“Rose is my little blessing, though,” she said after a few minutes of silence had passed. “I found out I was pregnant two days after Al had died – on the day of his funeral. And it was the most amazing, sweet, perfect news I had heard. I threw the usual waiting period aside and announced it in my eulogy. A part of me felt he lived on in the baby we had made together. She was a true miracle baby.” A flush spread across her cheeks. “We weren’t trying, obviously.”
“I see.” He didn’t. She was skirting around an issue and he had no idea what it was.
“That side of our relationship was not really a factor,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. “I mean, obviously it was a little, but by the time I met Al, he was not very physically active.” She cleared her throat. “Ours was more a meeting of the minds.”
Antonio felt like the worst kind of man for feeling a small burst of relief that sex had been a rare occurrence. Truly, he felt wracked with guilt that his first reaction was gladness. But feelings were complex, and he didn’t like the thought of anyone, even Elizabeth’s deceased husband, making love to her. He pushed the thoughts aside. They were not worthy of him and he was ashamed of them.
“So the fact that I conceived when we really didn’t create many opportunities was pretty remarkable.”
She stood and reached for the plates, wondering just what the heck had got into her? She’d bared her soul to this man. This man she hardly knew! Perhaps that was the appeal? The fact that he was a very brief moment in her time; that she had only known him a short while and would soon not know him at all. Perhaps these factors combined to make him the perfect confidant? Or perhaps it was the glass of Shiraz she’d had on an empty stomach, she thought self-deprecatingly as she stacked the bowls neatly and then started on tipping the take away containers back into the bag they’d been delivered in.
“Do you like living in London?” Antonio asked, standing and collecting the plates from the table.
“I’ve never really thought about it,” she said, honestly. “Sometimes I think it would be handier if we lived closer to Rupert and Marianne. They’re mainly in the Lakes district now, though they kept an apartment in Oxford and spend some time there every year. Usually around now.” She looked at him slowly. “We do a small service for Al every Christmas eve morning. His ashes were scattered in a forest he used to lose himself in as a young boy, and we go there and just remember him together.”
Antonio opened the dishwasher and placed the bowls inside, trying to think of a diplomatic way to say what he’d been thinking all night. “You seem to do a very good job of honoring Alastair’s memory.”
Elizabeth’s fingers shook a little as she placed the last container into the bag and tied the top into a firm knot. What did he mean by that? Was it a sarcastic dig, because she’d slept with him? She doubted it. Antonio seemed to think having sex was on par with scratching an itch. It was unlikely he was assigning the same monumental importance to the act that she was. Even her thought caught her off guard. Was she really assigning importance to what they’d done? She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. No, it was something else.
She walked into the kitchen and dropped the rubbish into the bin, then washed her hands at the sink. “Do you think I spend too much time remembering him?”
Shut up, a sensible voice inside Antonio warned him again and again. He knew he was wading into waters he had no right to swim. He lifted his hands and cupped her cheeks, so that her eyes were forced to meet his. “I think he was very lucky to have met a woman who would be so faithful to him, and his memory.”
Inexplicably, the tears burned at her eyes once more. She hadn’t been faithful, though. She’d begged Antonio to make love to her, in the end. She didn’t love him. She was like one of those women who cheated on their husbands and then said, ‘it meant nothing’. Somehow that seemed so much worse. To risk a marriage over something meaningless.
And Elizabeth knew there was no marriage at stake. But Alastair was gone. All she had left was the feelings they’d shared. He couldn’t cherish those feelings, but she could, and in doing so, she could keep him alive.
She opened her mouth to tell Antonio he should go, but at that moment, he kissed her, so sweetly, so softly, that it took her breath away, and all thoughts bubbled from her brain. He cupped his hands behind her buttocks, lifting her so that she was pressed against his firm, hard body. She groaned, low in her throat, and she knew, with no rhyme nor reason, that they were going to make love, and it was just exactly what she needed.
