by Lynne Graham
Standing by the kitchen window, Jess ate a sandwich and drank a glass of milk before heading out into the fading light of a late spring evening to take care of the usual evening routine of cleaning, feeding and watering her charges. When she finished and went back indoors, she still had to relight the stove, which always took more than one attempt. Gritting her teeth, she got on with the task.
The phone call came when she was getting ready for bed and so bone-weary that she had all the animation of a zombie.
‘It’s Cesario…’ He reeled off his name in that dark deep rich drawl of his as naturally as if he were in the habit of phoning her, when in actuality it was the very first time he had made a personal call to her.
‘Yes?’ she queried, cautious in tone as she swallowed back an instinctive urge to ask him angrily who had given him her mobile number.
‘Can you come back up to the house at nine tomorrow morning? I have a proposition to put to you.’
‘A proposition?’ Jess repeated, intense curiosity leaping high inside her to release a tide of speculative thoughts. ‘What kind of a proposition?’
‘Not the sort that can be discussed over the phone,’ he murmured crushingly. ‘May I expect you?’
‘Yes, tomorrow’s my day off.’
Jess came off the phone, her face pale and still, and then she let out an explosive whoop that startled her pets and jumped up and down on the spot in a helpless release of the tension that had held her fast all day. Evidently, Cesario di Silvestri had listened to her! That phone call had to mean that he had listened to her and mulled over what she had told him. Now, in response, he had come up with a ‘proposition’, which was really just another label for that other word ‘deal’, which she abhorred.
Acknowledging that truth, her ready sense of optimism and relief began swiftly to recede in the face of less comforting thoughts. After all, an eye-for-an-eye guy would be very unlikely to pardon her imprudent father in return for nothing. Hadn’t he said so himself? What would be in it for him? Was sex likely to be involved? With his reputation and the interest he had previously shown in her, it was difficult to believe it would not be. She winced in the cosy cocoon of her sensible pyjamas, thinking of the scars on her abdomen and back, shivering. It was little wonder that she had never been keen to strip to reveal those blemishes to a man or relive the horror of explaining what had caused them. Sex was out of the question. In any case, bearing in mind what she had read in the sleazier newspapers’ ‘kiss ‘n’ tell’ accounts made by his former lovers, she would never be able to measure up to Cesario’s exotic and adventurous habits in the bedroom.
CHAPTER THREE
CESARIO had a clear view of Jess climbing out of her old Land Rover with several dogs leaping out in her wake.
She had said it was her day off and he had naturally assumed she would dress up for the occasion. Smarten up for their meeting even a little? Surely that was a normal expectation? But she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt roomy enough to fit him below a tweedy woollen cardigan that would not have shamed a scarecrow. Nothing she wore fitted or flattered. He clenched his even white teeth, acknowledging that if, against all the odds, they contrived to reach an agreement, there was definitely going to have to be a lot of compromise on both sides of the fence. She might not do couture, but he definitely didn’t do dog hairs.
Tommaso beamed at Jess as if they were old friends and showed her into an imposingly large reception room decked out with almost rock-star glamour in dramatic shades of black and purple. Sumptuous velvet sofas, glass tables and defiantly modern art set the tone. A few minutes later, the older man reappeared with a tray of coffee and biscuits and assured her that his employer would be with her very shortly.
‘Business…always business,’ he lamented, mimicking a phone to his ear with one hand and rolling his eyes with speaking disapproval.
So jumpy that she couldn’t sit still, Jess lifted her cup of coffee and wandered over to examine a colourful painting, struggling to work out if what looked vaguely like a weird face really was meant to be a face. Her taste in art was strictly traditional and very much confined to country landscapes and animal portraits. She would not have given houseroom to Cesario’s valuable collection of contemporary art. Her mobile phone trilled and she dug it out one-handed, hastening over to a side table to set down her coffee once she realised that it was her mother, Sharon, calling.
