Husband By Contract. HELEN BROOKSЧитать онлайн книгу.
really said anything else.’
‘Grace, I have known Liliana all my life, Donato and I have been friends since we were babies, so perhaps you would not think me presumptuous if I spoke to you on this matter?’ Romano asked quietly, smiling his rare smile as she shook her head quickly.
‘She is very happy that Donato has found you, and even more so that you are everything she would have liked in a daughter-in-law; I know this. She understands her son perfectly and feels it is right and proper that he wishes to be alone with you in his own domain; she even suggested that it might be time for her to move elsewhere. She feels a young married couple need time alone and she is right. This arrangement, therefore, is one that she is in complete harmony with, be assured on that, and also that she cares a great deal for you.’
‘Does she?’ Grace had no idea how her face had lit up at his words.
‘Indeed she does,’ Romano said gently. ‘In Liliana’s eyes she is mostly definitely gaining a daughter rather than losing a son; on this have no doubt.’
‘Thank you, Romano.’ She had smiled at him as she had spoken and he bowed slightly in acknowledgement, the action very Latin. It wasn’t the first time she had wondered how someone like Romano had come to be married to a petulant, attention-seeking woman like Bianca, but as before she dismissed the thought quickly, feeling faintly guilty to be thinking about Donato’s sister along those lines.
Romano’s words that day were just the reassurance she needed, and she got even closer to Liliana in the next few weeks as a result of them, her mind having been put completely at rest as to what Donato’s mother thought of her.
She told Donato what his friend had said when he drove her home that same night, and he nodded in agreement. ‘Madre is thrilled you have consented to be my wife; they are all thrilled, but it would not have mattered if I had not had one other person who approved of our match, my love. From the first moment I set eyes on you I knew you would be mine, I knew it; nothing could have kept us apart. You are my destiny, as I am yours; I am going to love you as no other woman has ever been loved before.’
And he had—oh, he had... Her eyes flickered now as she remembered how wildly passionate he was—something she had only fully appreciated on their wedding night, which had also been her nineteenth birthday, when the restraint he had employed during their courtship had blazed into a raging fire that had both thrilled and frightened her with its intensity.
Nevertheless, in the taking of her virginity he had also taken her to the heights, into an experience where she was pure sensation, liquid and mindless and wholly his. He had been the perfect lover, her ecstasy his ecstasy, her pleasure his first concern, and there had been times when their union had left them both stunned and shaking as they had slowly returned from the world of colour and light and exquisite richness that their lovemaking had taken them into.
But that time was over, dead, finished, slashed into oblivion by his infidelity, and now, as Donato passed the staircase and walked to the heavy carved oak door that led to the separate wing of the house, Grace caught at his arm, her voice taut. ‘You don’t expect me to stay in Bambina Pontina?’ she asked sharply, unconsciously using the nickname they had christened their home with in the early days.
‘Of course.’ She could feel the muscled strength in his arm beneath her fingers but he was completely still as he glanced down at her small, dainty hand on his body before raising his eyes to her face. ‘It is your home,’ he said flatly.
‘It was.’ She could hear the panic in her voice and forced it back as she continued, ‘“Was” being the operative word. I’ve no intention of staying anywhere but in the main house.’
‘Grace...’ Her name was said with deep exasperation and he closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head slowly. ‘Are you going to continue to defy me at every turn? Is this to be my punishment while you remain at Casa Pontina?’
‘I’m not defying you...well, I am, but not just for the sake of it,’ she amended quickly, agitation evident in every line of her slim body and stiffly held head. ‘I want to stay in the main house, that’s all,’ she said firmly, taking a step backwards away from him.
‘I see.’ He surveyed her for a moment from dark, hooded eyes before continuing, ‘And the fact that all your clothes and belongings are as you left them in Bambina Pontina—your books, your records and tapes and so on—this does not mean it makes sense that you should stay there? You have your own sitting room, your own quarters—’
‘Donato—’
‘And your own bedroom, of course,’ he continued smoothly, his face expressionless. ‘I moved out of our bedroom shortly after it became apparent you did not intend to return immediately.’
‘Shortly after...’ Her voice trailed away as she stared at him in utter amazement. Her letter had been nothing if not succinct; she couldn’t have been more explicit about her non-return.
‘So you are quite safe, you understand?’ His eyes were mocking now, scornful of her unease. ‘I have not yet become so desperate for a woman that I have taken one against her will.’
‘I didn’t imagine you would do that,’ she snapped back quickly, angry that he had sensed her apprehension and wishing she hadn’t started the conversation. She couldn’t quite explain her reluctance to stay in their old quarters; it wasn’t that she imagined he would force himself on her—the mere thought of Donato Vittoria behaving in such an ill-bred way was absurd. It was more...more herself she feared.
The thought was shocking and brought her head bolt upright as she faced him, her deep blue eyes dark with confusion and her red-gold hair a blaze of silky fire. She didn’t want to feel attracted to him, to acknowledge that dangerous magnetism he exuded as naturally as breathing, not after the way he had betrayed her with Maria, but...
But nothing, she told herself with bitter self-contempt at her weakness. He was a man possessed of great charisma and power—from the first time she had met him she had seen women go down before that fascinating and indefinable charm like ninepins—but she wasn’t the kind of wife to tolerate liaisons and affairs and what he had done once he could do again. Why was she even thinking like this? she asked herself with very real amazement. There was no question that she would ever put herself in the position where he could betray her again—none.
‘So...’ He had been watching the play of emotions over her face with piercing interest although the ebony eyes were hooded and veiled. ‘There is no logical reason for you to refuse the privacy and comfort of Bambina Pontina, is there? And it will be reassuring for Lorenzo for life to resume some normality, if only for a short time,’ he finished smoothly.
‘I...’
She stared at him as her mind raced. She didn’t want to stay in their old home, not for an hour, a minute, but to admit she feared even the slightest intimacy with him would give that over-sized ego a massive boost. She needed to convince him, and herself, that she was immune to his charm and she would, even if it killed her, she told herself with gritted teeth before nodding tightly.
‘I suppose so. I’ve only brought a few clothes with me so it will be convenient to use the ones I left. I presume they are still in the wardrobe?’ she asked quietly, forcing herself to show no reaction to his touch when he took her arm and walked her over to the door leading to the wing.
‘Of course.’ He sounded almost shocked, she thought grimly. It was clearly all right to cheat on your wife but not to dispose of her belongings. ‘Nothing has been touched.’
Her heart began to thump as Donato opened the door and she stepped into the wide, cream-painted hall she had never expected to see again, the beautiful mosaic tiles beneath her feet and the collection of unglazed, lacy-patterned pottery plates on one wall achingly familiar.
‘Welcome home, Grace.’ His voice was soft and husky and his lips had brushed hers before she could protest, their touch igniting a small flame she strove to hide with harshness.
‘I told you not to do that.’