Second-Best Wife

by Rebecca Winters

  On their way to the main road, she saw Carlo’s lighted farmhouse out of the periphery. But she didn’t dare look in that direction or she’d see Luke’s forbidding countenance.

  It didn’t seem possible that she’d known a passion beyond belief in the arms of this remote, taciturn stranger piloting the car as if it had wings.

  Obviously guilt was eating him alive. Gaby knew the feeling. They’d betrayed Giovanni, which was bad enough. But in Luke’s own mind, he’d done something much worse this close to being professed. She couldn’t let him take all the blame.

  “L-Luke?” she whispered tentatively.

  “If you don’t mind, signorina, I prefer not to talk about what happened,” came the wintry voice she dreaded. “You found the home of your namesake. Let that be the memory you take back to Nevada.”

  Intense anger intruded on her pain. His hurtful dismissal of something as earthshaking and intimate as what they had shared at the farm, blinded her to caution.

  With eyes burning like hot blue coals, she flung her head around, causing the hair to swish against her hot cheek. “Is that the memory you plan to take back to the Vatican, Father Luca?” Her question rang throughout the tension-filled interior.

  By the time she felt enough remorse to wish she could recall it, he’d pulled to the side of the road and shut off the engine.

  With his right hand still on the wheel, he turned his head in her direction. His eyes were black slits of light. “How long have you known?” he demanded thickly.

  She bit the inside of her lower lip. “Giovanni told me when he dropped me off at the pensione last night.”

  He muttered something terrifyingly unintelligible before ejecting himself from the car. The slam of the door gave eloquent testimony of his state of mind. She had the gut feeling few people, if any, had ever seen Luca Provere this out of control.

  In other circumstances she might have congratulated herself, even rejoiced that she was the reason for his uncharacteristic behavior. But her conscience forbade her to feel anything but shame for the eagerness with which she’d played her part in that tree. Her feverish abandon had probably sent Luke into shock and he was still trying to recover.

  When she thought she couldn’t stand to be alone with her tortured thoughts any longer, the driver’s door opened. Headlights of a passing car illuminated Luke’s grimaced features before he climbed inside and shut it again. She held her breath until he spoke.

  “We have to talk,” his voice rasped, “but not on this road where someone will stop because they have the mistaken notion my car has broken down.”

  The powerful engine roared to life. She heard the tires squeal as he drove onto the pavement.

  A nervous shiver invaded her body. “The alley behind the pensione is private. W-we could talk there,” she stammered uncertainly.

  The silence following her suggestion made Gaby realize she’d said the wrong thing. He probably thought she was hinting to be alone with him so they could continue what had gone on in the cherry tree.

  “The traffic is heavier than usual tonight.” He ignored her suggestion. “We won’t reach Urbino in time to do anything but drive to the hospital. As it is, we’ll probably have to waken Giovanni so you can say your goodbyes.”

  The bleakness of his tone caused her eyes to close tightly. She’d forgotten all about Giovanni.

  “I can’t go there looking like this!” She panicked. “He’ll know that we—that I—” Her voice caught. She couldn’t finish what she was trying to say.

  Luke raked an unsteady hand through his dark hair. “He’ll know I couldn’t keep my hands off you,” he growled. “Per Dio!” came another soulwrenching sound. “My little brother will see that I couldn’t be trusted to do him the only favor he has ever asked of me.” His voice shook with self-loathing.

  She caught at the straps of her purse. “You’re not to blame,” she asserted forcefully. “I’m the one who is ashamed. I—I knew you were on the verge of taking holy vows, but it didn’t stop me from—” All the air seemed to leave her lungs and she struggled for breath.

  “The point is,” she went on raggedly, “I’m as wretched as my great-grandmother. Her selfish desires for a man caused her to run away with him. She never stopped to consider the trail of broken hearts she left behind.

  “The only difference here is—” Gaby paused to swallow. “We’ve done nothing so serious tha—”

  “Basta!” He silenced her. “If we had made it as far as the inside of the farmhouse, we would still be in there and probably not venture outside again until someone disturbed us.”

  He was speaking the truth, which was why she couldn’t say anything. The images his words conjured up sent delicious chills through her trembling body.

  His black eyes bored into her. “Even in your naivete, you realize that I almost made love to you.”

  “Yes.” He dragged the word out of her.

  “Mio Dio,” he raged. “Do you think it makes me proud to admit that you reduced me to the level of an adolescent schoolboy hungry for his first experience with a woman? One look at those gorgeous legs disappearing up the trunk of that tree and every thought but one went out of my head.”

  She stared at her hands. “Please don’t crucify yourself, Luke. I—I’m to blame for everything that has happened.”

  A strange sound escaped his throat. “What exactly does that mean?”

  Girding up her courage, she said, “Giovanni told me you haven’t been home for a whole year, that you’ve been closeted with other men of the priesthood. My father has always taught me that a woman has the power to tempt a man.”

  Bending her head, she murmured, “I should never have climbed that tree. I completely forgot I was wearing a skirt. It wasn’t fair to you.”

