Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set

by Barbara Wallace

Whose fields would be ruined, but for Nico’s care. Guilt kicked at her conscience. If only she could have claimed her inheritance sooner. “I had no idea any of the Bertonellis ever existed,” she said. “My mother never talked about my father’s family.” Never talked about her father, period, actually. Geoffrey Harrison was a smooth-talking liar best left unmentioned.

  “Don’t feel bad. I never knew he had relatives in America.”

  “Tight family bonds, huh?” she said. The sarcasm came out more bitter than she meant.

  “Trust me, family bonds aren’t always so wonderful. They can get in the way, too. Like baby sisters deciding you need to entertain them when they are pregnant and bored.”

  Who did he think he was kidding? He’d loved Marianna’s visit yesterday and they both knew it.

  “I would have killed for a brother or sister,” she said. “Most of my life, it was just my mom and me. We used to joke it was us against the world.”

  “Must be upsetting for her to see her daughter being lambasted in the press. Have you talked to her?”

  “No. She...um...” It was her turn to study the grape vines. How did she explain that she’d screwed up the one good relationship in her life? She’d love to blame Steven again, but this time she had only herself to blame. “I don’t want to bother her.”

  Just as she recognized his evasion tactics, Nico recognized hers. “You don’t think your mother’s aware of what’s going on?” he asked.

  “I’m sure she is, but...” But Louisa was too embarrassed to call and talk about it. “The two of us were estranged for a while. I don’t want to spoil things by bringing up bad news right as we’re getting on better footing.”

  This wasn’t the direction she planned for their conversation to take. Seemed as though whenever the two of them talked lately, she found herself sharing some facet of her past she’d sworn to keep secret. Frightening, how easily she exposed herself to him, more frightening than her desire to lean on his shoulder, and yet at the same time, the words tumbled out without pause.

  Perhaps it was because Nico accepted what she said without pushing for more. Like now, he simply nodded and, hands in his back pockets, began sauntering down the row. Made her feel, in spite of how easily the information came out, that she was in control of the information she chose to share.

  Mimicking his posture, Louisa headed after him, and the two of them walked in silence for several feet.

  “Carlos taught me to appreciate the art of winemaking,” he said after a moment, returning to their earlier conversation. Again, Louisa silently thanked him for not pushing. “He never let me forget that ours is a centuries-old craft, and as such we have an obligation to make the best wine possible.”

  “And your father? He was a vintner, too, was he not?” Strange that Nico’s allegiance would be to his neighbor and not the man who raised him. “Did Carlos teach him, as well?”

  “My father made wine, but not like Carlos. He was, shall we say, too distracted by other things.”

  Distracted how? Dying to know, Louisa had to bite her tongue to keep from asking. After all, she owed Nico the same courtesy he showed her when it came to privacy.

  He answered anyway. “My mother, for one thing. Women who weren’t my mother, for another. Don’t worry,” he added before she could offer sympathy. “Mama gives as good as she gets.”

  “They’re still together?” She didn’t know why that surprised her, but it did.

  “They have what you would call a fiery relationship,” Nico replied. “They’ve separated and reunited more times than I can count, swearing to God every time that they cannot live without each other, and they can’t, for about a year or so. Then the plates begin to fly again.” The early-morning sun caught his eyes as he cocked his head. Even when sad, he was beautiful. “You could practically hear the clock ticking between breakups.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything.”

  No, but she felt as though she needed to say something. She knew that feeling of heavy expectancy all too well, the horrible sense of foreboding as you waited—and waited—for some undefined disaster to strike. “Is that how you ended up at the palazzo?”

  “The palazzo vineyards were my escape. No chaos, no drama. Just peace and quiet.” He took a long, deep breath, making Louisa wonder if he wasn’t trying to internalize those very same qualities now. “At first I just went and watched the workers. Then one day Carlos came by—I think the workers told him about me—and he understood.

