by Penny Jordan
* * *
He had never known anyone whose eyes were so extraordinarily expressive when she didn’t realise she was being watched, Falcon acknowledged. He could see quite clearly the pain and fear darkening them, and he wondered who or what had caused them.
‘Let me take Oliver for you,’ he offered, reaching for the now awake baby as the chauffer opened the car door.
Immediately Annie recoiled, holding her baby tightly.
‘I can manage, thank you,’ she said, stiff and uncompromising.
She was very protective of her child, Falcon admitted, and told her dryly, ‘I am his uncle.’
‘And I am his mother,’ Annie pointed out, quickly and defensively.
‘You will find that in Italian families it is expected that babies are passed around amongst the relatives, so that everyone in the family can share in the joy of having them there,’ Falcon informed her calmly.
* * *
Stupidly, his words made her eyes sting with emotional tears. There was nothing she wanted more for Ollie than a large and loving family who would take him to their hearts and accept him and love him. And her with him?
The chauffeur helped her out of the car, and a uniformed steward came forward from the plane to greet them, followed by the pilot. Neither of them seemed curious about her. Too well trained, Annie decided. They were probably used to Falcon Leopardi boarding private jets with a woman in tow. But not a woman like her, Annie thought, uncomfortably aware of her shortcomings. Falcon’s women would be soignée and confident. They would wear designer clothes that showed off the sensuality of their bodies. They would definitely not be dressed as she was, nor holding his disliked late half-brother’s child.
What was she doing, comparing herself to them? The type of woman Falcon dated and Annie Johnson were worlds apart—so very many worlds apart. Suddenly out of nowhere she felt a sharp stab of almost physical pain for all that she had lost, all that was denied to her. It was so intense that it almost made her cry out loud. Was there a woman in his life? A special woman? A woman who he planned would ultimately bear his children? The pain intensified, seizing her in its claws and mauling her so badly that she almost cried out.
What was the matter with her? She had everything she wanted. The sexuality and happiness of some unknown woman meant nothing to her. Her life was what it was. It was for Ollie’s sake and not her own that she had even felt what she had, she defended herself. Because he would never know what it was to be the child of two people who had created him out of their love for one another, who were there with him to show him that love. She knew what it was like to grow up without a father, and she hated knowing that Ollie would suffer that same loss.
‘Let me take him now.’ Falcon reached for Ollie, taking from her before she could stop him, and leaving her no option other than to allow the steward to guide her up the steps and into the plane.
She tried not to be impressed, but it wasn’t easy. She had never imagined that the interior of a plane could be like this—furnished more like a sitting room than the kind of aircraft interior with which she was familiar.
Falcon had followed her into the plane, and was pointing out to her the sky cot that had been prepared for Ollie. The baby was wide-awake now, and gazing round in wide-eyed delight.
He really was the most beautiful baby, Annie thought on a wave of love. She had dressed him in one of his new outfits—little chinos, with a blue and green checked shirt and a V-necked pullover, matching socks encasing his small baby feet. He looked adorable, and she suspected he knew it. She, on the other hand, was still wearing her dull top and her denim skirt—although she had put on her trenchcoat, as well, even though the early evening was mild and dry.
Oh, yes, his new family were bound to love Ollie she decided after the steward had discreetly shown her how to fasten herself into her armchair-like seat and they had begun to take off.
They would love him but how would they feel about her? How much did they know about her?
* * *
She was worrying about something, Falcon thought as he watched the now familiar darkening of her eyes. Although obviously it wasn’t her appearance. He had never known a woman less concerned about how she looked. Antonio’s drunken friend had mentioned her buttoned-up appearance, but Falcon hadn’t paid much attention to his description until now. What made a young and potentially very attractive woman dress in such a way?
The seatbelts sign went off and Falcon unfastened his. What did it matter what motivated her to dress the way she did? It was her child who was his concern, and the duty he owed was to him. But what about the duty he owed her, being the brother of the man who had abused her?
* * *
Annie couldn’t contain her anxiety any longer. Her fingers trembled as she unfastened her seatbelt and leaned towards Falcon Leopardi.
‘Your brothers and their wives—what...what do they know about me?’ she asked, her body tense with her anxiety.
‘They know that you are Oliver’s mother and that he is a Leopardi,’ he answered her.
Colour now stained her skin, but she ignored it, pressing him determinedly, ‘Do they know how I came to have Oliver? Do they know...?’
‘That Antonio drugged and then raped you?’ Falcon finished for her.
His voice was harsher than he had expected, scored by everything he felt about his late half-brother, and his loathing of the damage he had done to their family name, but to Annie his harshness was an indictment of her, and she flinched from it.
‘Yes, they know,’ Falcon confirmed.
