Ruthlessly Bedded Forcibly Wedded(21)
Cara had grown up with the sound of the sea on her doorstep, and it had been so long since she’d heard it like this that bittersweet nostalgia gripped her.
Vicenzo looked at her taking it all in, the lingering traces of the passion that had seemed to explode out of nowhere yesterday evening making him slightly wary. His eyes dropped to her mouth. She was avoiding his gaze, but he knew she was aware of him. It was stamped all over her, and she was behaving like a nervous filly. She’d been avoiding looking at him all day, and it made irritation prickle under his skin. He wasn’t used to women ignoring him. The banal grey of her top and her black shorts also annoyed him intensely, demonstrating as they did that she was utterly determined to act out this charade.
He could see where she’d clenched her jaw, the delicate line becoming more pronounced. Saw how her hand gripped the door of the Jeep. No doubt she was finally realizing how remote she was going to be from civilization. Satisfaction coursed through him—but then suddenly their attention was taken by a huge white sheepdog racing around the corner of the house.
Cara saw the dog come to a panting standstill a few feet away. Acting on pure delighted instinct, she dropped to one knee, patting the ground with her hand. The dog bounded over to her and she petted him luxuriously, reveling in his shaggy thick coat, unable to keep the smile off her face.
‘Who are you? Aren’t you beautiful?’
‘His name is Doppo. He was Allegra’s dog. He doesn’t normally take to strangers.’
She looked up reluctantly to see Vicenzo towering over her with a harsh expression on his face. His mention of Allegra caused a sharp pain in her chest. She’d obviously displeased him by bonding with the dog immediately—perhaps he’d have preferred it if Doppo had taken one look at her and ripped her limb from limb? Silently she thanked the dog for accepting her.
She ignored Vicenzo and ruffled the dog’s hair, saying sotto voce, ‘Ciao, Doppo. I think you and I are going to be friends.’
Vicenzo watched as Cara stood, obviously waiting for him to show her into the house. He had to quell a surge of something dark and constrictive. Cara Brosnan was throwing up a few too many contradictions for his liking, and the sooner he could put her back in a place where he knew what to expect, the better. Before they went anywhere he’d taken her arm. Immediately she tensed, and her eyes grew round and wary. He fought against that vulnerable image she projected so well.
‘You’ll meet my father at dinner. I’ve told him that we met through Allegra in London.’ His mouth twisted briefly. ‘Which in a way is true.
I’ve also told him that this was a very…impetuous affair and that we hadn’t planned on you getting pregnant so soon. He won’t be expecting us to act like besotted newlyweds around him, but still, a certain amount of acting will be required. He doesn’t know of your brother’s connection to Allegra. I don’t want him to be upset in any way. He’s had enough to deal with since the funeral and his stroke.’
All the weight of her own conscience struck Cara—but not for the reasons he would believe. ‘That’s the last thing I want.’
Vicenzo’s gaze dropped to her bare arms. Cara’s breath hitched in her throat. He ran a finger down one arm and a tide of longing ripped through her. She swallowed desperately to wet her suddenly dry throat.
He frowned lightly. ‘Your skin is so pale I’d almost believe you’ve never been in this kind of sun before.’
She hadn’t! Which Cara knew wouldn’t fit with his picture of her as the sister of a corrupt, hedonistic millionaire. She found the strength to pull away. He was just toying with her. ‘Spare me the fake concern,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m sure you’d be only too happy to see me burn to a second-degree crisp.’
Vicenzo’s eyes flashed for a moment, but then he merely stepped back and gestured for her to precede him into the villa. Cara stalked ahead and wondered how she would last here with his mocking mistrust every day.
Something would have to happen, but the idea of trying to appeal to a more understanding side of this man was about as attractive as the thought of facing his father that evening.
Cara was shown into a sumptuous bedroom by the smiling housekeeper Vicenzo had introduced as Tommaso’s wife, Lucia. With the language barrier Cara just smiled her thanks and gestured that she would unpack herself.
