Surrendering All but Her Heart

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Hey,’ he said, blotting each tear as it fell with the pad of his finger. ‘It’s just a dream, Tatty. It’s not real. It’s just a horrible nightmare.’

  She cried all the harder, great choking sobs that made his own chest feel sore.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she kept saying like a mantra. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Shh,’ he said again. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about.’ He stroked her face and her hair. ‘There … let it go, cara. That’s my girl. Let it all go.’

  Her sobs gradually subsided to hiccups and she finally nestled against his chest and fell into an exhausted sleep. Angelo kept on stroking her hair as the clock worked its way around to dawn.

  He could not have slept a wink if he tried.

  Natalie opened her eyes and found Angelo’s dark, thoughtful gaze trained on her. She had some vague memory of what had passed during the night but it was like looking at something through a cloudy, opaque film.

  ‘I hope I didn’t keep you awake,’ she said. ‘I’m not a very good sleeper.’

  ‘You’re certainly very restless,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember you being like that when we were together.’

  She focussed her gaze on the white cotton sheet that was pulled up to her chest. ‘I sleep much better in the winter.’

  ‘I can see why you choose to live in Scotland.’

  She felt a reluctant smile tug at her mouth. ‘Maybe I should move to Antarctica or the North Pole.’

  ‘Maybe you should talk to someone about your dreams.’

  She got off the bed and snatched up a bathrobe to cover her nightwear. ‘Maybe you should mind your own business,’ she said, tying the waist strap with unnecessary force.

  He got off the bed and came to stand where she was standing. ‘Don’t push me away, Natalie,’ he said. ‘Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?’

  She glared at him, her anger straining like an unbroken horse on a string bridle. ‘Back off. I don’t need your help. I was perfectly fine until you came along and stuffed everything up. You with your stupid plans for revenge. Who are you to sort out my life? You don’t know a thing about my life. You just think you can manipulate things to suit you. Go ahead. See if I care.’

  She flung herself away, huddling into herself like a porcupine faced with a predator. But her prickly spines felt as if they were pointing the wrong way. She felt every savage poke of them into her sensitive soul.

  ‘Why are you being so antagonistic?’ he asked. ‘What’s happened to make you like this?’

  Natalie squeezed her eyes shut as she fought for control. ‘I don’t need you to psychoanalyse me, Angelo. I don’t need you to fix me. I was fine until you barged back into my life.’

  ‘You’re not fine,’ he said. ‘You’re far from fine. I want to help you.’

  She kept her back turned on him. ‘You don’t need me to complicate your life. You can have anyone. You don’t need me.’

  ‘I do need you,’ he said. ‘And you need me.’

  She felt as if he had reached inside her chest and grasped her heart in his hand and squashed it. She wasn’t the right person for him. She could never be the right person for him. Why couldn’t he see it? Did she have to spell it out for him?

  ‘You deserve someone who can love you,’ she said. ‘I’m not capable of that.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s happened in your life to make you think that, but it’s not true,’ he said. ‘You do care, Natalie. You care about everything, but you keep your feelings locked away where no one can see them.’

  She pinched the bridge of her nose until her eyes watered. ‘I’ve stuffed up so many lives.’ She sucked in a breath and released it raggedly. ‘I’ve tried to be a good person but sometimes it’s just not enough.’

  ‘You are a good person,’ he said. ‘Why are you so damned hard on yourself?’

  Natalie felt the anguish of her soul assail her all over again. She had carried this burdensome yoke since she was seven years old. Instead of getting lighter it had become heavier. It had dug down deep into the shoulders of her guilt. She had no hope of shrugging it off. It was like a big, ugly track mark on her soul.

  It was with her for life. It was her penance, her punishment.

  ‘When I was a little girl I thought the world was a magical place,’ she said. ‘I thought if I just wished for something hard enough it would happen.’

  ‘That’s the magic of childhood,’ he said. ‘Every child thinks that.’

