She had made a disturbing discovery about her husband. ‘Count Gianfranco Maldini’ the businessman was a totally different male animal from the Gianni she had fallen in love with. He was a workaholic, and he was spoilt rotten. His mother and Olivia waited on him hand and foot, as did all the staff, as if he was the Master of the Universe, and he took their adoration as his due. Their attitude to Kelly was not so friendly, though she had tried telling herself she must be mistaken when she thought she understood Olivia’s sly comments in Italian. She had tried to convince herself she was being paranoid, but yesterday was a case in point.
Gianfranco had informed her in the morning that his mother and Olivia were going to take her shopping. When Kelly had asked him to go with her instead he had pleaded pressure of work, and then added, ‘Mamma knows the right places to shop for a woman in your condition, whereas I haven’t a clue.’
Sensitivity was obviously not his strong point. Kelly knew damn fine what he had meant. Probably the only clothes he had ever bought for women were of the designer variety from exclusive boutiques. Not maternity wear.
She’d been seething with resentment by the time she had returned from the shopping trip. Carmela and Olivia had overridden anything she had suggested with the comment that they knew best the acceptable way for pregnant women to dress in Italian society. Kelly had felt about two inches tall and shut up. Consequently she’d returned to the house with three of the most enormous dresses she’d ever clapped eyes on. However hard she tried, she could not convince herself Carmela and Olivia were looking after her best interests—in fact, quite the reverse.
She had said as much to Gianfranco, and he had gone all cold on her. He had told her she was jumping to ridiculous conclusions over a few misunderstood words, and then suggested it was her hormones playing up because of her pregnancy.
Walking out of the bedroom, Kelly knew she was pinning all her hopes on tonight; she wanted to fit in and make friends, but not at the loss of her pride and self-esteem. Which was why she was wearing the dress she had bought herself in England.
Taking a deep breath, she walked into the salon. Gianfranco had come down earlier. Olivia, looking stunning in a midnight-blue strapless and backless dress that clung to her every curve, was standing so close to him that they were almost touching.
Seeing her husband looking so incredibly handsome in a formal black dinner suit, smiling down at Olivia, gave Kelly a nasty jolt somewhere in the region of her heart. Straightening her shoulders, she walked into the middle of the room. ‘Good evening.’
It was like watching a tableau unfold. Carmela was the first to notice Kelly, and when she did her perfectly plucked eyebrows rose in surprise.
Then Olivia laughed. ‘Surely you’re not wearing that?’ she said, eyeing Kelly as if she had crawled out from under a rock.
Stiffening defensively, Kelly said, ‘Yes, I am.’ It was a perfectly plain silk-jersey black dress. Tiny diamanté straps supported a bodice that was cut in a straight line across her breasts. The material, cut on the bias, clung slightly from under her bust to just above her knees.
Kelly ignored the babble of Italian that ensued and glanced across at Gianfranco, waiting for him to smile to give her some support.
Gianfranco’s dark eyes made a swift analytical survey of her stiffly held figure as he walked across to her. ‘You look very nice, Kelly.’ In fact, he thought she looked delectable, but he could see his mother’s point of view.
‘Damned with faint praise,’ Kelly said drily as Gianfranco stopped and stared down at her from beneath hooded lids, his expression unreadable.
‘No, really, you know you always look beautiful,’ he said soothingly. ‘But Mamma thought you would have worn one of the gowns she bought for you. She is of the opinion they are much more suitable for a wife during her confinement, and on matters of taste Mamma does know what is best. You would do well to take notice of her.’
Confinement! The old-fashioned term made Kelly bristle with indignation. Dear heaven, her arrogant husband and his sainted mother had got that right! she thought. She was beginning to feel more and more as if she was in jail. Well, to hell with the pair of them, tonight she was going to enjoy herself, if it was the last thing she did.
‘I’ll make your apologies, should it be necessary, while you change,’ Gianfranco continued smoothly. ‘But hurry.’
‘No.’
One ebony brow arched. ‘No! You refuse?’
She almost laughed, he looked so astounded. ‘Got it in one.’