  “My parents’ reputations were well-known,” he added with a smile. “Anyway, after that, he said if I was going to spend time in the vineyards, I was going to learn about them.”

  “You’re very lucky,” Louisa said. How often had she wished she had an ally like Carlos, only to end up hating herself because her isolation was no one’s fault but her own?

  “I know.”

  It dawned on her that Carlos Bertonelli had rescued them both, albeit in different ways. Shame rolled through her as she thought about how long it had taken her to claim her inheritance. She’d nearly let her sanctuary fall to pieces because she’d foolishly let herself be convinced there was no escaping her marriage.

  “I’m sorry I never got to meet him,” she said.

  “Me, too.” His lips curled into a smile. “He would have liked you a lot, you know,” he told her. “The old man always had a soft spot for beautiful women. Right up to the end.”

  Louisa blushed at the compliment. “He must have loved Marianna, then.”

  “Of course he did. After his wife died, he would ask her to play the role of harvest queen. He used to tell people it was easier than choosing someone different each year, but everyone knew it was because he had a soft spot for her.”

  “There’s a festival queen?”

  “No one told you?”

  “No.” Although she could certainly picture the beautiful Marianna being selected as queen no matter her age.

  “Oh yes, it’s a tradition for the local nobility to lead the festivities.” Nico told her. “If the nobleman wasn’t married, then he would select a maiden from the village to act as his queen for the day. Although in those cases, I suspect there were a few other duties involved, as well.” He grinned. “You seriously did not know?”

  Louisa shook her head. The thing about Monte Calanetti’s traditions running so deep was that everyone assumed they were common knowledge. “It’s not something that normally comes up in conversation,” she said. “Who took over as the festival king after Carlos died?” The sunburn on Nico’s cheeks grew a little darker. “Why am I not surprised?” She could only imagine the crowd clamoring to play his queen.

  “Someone had to,” he said. “Of course, now that you’re here I will gladly abdicate the title.”

  She laughed. “Oh sure. People would love to see me lead the harvest parade. I can see the headlines now—Luscious Louisa Reigns from on High.”

  Why wasn’t Nico laughing? Granted, it wasn’t the funniest joke but he could at least smile at her attempt to make light of her problems. “Actually...” he began.

  “You’re joking.” He was joking, right? “You’re suggesting I play the role of harvest queen?”

  “It’s not a suggestion,” he replied.

  “Good.”

  “It’s what’s expected.”

  “Excuse me?” Did he say expected? The word ran down her back. She didn’t do expected anymore.

  “It’s tradition,” Nico continued. “As owner of Palazzo di Comparino, you are the local nobility. Therefore, people will expect you to take Carlos’s place.”

  “No, they won’t.” Nico was the town nobility, she was merely notoriety.

  “Yes, they will,” he quickly retorted. “It’s tradition.”

  Again with tradition. As if that justified everything. Who cared if it was tradition or not? Had he forgotten about the paparazzi, the whole reason she was hiding out at the vineyard? “I’m trying to avo
id having my picture taken, remember? Not encourage the papers by parading down the middle of the street.”

  “You won’t be encouraging anything. The festival isn’t for another week. By that time, the scandal will have gone away,” he said.

  Says you. “Scandals never go away,” she shot back. They were like weeds, going dormant only to crop up during another season. “People have long memories. Just because the headlines fade, doesn’t mean they will have forgotten who I am. The people here aren’t going to want to expose Monte Calanetti to ridicule.”

  An aggravated growl vibrated deep in Nico’s throat. “Madonna mia,” he said, gesturing toward the heavens, “I thought we were past this. You have got to have faith in the people you live with.”

  “Oh sure, because the world has been so supportive up until now.” She couldn’t go through another round of sneers and whispers. She wouldn’t.

  “Monte Calanetti is not Boston.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she said. That didn’t matter. “What’s the big deal anyway? So I don’t lead the parade. Traditions can change, you know. There’s no law that says everything needs to stay exactly the same.”