  A bitterly angry laugh broke from him. “Your willingness to take my sin upon your head is nothing short of amazing. After your self-sacrificing speech, I hate to disillusion you, but the truth is, I’ve been lusting after you since the moment Giovanni introduced us.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LUKE’S bald admission was so unexpected, Gaby had no conception of where to go from here. Her instincts about him hadn’t been wrong. Their desire for each other had been a mutual thing. But now reality had asserted itself.

  She should be thanking God that they hadn’t gone inside the farmhouse. To have known the joy of his possession and then watch him go back to Rome would have destroyed her completely. As it was, returning to Nevada meant facing a horrendous adjustment she didn’t have the strength to contemplate.

  Mired in his own black thoughts, the man at her side remained unbearably silent for the rest of the drive back to Urbino.

  “W-what will we say to Giovanni?” she finally ventured when he pulled into the casualty parking lot an hour later.

  He brought the car to a stop and turned off the motor. “We’ll tell him you preferred doing genealogy to going to the ball.”

  “But—”

  “It’s eleven-fifteen,” he cut in on her tersely. “There’s no time for discussion. By now Giovanni will have been put in a private room. We’ll get that information first. Come.”

  He didn’t make a pretense of helping her from the car, but now she knew the reason why. He didn’t trust himself alone with her. Under other circumstances she would have been elated at his astonishing confession.

  But he was no ordinary man. He had a calling, a destiny: Since he’d been so honest with her, she had no business diverting him from his chosen path, no matter how unintentional her behavior.

  As she followed him inside the emergency room, she made a promise to herself. Until they said goodbye, she’d do everything in her power to help them both forget what had transpired at Loretello.

  She stood at the end of the main desk while he made inquiries, noting that only one cubicle was in use. Everything was much quieter tonight.

  Try as she might not to look, her eyes seemed to have a will of their own and she found herself staring
through veiled lashes at the man who’d kissed her into oblivion earlier in the day. He was in deep discussion with one of the nurses and appeared perplexed. Suddenly his jet black gaze found Gaby and he started toward her.

  “Giovanni is no longer in the hospital.” He ran a finger around the back of his collar in obvious puzzlement. “It seems he insisted on recovering at home, so his doctor released him. My mother sent a car.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Gaby cried. The news that he was so much better brought her tremendous relief, particularly since she had no idea how she would have stood up to Giovanni’s scrutiny. Very little passed by him unnoticed.

  “Now you can leave for Rome in the morning with no worries,” she said in a deceptively bright voice, determined to carry out her charade. “I hate to ask this last favor, but would you mind running me to the pensione on your way home?”

  Luke’s dark head reeled back as if she’d just struck him. His features looked chiseled. “You haven’t said goodbye to him yet,” came the solemn pronouncement.

  She started to feel uneasy. “I—I realize that—but visiting him at the castle at this late hour is out of the question.” She looked away from him. “Your mother would never approve, not when Giovanni and I aren’t engaged to be married.”

  The truth of her words must have reached him because there was no swift retort. The tension was back, much worse than before. He was standing too close.

  The male scent of his warm skin, the trace of fragrance from the soap he’d used that morning, combined to remind her of things she shouldn’t be thinking about, like the taste and feel of his mouth, the way it had devoured hers, the incredible things it had done to her before he’d pushed her away.

  A burning crept into her face and she gulped. “I—I have to be in front of the university at five forty-five in the morning to board my bus. I’ll call him en route and say a final goodbye over the phone.”

  Unable to take any more of this, Gaby fled the emergency room and hurried out to the car ahead of him. Once ensconced in the Maserati, she rummaged in her purse for her camera while Luke took his place behind the wheel and started up the engine.

  In the short time it took them to reach the outskirts of town, she wound the film and removed it from the camera, anything to keep her hands and thoughts occupied.

  “Y-you can just let me off in front,” she said jerkily when he turned onto the narrow street of the place she’d called home for the last six weeks.

  The knuckles of his hand looked a pinched white as he wove between the parked cars to the entrance. For a moment she feared he would ignore her suggestion and drive around to the back alley.

  The feelings running rampant inside her were too explosive for her to ever be alone with him again. Before he applied his brakes, she had the door open. A smothered epithet from his side of the car didn’t discourage her from jumping out on the bricked street the second he slowed down.

  Gaby heard her name called but she didn’t pause. Instead, she shut the door behind her, then ran around the back of his car to the entrance of the pensione.

  Ten fragile feet separated them. She refused to meet his scorching gaze.

  “Thank you for all you did for me today.” She fought for breath. “My family and I will forever be in your debt. Give my love to Giovanni. Tell him I’ll be in touch with him soon.” She clung to the handle of the door. “God bless you, Luke.” Her voice cracked before she disappeared through the doors.

  The minute she reached her room, she collapsed on the bed in abject despair. Alone at last, she didn’t have to hold back the tears. It was like a dam had burst.

  Up to now, Gaby had led a very happy life. Like everyone else, she’d experienced moments of sadness and had shed tears. But she’d never known this kind of pain before. The mattress shook with her heart-wrenching sobs. Afraid the girls on either side of her room might hear, she attempted to stifle the sounds with her pillow.