Sharon was in floods of tears, which made it hard to distinguish what she was saying, but Jess soon picked up the gist. Her father had bared his soul over breakfast and had then beat a very fast masculine retreat from the questions and reproaches hurled at him in the aftermath of his confession. Her mother was in emotional bits, convinced her husband was on the brink of being dragged off to prison for his part in the robbery at the hall.
‘That stupid holiday…all this over that stupid holiday I could very well have done without!’ Sharon sobbed heartbrokenly. ‘And we’ll lose the house into the bargain…’
Jess’s brows pleated. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well, Mr sodding di Silvestri is not going to let us stay in one of his properties after what your father’s done to him, is he?’ Sharon wailed. ‘I’ve lived here since I was eighteen and I couldn’t bear to lose my home too. And what about your brothers’ jobs on the estate? Mark my words, Martin faces won’t fit at Halston Hall any more and some way will be found to get rid of us all!’
Jess said what she could to calm her down but Sharon was an emotional woman and a natural pessimist. In Sharon’s mind the worst that could happen had happened, and she and her family were already homeless, jobless and broke. Having promised that she would call in later that morning, Jess finally got off the phone and found Cesario watching her from the doorway.
For a split second, she just stared, totally unnerved to find herself the target of that silent scrutiny. Formally clad in a dark business suit and vibrant silk tie, Cesario was effortlessly elegant and intimidating, only the shadow of dark stubble around his strong jaw line making it clear that his morning had commenced at a much earlier hour. She had always thought he was very good-looking but at that moment he looked stunningly handsome, his need for a shave adding a sexy rough edge to his usual immaculate appearance.
‘My mother…my father finally worked up the courage to tell her what he had done,’ Jess explained awkwardly as she put away her phone, her cheeks pink from her thoughts. ‘She’s very upset.’
‘I’m sure she must be.’ Cesario noted the level of stress etched in the tightness of her delicate features. It was an immediate source of satisfaction to him that it was within his power to banish that anxiety from her life. He had lain awake half of the night working out exactly what he wanted and what would work best: a simple straightforward arrangement free of demanding emotions and unrealistic hopes. In the most essential way they would each retain their independence.
‘You mentioned a proposition…’ she muttered nervously, digging her hands into her pockets, unable to conceal her tension from him
‘Hear me out before you give me an answer,’ he advised her quietly, registering that, in spite of her unprepossessing clothing, when she looked directly at him she looked so amazingly young and lovely that it was an effort for him to recall what he had planned to say to her. ‘And remember that by the time our agreement would come to an end you would be in a most advantageous position.’
She was mystified by that assurance and reference to an agreement, her smooth brow indented, her confusion palpable. But, keen to hear what he had to say, she nodded slowly.
Cesario viewed her with hooded eyes. ‘At its most basic, I have come up with a way in which you could help me and in return I would not prosecute your father.’
Eyes wide and hopeful, Jess snatched in an audible breath. ‘All right, tell me. How could I help you?’
‘I would like to have a child but not in the conventional way,’ Cesario explained wryly, his lean aquiline profile taut as she gazed back at hi
m, fine brows rising in surprise. ‘I’ve never been convinced that I can meet one woman and spend the rest of my life with her. On the other hand I believe I could handle a marriage that had a more practical foundation.’
Jess was now frowning more than ever as she struggled to follow what he was telling her and divine how on earth such a topic could relate to her father’s predicament. ‘How can a marriage be practical?’ she asked him uncertainly, convinced that in some way she had misunderstood, because she found it hard to believe that he could possibly be discussing the subject of marriage with her.
‘When it’s a straightforward contract freed from flowery ideals and expectations like love, romance and permanence,’ Cesario outlined with unconcealed enthusiasm. ‘If you will agree to have a child with me I will marry you, give you your freedom back within a couple of years and ensure that you need never worry about money again.’
