nestling him in the crook of his own arm, from where the baby smiled up at him. The look of love the two of them exchanged made Annie want to weep with gratitude.
Putting his free arm back around her, Falcon guided her towards the buggy and deftly secured Oliver in it, before straightening up to say calmly and evenly to his father, ‘I should hate you for all that you have done to hurt and harm those I love over the years, but instead I pity you, Father. For all that you could have had and have thrown away.’
* * *
Her ordeal was over and she and Oliver were safe. Safe here in Falcon’s apartment. Safe from the Prince and from Colin perhaps, but she was not safe from her own feelings—from her love for Falcon, deeper and burning even more fiercely now, after what he had done to rescue her.