  ‘I truly believed if I wanted something badly enough it would come to me,’ she said. ‘Where did I get that from? Life isn’t like that. It’s never been like that. It’s not like some Hollywood script where everything turns out right in the end. It’s pain and sadness and grief at what could have been but wasn’t. It’s one long journey of relentless suffering.’

  ‘Why do you find life so difficult?’ he asked. ‘You come from a good family. You have wealth and a roof over your head, food on the table. What is there to be so miserable about? So many people are much worse off.’

  She rolled her eyes and headed for the bathroom. ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’

  ‘Make me understand.’

  She turned and looked at him. His dark eyes were so concerned and serious. How could she bear to see him look at her in horror and disgust if she told him the truth? She let out a long sigh and pushed against the door with her hand. ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’

  Angelo was having coffee in the breakfast room when Natalie came in. She looked cool and composed. There was no sign of the distress he had witnessed during the dark hours of the night and first thing this morning. Her ice maiden persona was back in place.

  He rose from the table as she came in and held out a chair for her. ‘My mother has organised a shopping morning for you,’ he said. ‘She’ll be with you shortly. She’s just seeing to some last-minute things with the housekeeper.’

  ‘But I don’t need anything,’ she said, frowning as she sat down.

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he asked. ‘We’re getting married on Saturday.’

  Her eyes fell away from his as she placed a napkin over her lap. ‘I wasn’t planning on going to any trouble over a dress,’ she said. ‘I have a cream suit that will do.’

  ‘It’s not just your wedding, cara,’ he said. ‘It’s mine too. My family and yours are looking forward to celebrating with us. It won’t be the same if you turn up in a dress you could wear any old time. I want you to look like a bride.’

  A spark of defiance lit her slate-blue gaze as it clashed with his. ‘I don’t want to look like a meringue,’ she said. ‘And don’t expect me to wear a veil, because I won’t.’

  Angelo clamped his teeth together to rein in his temper. Was she being deliberately obstructive just to needle him for forcing her hand? He regretted showing his tender side to her last night. She was obviously going to manipulate him to get her own way. Hadn’t her father warned him? She was clever at getting what she wanted. She would go to extraordinary lengths to do so.

  But then, so would he.

  She had met her match in him and he would not let her forget it. ‘You will wear what I say you will wear,’ he said, nailing her with his gaze. ‘Do you understand?’

  Her eyes flashed like fire. ‘Does it make you feel big and macho and tough to force me to do what you want?’ she asked. ‘Does it make you feel big and powerful and invincible?’

  It made him feel terrible inside, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. ‘I want our wedding day to be a day to remember,’ he said with forced calm. ‘I will not have you spoiling it by childish displays of temper or passive aggressive actions that will upset other people who are near and dear to me. You are a mature adult. I expect you to act like one.’

  She gave him a livid glare. ‘Will that be all, master?’ she asked.

  He pushed back from the table and tossed his napkin to one side. ‘I’ll see you at
the chapel on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I have business to see to until then.’

  Her expression lost some of its intractability. ‘You mean you’re leaving me here … alone?’

  ‘My parents will be here.’

  Her throat rose and fell over the tiniest of swallows. ‘This is rather sudden, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You said nothing to me about having to go away on business. I thought you were going to be glued to my side in case I did a last-minute runner.’

  Angelo leaned his hands on the table and looked her square in the eyes. ‘Don’t even think about it, Natalie,’ he said through tight lips. ‘You put one foot out of place and I’ll come down like a ton of bricks on your brother. He will never go to Harvard. He will never go to any university. It will be years before he sees the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?’

  She blinked at him, her eyes as wide as big blue saucers. ‘Perfectly,’ she said in a hollow voice.

  He held her pinned there with his gaze for a couple of chugging heartbeats before he straightened and adjusted his tie. ‘Try and stay out of trouble,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you later. Ciao.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE private chapel at Angelo’s grandparents’ villa forty-five minutes outside of Rome was full to overflowing when Natalie arrived in the limousine with her father. The last few days had passed in a blur of activity as wedding preparations had been made. She had gone with the flow of things—not wanting to upset Angelo’s parents, who had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome.