He caught her arm. ‘Kelly, you’re behaving foolishly. Now go upstairs and change,’ he commanded, his dark eyes revealing his irritation.
Kelly glared up at him. ‘I would look foolish if I wore any of the dresses I got yesterday. I’m five and a half months pregnant, not nine,’ she snorted, nervous tension heightening her already rising temper. ‘They make me look like an elephant. You should—you should see them.’
Gianfranco smiled when she began to splutter—a very masculine grin. ‘I see.’ He let go of her arm. ‘Female vanity I can understand,’ he drawled mockingly.
She wanted to hit him; he was so damn condescending. But she never got the chance as Aldo announced the first guests had arrived. Carefully holding her temper under tight control, Kelly braced herself to meet a host of strangers.
It was nowhere near as bad as she had feared. Gianfranco’s friends were not nearly as intimidating as his mother and sister-in-law, a mixture of local people and business acquaintances, and when Judy and Carlo Bertoni arrived Kelly could not hide her delight.
The buffet meal was exquisite, the conversation a mixture of English and Italian. Carmela sparkled and was the perfect hostess, and with Olivia quickly had a group of people hanging onto her every word.
Kelly, finding herself alone for a moment, began to relax. Gianfranco was at the other side of the room, deep in discussion with a group of men in what was obviously a male-only conversation.
Suddenly beside Kelly, Judy chuckled. ‘Aren’t you the dark horse?’
Kelly glanced at her and blushed.
Judy’s eyes lit with amusement. ‘Your local lad turned out to be Count Gianfranco Maldini—what a story! Come on, tell all. How did it happen?’
Kelly told her, ending with, ‘In a way I have you to thank, because apparently when you told him at New Year that I was pregnant he came to look for me, and the rest, as they say, is history,’ she quipped.
‘That’s great!’ Judy asserted with a grin. ‘But let me give you some advice; your Gianfranco has had plenty of women in his time, and he treated them all with a casualness you wouldn’t believe. He is not the type for deep emotional commitment. But you’re carrying his child, and Italians love children, so make sure you make the most of it, and don’t let him out of your sight.’
‘Thanks, Judy.’ Kelly forced a smile. She needed reminding of her husband’s past women like a hole in the head, but that was Judy. ‘But we are marr…’ She never finished the sentence, as someone bumped into her and sent a shower of liquid down the front of her dress.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Olivia appeared in front of Kelly. ‘I didn’t see you there, and now your dress is ruined. How clumsy of me.’ Kelly glanced up and the malevolence in the dark eyes that met hers froze her to the spot. ‘Now you will have to change.’
Kelly couldn’t believe the pettiness of it… But, overcome with embarrassment, as the dampness had made the fabric stick to her stomach, she did not want to make a scene. ‘Yes,’ she agreed.
With a hard glance at Olivia, Judy said, ‘I’ll come with you.’
Before they could move Gianfranco materialised at her side. His dark eyes swept down over her small body and the tell-tale damp patch over her stomach. ‘What happened?’ Everyone around them seemed to go silent.
‘Nothing, really—an accident. Don’t make a fuss.’ She turned a deep, embarrassed shade of red.
Olivia laid a hand on his arm and he turned towards her as she said something
in rapid Italian. The people around them laughed. Gianfranco grinned and, glancing back at Kelly, placed a hand in the small of her back. ‘Hurry along, then.’
Kelly nodded without comprehending what had been said, and, with Judy at her side, exited the room.
‘That bitch did that deliberately,’ Judy remarked as they walked up the stairs. ‘You’re going to have to watch her.’
‘No, really, it was an accident,’ Kelly lied, not believing it for a second. ‘These things happen.’
‘That is not what she just told your husband,’ Judy revealed bluntly. ‘She joked it was the extra weight you were carrying—the Maldini heir—that made you stumble. Why do you think they all laughed?’
‘No, I don’t believe you,’ Kelly said staunchly, defending Gianfranco and at the same time feeling incredibly hurt.
‘Then I suggest you learn Italian—quick,’ Judy declared drily.
Ignoring her, Kelly stripped off the dress, and after a brief visit to the bathroom to sponge down her stomach returned to the bedroom.
