The Brabanti Baby. Catherine SpencerЧитать онлайн книгу.
halfway to his waist, ebbed and flowed over the breadth of his chest, allowing tantalizing glimpses of bronze skin and a smattering of dark hair.
With cavalier disregard, he set the infant seat in the middle of an elaborate gilt occasional table, and it was all Eve could do not to utter a protest. “How do I unfasten these restraints?”
“There’s a release button here.” She hurried forward, unsnapped the buckles holding the safety belts in place, then lifted Nicola out of the seat before it did irreparable damage to the table’s delicate surface, and handed her to her father.
He held her with his elbows pressed to his sides, his forearms extended, his hands too inexperienced to know how to scoop up so tiny a burden, and he too unaware to know she’d feel more secure cuddled up against his chest. Instead he stared down at her, the doubtful look on his face speaking volumes. Picking up on his uncertainty, Nicola stretched and let out an annoyed squawk.
He froze. “Per carita! She wriggles like an eel!”
“Hold her upright,” Eve suggested. “You’ll both feel safer that way.”
“Like so?” Tentatively he hoisted Nicola so that she rested solidly against his chest, with her head on his shoulder. As if she sensed she’d come home, she turned and burrowed her face against the smooth, tanned skin of his neck, her mouth seeking.
Unexpectedly moved by the sight of the baby, so pink and delicate, nestled trustingly against the man, so dark and strong, Eve swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “Exactly like that.”
He made a face. “Why is she’s slobbering on me?”
“Because she’s hungry.” She nodded to where she’d left the diaper bag in the hall. “I’ve got a bottle of formula out there. If you’ll tell me where the kitchen is, I’ll go warm it up, then feed her.”
He indicated a velvet rope hanging beside the fireplace. “Ring for my housekeeper. She’ll heat the bottle. And I,” he said flatly, “will feed my daughter. You’ve done your part by bringing her to me, signorina. I’ll take over now.”
She hadn’t been so summarily dismissed since her student nurse days when she’d accidentally stepped on the hospital chief of staff’s toe. “Fine,” she said, smarting at his high-handed tone, and yanked the bell pull with rather more force than was warranted. “Then you can change her diaper as well. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s leaking all over your shirt. In fact, give her a bath while you’re at it. She could use one, after spending most of the day either in airports or on a jet.”
His horrified expression would have been comical if Eve had been in any mood to laugh. But all she could think of was Marcia’s warning. Establish your rights from the start…because given half a chance, he’ll eat you alive…!
“Perhaps,” he murmured grudgingly, “I’ll allow you take care of her needs this one time, after all.”
Allow? Oh, the man had gall to spare! “You’ll allow me to look after my own niece? How big of you!”
For a second too long, they glared at one another, and in that time a turbulent sense of recognition swarmed through the air; a sense that beneath the surface of resentment and rivalry, something much less antagonistic and much more disturbingly erotic, was struggling to emerge.
Even he felt it. “Forgive me, signorina,” he said, almost pushing Nicola at her, then backing out of range of that sudden, strange, high-voltage jolt of electricity. “I didn’t intend to come across as quite so overbearing. Please attend to my daughter’s needs as you see fit. There’ll be time enough in the coming weeks for me to become better acquainted with her.”
“As you wish,” Eve said, feeling oddly disoriented herself. Just as well a pleasant-faced, motherly woman appeared in the doorway and took charge.
Appearing equally relieved by her arrival, Gabriel said, “This is Beryl, my housekeeper. Beryl, my daughter’s mother won’t be staying with us, after all. Instead Signorina Caldwell is taking her place.”
If the housekeeper was surprised by the change in guest arrangements, she was too well-schooled to let it show. “Si, signor.”
He glanced again at Nicola who’d begun to howl in earnest. Raising his voice over the din, he asked, “How long do you expect it will take to settle her for the night, Signorina Caldwell?”
“An hour, at least.”
Eyeing the large gilt pendulum clock on the wall, he said, “Then we’ll sit down to dinner at nine-thirty.”
“I’d prefer to have a snack in my room.”
“Don’t push your luck, signorina! I’ve made enough concessions for one night.”
“And I’ve been traveling for the better part of two days.”
For a moment, from the way his mouth tightened, she thought they were in for another confrontation. Then, on a long, controlled exhalation, he said, “Indeed you have. How remiss of me to have overlooked that fact. Beryl, show Signorina Caldwell to the suite you’ve prepared, will you, and make sure she has everything she needs?”
“Certainly, signor. And shall I order a light supper while I’m at it?”
“I’ll speak to Fabroni on your behalf.” He glanced again with some alarm at his daughter. “It would seem you’re going to have your hands full, dealing with…that.”
“All right, then.” She smiled at Eve. “Come with me, signorina, and let’s get the little one looked after.”
He watched her follow Beryl out of the room, his brow knit in thought. That his ex-wife was up to something he had no doubt. Unless there was some pressing reason to do so, no normal mother entrusted a young baby to the care of someone else, on a journey taking her halfway around the world, no matter how impeccably trustworthy and capable that person might be.
The question was, what part did the cousin play in all this? Was she merely a pawn in Marcia’s latest scheme, or did her big, innocent gray eyes and softly curved mouth serve to disguise yet another devious mind?
He smiled grimly. The day had yet to dawn that Marcia succeeded in manipulating him, and this time was no exception. One way or another, he’d ferret out her true motives, and if either woman thought they’d use a helpless infant to further their own ends, they were in for a very rude awakening.
CHAPTER TWO
BERYL led the way up the marble staircase and along a wide hall to a set of double doors at the end. “Here we are, signorina. You’re in the tower suite. It’s got one of the best views in the whole house, and is very comfortable. Signor Brabanti’s given me a free hand setting up the nursery, and I believe you’ll find all the supplies you’re likely to need, but it’s been a long time since I’ve shopped for a baby. I’d no idea the things you can buy for them, these days.” She flung open the doors and stood back. “After you, love.”
Stepping over the threshold, Eve found herself in a sitting room furnished in restful shades of aquamarine and cream. Speechless, she gazed around, Marcia’s prediction that Gabriel Brabanti spared no expense in making his guests comfortable coming home to roost with a vengeance. The room was beautifully appointed, and large enough that her entire Chicago apartment could have fit in it, with space to spare.
“This is your private soggiorno,” Beryl informed her, misinterpreting her stunned silence. “What you’d call a sitting room.”
“So I see.” Eve blinked, to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
“A bit taken aback, are you?”
“More than a bit! This is all quite…palatial.”
“Why don’t I take the baby for a minute, while you have a look around?”
“Yes. All right.”
Beryl