THE expression in her husband’s eyes frightened Emily. It was as if all the angry frustration, all the bafflement possible had been captured and condensed in his gaze. And as for herself…She took a steadying breath and struggled to find the words she had so carefully rehearsed in the taxi from her apartment. But she was in too much pain to speak—pain so bad it felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest and stamped on.
It seemed like several lifetimes before she managed to say, ‘I spoke to your father—’
‘And?’
She had never heard him sounding so curt, so cold. And she wasn’t doing much better. Her own voice was strangulated, false. She had to wait and take a few deep breaths before she could relax enough to start again. ‘He told me—’
‘Told you what?’ Alessandro cut in harshly. Why was it that angry words hung in the air longer than any others? he wondered furiously. The very last thing he had intended to do was shout at Emily the moment she arrived, but his emotions were in turmoil. No one knew better than he that the rest of their lives depended on what happened between them in the next few hours. ‘Go on,’ he said, making a conscious effort to soften his tone.
Emily knew she had to set him straight about his father’s role, if nothing else. ‘It was something he thought I already knew…something he believed you would have told me,’ she went on, trying to stay calm. ‘He said he couldn’t abdicate until you…until I had your child.’
Alessandro’s face went blank and unreadable—like a stranger’s, Emily realised with an inward shudder. She saw the change come into his eyes first: a slow infusion of pain, then guilt, and finally something approaching fear.
‘I thought I’d lose you,’ he said, so softly she could hardly make out the words. ‘I believed it was too much for you to accept all at once. You would never have agreed—’
‘You’re right about that,’ Emily flared, her own voice shaking with emotion. ‘I would never have agreed to barter the life of a child—even for the sake of my own sister’s happiness.’ She stopped. There was an iron band around her chest; she could hardly breathe. She wheeled away from him in bewilderment. ‘I thought you loved me,’ she cried accusingly.
In a couple of strides Alessandro had crossed the room and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
‘Don’t you understand anything, Emily? I do love you. More than you will ever know. No! Look at me!’ he insisted when she tried to turn her head away. ‘I love you,’ he repeated fiercely. ‘I have loved you from the first moment I set eyes on you. I don’t suppose you believe in love at first sight; neither did I, before I met you—’ He shook his head and looked away, as if the emotion was too much for him to bear. ‘I was frightened I might lose you if I told you the truth. I can see now that I was wrong. But if you won’t accept my apology then I don’t know what I can do…what I will do without you…’
‘When would you have told me?’ Emily demanded tensely when he’d let her go.
‘If you had become pregnant there would have been no need to tell you,’ he admitted with a short, humourless laugh.
‘That’s very blunt.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed bitterly.
‘And if I hadn’t become pregnant?’ She needed to choose her words with more care, Emily realised distractedly, still agonising over her own startling news and wondering how she was going to break it to him. ‘When…when would you have told me?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Alessandro admitted bluntly. ‘I needed time…time to be sure you trusted me before I could identify the right time.’
‘I see.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he said, taking hold of her again. ‘I was wrong. I can see that now. I should have told you right away. I need you to forgive me, Emily. I need you to accept my apology so that we can rebuild everything I have damaged, however long it takes…Emily?’
When she told him about their baby—what would he think of her then? Emily wondered numbly. He had been so honest, so frank and giving in his own apology, while she harboured the greatest secret of them all, jealously guarding it inside her like some precious gift she had not yet chosen to bestow. Instead of making it easier for her, Emily realised, Alessandro’s openness had only made it all the more difficult.
‘This isn’t easy for you,’ he said. ‘I realise that. You need time to think. I’m going to take you home. No, I insist,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘I’ll keep in touch, and when you’re ready—’
‘No,’ Emily said urgently—this wasn’t supposed to happen. ‘I don’t want you to take me home.’ This was the moment. She needed to tell him…whatever the consequences might be for herself.
She could see how pale he was beneath his tan, hear the enormous pressure he was forced to endure because of her reflected in his voice. She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear to see him suffering and know that she was the cause.