‘Is this your bedroom?’ Judy asked, glancing around and wandering into the sitting room, and finally the dressing room, where she flung open the wardrobe doors.
‘Yes, of course.’ Kelly followed her in and eyed her meagre supply of clothes with a jaundiced eye.
‘You’re in worse trouble than I thought,’ Judy commented. ‘This isn’t the master suite of Casa Maldini. You do know that?’ Judy lifted an enquiring eyebrow in Kelly’s direction.
‘No,’ Kelly said with a dry smile. ‘But I do know my own bedroom suite.’
‘Maybe, but remember the magazine article I showed you, the luxurious master suite is in the other wing.’
‘That’s Olivia’s,’ Kelly muttered, pulling one of the new dresses from the wardrobe. The least offensive was a white muslin concoction sprigged with pink roses.
‘Ah! So the black widow is firmly entrenched. I’m sorry to say this, Kelly, but you’d better get a grip. You are the top female in this house now, and it’s time you started acting like it, or Olivia is going to walk all over you.’
‘Really, Judy, you’re being melodramatic.’ She liked Judy, but she knew her attitude towards men was manipulative; she only had to think of how she had used Kelly last summer to get her husband to agree to a full-time nanny.
Judy shook her head and sighed. ‘Listen up, Kelly. There have been rumours about Olivia and Gianfranco for ages now, but it is also common knowledge Olivia can’t have children. She was married for ten years to his brother and tried everything. If you are not very careful she will take over not just the master suite, but your husband and your child if you let her.’
‘You have a vivid imagination,’ Kelly muttered, lifting the dress prior to putting it over her head, but Judy’s words had struck a chord.
‘Oh, my God! You’re never going to wear that!’ Judy tore it from her hand. ‘Where is your style, woman?’
Kelly sighed. ‘Carmela and Olivia took me shopping and assured me this is what the best-dressed Italian mum-to-be wears.’
‘Over my dead body,’ Judy asserted and, rifling through the wardrobe, withdrew the winter-white cashmere dress that she’d worn for her wedding. ‘Here, wear that—at least it has some style—and for heaven’s sake think about what I have told you. You are far too trusting for your own good.’
The sound of music floated into the grand hall as the two girls made their way back downstairs. The dancing had started. Kelly glanced across the room just as Gianfranco took Olivia into his arms and started to dance.
Carlo Bertoni appeared and slid an arm around Judy. ‘Where have you been? I missed you,’ he declared, and as Kelly watched Judy smiled up into her husband’s eyes.
‘Helping the lady of the house change.’
‘And very lovely you look.’ Carlo smiled at Kelly. ‘Gianfranco is a very lucky man.’
Kelly forced a smile. ‘Thank you, Carlo.’ But, watching Gianfranco dancing, with Olivia’s arms now wrapped around his neck, she began to wonder how lucky she was herself. Somehow seeing the two so intimately together lent credence to Judy’s outrageous suggestions. She felt sick to her stomach and was hit by a wave of such bitter jealousy she had to close her eyes for a moment.
Opening them again, she glanced around the room. It wasn’t just Olivia who was ogling her husband, she noted. Gianfranco, with his great height and superbly muscled body, moved with a rhythm, a lithe, sexy elegance, which, combined with his dark good looks, attracted the appreciative eyes of almost every female present.
Gianfranco loved her, she told herself firmly. They were married, for heaven’s sake. But a fluttering in her stomach reminded her she was pregnant and why he had married her. Then Gianfranco caught sight of her, his glorious eyes widening in delight, and she was reassured by the brilliant smile that he winged her way. She was worrying over nothing.
Kelly was wearing the dress she had married him in, and for a moment Gianfranco was stunned anew by how beautiful she looked. His wife, with her pale hair swept up on top of her head, her slender body ripening softly with his child. Yes, he had made the right decision marrying her, he congratulated himself, his chest swelling with pride. She was every inch a lady and, contrary to what he had been led to believe by married men of his acquaintance, marriage had made little difference to his life at all—except he had a warm and willing woman in his bed every night. Married life was good. His friends adored Kelly, the evening was a great success, and he wished the whole lot would leave so he could take her to bed.