  “I know,” he spat.

  Then why were they even having this foolish argument? He knew she wanted to stay under the radar. “Look, it’s not just the risk of gossip,” she told him. Why she was bothering to add to her argument, she didn’t know, but she was. “Even if you’re right, and people don’t care about the headlines, I’m not living that kind of life again.”

  “What do you mean, ‘that kind of life’?”

  “The whole socialite thing. I played that role long enough when I was with Steven.” She was done with plastic smiles and faking happiness. With being told when and where and how.

  He frowned. “So you don’t care that when Carlos passed on the palazzo, he passed along the responsibilities that came with it?”

  “No, I don’t.” She’d come to Italy to live her life and no one was going to make her do anything different.

  “I see,” Nico said, nodding. “Now I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “Si. Comparino is merely a piece of property to you. No wonder you ignored its existence for so long.”

  Ignored? Ignored? Oh, did he just say the wrong thing. Louisa’s vision flashed red. “Don’t you dare,” she snarled. “I didn’t ignore anything. From the moment I opened the lawyer’s letter, I wanted to be here.” He had no idea how badly. How many nights she’d lain awake wishing she could board a plane and escape.

  “Of course you did. Your desire to be here was obvious from all those months you left the place to ruin.”

  “I was testifying against my husband!”

  Her shout sounded across the vineyard. If the field workers didn’t know her business before, they certainly knew it now. Let them. By this point, the damn trial was public knowledge anyway. What was another mention? Taking a deep breath, she added in a lower voice. “I couldn’t leave the country for an entire year.”

  The explanation might have been enough for some, but not Nico. Crossing his arms, he positioned himself in front of her, his broad shoulders blocking the path. “You ignored us for over two years, Louisa, not one,” he reminded her. “Or did the authorities refuse to let you leave the country before the arrest, as well?”

  Not the authorities. Damn it all. How had she ever let the conversation turn in this direction? To the one secret she hoped to never have to say aloud.

  “It’s complicated,” she replied. It would be too much to ask for Nico to continue accepting her terse answers at face value. Not this time. He was angry; he would want answers.

  Sure enough, his eyes burned dark and intense as he stood, arms folded, waiting for her to continue. Louisa’s skin burned from the intensity. She thought about lying, but she’d never been very good at it. Pretending, masking her emotions, sure, but out-and-out lies? Not so much. Looking back, it was a wonder she’d managed to keep Comparino a secret at all.

  “I didn’t have a choice—I had to stay in Boston. If Steven had known I had property in my name—property of my own—he would have...” Angry tears threatened. She looked down so he wouldn’t see them.

  “He would have what?” Nico asked.

  “Taken it,” she replied, choking on the words. “He would have taken the palazzo the same way he took everything else I had.”

  At last, the ugly truth was out in the open and Nico would never look at her the same way again. How could he? She was a stupid, gullible fool who let a master manipulator ruin her life. Shame rose like bile, sour and thick in her mouth. She didn’t dare raise her eyes to look into his face. She couldn’t bear to see pity where there’d once been admiration. There was only one thing she could do.

  Spinning around, she took off down the path.

  * * *

  What the—? Nico stared at Louisa’s retreating figure before sprinting after her. “Louisa, hold up!”

  “Leave me alone,” she said. “I have to get to the winery.” She sounded as though—was she crying?

  It didn’t take long for him to close the distance between them. When he did, he touched her shoulder hoping to slow her pace, only to have her tear free of his grip so fiercely you’d think he was physically restraining her. She turned and snarled, “I said leave me alone.”

  She was crying. Tears streaked her cheeks. Their tracks might as well have been scratches on his skin, they hurt that much to see. This was about more than her thief of a husband stealing property. “What did that bastard do to you?”

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.”

  She tried to surge ahead again but he had height to his advantage. It was nothing for him to step ahead and block her path. Not unexpectedly, she shoved at his shoulder trying to make him move. “I said forget it.”

