An Heir to Make a Marriage(18)

* * *

Zac looked at the slim figure silhouetted against the bucolic view. The late-summer Italian sun was glorious, sending out different-hued rays of gold and red as it set to the west. A warm breeze ruffled Rose’s wavy hair slightly, and Zac had to admit grudgingly that this was a magnificent setting for her pale rose-gold beauty.

She was standing at a low stone wall—the perimeter of his Tuscan villa which overlooked miles and miles of rolling hilly green countryside, not far from the city of Siena.

Rose was wearing some of the clothes he’d had sent over to the apartment before they’d left New York. The expensive fabrics suited her. Skinny jeans clung to her slim legs like a second skin. Her feet were encased in flat leather sandals. And then higher...to where her pert derriere and slim back gave no indication that she was pregnant from behind.

Even though he couldn’t see her belly right now, he had been acutely conscious of the small proud swell, revealed when the wind had pressed her loose-fitting sleeveless top to her belly as they’d walked to the plane at a private airfield near JFK airport earlier.

She’d pulled on a cashmere top on the plane, and Zac had never before been so distracted by the way the soft material could mould itself to a woman’s curves. Or how tactile it looked. His fingers had itched and all he’d been able to think about was how hard it had been to stop kissing her the day before.

She’d curled up on the seat opposite him, her luminous green gaze glued out of the window as if she’d never seen the world from above before. Even after the plane had levelled off to cruising altitude.

He’d been irritated enough by her prolonged wide-eyed wonder to ask, ‘Haven’t you been on a plane before?’

She’d looked at him and said, ‘Yes, but I’ve never left the States.’

She’d said it with a hint of defiance and Zac had felt his conscience prick. Then she’d turned away again and resolutely ignored him for the rest of the flight.

Zac knew that part of his irritation was stemming from the fact that he couldn’t seem to get a handle on her. She wasn’t behaving as he might have expected. At all. And that made him deeply suspicious—which was no bad thing in light of her devastatingly effective deception.

He took a breath now and told himself that she couldn’t get up to much right under his nose.

The surroundings soothed him somewhat...reminding him of the big picture and what was important. He’d been so caught up with extricating himself from his family and forging his fortune in the last few years that he hadn’t even contemplated what he wanted for the long term.

Faced with the prospect of a baby, he had to. But it was no bad thing. Because now he knew that this was what he wanted more than anything: for the Valenti name to survive and grow strong again. For it to be recognised as a force.

He might not have chosen Rose O’Malley to be the mother of his child, but the conniving schemer had handed him a golden opportunity and he was not going to let it slip beyond his control now—no matter what secret plan she’d cooked up with his grandmother.

* * *

Rose knew Zac was behind her, studying her. She could almost hear his brain whirring. She’d had a blissful few moments to explore on her own. She should have known it wouldn’t be long before he came to check up on his inconvenient guest. All through the flight to Italy she’d been conscious of his eyes tracking her every movement. It was as if he was just waiting for her to do something. What, she wasn’t sure.

The view that rolled out in front of her was so beautiful it almost hurt. Her father had always told her how green Ireland was, but this looked greener than anything she could have imagined. It made her heart hurt, because she knew how badly he wanted to visit his homeland again to spread her mother’s ashes, and if the operation wasn’t successful it might be something she would have to do on her own, some day...

She diverted her mind away from such maudlin thoughts.

Her father was in the clinic. That was all that mattered. That was what was making this worth it.

Zac had described this place as a ‘villa’. To Rose, though, it was more like a medieval castle. A huge sprawling terracotta castle, with terraces and courtyards and beautiful gardens tucked out of sight, bursting with flowers and greenery. There was even a swimming pool in one secluded courtyard, and it had looked deliciously inviting.

Zac came alongside her now and every tiny hair on her body stood up. She was glad of the covering of the soft cashmere pullover and crossed her arms firmly over her chest.

She couldn’t help saying softly, ‘This is beautiful.’

‘Yes, it is.’