  She had talked to Angelo on the phone each day, but he had seemed distant and uncommunicative and the calls hadn’t lasted more than a minute or two at most. There had been no sign of the gentle and caring man she had glimpsed the other night. She wondered if he was having second thoughts about marrying her now he had an inkling of how seriously screwed up she really was.

  Her parents had flown over the day before, and her father had immediately stepped into his public role of devoted father. Her mother was her usual decorative self, dressed in diamonds and designer clothes with a hint of brandy on her breath that no amount of mints could disguise.

  Her father helped Natalie out of the car outside the chapel. ‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d end up with some tradesman from the suburbs. Angelo Bellandini is quite a catch. It’s a pity he’s Italian, but his money more than makes up for that. I didn’t know you had it in you to land such a big fish.’

  She gave him an embittered look. ‘I suppose I really should thank you, shouldn’t I? After all, you’re the one who reeled him in for me.’

  Her father’s eyes became cold and hard and his voice lowered to a harsh, dressing-down rasp. ‘What else was I to do, you stupid little cow?’ he asked. ‘Your brother’s future depended on getting on the right side of Bellandini. I’m just relieved he wanted to take you on again. Quite frankly, I don’t know why he can be bothered. You’re not exactly ideal wife material. You’ve got too much attitude. You’ve been like that since the day you were born.’

  Natalie ground her teeth as she walked to the chapel along a gravelled pathway on her father’s arm. She had learned long ago not to answer back. The words would be locked inside her burning throat just like every other word she had suppressed in the past.

  They ate at her insides like bitter, poisonous acid.

  Angelo blinked when he saw Natalie come into the chapel. His heart did a funny little jump in his chest as he saw her move down the aisle. She was wearing a gorgeous crystal-encrusted ivory wedding gown that skimmed her slim curves. It had a small train that floated behind her, making her appear almost ethereal, and she was wearing a short gossamer veil with a princess tiara that didn’t quite disguise the chalk-white paleness of her face. She looked at him as she walked towards him, but he wasn’t sure she was actually seeing him. She had a faraway look in her eyes—a haunted look that made him feel guilty for having engineered things the way he had.

  He took both of her hands in his as she drew close. They were ice-cold. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.

  She moved her lips but there was no way he could call it a smile.

  ‘Your mother chose the dress,’ she said.

  ‘I like the veil.’

  ‘It keeps the flies off.’

  He smiled and gave her hands a little squeeze as the priest moved forward to address the congregation. He felt her fingers tremble against his, and for the briefest moment she clung to him, as if looking for support. But then her fingers became still and lifeless in the cage of his hands.

  ‘Dearly beloved,’ the priest began.

  ‘… and now you may kiss the bride.’

  Natalie held her breath as Angelo slowly raised her veil. She blinked away an unexpected tear. She had been determined not to be moved by the simple service, but somehow the words had struck a chord deep inside her. The promises had reminded her of all she secretly longed for: lifelong love, being cherished, protected, honoured, worshipped … accepted.

  Angelo’s mouth came down and gently pressed against hers in a kiss that contained a hint of reverence—or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part. Halfway through the service she had started wishing it was for real. That he really did love her. That he really did want to spend the rest of his life with her in spite of her ‘attitude problem’.

  The thought of her father’s hateful words made her pull out of the kiss. If Angelo was annoyed at her breaking away he showed no sign of it on his face. He simply looped her arm through his and led her out of the chapel to greet their guests.

  The reception was held in the lush, fragrant gardens at his elderly grandparents’s spectacular villa, under a beautifully decorated marquee. The champagne flowed and scrumptious food was served, but very little made it past Natalie’s lips. She watched as her father charmed everyone with his smooth urbanity. She watched in dread as her mother downed glass after glass of champagne and talked too long and too loudly.