She broke the kiss only so that she could pull him out of the kitchen, and into the living room. She pressed the door shut quietly behind them and started the heaters. The room was in darkness, but instead of switching on the lights, she pressed a small remote control and the Christmas tree lit up, the lights glowing with a soft, warmth.
Then, she reached for Antonio, and before he could guess her intention, she was on her tiptoes, kissing him. All of the feelings that were rocking through her were in that kiss, and he returned it to her with interest.
Strong hands glided down her body, pulling at her sweater and lifting it over her head. “I liked seeing you like this today,” he said. “You suit the relaxed image.”
She nodded against his stubble-roughened face, but rational thought and speech were beyond her. Her insides were slick with moist heat, and her internal temperature was skyrocketing. They dispensed with their clothes in record time, until they stood, panting, naked, and hungry in the middle of her lounge room.
As one, they knelt on the floor, in front of the heater, that looked every bit as real as a fire. “It’s not quite as romantic as the real thing,” he joked, but it was a poor joke, because nothing in that moment was wanting. Everything, from the way her hair framed her face, to the soft glow of gold thrown by the Christmas lights, to the certain knowledge they were about to be joined, made this moment indescribably perfect.
He reached behind himself and removed a condom from his wallet, earning a raised eyebrow from Elizabeth.
“Did you come prepared?”
His smile was distracted. “I’m always prepared.” Out of nowhere she felt a stab of jealousy. Had he been prepared to see her, Elizabeth? Or for his mystery date that afternoon?
She pushed the thought aside. This was just sex. It had to be ‘just sex’. She had no interest in a relationship that would devalue her feelings for Alastair. And essentially, moving on with someone so virile and healthy as Antonio would be devaluing everything she’d shared with her husband. No, Elizabeth wouldn’t do it. So if theirs was a relationship of a purely physical nature, she had no right feeling jealous of any other women he might be sleeping with on the side.
And yet she was.
With sheer force of will, she ignored that emotion. Actually, it didn’t take much will-power, as Antonio was kissing her thigh, making thoughts or emotions impossible to contemplate.
As he entered her slowly, gently, savoring every sweet clench of her muscles, she moaned softly. And before a tempest of heated surrender overtook her completely, she thought, briefly, This is heaven.
Chapter 8
“No, no, no,” Elizabeth squeaked, laughing a little as Antonio sent her a look of pure exasperation. “You can’t have the tree put there. Look – it will touch the chandelier and catch fire.”
“You’re one to talk,” he retorted sarcastically. “I suppose you are the expert in all things fire, hmmm?”
“Hey.” She picked up a piece of tinsel and flung it at him. “That was uncalled for.” But her cross reprimand was ruined by a giggle as the tinsel landed flat on his head, draping him in a shiny yellow garland.
He strode across the ballroom, towards her, and as had become familiar in the week since they’d shared dinner at her London townhouse, her stomach lurched in a hormone fuelled sign of awareness. He unfurled the garland and slowly wrapped it around her wrist, his eyes locked with hers. He caught her other hand and weaved the plastic decoration around it, effectively
binding her hands together. “This could come in handy, Christmas angel,” he said with a small flicker of a smile. “Let’s save this for later, mmm?”
Elizabeth bit down on her lip. They’d been avoiding any talk of what was happening between them. The ball was only a week away, and Elizabeth wasn’t sure what would happen after that. Antonio was resolutely not to be drawn on how long he intended to hide out in England, though she had gathered he was infuriating his older brothers by dodging their calls and remaining steadfastly off the grid. The question of later was always in her mind though. Not, she hastened to reassure her innermost thoughts, because she wanted to prolong their relationship. But just because it was a strange turn of events, to be in a relationship with someone knowing it couldn’t have a future. It was a decidedly un-Elizabeth thing to do.
She nodded, because the image he had conjured made her mind feel heavy. She swallowed past the desire that was swamping her senses.
“The auction will be held over there.” She pointed to the front of the ball room. “The decorators have a stage ready to go.”
His expression momentarily darkened. “And you are determined to auction yourself?”