‘Don’t apologise to me. We’re both at fault,’ she said, the words all coming out in a rush. ‘We had no chance to get to know each other—’
‘Listen to yourself,’ he said. ‘You’re half-frantic with worry, and all because of me. There’s no excuse for my behaviour,’ he said harshly, cutting off any chance she might have had to say more. ‘I’m going to get your coat—’
‘No, Alessandro, wait—’
But he was already back, and helping her into it. ‘I’m taking you home, Emily. I’ve upset you enough for one night. I won’t hear any arguments.’
But her home was in Ferara, Emily thought as he ushered her out of the door. With Alessandro…
‘I don’t want to pressure you,’ he said, releasing his hold on her arm at the door to her apartment. ‘I’ve put you through enough. If you come back to me, Emily, it will be for ever, so I want you to be sure.’
‘We never expected it to come to this.’ Emily shivered suddenly as he kissed her on both cheeks, as if in that moment the shadow between them had made itself visible.
‘We never expected to fall in love,’ Alessandro countered softly, shooting her a wry half-smile as he turned to go.
Emily had thought she’d had sleepless nights before, but she’d been wrong. This…this was a sleepless night.
Finally she gave up on sleep altogether, and, clambering out of bed, crossed the wood-strip floor to the enclosed balcony that had been one of her main reasons for buying the riverside flat.
She could never have anticipated that her meeting with Alessandro would go so badly wrong…that she would be so lacking in force, in ability to put her point across. She was ashamed of the way she had caved in, Emily realised tensely. But the atmosphere had been so fraught, their reunion so fragile…If Miranda had been at home they would have talked things over. But Miranda had already embarked on a tour of the provinces that preceded her debut in the capital…And, though she had lost track of time, Emily knew it was the middle of the night—Miranda would be asleep.
Wrapping herself in a mohair throw, she curled up on one of the sofas and stared bleakly out at the river, stretching darkly into the distance like an oily rag. The main road was freshly salted with icy sleet and made her long all the more for the mellow colours and warmth and sunshine of Ferara.
Whatever time it was, her mind was still buzzing. She hadn’t managed to sleep since Alessandro had left a little after twelve. Burrowing deeper into the soft throw, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and wished harder than she had ever wished for anything in her life that things could be different…Wasn’t cheating a man out of his child on a par with cheating a defenceless elderly couple out of their life savings?
The unmistakable sound of her laptop signalling incoming mail broke into that disturbing thought, and, peering at the clock, she saw that it still wasn’t quite four-thirty in the morning.
Racking her brains for friends in the Antipodes, or even late-working New Yorkers, she padded across acres of wood-strip flooring into the open-plan space that constituted her living area. Leaning over her desk, she clicked the mouse and brought up the screen.
Tight schedule—now leaving first thing tomorrow—make your decision about returning to Ferara—let me know soonest—Alessandro.
Her heart gave a little flurry just to know that he was awake—and thinking of her. But, reading the e-mail again, she went cold. She couldn’t leave London. There was still the court case to settle. And it wasn’t going well; there were all sorts of outstanding issues.
Fingers flying, she typed a reply and sent it straight back.
I can’t make that sort of decision yet. I have a tight schedule, too.
She hovered anxiously over the machine, realising that he couldn’t read her mind and know all the difficulties she was facing at work. Out of context the message would just seem petulant.
His reply came through right away.
I understand you need more time.
Frowning a little, Emily pulled out her chair and sat down in front of the computer.
The case I’m involved in is proving more complex than I had anticipated.
This time she gave herself a little more space before touching ‘send’, and checked what she had typed again for possible misunderstandings. She hugged herself as she waited for Alessandro’s reply. It didn’t take long.
When will your case be completed?
Difficult to say. Two weeks max, at a guess.
Before the holidays?
Hopefully before the holidays.
I’ll send the jet.
No need.
But that’s a yes?
She hesitated about ten heartbeats—a split second.
Yes.
I’ll send the jet.
Emily sat staring at the screen until dawn sketched rosy fingers across a sullen, snow-laden sky, but there was no more mail that night from Alessandro.
