Anyway, Luca was in Italy, and men didn't read those sort of publications, did they? The sizeable cheque she had earned for that tissue of lies about her blissfully happy marriage and her even more wonderful new husband was more than sufficient compensation for a little embarrassment. With the proceeds she would be able to bring the mortgage repayments up to date, settle some other outstanding bills and put the Land Rover in for a service.#p#分页标题#e#
It had been two weeks and three days since she had seen Luca. Every day, every hour had crawled. She felt haunted by Luca. Having him around to shout at or even ignore would have been infinitely more bearable. She ached for him. And she was angry and ashamed that she could feel such an overpowering need and hunger for a male who had entered her life only to harm her.
Impervious to all hints, and beautifully well-mannered to the last, Luca had seen them off at the airport. Zia had actually burst into tears when she realised that he wasn't coming with them. Lifting the little girl for a farewell hug, Luca had looked strangely self-satisfied. But seeing those two dark heads so close together had had a very different effect on Darcy.
The physical resemblance between father and daughter was startling. The Raffacani straight nose and level brows, the black hair and dark eyes...Darcy was now confronting unwelcome realities. Zia had the right to know her father. And Luca had rights too—not that she thought he would have the slightest urge to exercise them.
But if she didn't tell Luca that he had a daughter, some day Zia would demand that her mother justify that decision. And the unhappy truth was that her own wounded pride, her craven desire to avoid a traumatic confession and her pessimistic suppositions about how Luca might react, were not in themselves sufficient excuse for her to remain silent.
Richard had phoned in the week to say that he would come down for a night over the weekend with his current girlfriend. Darcy had been looking forward to some fresh company, but unfortunately Richard arrived on Friday afternoon, just as she was on her way out with Zia. He was alone.
Tall, loose-limbed, and with a shock of dark hair and brown eyes, Richard immediately made himself at home on the sagging sofa by the kitchen range. 'If you're going out, I intend to drown my sorrows,' he warned, his mobile features radiating self-pity in waves. 'I've been dumped.'
Darcy almost said, Not again, which would have been very tactless. Managing to bite the words back, she gave his slumped shoulder a consoling pat. He was like the brother she had never had, and utterly clueless about women.
He had a fatal weakness for long-legged glamorous blondes, and the looks and the money to attract them if not to hold them. He didn't like clubbing or parties. He lived for his horses.
'Zia's been invited to a party and I offered to stay and help,' Darcy told him. 'I'll be a while, so you're on your own unless you care to ring Karen.'
'Pity she's not a blonde,' Richard lamented, stuck like a record in a groove. He' pulled a whisky bottle out of a capacious pocket. 'None of the women I like are blonde...'
'Doesn't that tell you something?'
'I wish I'd done the decent thing and married you. I probably would've been quite happy,'
'Richard...' Darcy drew in a deep, restraining breath, reminded that she had yet to tell Richard that she was currently in possession of a husband. 'Why don't you put the booze away and go down to the lodge and keep Karen company?'
'I'm not telling her I've been dumped again...she'd laugh!'
Darcy called Karen before she went out. 'Richard's here,' she announced. 'He's been dumped.'
Karen howled with laughter.
'I thought I'd let you get that out of your system before you see him in the flesh.'
It was almost seven by the time Darcy arrived home. After all the excitement at the party, Zia was exhausted and ready only for bed. Richard was in a maudlin slump in the kitchen. Darcy surveyed the sunken level on the whisky bottle in dismay. 'You're feeling that bad?'
'Worsh,' Richard groaned, opening only one bloodshot eye.
Pity and irritation mingled inside Darcy. She, too, was miserable. Some decent conversation might have cheered her up, but Richard was drunk as a skunk. And, since he had never behaved like that before, she couldn't even reasonably shout at him.
She took Zia upstairs, gave her a quick bath, tucked her into her bed started to read her a story, but Zia fell asleep in the middle of it. Her eyes filled with guilt and love, Darcy smoothed her daughter's dark curls tenderly from her brow and sighed. She owed it to Zia to tell Luca the truth.
With a steely glint in her gaze, Darcy went back downstairs to sort out Richard. Since he'd chosen to get legless in her absence, he could jolly well go and sleep it off.