“As you think Jonathan persuaded Carita, I suppose!”
He flicked a fast glance in her direction, his eyes black with anger. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you were thinking it, or at least you did think it before you met him.”
“I was aware of the possibility. Ignoring it is something I can’t afford if I am to protect my sisters.”
“A noble concept, but stifling, don’t you think? And just a little far-fetched, given how protected Carisa is at all times. If you really want what’s best for her, you might look closer to home.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might tell your grandmother, your aunt and even Yolanda not to stuff her with sweets. The habit is far more dangerous than anything I might encourage her to do.”
What Carisa ate was none of her business and Amanda knew it, but it seemed someone should point out the problem. Besides, Nico should not be so free with his criticism if he wasn’t willing to hear a few home truths.
“Sweets?” he demanded with a scowl.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed that everyone uses them to distract her whenever they think she may be upset, or as a bribe when there’s something they want to her do. She’s overweight because food is constantly being pushed at her. Well, and because she has little to do, as far as I can tell, other than sleep and eat.”
“Food is one of the few pleasures available to Carisa. Why should she not enjoy it?”
“She should, of course, but not constantly. She eats because food is always there and everyone expects it, and because she’s bored.”
“Bored.”
“Reading and playing games like a two-year-old isn’t enough. She needs something more in her life.”
“There is little more she can manage with safety.”
The certainty in his voice was annoying beyond words. “Why? Because you say so? Just as you’ve decided she is to be told nothing about the accident?”
“You would not dare—” he began in dangerous softness.
She cut across his words in her irritation. “Of course I would never tell her, but she understands most of what is going on around her very well. How long can it be before she begins to wonder why no one speaks of Carita or why her sister doesn’t come home?”
“Telling her at this point would only upset her. You don’t want to see that, I assure you.”
“What do you mean?”
“She can easily become emotional to the point of hysteria. Once that happens, only medication can help her.”
She stared at him with a frown between her brows. “There must be something else.”
He ignored the idea as if she hadn’t spoken. “Afterward, she broods about things, so needs more medication for depression. Carita’s accident could be a worse ordeal for her than anything we’ve see before. You have no concept of the harm that can be done by your meddling.”
“If Carisa is often depressed, I don’t wonder at it,” Amanda said, holding her hair out of her face as it threatened to whip into her eyes. “She seems to get no exercise, have no planned activity.”
“You know nothing about it.”
“You’re wrong. I was counselor for several summers at a camp for children with Down’s syndrome, many of them only a little younger than Carisa. They had exercise classes, dancing classes, took long walks, learned to draw, paint and even use a sewing machine with supervision. Carisa seems perfectly capable of doing the same.”
He gave her a long look. The tension around his eyes seemed to fade a fraction, though it was difficult to tell whether he was struck by what she’d said or had gained control of his temper. When he made no reply, Amanda went on.
“She isn’t a child, Nico. Neither of your sisters are children or elderly women who can’t get out and about. What you seem to be doing is keeping them so dependent they never make a decision of any kind. Certainly they’ll never learn how to protect themselves.”
His lips curved in a grim smile. “Unlike you, with your independence and self-possession that protects you so well nothing touches you?”
It wasn’t true, Amanda thought with an ache in her chest. She erected defenses because she could not bear the pain of everything that had happened to her and those around her. “That may be,” she said, her voice not quite steady, “but I am not so innocent that just any man can take advantage of me. Nor am I so uncaring that I can’t see it would be a mistake to encourage Carisa to treat all men as she treats you. I did try to tell her.”
He snorted before turning back to the road again. “I noticed. Kissing men is yuck.”
Not all men…
Amanda dismissed that instant mental objection. “Yes, well, it seemed something she might understand without going into unnecessary detail. And I would never encourage her to dress in a way that might attract the wrong kind of attention from men. But I can’t see that a little lip gloss and perfume or touch of mascara will lead to tragedy.”
“You must allow me to judge what is best for her.”
“As you are the judge of all else in the lives of those around you,” she said as she flung herself against the seat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d think you’d get tired of it. It must be so exhausting, being God and Jupiter rolled into one!”
~ ~ ~
She was the most infuriating woman he had ever met, Nico told himself. He’d like to wring her neck. That was after he’d left her so limp from his kisses and hot caresses, the spontaneous combustion as he plunged into her soft heat, that she couldn’t speak, much less argue with him.
She didn’t understand how very dangerous things could be for a woman, how vital it was to have male protection. Men who could not or would not protect the women in their lives deserved nothing but scorn. He could never abandon his duty toward his nonna, his aunt, his sisters or his future wife and daughters. It was in his blood, an instinct so ancient it felt as if it had always been with him. He well remembered his father and his grandfather telling him when he was barely able to walk that he must protect the women of his family with his life.
He didn’t restrict them unduly. No, not at all. They went shopping whenever they pleased, attended entertainments, enjoyed holidays. Carita had been to parties and dances, had been thinking of going to the university in Milan in the fall. He was careful of their well-being, yes, but he was not dictatorial nor was he smothering.
He was not.
Was he?
“Nevertheless,” he said, his voice as stern as he could make it, “you will refrain from unsettling Carisa’s routine or her habits. You may well cause harm, and you will not be here to repair the damage.”
“No, thank heaven,” she answered with a lightning-flash of anger in her eyes. “You have gone far enough toward adding me to the women you seem so determined to keep from harm. There’s no telling what you might consider proper if I stayed very long.”
What would Amanda Davies do if he really did add her to the women in his life? He could, he was almost certain, make it impossible for her to resist the desire she held in such restraint. It would be no more than her brother had done to Carita.
One seduction for another, it would only be justice. If Amanda Davies came to him, there would be no dishonor in it. And if her surrender happened to coincide with his most virulent desire, well, that would be his good fortune.
He would have to think about it.
It was possible he could not stop thinking about it.
6
The hospital room was empty. The atmosphere was sterile, quiet and dim. The bed lay flat with its sheets carefully tucked and pillow smooth and neatly aligned.
Jonathan was not there.
Panic squeezed Amanda’s chest. Whirling, she ran back out into the hall. Nico was far down its length, walking toward his sister’s room. She forgot how angry she was with him, forgot how autocratic she considered him. All she could think of was the power he held to make things happen.
“Nicholas! Nico!”
He spun around with quick concern in his eyes, came quickly back toward her. “What is it? Tell me!”
“Jonathan — he’s not here. He’s gone!”
Those few words were all that was required. Within seconds, Nico had summoned a nurse to his side. He fired succinct questions, received answers.
Though flustered and apologetic, the woman could not tell them the whereabouts of the English signor. No, no, he was not in the morgue as his sister seemed to fear. He had been allowed to get up, to walk a few steps with crutches. The orderly had left him sitting in a chair beside his freshly made bed no more than a quarter hour ago.
No, indeed, there had been no visitor to take him away. Signor Davies must have walked away under his own power, such as it was. He could not have gone far. Allora, had he not passed out, or very near it, while taking his first few steps since the accident?
Amanda looked at Nico as a thought struck her. “Jonathan pulled out his IV before because he was determined to see Carita.”
“Ah. Yes.” Taking her arm, he walked quickly with her toward his sister’s room. They pushed inside with a quiet sigh of the pneumatic door.
Jonathan hovered over the bed, his voice a low murmur as he spoke in broken phrases. He was ghostly pale and his eyes suspiciously moist. His tousled hair hung over his face, he carried his injured leg bent at the knee and his hand gripping the crutch that supported him was bloodless. He had wedged the other crutch into his armpit and was caressing Carita’s still face with the back of one knuckle.