Touching the screen by his name before she switched off, she wondered what lay ahead for them both with the holidays approaching fast. The possibility of seeing him again was the only present she had on her Christmas list.
Unforeseen delay in resolving case—no chance I can make it for Christmas.
Sorry.
Emily
Alessandro took out his frustration on his desk with a blow so hard he found himself nursing his fist, wondering if he had broken anything.
He had chosen e-mail specifically as a mode of communication to give them both a breather. A voice on a telephone could reveal so much…too much. E-mail was brief and to the point. And utterly without emotion—or should be…had always been…up to now.
Hating himself for putting his heart on the line, he stabbed back.
What’s the problem?
Sitting in her office, surrounded by papers, Emily rested her forehead on the heel of her hand and stared at the screen. She felt sick from early pregnancy blues augmented by a very real concern for her clients. It was beginning to look as though she would win the case, but the chance of securing some money for the elderly couple was appearing increasingly unlikely.
The likelihood of reaching any type of satisfactory conclusion before the long drawn-out holiday season interrupted everything was negligible.
She touched the screen by Alessandro’s question, as if it was possible to draw some comfort from him by doing that, then pulled her hand away. Having him at the other end of the line, waiting for her reply, was no compensation for having him with her. And knowing he was out there somewhere, but not knowing where, made her feel lonelier than ever. It made her feel weak and vulnerable—something she could have done without. Because that was no help to her elderly clients, whose future peace of mind lay in the scrambled mounds of documentation scattered across her desk. But the least she owed Alessandro was an explanation for staying in London over Christmas…
Freemantle has no money—no assets—no nothing. Can’t leave my clients in the lurch—have to keep trying.
Try what? Emily thought, absentmindedly dispatching the message before she had quite finished it. If Toby Freemantle was stony broke—
Her eyes flashed to the screen as Alessandro’s reply came up.
Trace his maternal grandmother’s will. She left him all her art treasures. His brother boasted to me that whenever creditors came to call the paintings were stored in their mother’s attic. Keep me informed. Alessandro.
Instantly alert, Emily straightened up, and tapped in. Thank you—I will.
And then, not because she thought it was prudent, or that he would even care, but because her heart took over, she lapsed into a personal style.
I hope you have a good Christmas, Alessandro—say sorry from me to your father. Emily.
Making a sound close to a tiger in a rage, Alessandro replied.
Sure to—Father in South Africa, looking at rose gardens—signing off, Alessandro.
Alessandro had been right, Emily thought, waving off two very happy elderly people, her hands clutching tight the bottle of champagne they had insisted on buying for her. She wouldn’t drink it now, because she was almost four months pregnant, but it signified their peace of mind, and that was all that mattered. She would take it to the Christmas gathering at her parents’ house.
Thanks to Alessandro, the works of art she had tracked down with the help of the fraud squad had raised millions at auction, brightening the London scene on the run-up to the big Christmas shut-down. There had been more than enough money to satisfy all the creditors and even set Toby Freemantle up for life—when he came out of jail.
As the elderly couple disappeared around the corner, arm in arm, she knew her first e-mail had to be to Alessandro. She had to thank him, let him know the outcome of the sale.
Great news—do you ski?
Rocking back on her chair, Emily stared at the screen again.
Almost as hesitantly as she might have said the words, she tapped in, Yes—why? then clicked the mouse and waited.
We have issues to resolve sooner rather than later. I plan to spend Christmas in a small village called Lech, in the Arlberg region of Austria. I’d like you to join me.
Emily’s heart leapt at the invitation. But she had promised to attend her mother’s famous Christmas lunch, she remembered, frowning.
‘Of course you must go with Alessandro,’ Miranda insisted, when Emily telephoned her twin to run the idea past her. ‘You don’t think Mother will try and make you stay in England if she thinks there’s a chance of a rapprochement with Alessandro, do you?’
‘No, but—’
‘But what?’
‘I haven’t told him yet,’ Emily said tensely, tracing her still flat stomach.
‘Are you going to wait until he can see for himself?’