In the grip of astonishment at that sweeping suggestion and his clear conviction that he was making her a generous offer, Jess looked away from him momentarily before turning her head back sharply to stare at him. ‘You can’t be serious—for goodness’ sake, you’re young, handsome and rich,’ she pointed out. ‘There must be any number of women who would be eager to marry you and give you a family.’
‘But I don’t want a hedonistic gold-digger for a wife or, for that matter, as an unsuitable mother for my child. I want an intelligent, independent woman who will accept my terms and know to expect nothing more lasting from me.’
Not unpleased to be styled both intelligent and independent, Jess stood a little taller. ‘But if you’re not prepared to commit to a long-term relationship with a woman, why on earth do you want a child?’
‘The two are not mutually exclusive. I would commit to my relationship with the child,’ Cesario declared with conviction, willing her to see the sound sense behind his arguments. ‘I’m not being selfish.’
Jess shook her dark head slowly, her disapproval patent. ‘Are you so keen to have a child that you can’t wait until you meet the right woman to marry?’
‘I would like to say yes and impress you with my credentials as a child-loving male. I do very much want a child of my own,’ Cesario proclaimed, his strong sensual mouth compressing with a level of gravity that she had not previously seen in him. ‘But that isn’t the whole story…’
Unsurprised, Jess nodded acceptance of that admission. ‘I thought not.’
‘I am the descendant of a long unbroken line of di Silvestris,’ Cesario recounted, his brilliant dark eyes narrowing and focusing on a distant point beyond the windows, his attitude one of detachment while his crisp drawl became oddly flat in its delivery. ‘My grandfather was immensely proud of that fact. He was obsessed with blood ties and he devoted his life to researching our family tree. Unfortunately he tied his Tuscan estate up in such a way that I cannot legally inherit from my late father unless I have an heir. Male or female, it doesn’t matter, but I must have an heir to retain ownership of the family home.’
‘My goodness, that was very short-sighted and controlling of him!’ Jess commented helplessly. ‘I mean, you might have been gay or not remotely interested in having a child.’
‘But I’m not gay,’ Cesario pointed out drily. ‘And I am now choosing to look on this as a project that can be completed.’
‘A project…having a baby is a project?’ Jess repeated in consternation, her thoughts in turmoil.
She thought that it was deeply ironic that he should cherish a desire for something that lay so close to her own heart when they had absolutely nothing else in common. He wanted a child for mainly practical reasons, while she simply wanted a child to love and share her life with. ‘I think it would be very wrong for you to bring a child into the world just so that you can inherit some family property.’
‘That’s one angle, but there are others. I would love my child, who would enjoy a fine education, a supportive family, and who would ultimately inherit everything that I possess,’ Cesario responded levelly. ‘Any child of mine would enjoy a good life.’
‘Why don’t you just hire a surrogate mother?’ Jess asked bluntly. ‘Surely that would make more sense?’
‘That wouldn’t meet my requirements at all. I come from a conservative background and I prefer that my child be born within what would appear to be a normal marriage for its duration. I also want my son or daughter to have a mother’s love and care. I grew up without a mother,’ he admitted with an expressive twist of his sensual mouth. ‘That’s not at all what I want for my own child.’
‘I assumed that, in the circumstances you mentioned, you would be seeking full custody of any child that you had,’ Jess remarked.
‘No. I would not seek more than shared custody and visiting rights. I firmly believe that a child needs a mother to flourish.’
‘And a father,’ she added abstractedly, thinking of her own childhood when she had adored having her father’s attention.
‘Of course,’ Cesario di Silvestri conceded, but the clipped edge of his voice and the austerity of his expression drew her gaze and she could only wonder what unhappy memory she had contrived to awaken as his lean dark features had shadowed with an expression of regret.