  The night seemed endless. Around four in the morning, she got up from the bed so puffy-eyed, no more tears could creep out her lids.

  Quietly, she tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom for a shower. One look in the mirror while she was brushing her teeth and she recoiled from the ghostly looking apparition staring back at her. Anyone seeing her right now would think she was a witch.

  After shampooing her hair, she stood under the tepid water, praying the rinse would wash away her memories of Luke along with the suds. But nothing could do that. Not even if she lived to be a hundred.

  While her hair was still damp, she formed it into one long braid, then put on a clean pair of comfortable, well-worn Levi’s and cotton blouse for the bus trip to Belgium. Twelve hours from now she’d be hundreds of miles from here. From Luke…

  More tears started, burning her eyes. She refused to give in to them and marched out of the bathroom to her room. Within twenty minutes everything was packed in her two pieces of luggage.

  The used linen she put in a laundry bag by the door for the maids. One short trip to Celeste’s room where she slid a note with her address under the door, and she was ready to go.

  Returning to her room, she looked around a last time, making sure she hadn’t left anything behind.

  Who would have dreamed that two days before her fabulous trip to Italy came to an end, all her joy would turn to debilitating pain?

  It was so early, she assumed most of the girls were still asleep when she crept past the empty dining hall to the front door of the pensione. The thought of having to talk to anyone was anathema to her. So was food.

  Normally she walked to the university every day. But with two heavy suitcases in hand, she’d never make it. This morning she planned to wait for the local bus which stopped at the end of her street and drove past the university as part of its scheduled run.

  All the Americans attending Urbino university from around the U.S. would be boarding their tour bus within the hour. Arriving early at the meeting place in the piazza would ensure her a window seat up front, away from the gregarious party types.

  If possible, she would try to save a couple of seats for her friends, Joan and Lorraine, who would be getting on in Florence. Their company would make the rest of her trip bearable.

  After giving one last fond look around the interior of her bed and breakfast situation, she repressed the sob in her throat, stepped outside and quietly shut the door behind her.

  “I’ll help you with those.” A low, familiar masculine voice broke the stillness, causing her to gasp.

  Gaby whirled around, gaping at Luke incredulously as he reached for her cases and stowed them in the Maserati. In a slate blue silk shirt and dark trousers, he looked particularly stunning, robbing her of the little breath she had left.

  “What are you doing here?” Her cry of alarm came out like an accusation, but she couldn’t help it. Throughout the long night she’d fought an endless battle with pain. Now he was back, tearing her to shreds all over again.

  His encompassing black glance swept over her, reducing her limbs to liquid. “Giovanni has disappeared,” came the tight-lipped response.

  “Disappeared?” She could never have anticipated such a turn of events.

  In a state of absolute shock, she didn’t remonstrate when Luke assisted her into the passenger seat. He shut the door and came around to start up the car. This close to him she noticed new worry lines etched on his striking features. He didn’t look as if he’d had any sleep, either.

  “Luke—” She called his name, suddenly remembering. “My bus! It’s—”

  “Basta, Gabriella!” he interrupted as if he couldn’t take much more, then muttered something definitely unpleasant in Italian. She couldn’t possibly translate the string of expletives, but it showed the depth of his turmoil.

  “Right now we must deal with an emergency. Naturally I will make other arrangements for you to fly to Nevada. When we arrive at the palazzo, I will inform the tour company of your change in plans.”

  She moaned. Another dela
y. Another heartache. “W-when did you discover him missing?” By now they’d reached the end of the narrow street and had entered the mainstream of traffic.

  “Luciana had instructions to keep an eye on him during the night. Sometime between three and four this morning, he left his room and hasn’t been seen since. My mother is beside herself. She asked that I bring you to the palazzo.”

  His comments put new fear in her heart. “You mean you have no idea where he is?”

  “None at all,” came the grim rejoinder. “She was hoping that you might know something the rest of us do not.” His clipped words underlined the stress he was dealing with.

  She bowed her head. “I don’t know any more than you do.”

  “You swear you’re telling the truth?” he demanded like someone who’d reached the limit of his tolerance.

  Hurt by his question, she turned on him. “Do you honestly think I would lie to you after—after—” She couldn’t finish the rest and felt the shudder that passed through his body.

  “No, I didn’t think that.” The words sounded dragged out of him. “Per Dio, this is a complication I would never have imagined.”

  To her consternation, another car almost crashed into them. Only Luke’s competence at the wheel prevented them from having an accident.

  “When you returned to the palazzo last night, d-did you tell him we went to Loretello?” she ventured in a tremulous voice.

  “I would have,” he grated, “but when I entered his room, he was asleep. I preferred not to disturb him.”

  Another wave of guilt engulfed her. “Do you think he found out we didn’t go to the ball, and he was upset about it?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that same question, but it hardly matters now. He’s nowhere to be found.” His voice echoed her own growing panic over his disappearance.

  “Does your mother know we were together most of yesterday and last night?”

  “Yes,” was all he condescended to say until they reached the covered archway at the rear of the ducal estate. A male servant appeared on the steps. Upon Luke’s instructions, the older man retrieved her bags from the car and took them inside.