‘I don’t know. I—’
‘Look, Emily,’ Miranda said, beginning to sound impatient. ‘I’ve got to go to rehearsal. You’re the one who always knows what to do. You know what you have to do now. You’re just allowing emotion to get in the way of clear thinking.’
Emily allowed herself a wry smile. ‘Are you surprised?’
‘That you’ve let things go this far? Yes. It’s a fact that Alessandro wasn’t entirely open with you. Get over it. Aren’t you doing just the same to him now? If you want the truth, it looks like a bad case of double standards.’
‘Please don’t be angry with me. You know I’ve forgiven him. But he wouldn’t give me a chance to explain—’
Miranda heaved a heavy sigh down the phone, cutting her off. ‘I’m not angry with you, Emily. I’m just worried about you—and Alessandro. Please say you’ll go.’
‘I can’t just turn up pregnant in Lech.’
‘No, you can’t,’ Miranda agreed thoughtfully. ‘So maybe I’ll—’
‘No! Don’t you dare say a word to him,’ Emily warned. ‘This is something I have to handle by myself.’
‘Promise?’
‘Have I ever let you down?’
‘This would be one hell of a time to make it a first,’ Miranda said bluntly.
Emily could feel her sister’s concern winging down the phone-line. ‘I won’t let you down, Miranda. I promise.’
After doing her research, Emily knew why her husband had chosen Lech for his winter retreat—the townsfolk were so used to visiting royalty no one paid the slightest attention to one more prince arriving for the winter sports. She realised now that any type of anonymity was preferable to none.
It wouldn’t take her long to pack a suitcase, book a flight—
She swung around in surprise when the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone and, apart from kicking off her high-heeled shoes, she hadn’t even changed her clothes after the final meeting with her clients. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she pulled a face and made a vain attempt to capture some of her long hair into the slide at the back of her head. Reaching the door, she opened it and gasped.
‘Alessandro! Wh—?’
‘May I come in?’
‘Yes, of course. But—’ Her bewildered gaze followed him across the wide expanse of floor to the picture windows, where he turned and stood looking around him, the corners of his mouth pressing up in an appreciative grin.
‘This is very nice,’ he said, looking around the apartment.
‘Thank you,’ she said. Shutting the door, Emily leaned back against it. Her heart-rate had gone into orbit…she needed a minute. No, a minute wasn’t nearly long enough, she realised, staring at her husband.
His charcoal-grey vicuña overcoat had been left open to reveal a black V-neck cashmere sweater and black trousers, and his inky-black hair in its customary off-duty disarray fell over familiar dark gold eyes—eyes that were presently trained on her with amused speculation.
‘I don’t understand—I was just e-mailing you—’
‘And you presumed I was in Ferara?’
She could see he was trying not to smile. ‘Well, yes. I wanted to share the good news with you the moment I found out myself.’ Even as she spoke the words it was as if a double helping of conscience had reared up to mock her.
‘Good to know you were thinking about me,’ Alessandro commented, slanting her a look.
He didn’t miss a thing, she realised edgily, moving away from the door.
‘I was just around the corner in my hotel at the time,’ Alessandro said, clearly trying to put her at her ease. ‘What about Lech? Are you packed?’
‘I haven’t booked a seat yet.’
‘Booked a seat?’
It took a whole new mind-set to deal with Alessandro, Emily reminded herself. Of course he would have flown to England in his own jet. ‘You came for me?’ she said hesitantly.
‘Looks like it,’ he agreed dryly.
‘Can you give me half an hour? Here—let me take that for you,’ she said as he began to shrug off his overcoat. ‘Can I get you anything while you wait? A drink?’
‘Just get ready,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait.’
‘Wait out here, then,’ she suggested, opening the window to the balcony. It’s got a fabulous view, and—’
He caught her to him as she went past, dragging her close and shutting her up with a long, deep kiss that wiped her mind clean of everything but him. But even as she softened against him he gently but very firmly pushed her away.
‘Go,’ he whispered. ‘We have a non-negotiable take-off slot. It’s nearly Christmas—or had you forgotten?’