Rose looked at him. While she’d been looking around he’d changed out of the suit he’d worn on the plane and into faded denims and a long-sleeved polo top, with the sleeves pushed back to reveal muscular forearms.

Seeing him like this, against this backdrop, was almost too much to take in. She instantly felt crumpled and inelegant, in spite of the new clothes.

Zac was backing away now, saying, ‘Maria has prepared a light supper. We’ll eat on the terrace—this way.’

Rose was so momentarily distracted by his tight behind in the jeans that he was almost gone from sight before she moved.

When she rounded a corner of a small pathway edged with bright flowers, it led straight onto a terrace, where a table had been set out with white linen, a small vase of flowers and candles. A rotund woman with a smiling face caught her arm and led her to the table, babbling in broken English.

Rose had met her earlier. She was the housekeeper, Maria. The woman oozed friendly Italian maternal warmth and Rose had found herself feeling absurdly tearful, reminded of her mother. She’d been shocked to hear Zac conversing with her in what sounded like fluent Italian.

He was sitting at the table now and flicking out a napkin to spread on his lap, reaching for bread and drizzling olive oil on top. He looked remote, and as Rose sat down and helped herself to some bread she said, ‘Don’t feel you have to be polite and share dinner with me. I’d be perfectly happy to eat in the kitchen with Maria.’ Whom she was sure would provide more pleasant company and be infinitely less disturbing to her equilibrium.

Zac sent her a pointed look. ‘Don’t act the martyr. It doesn’t suit you. And I won’t have you putting Maria to work serving dinner in two places just so you’re more comfortable.’

Rose glared at Zac and said testily, ‘That is not fair. Of course I didn’t mean to put her out.’

She clamped her mouth shut, in case she might say something else, and Maria appeared again to put down a platter of antipasto, beaming at Zac like a fond mother.

Zac smiled back at Maria, and seeing his face so transformed knocked the breath from Rose’s chest. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to be under that all too seductive approving regard, and she felt ridiculously emotional for a moment.

But as soon as Maria left the smile faded and Zac busied himself with the food. He glanced at her empty plate. ‘You don’t like antipasto?’

Rose forced herself to take some dried meats and salad, knowing that she couldn’t let Zac ruin her appetite. It wasn’t good for her or the baby. And, once she’d started eating and tasted the delicious food, her appetite thankfully kicked in.

Despite the ever-constant levels of tension, Rose found that she was relaxing as the evening closed in around them, bringing the melodic calls of native birds. The sky looked like velvet strewn with pink ribbons, and the air was warm and fragrant.

It was...idyllic. A million miles from Manhattan and Zac’s supercharged life. Yet, looking at him now, she thought he might have been born to this. He looked like a true Italian, and for the first time Rose found herself wondering about the origin of the break between him and his family.

‘What kind of business are you involved in here in Italy?’

Zac put his coffee cup down. It should have looked ridiculous in his big hands, but of course it didn’t. It only reminded Rose of what those hands had felt like on her body. She flushed.

Sounding distinctly reluctant, he said after a few seconds, ‘It’s a mine nearby. It was defunct, but we did some exploration and discovered a new seam of iron.’

Rose frowned. ‘I didn’t know you were involved with the industry—I thought you dealt only in finance and the hotel and nightclub business.’

He raised a brow. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Rose.’

She might have asked more about the business if she’d felt she could. But Zac was right—what on earth did she really know about him? It scared her to think how easily she’d trusted herself to him in the beginning. And he’d only had to kiss her yesterday before she’d started cleaving to him again like some kind of starved groupie.

Zac stood abruptly from the table, putting down his napkin, clearly done with their tense dinner. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make. You should get an early night—you look tired.’

If Rose had felt at a low ebb earlier next to Zac’s rude vitality, now she felt even more lacklustre. She didn’t doubt that not many women had the nerve to appear in Zac’s company looking anything less than stunning.

He was about to walk away when she called after him lightly, ‘I presume I’m to be seen and not heard for the next ten days?’