Jess breathed in slow and deep, her brain racing over the outrageous proposition he had outlined, lingering on the pitfalls she saw in the concept and almost immediately rejecting it in full. What he was asking was not only impossible, but insane. She, personally, could not marry a man she did not even like, get into a bed with him and conceive his child. Even thinking about taking part in such a shocking scheme made her tummy somersault and her face burn with the heat of embarrassment.
‘You’re asking me, but I couldn’t possibly marry you,’ she declared in a feverish rush.
Cesario dealt her a long measuring look as cool as iced water, for while she might be flustered by the tone of the conversation, he was most definitely not. He also knew that if she rejected his offer he would very much regret having made it. ‘You must accept that this is the only option you have and the only offer I have to make you.’
‘But it’s scarcely a reasonable offer,’ Jess complained, her chin coming up in an open challenge.
‘I disagree.’ His dark eyes gleamed gold below the thick dark screen of his lashes, his lean, strong face implacable. ‘In return, I would be making a considerable sacrifice in letting your father and his partners in crime go unpunished. I would also be accepting the permanent loss of my painting without financial compensation as, in this situation, I could not approach the police or make an insurance claim.’
Sobered by that view of the consequences of any agreement being reached, Jess swallowed hard. He had not been joking when he’d talked about offering her a deal. He wanted something in return for the loss of his valuable painting and why not? She thought it unlikely that Cesario di Silvestri was accustomed to being on the losing side of any exchange. And the only thing he seemed to want right now was to become a father without agreeing to the level of commitment or the expectations that would accompany a conventional marriage.
Bearing in mind what she knew about Cesario di Silvestri, that made very good sense to Jess. No woman had ever held his interest for long and it was a challenge to picture him settling down with one woman to start a family in the usual way. On the other hand, choosing a wife and future mother for his child on the basis of cold, hard practicality would sentence him to fewer restrictive ties. A wife who was only pretending to be a proper wife would not require much time or attention either. Yes, as she considered his proposition she could certainly see the advantages from his point of view.
And from this practical wife’s point of view? A cold contract with a pregnancy and an eventual divorce already organised and agreed upfront? Jess studied her tightly linked hands. Was his proposition really any more distasteful than the conception by artificial means that she had once considered? Much as she longed for a baby, she had not been attracted to the possibility of visiting a sperm ba
nk to be inseminated so that she could conceive a baby by a man she would know next to nothing about. But at least actual intimacy would not have featured in that arrangement.
‘If I wasn’t so attracted to you I wouldn’t even be giving you this option,’ Cesario murmured under his breath, the husky timbre of his voice rasping down her taut spinal cord like a physical caress.
Jess glanced up from below her lashes, grey eyes wide and troubled. She felt like someone needing to take cover from a hail of bullets when there was no hiding place available. Her brain was telling her firmly and repeatedly that she could not accept his offer and that some things, not least conception, were sacred and could not be bought. But at the same time when there was no other alternative and her father was in so much trouble…
‘If we have not reached an agreement by the time that you leave, I will be calling in the police,’ Cesario spelt out with a quietness that was all the more chilling for its lack of volume. ‘I now have the proof I need to have charges laid against your father.’
‘For goodness’ sake, you can’t expect any woman to just agree to have a baby with you when there’s no existing relationship in place!’ Jess exclaimed, shattered by the speed with which he had turned up the pressure on her.
‘Why not? Women get married and have children with men they don’t love every day of the week. Marriage is a legal contract for good reasons. Many women marry for money, security or status,’ Cesario contended. ‘You are not being asked to make a huge sacrifice.’
Jess bit down on her impetuous tongue and viewed him from behind furiously resentful silvery eyes for demanding the one thing she could not face agreeing to give him. In her opinion his outrageous offer was just typical of his arrogant, insensitive personality. Giving him a child wasn’t a sane doable proposition for a woman like her. She was a very private person and solitary in her outlook. His very lifestyle, habits and tastes were anathema to her and she knew that for a fact before she even tried to add in the horrors of going to bed with a stranger. ‘Is that so?’