Alessandro took her through a sumptuous wood-panelled entrance hall into a quaint reception area decorated in typical Austrian alpine style, with red gingham curtains edged with heavy ecru lace. Garlands of dried flowers hung on the walls, and in a huge stone grate a roaring log fire acted like a magnet to the people clustered around, exchanging tall stories from their day on the slopes.
There wasn’t a photographer in sight, Emily noticed with relief as she watched her husband complete the formalities and return to her side with a huge old-fashioned carved wooden key-fob.
‘When we get to the room I suggest you take a bath,’ he said as they strolled through the hotel to the guests’ accommodation. ‘It’s too late to sort out skis for you tonight, and mine are already here. So we’ll take it easy—have dinner, chat…’
Chat. Emily nodded and smiled, but her insides were churning. There would be no more running away from the truth now. But at least he was giving her time to prepare.
As he propelled her into the lift Alessandro’s hands were around her waist. His touch was electrifying. And suddenly all Emily knew, all she could think of, was that she wanted him…
‘Are we going to eat in the restaurant or our room?’ she asked as he pressed the button for their floor.
As an attempt to kick-start the logical side of her brain it was a pretty pathetic gambit—and she knew it—but with Alessandro so close, and no one else around, it was all she could manage.
‘Why, Principessa,’ he murmured softly, letting his hands slip down slowly over her thighs as the lift began to rise, ‘are you hoping to seduce me?’
Resisting the temptation to lean back into him, Emily made a soft, double-barrelled sound of denial. And when he moved to drag her close she turned to face him, warning him off with her eyes. ‘We have things to discuss,’ she said, realising uncomfortably that he didn’t know the half of it.
‘Of course,’ he agreed, with a small mocking bow.
But she could see the dark, smouldering desire in his eyes and the arrogant twist to his lips that proved he was remembering other occasions when the secrets between them had lain dormant and could not douse their passion.
She was relieved when the lift slowed at their floor. The atmosphere in the confined space had grown so thick with sexual tension she could feel herself drowning in it—and losing all sense of what she had come to do…to say to him. But when he stopped outside one of the heavy oak doors he rested his hand on the wall, trapping her.
‘We have to share, I’m afraid. I could only get one suite because—’
‘It’s Christmas?’ she supplied crisply, channelling all her apprehension into one snippy remark.
But he wouldn’t be provoked, only stared at her lazily, forcing Emily to wonder how long she could remain immune to his unique scent…sandalwood, musk…man. And his slow smile was producing a sensory overload that made her want to drag him into the room and to hell with everything else.
But if he was in the mood for playing games…‘As we still have issues to resolve, I hope there’s more than one bed in the suite?’
‘Didn’t I just say we’d have to share?’
‘A suite…you said we had to share a suite. You didn’t say anything about sharing a bed.’ How come that had come out in a provocative murmur, sparing him the scolding she had intended?
‘Why shouldn’t we share a bed? After all, we are man and wife.’
‘I hope for your sake the sofa’s comfy,’ Emily said, fighting to keep her voice steady as she took the key from his hand.
Just as she had feared, when she opened the door one large bed dominated the room. Spying her luggage in one corner, she hurried over to it and picked up the smallest bag. ‘See you after my bath, Alessandro—’
The heel of his hand shot out, slamming into the bathroom door as she tried to close it.
‘Perhaps I’d better warn you—these doors don’t lock.’
‘I’m sure I can trust you to be a gentleman.’ Their faces were so close she could have kissed him. But, giving the door one final push, she almost sank to her knees with relief when Alessandro allowed it to close.
Inside the privacy of the marble-clad bathroom, Emily let out a long, shaky breath. With every hour that passed it became harder to tell Alessandro about the baby. She stabbed a furious glance at herself in the mirrored wall. Just when had she become such a coward? If she couldn’t face up to it by the time she’d had her bath she didn’t have anything to offer him—or their unborn child. It would be better for all of them if she took the next flight out of Austria…
Dinner was conducted with every outward show of restraint, whilst inwardly fires raged inside the two people facing each other across the cosy country-style table.
There was nothing remotely cosy about the workings of Emily’s mind as she forked up the last scrap of home-made sachertorte, but she managed to hide her angst behind enthusiasm for the food.