Elizabeth pulled a face. “I have to. It’s sort of a joke. It’s the only way I can ask friends and acquaintances to do the same thing. I got the captain of the English cricket team to auction off a training session last year. This year it’s that Hollywood director who does all the car movies – he’s giving away a small speaking part in his next film.”
“While that’s all very impressive, I still don’t like the idea of you being sold like meat.”
She laughed, and pushed at his shoulder playfully. “It is so not like that, Antonio. It’s all very frivolous and fun. And I’ll have you know, I’m quite the big ticket item.”
“I’ll just bet you are,” he said quietly, thinking that her eyes sparkled like water in the moonlight when she was happy. As she was now. As she’d seemed all week.
A noise behind them startled Elizabeth and she spun, guiltily, to see Agnes at the door to the ballroom. Behind her, stood Marianne, Rupert and Rose, dressed in one of the ridiculous pink confection dresses Marianne insisted on buying her. She suppressed her frown of disapproval and instead, concentrated on freeing her hands surreptitiously from the tinsel.
“Hello,” she greeted with a wave of her slender wrist. “Come in, but be prepared, it’s absolutely freezing in here.”
“Would you like the heating on, bella?” Antonio asked solicitously, earning a look of consternation from Elizabeth a covertly curious gaze from Marianne.
“Antonio, these are my parents-in-law, Lady Marianne Sanderson, Lord Rupert Sanderson. And Rose, you of course, know. This is Signore Casacelli who recently bought Ravens Manor.”
“Delighted,” Rupert said, extending his hand for Antonio to shake. “Couldn’t be happier to see the back of Dennison Arthur,” he said with a wink. “I’m sure the old pile is in far better hands now.”
Elizabeth felt a small pang of remorse for Rupert’s words, which, given the connection between Antonio and Dennison Arthur, could have been hurtful. “You didn’t approve of Arthur?” Antonio prodded gently.
“Not one bit. Notorious womanizer; quite abdominal to his wife. Oh, once she’d passed away, he was free to carry on with whichever skirt took his fancy.” He wrinkled his nose in disapproval.
Only Elizabeth was aware of the way Antonio had tensed beside her. And with good reason. His mother had been one of the ‘skirts’ in question. Marianne, bless her, was aware of a strange undercurrent and sped the conversation to less awkward ground.
“It looks wonderful in here,” she said on a wistful sigh. “I’ve only been inside Ravens once, many years ago. You’ve done a lot of work in a short time.”
“Si,” Antonio agreed, and as he had been doing all week, while they were alone, he looped an arm around Elizabeth’s waist as he spoke, his fingers strumming her hip. Mortified, Elizabeth quickly side-stepped his touch, but not before Marianne had noted the small, telling contact.
“Come, I’ll show you the progress we’ve made,” Elizabeth said, in her usual crisp, efficient voice.
“Oh, pish,” Rupert said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve no interest in these things. I thought I’d take Rose for a walk in the garden, if you don’t mind.”
“Certamente,” Antonio said, his expression showing a lingering bewilderment at Elizabeth’s strangely awkward interaction. “Let me give you a tour. Perhaps you’d like to see the race track.”
Unnecessarily, Elizabeth squeaked, “No driving for Rose.”
Antonio arched a brow at her and Elizabeth continued:
“I mean it, Antonio. She is not to so much as sit in one of those beastly cars.”
“Rose is four, Elizabeth. Do you really think I would put her in a car designed to thrash around at top speeds?”
She was fumbling everything badly, but she had definitely not been prepared for her two worlds to collide. Whatever was going on with Antonio was new and sexy but definitely temporary and unimportant. Marianne and Rupert were her connection to Alastair, and she couldn’t hurt them by letting them think she’d moved on. And to someone like Antonio, no less! A man who flirted and made love as if it was all a game. No, she couldn’t let Marianne know that she had betrayed Alastair’s memory.
“I don’t know. But I’m her mother. It’s my job to make sure.”
