The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding

by Jennifer Blake

  “Do you?”

  “I do and I did, carissima. I used no protection, had none with me, mi dispiace.

  Her smile was wry as she allowed her gaze to move over his face. “It never crossed my mind either.”

  “I can, if you like, arrange for your protection even now. This I owe you.”

  “You mean a morning-after pill.”

  “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. “Dio,” 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 l
ife 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.

  “Is there no change,” she asked, “no sign that she might come around soon?”

  “I swear she hears me. I can see her eyes moving behind her lids and sometimes she almost smiles. She squeezed my hand, just a little, last night."

  “That sounds promising.”

  “I think she might come around if I could stay longer, or if Nico or others in her family could come more often to talk to her. She just needs to know someone is there.”

  “Nico is away on business, as I told you—”

  “Yeah, he came by a couple of times while he was in the city, but said he’d be in Naples a few days.”

  “Did he?” Her smile was not quite steady. Jonathan had seen him since she had. “Anyway, possibly Aunt Filomena could sit with her a bit longer when she’s here.”

  “Or Carisa, maybe? Carita is really close to her, you know. It’s that twin thing, I guess, though Carita has taken care of her all of their lives. She worries about Carisa, was always trying to make her feel she’s exactly like her in as many ways as possible. She’d come back if she thought Carisa needed her. I know she would.”

  “You may be right, but they are trying to keep the seriousness of her condition from Carisa for fear she’ll be too upset. And she might be.” She went on to tell him of how disturbed Nico’s sister had been at the idea that she might be leaving, and how unimaginable the scene could be if she suspected Carita was slipping away.

  “Carisa is tougher than they think.” He pressed a fold in the sheet and used his thumb nail to crease it again and again. “At least that’s what Carita always said when we talked about her. Nico keeps her so protected Carisa might as well be rolled up in bubble-wrap and put away. He acts as if she’ll break at the slightest touch, but it’s really that he can’t stand the thought of being responsible if she gets hurt. And she becomes upset at the least little thing because she’s never had to cope. Oh, I don’t mean to sound hard-hearted, but it seems such a shame.”

  “You may be right,” Amanda said with a light touch on his fidgeting hands to still them, “but that doesn’t mean Nico would consider letting her come sit with Carita. She might do her a lot of good, but she could also have a very public and embarrassing meltdown.”

  “Embarrassing for him, you mean,” h
er brother muttered.

  “For her, rather. I don’t think Nico is easily embarrassed.” Amanda felt the rise of heat to her hairline as she recalled his calm assurance as he’d told her he could handle her climbing into his lap in a public restaurant.

  “You’re defending him! For heaven’s sake, why? He can’t go around deciding what happens to people, like his warning me I’ll go to prison if Carita — if she doesn’t make it.”

  “It won’t come to that now, surely, if she’s getting better.”

  Her brother’s lips flattened into a thin line and he refused to meet her gaze. When he made no reply, Amanda gave a tired sigh.

  “What you need to keep in mind is that Nico loves Carisa and has been taking care of her for years, too. As head of his family, he really is responsible for what happens to her, it’s not just talk for him. Before he even thinks of bringing her here, he’ll have to weigh the possible benefit to Carita against the possible damage to Carisa. She is doing better these past few days. She’s getting out more, doing more. It would be a tragedy if something happened to set her back.

  “Maybe it’s because he’s gone,” Jonathan muttered.

  “Don’t say that!” Amanda heard the irritation in her voice, but couldn’t help it. “Carisa misses him, is beginning to fret now that he’s been away nearly a week.”

  Anger and pain surfaced in Jonathan’s eyes. “Meanwhile, Carita just lies there. If I could get out of this bed, I’d bring Carisa here myself.” His face changed abruptly, his eyes zeroing in on her face. “Or — how much longer do you think Nico will be away?”

  “No, really—” she began.

  “Yes, Mandy, yes. You could bring Carisa here. What’s to keep you from it?”

  “To start with, I know Nico would hate it.”

  “What do you care how he feels? You’ll probably never see him again once I leave here.”

  It was too true to be denied, though hearing it put into words was like a blow to the heart. “He’s been so helpful, constantly checking on you, driving me back and forth, letting me stay at the villa—”