‘I’ve never tasted a better chocolate cake in all my life,’ she said, as if they were two friends on a casual outing. ‘If I stayed here for long I’d be huge.’
‘You have put on a little weight,’ Alessandro commented, slanting her a look as he laid down his own fork with his own cake half-eaten. And she looked better for it, he thought. She looked like some luscious fruit that was ripe and ready for eating. He swiped the linen napkin across his lips to hide his smile at his mind’s meanderings. ‘Not that it’s a bad thing—in my opinion the extra weight suits you.’
Emily remained silent. She hadn’t noticed any changes to her body—not yet. She hadn’t weighed herself for a while, but…’
‘Have you finished?’ Alessandro said, easing his position on the carved wooden chair. ‘I thought we’d have coffee sent up to the room. That way we can talk in private.’
‘Fine,’ Emily said quickly. She wanted to confide in him—tell him everything—and this was the best opportunity there’d been. She was already moving to her feet before Alessandro realised she meant to go right away.
‘OK, OK,’ he said with amusement, reaching the door a pace in front of her to open it. ‘I get the message.’
Emily turned to him as they stepped into the lift. ‘Do you, Alessandro?’
‘I think so.’
And this time when he dragged her close she hadn’t the will to resist.
Binding her hands around his neck, Emily dragged him to her with a harsh, unguarded sound of need, opening her mouth against his lips, begging for possession.
His kisses weren’t enough. But as her hands flew to the buckle on his belt he dragged them away. Ramming her into the corner of the lift, he kept her wedged there while he reached across to push the lever that would stop the antiquated contraption between floors. Then, wrenching up her slither of a skirt with one hand, he tugged off her tiny lace thong with the other.
Swinging her up, he wrapped her legs around his waist and, supporting her buttocks in hands grown firm and demanding, he entered her in one thrusting stroke, pausing only to utter a contented groan as the moist heat of her body enveloped him completely. Then, pounding into her, he answered her calls for more, increasing speed and force until she let out a long, grateful, wavering cry as the violent spasms engulfed her in sensation.
‘And that’s just the appetiser,’ he murmured, nuzzling his face into her hair as he lowered her to the ground. ‘Now get dressed,’ he added sternly, bending to scoop up her discarded clothing. ‘It wouldn’t do for the Princess of Ferara to be seen without her knickers.’
This wasn’t quite how she had pictured their first confrontation, Emily realised. But it wasn’t easy to resist, when Alessandro could make her laugh at the most inappropriate moments…make her feel happy, and safe, and desired.
He hit the start lever while she struggled into her clothes. And when they reached their sumptuous suite, he slammed the door shut behind them with one hand and dragged her against him roughly with the other.
‘One bed OK for you now?’ he demanded huskily.
‘Bed, floor, lift…’ Emily breathed seductively against his mouth. ‘It’s all the same to me, mi amor.’
As he backed her towards the fluffy cream sheepskin rug in front of the roaring log fire she almost forgot what had driven her from the restaurant at such speed. But, sensing her minute mood-shift, Alessandro drew to a halt in the middle of the room.
‘Coffee? Talk? Or…?’
Or would be nice, Emily thought, wavering a little, still reeling from the aftershocks of his attentions in the lift. But her rational mind insisted they couldn’t go on like this. She had to tell him…tell him now.
‘Coffee, please,’ she managed.
‘Sure?’
‘No. Yes. I—’
‘Coffee it is,’ Alessandro said, as if nothing untoward had occurred between them since leaving the restaurant.
Releasing her to switch on some subdued lighting, he poured out two cups from the coffee tray that had been left for them some time during their extended journey between floors.
How to begin? Emily wondered, murmuring thanks as she took the cup and saucer from him.
‘So. What do you want to do about these baby issues? The contract?’ he prompted. ‘I presume that’s what all this is about?’
Emily sank down onto a small leather sofa to one side of the inglenook fireplace, stunned into silence by his remark. There were no baby issues. There was only a small and very vulnerable child, growing a little more inside her each day.