November Harlequin Presents 1(38)
The horse was well named—fiery both by name and by nature. He would win…if they stayed alive. The race through the old town was full of risk. It took less than two minutes, but involved fierce and dangerous competition. The cobbles were unforgiving to a horse’s hooves. ‘We’ll keep each other safe, Fuoco,’ he murmured, and then with a confident laugh he slapped the horse’s neck and moved away.
Taking the envelope out of his pocket, he found a suitably dramatic vantage point to read the single sheet of paper. Lodging his foot on a rock at the edge of a cliff, he gazed out, knowing he could drown in the glories of nature if all else failed. Right now he felt as if there were a firework display going off in his head…a firework display full of colour and possibility; the possibility of a child….
He prepared himself for disappointment. Before reading a word he balled his hand into a fist and watched the knuckles turning white. Concentration helped him to steady his breathing. He hadn’t hesitated over anything in his life before, but this was different.
He could have a child. The knowledge overwhelmed him in waves, and with them came a sense of urgency such as he had never experienced before. If he was the father of Carrie’s child, he wanted to be with her immediately. If her child was his then it was his to love and to protect, and there was no question of her giving him ultimatums, he would decide what they did from here.
He could hardly contain his relief when he saw her, and it took a supreme effort of will for him to hold back on what he had to say to her until lunchtime. There was no question of failure and so he had made certain preparations first. He had sent a message with one of the footmen, inviting her to eat with him on the terrace overlooking the lake. He had left nothing to chance. He wanted to surprise her, but above everything, he would control the situation.
‘I’m glad you decided to join me,’ he said when she arrived on the terrace. She had made a particular effort with her appearance, which he took as a good sign. The soft colours suited her, and the casual clothes were perfect for what he had in mind. ‘Shall we take a stroll, first?’ he suggested. ‘Or would you like to eat right away?’
‘I’d like to talk, Nico.’ Her gaze was steady and her voice was annoyingly firm.
‘But there’s something I’d like you to see…’He rose from his seat. He wasn’t prepared to accept defiance.
Her answer was to dip her head in a way that might have meant yes, or no.
‘I think you’re going to be surprised,’ he said, waiting impatiently for her to fall into line.
‘Pleasantly, I hope?’ she said, and there was a touch of humour on her mouth.
‘I hope you think so…’He heard the bite of irritation creep into his voice, and had to work to suppress it. ‘Shall we?’ He offered her his arm. She declined and chose to walk alongside him…not close enough.
He took her on a leisurely tour of the palace, wondering where on earth he found the patience to do so. He was consumed by the knowledge that he could be a father. He wanted to take her into a room, shut the door, tell her the truth, and demand she follow him into the world of testing and certainty. But that was no way to gain her trust, and if he wanted a good relationship with the woman who might be carrying his child, he had to show more subtlety.
They viewed many of the private treasures that weren’t available for public scrutiny, and by the time they reached the narrow staircase leading to the turret he had relaxed a little. She had shown such interest in everything, asking him probing questions about how his ancestors came by such riches, which had made him smile in spite of everything. But now they had reached the only part of the tour that really mattered to him. He was certain that when she saw what he had prepared for her she would forget her newfound determination to defy him and come back to him with all the softness of his mouse, and all the love in her eyes he had been accustomed to seeing before hard-edged had become a bad habit.
It was the most romantic setting Carrie could have imagined…a tiny turret room at the very top of a tower where the light was perfect. She knew it was perfect before she even asked Nico the question. ‘North-facing?’
‘The perfect aspect for an artist’s studio,’ he confirmed, watching her closely.
Carrie’s excitement abruptly died. Nico must have done his research well to be so sure of her response. Like everything else he had made it his business to find out about her before bringing her here. He had never cared enough to do that before. Carrie’s suspicions were coloured with sadness as she looked around. It was so easy to think she could switch off her feelings for Nico, but she never could. If only this could have been one of those happy moments without strings attached, the type of moment she had never known with him.