The music stopped and he disengaged himself from his courtesy dance with his sister-in-law. He was stopped from claiming Kelly by Olivia’s hand on his arm. He listened with barely concealed impatience to what she had to say, but when his mother joined in his attention was caught. Old loyalties vied with new, and slowly his dark brows drew together in a frown.
Kelly saw the frown, and she watched as he worked his way through the crowd towards her. Gianfranco reached for Kelly with a strong arm and pulled her to his side. ‘I see you’ve changed,’ he said, bending his dark head towards her, and under cover of apparently kissing her neck, said softly, ‘Beautiful though you look, would it have been too much of a hardship to wear one of the gowns Mamma chose for you?’
‘Yes,’ she declared mutinously. She had already had this argument earlier, and she was not about to start trying to defend her choice again.
‘Dance with me,’ Gianfranco demanded. She stilled, and the large hand at her spine pulled her closer. ‘Smile,’ he suggested silkily, glittering dark eyes absorbing the defiance in her beautiful face. ‘Or people might suspect that we are arguing.’
‘Heaven forbid anyone would dare argue with you, Gianfranco,’ she drawled sarcastically. And was punished by being kissed in a brief, hard kiss. Her nostrils flared on the disturbingly familiar scent of him, her body instantly melting in the circle of his arms. ‘People are watching,’ she said, her face flushing scarlet.
‘So what? I am master in my own home,’ he murmured against her ear as he guided her gently around the floor. ‘You would do well to remember that. I am not used to the women in my life bending my ear about clothes,’ he declared with all the aristocratic arrogance of his illustrious ancestors. ‘It has got to stop—understand?’
Involuntarily Kelly flinched and missed a step, stung by the implied threat in his statement…
‘Olivia was right, you are rather clumsy tonight,’ he remarked.
Judy had not been lying! In that second Kelly wanted to thump him; her blue eyes flashed fire as they met his. ‘And you are a blind chauvinist pig!’ she whispered tightly.
Her sapphire eyes were magnificent when anger or passion aroused her, but he did not want to argue with her. ‘Don’t get upset, Kelly.’ His gleaming dark eyes held hers. ‘I will forgive you. It’s probably your hormones playing up.’
Kelly pulled free just as the music stopped, but before she could speak Carmela tapped Gianfranco on the arm. ‘T
he guests will soon be leaving.’
Half an hour later the last of the guests had left. Carmela declared the evening a great success and suggested they all have a nightcap. Kelly refused, said goodnight and made straight for the stairs.
Inside she was a seething mass of conflicting emotions. She loved Gianfranco, but he, by his own words, had admitted he had been laughing at her with Olivia. She couldn’t believe he was so insensitive to her feelings. But then, she did not know him that well, as she was fast discovering.
Once in the bedroom, she quickly undressed, and in the bathroom she washed, then brushed out her hair, before slipping on a blue satin nightgown. She grimaced slightly—it was getting a little snug—and walked back into the bedroom.
After an instant’s hesitation at seeing Gianfranco, she continued towards the bed.
‘Rather a hasty exit, Kelly,’ he opined hardly. ‘It wouldn’t have hurt you to share a nightcap with Mamma.’
‘I thought I’d leave you to it, then you could all have a good laugh at me,’ she snapped.
In the process of divesting himself of his clothes he stopped and faced her, his dinner suit discarded and his fingers lingering on the last button of his shirt.
‘What exactly do you mean by that?’ He shrugged off his shirt and stood before her in just black silk boxers. His dark eyes narrowed intently on her pale face. ‘You have been in a strange mood for the past hour.’
‘Maybe because I don’t like being told what to wear, or being ordered to change.’
Gianfranco stilled, his broad shoulders tensing. ‘Maybe you should learn some courtesy to my mother, when she has very generously tried to help you,’ he opined bluntly.
‘Maybe you should learn some courtesy to me, your wife,’ she snarled, the events of the evening finally getting on top of her. ‘Like when your sister-in-law tipped her drink all over me and apologised. Yet, according to Judy, when you appeared she told you it was my clumsiness and you all had a jolly good laugh.’
The Italian's Runaway Bride Page 9