  “I can’t,” he said, standing firm. Not after seeing those tears. “Talk to me.”

  “Why? So you can laugh at what a stupid idiot I am?”

  Idiot? Nico shook his head. “I could never think that of you.”

  “Then you’re a bigger fool than I am,” she said, jaw trembling. “And I’m... I’m...”

  Her face started to crumble. “I’m a damn big one.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LOUISA BURIED HER face in her hands. Nico stood frozen by the sight of her shaking shoulders, wanting to comfort her but afraid his touch might make her run again. Eventually his need to hold her won out, and he wrapped her in his arms. She sagged into him, fists twisting into his shirt. His poor sweet Louisa. Steven Clark should be glad he was in prison because otherwise Nico would... Heaven knows what he would do. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and let her cry.

  After a while, the shaking eased. “I’m sorry,” she said, lifting her head. “I didn’t mean to lose it like that. It’s just sometimes I think, no matter how hard I try, Steven will always be there, taunting me. That I’ll never completely escape him.”

  Suddenly all her comments about needing to be on her own took on new meaning. She was running from more than scandal and a failed marriage, wasn’t she? He could kick himself for not realizing it sooner. He risked another brush of his lips against her hair before asking, “Did he hurt you badly?”

  “You mean physically?” She shook her head. “He never laid a hand on me.”

  Thank God. Not all abuse was physical, however. Emotional abuse was insidious and painful in its own way. His parents played mind games all the time, driving one another to madness out of revenge or jealousy. “But he hurt you all the same, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he did,” she said, giving a long sigh. Backing out of his embrace, she stumbled just far enough to be out of reach, wiping her tears as she walked. “It’s my fault, really. The signs were all there from the very beginning, but I chose to ignore them. Love makes you stupid.”

  “He was also an accomplished liar,” he reminded her, his nerves bristling when she mentioned the word love. From ever
ything he’d heard of the man so far, Steven Clark didn’t deserve Louisa’s affection, and he certainly didn’t deserve her self-recrimination.

  If his underlying message made it through, it wasn’t evident in Louisa’s answering sigh. “He certainly was. But he was also incredibly charming and romantic, and I was twenty-one years old.”

  “Barely an adult.”

  “True, but I was certain I knew everything.”

  “What twenty-one-year-old isn’t?” he replied.

  His attempt to lighten the moment failed. Tired of standing, and suspecting getting the entire story would take some time, Nico motioned for her to follow him a few feet ahead, to a small gap between plants. He sat down beneath the branches, the dirt cool and damp through his jeans, and patted the space beside him. Louisa hesitated for a moment before joining him.

  “How did you meet him?” he asked when she finally settled herself. He told himself he was asking because he wanted to understand what happened, and not because of the burning sensation the man’s name caused in his chest.

  “At work. My first job out of college. I was so psyched when I got the job, too,” she said, in a voice that still held lingering pride. “Clark Investments was the hottest business in the city at the time. Steven was a rock star in Boston financial circles.”

  A rock star with twenty years on his starry-eyed employee, Nico thought, gritting his teeth. “You must have been very good to get the job.”

  “I was.”

  There was such gratitude in her smile, as if it had been a long time since someone had acknowledged her abilities. Nico laid the blame at the feet of her ex-husband. “Anyway, I met Steven a couple months after I started—on the elevator of all places—and all I could think was Steven Clark is talking to me. Later, he told me he was so impressed he had to ask me out.”

  That, thought Nico, might have been the most honest thing Steven Clark had ever said. What man with two eyes wouldn’t be impressed by her?

  “I felt like Cinderella. Here I was, a girl from a single-parent family in a blue-collar town while Steven was sophisticated and had experienced things I’d never dreamed of doing. Things like skiing in the Alps and diving with sharks.” She scooped a handful of dirt and let it sift through her fingers. “I should have known then, the stories were too outrageous to be true, but like I said, love—”