  ‘Your mother looks like she’s having a good time,’ Angelo remarked as he came back to her side after talking with his grandfather.

  Natalie chewed at her lip as she saw her mother doing a tango with one of Angelo’s uncles. ‘Deep down she’s really very shy, but she tries to compensate by drinking,’ she said. ‘I wish she wouldn’t. She doesn’t know when to stop.’

  He took her by the elbow and led her to a wistaria-covered terrace away from the noise and music of the reception. Bees buzzed in the scented arras above them. ‘You look exhausted,’ he said. ‘Has it all been too much for you?’

  ‘I never thought smiling could be so tiring,’ she said with a wry grimace.

  ‘I should imagine it would be when you’re not used to doing it.’

  She looked away from his all-seeing gaze. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if he sensed her deep unhappiness. He’d used to tease her about taking life so seriously. She had tried—she had really tried—to enjoy life, but hardly a day passed without her thinking of all the days her baby brother had missed out on because of her.

  ‘I like your grandparents,’ she said, stepping on tiptoe to smell a purple bloom of wistaria. ‘They’re so devoted to each other even after all this time.’

  ‘Are yours still alive?’ he asked. ‘You didn’t put them on the list so I assumed they’d passed on.’

  ‘They’re still alive.’

  ‘Why didn’t you invite them?’

  ‘We’re not really a close family,’ she said, thinking of all the stiff and awkward don’t-mention-what-happened-in-Spain visits she had endured over the years.

  Everything had changed after Liam had died.

  She had lost not just her younger brother but also her entire family. One by one they had pulled back from her. There had been no more seaside holidays with Granny and Grandad. After a couple of years the beautiful handmade birthday presents had stopped, and then a year or two later the birthday cards had gone too.

  A small silence passed.


  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t arrange for Lachlan to be here,’ he said. ‘It’s against regulations.’

  She looked up at him, shielding her eyes against the bright sun with one of her hands. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He’s in a private clinic in Portugal,’ he said. ‘He’ll be there for a month at the minimum.’

  Natalie felt a surge of relief so overwhelming it almost took her breath away. She dropped her hand from her eyes and opened and closed her mouth, not able to speak for a full thirty seconds. She had been so terrified he would self-destruct before he got the help he so desperately needed. She had suggested a clinic a couple of times, but he had never listened to her. She had felt so impotent, so helpless watching him destroy his life so recklessly.

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you … I’ve been so terribly worried about him.’

  ‘He has a long way to go,’ he said. ‘He wants help, but he sabotages it when it’s given to him.’

  ‘I know …’ she said on a sigh. ‘He has issues with self-esteem. Deep down he hates himself. It doesn’t matter what he does, or what he achieves, he never feels good enough.’

  ‘For your parents?’

  She shifted her gaze. ‘For my father, mostly …’

  ‘The father-son relationship can be a tricky one,’ he said. ‘I had my own issues with my father. That’s one of the reasons I came to London.’

  Natalie walked with him towards a fountain that was surrounded by sun-warmed cobblestones. She could feel the heat coming up through her thinly soled high-heeled shoes. The fine misty spray of the fountain delicately pricked her face and arms like a refreshing atomiser.

  ‘You’ve obviously sorted those issues out,’ she said. ‘Your father adores you, and you clearly adore and respect him.’

  ‘He’s a good man,’ he said. ‘I’m probably more like him that I’m prepared to admit.’

  She looked at the water splashing over the marble dolphins in the fountain and wondered what Angelo would think if she told him what her father was really like. Would he believe her?

  Probably not, she thought with a plummeting of her spirits. Her father had got in first and swung the jury. He had done it all her life—telling everyone how incredibly difficult she was, how headstrong and wilful, how cold and ungrateful. The one time she had dared to tell a family friend about her father’s treatment of her it had backfired spectacularly. The knock-on effect on her mother had made Natalie suffer far more than any physical or verbal punishment her father could dish out.