The house inside was white and bright, with lots of open spaces—a contrast to the very traditional exterior. It was also surprisingly homely.
She’d glimpsed a large comfortable-looking sitting room, with a big plasma screen TV and shelves loaded with books. Cara had always had a secret belief that she could get on well with someone who had a lot of books, as she’d always been a voracious reader, but this just proved how wrong you could be. She’d also seen a formal dining room with a huge white damasked table, complete with about twenty matching chairs and a vase of exotic dark red blooms in its centre.
Her own room was also white, and she’d been inordinately relieved to see that it didn’t appear to be Vicenzo’s room. It was too feminine. To be forced to share a bed with him would be just too much, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it together for long. Her belly cramped and she brought a hand to it abstractedly. The patio doors opened out onto a large grass-covered inner courtyard, with stone columns supporting a walkway that led all the way around the interior section of this part of the villa.
Pots of blooming flowers lay here and there, creating a charming ambience. There was a hushed peace and stillness that soothed Cara’s soul a little.
A knock came at her door and she opened it warily, to see Vicenzo standing on the other side, changed and looking gorgeous in chinos and a plain white shirt. Damn the man and his effortless ability to make her feel so aware when she hated him so much.
‘I’ll come for you at eight for dinner.’
Cara spoke quickly, trying to negate this effect he had. ‘I saw where the dining room was. I can find it—’
‘We will go together—as will be expected. My father uses another part of the villa, but he will undoubtedly expect us to be sharing the marital bed.’
He stepped closer then, and Cara moved back automatically, her heart skittering, that cramping feeling stronger. Vicenzo just smiled. ‘And while we will be sleeping together, Cara, I’m sure you can appreciate that I’ve no desire to share a bed with you for any longer than is necessary.’
Cara swallowed back the feeling of panic that never seemed to be far from the surface, the hurt at his words once again. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, you’re blocking my door.’
With a last mocking smile that she itched to slap off his face he stepped back, and Cara just about managed to restrain herself from slamming the door.
At eight that evening Cara and Vicenzo approached the dining room door.
Her belly clenched, and the cramping feeling was strong enough now to make her forehead bead with sweat. She put it down to her nerves, and smoothed damp palms on the dress she’d changed into. It was plain and black, high-necked and falling to her knees—as inoffensive as she could find for meeting Vicenzo’s father. She was very aware of the pain this man must have gone through, and felt huge guilt on behalf of her brother for the wake of destruction he’d left behind him.
Blissfully unaware of her turmoil, Vicenzo took her elbow, led her into the room and introduced her to his father. She immediately saw an old lined face, darkened from the sun, silver hair, and surprisingly bright eyes. Cara had the immediate impression that he was kind. Kind, but sad, and her heart flopped over. Oh, God. No doubt Vicenzo was going to enjoy every minute of this. No doubt this was part of his plan to bring her here, face to face with the devastation caused by her brother’s actions.
As she walked hesitantly towards him at the head of the table, she also became aware that he sat in a wheelchair. She stopped beside him and did something completely instinctive. She came down on one knee so that they were on the same level. An unbidden emotion rose up within her.
She couldn’t help it, even though she could feel Vicenzo’s eyes bore into her back, his tension spike.
She said huskily, ‘Signore Valentini, I’m so sorry for your loss, and I—’
He surprised her by reaching for her hand and saying with a heavy accent,
‘Hush, child. It was an awful accident. We lost our beautiful vibrant Allegra.’
Cara gave him her hand and willed down the intense emotion being here, facing him. His grip was surprisingly strong. Vicenzo’s father lifted her hand high, gesturing for her to stand, and she did. Vicenzo had come to the other side of his father’s chair, and now his father reached out to take his hand too. The old man looked from one to the other. Cara avoided catching Vicenzo’s eyes, sure that they would hold a mocking expression, and she couldn’t bear to see that right now.
His father spoke quietly. ‘You two have come together to make something beautiful—a marriage and a baby. That gives me joy.’ With a squeeze he let go of their hands, and then said with over bright joviality,