Antonio’s stare was laced with disapproval, and, Elizabeth saw with a sinking heart, hurt. And she realized then that though she couldn’t let Marianne find out about her relationship with Antonio, she didn’t want to hurt him either.
“Darling, that was a little harsh, don’t you think?” Marianne queried once the other three had left the ballroom. Elizabeth felt another squirm of discomfort. Marianne was right. Being caught out with Antonio had made her panic, and act unreasonably.
“He drives race cars as though he has a death wish,” she said with feeling. Then, because she knew she was as transparent as a pane of glass, she forced an over-bright smile to her face. “I’ll show you the setup.”
It took almost an hour to explain to Marianne where the guests would assemble for cocktails and canapés, whilst performers from the London Symphony Orchestra performed classical Christmas carols. Then, the ballroom, where the majority of time would be spent; eating, dancing, drinking and hopefully donating, during the charity auction. Then, there were the usual logistics to be gone through; the transportation, fire safety checks, emergency exit access; security, guest lists. It was an event of enormous organizational magnitude, but this would be Elizabeth’s fifth time at the helm, and she was adept at orchestrating all of the details now. Not so, her first year, when, with a tiny baby, she’d felt like she might actually unravel with the strain of it all.
“You know, darling, Alastair would have wanted you to move on.”
Elizabeth’s startled face flew to her mother-in-law’s. “What do you mean?”
“I’m quite certain he would never have married you if he’d thought you would be a widow for the rest of your life. You were a baby, sweet Elizabeth, just a baby.” She shook her head sadly. “Alastair was forty one. He had lived his life – been married before. He would have wanted you to live yours.”
“I am living my life.” Elizabeth pointed out firmly, concentrating on marking the ballroom floor with gaffer tape crosses to show the caterers exactly where she wanted the tables placed.
“Nonsense. You’re living his life; you’re closing yourself off from the world so that you can make every day a living shrine to my son.” Marianne crossed the room and took Elizabeth by the elbows. “No one is more grateful than I for what you gave Alastair. At the end of his life, when he might otherwise have been filled with fear and loneliness, he was happy and in love. And Rose – you gave me Rose. Beautiful Rose, who is so like her father. But you do not need to feel guilty for finding another man attractive. Or even embarking on a relationship with him.”
“Yes, dear. It’s quite obvious that you’re mad about each other. Why do you feel the need to hide it?”
“Mad about each other,” Elizabeth choked out, loudly and with a shake of her head. “No. It isn’t like that.” She swallowed convulsively. “I know you don’t want to hear it, Marianne, but I love Alastair. I always will. No man will ever compare to him.”
“What about Antonio? I saw the way he looked at you, Bessie,” Marianne said quietly, unable to hide the concern from her voice. What neither of them saw was Antonio, leaning casually against the doorway, his face carefully wiped of expression.
Elizabeth’s laugh was static, but she was shaking. “He is a cad, Marianne. He’s the kind of man who sees sex as a sport. He is definitely not someone I want in my life, and certainly not Rose’s life.” She shuddered. “You’re right – there is something going on between us. Without being crude, let me reassure you, it is just physical. I would never, in a million years, get emotionally involved with someone with a reputation like his. Can you imagine?”
Marianne shook her head from side to side thoughtfully. “I think you’re looking for reasons to stay single, to continue to, as you see it, honor Alastair. But darling, you are only twenty six. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
Elizabeth couldn’t have said if she was protecting her own secret – a secret that had started to take hold in the last few days, that she was starting to have actual feelings for Antonio Casacelli. Or perhaps she was protecting a mother who had been robbed of a son in insisting in the most strenuous of terms that her love life was a non-event. “A life I do not intend to share with Antonio Casacelli. He might be as handsome as sin, but he’s an emotional mess. I mean it! Don’t look at me like that. Truly, Marianne, once this ball is over, I’ll probably never see him again, and that is just fine with me.”
This Christmas and Forever: A heartwarming anthology of billionaire holiday romances... Page 25