Before he had even found her he had told them what he had discovered, and that it was his intention to find the woman Antonio had so badly wronged and bring her child within the protection of their family.
Annie’s immediate gasp alerted him to her reaction.
‘They know and they share my views on the subject,’ he elaborated with deliberate emphasis.
‘Because you have told them to?’ Her voice wobbled, betraying very easily, Annie thought, what she was really feeling, and how apprehensive she was about meeting his family and being judged by them.
Falcon, though, seemed oblivious to what she was thinking, because he asked bluntly, ‘What is it you are trying to say?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? Your brother denied that—what happened. He refused to accept that Ollie was his. How do I know that your brothers and their wives accept what really happened?’ When he didn’t speak she added wildly, ‘Do you think I want people knowing what happened to me? Do you think that I want Ollie to grow up with people knowing how he was conceived? It was bad enough that Susie and Tom knew even before—’ She broke off, suddenly realising that she was saying far more than she had intended.
Her anguished outburst brought to the surface issues Falcon had already considered and then put to one side to be dealt with once he had dealt with the most urgent necessity—which had been to find Antonio’s victim and her child.
It would have been hard for her to speak as she had, he acknowledged, and something inside him ached for her whilst at the same time registering her bravery.
His brothers had already discussed with him their concern over Oliver being Antonio’s child, and what he might grow up to be.
‘The last thing we want is another Antonio,’ Rocco had told him bluntly. ‘And if our father has his way, that is exactly what he will turn the boy into.’
‘I shall not allow that to happen,’ Falcon had assured him. ‘The child will receive his fathering from me.’
Both his brothers had looked at him in such a way that he had felt obliged to continue.
‘I know what you are thinking. My fathering of both of you contained more good intention than it did skill.’
‘You are wrong, Falcon,’ Rocco had responded. ‘What we are thinking is that there could be
no one better to parent this child than you. We are both eternally grateful to you for all that you did for us.’
It had been an emotional moment, and one that still moved him. He had been so young when their mother had died and their father had remarried—too young in many ways to shoulder the responsibility of protecting his younger brothers.
‘Admit it, Falcon,’ Rocco had teased him, in an attempt to lighten the mood, ‘you want to have this boy under your wing because you miss having the two of us there. You should find yourself a girl to love, brother—marry her and produce sons of your own to father.’
Sons of his own.
Falcon had seen his mother wilt and then turn her back on life beneath the burden of being the wife of the head of their family. And then he had seen his father’s second wife glory greedily in that position, revelling in the wealth and power of her status. He envied his brothers their marriages, and the love they so obviously shared with their wives, but their situation was not his. His personal desires must always come second to his duty. Ultimately he would be the head of the family, and it would be his duty to take the Leopardi name forward into the future.
If he married then his wife would have to understand and share his goals, and acknowledge the fact that his duty would always be a third presence in their marriage. He doubted that it was possible to find a woman with whom he could share true love and who at the same time would understand his ultimate role as Prince.
He looked at Annie, who by his own actions he had now made a part of his responsibilities.
‘You speak as though you fear being shamed,’ he told her evenly. ‘But it was Antonio who should have borne that shame. It is we who bear it now, as his family. Not you. It is for us—for me as the eldest—to see to it that Antonio’s shame does not contaminate either you or Oliver. You have my word that my brothers feel exactly as I do.’
It was impossible for her not to believe him, but he had spoken only of his brothers, Annie recognised. What of their wives? Would they look down on her and question the veracity of her version of events?
The steward appeared to ask what she would like to drink.
‘Just water, please,’ she answered.
There was something else that Falcon knew he had to say—since she herself had raised the issue.
‘If Oliver learns to feel shame, then it is from you he will learn it if you wear it like a hair shirt—as you seem to wear your clothes.’
Anger flashed in Annie’s eyes.
‘There is nothing wrong with my clothes.’
‘On the contrary, there is a great deal wrong with them for a woman of your age.’
His forthright response left Annie feeling taken aback and defensive.
‘Well, I like them. And I am the one who has to wear them.’ Annie’s voice was becoming as heated as her emotions.
‘That is impossible. No woman of your age could possibly like such incredibly ugly garments. And I remind you that I am the one who has to look at them.’
Annie was outraged. Outraged and—although she was reluctant to admit it—hurt, as well.
‘Just because the kind of women you favour—just because your...your girlfriend dresses in fashionable designer clothes—that doesn’t mean—’
‘I do not have a girlfriend.’ Falcon stopped Annie’s outburst in mid-flow.
He didn’t have a girlfriend? Why was she suddenly feeling oddly light-headed, almost pleased? She wasn’t. At least not because Falcon didn’t have a girlfriend.
‘The summer heat in Sicily is such that it will be impossible for you to dress as you are dressed now and be comfortable. Sicily’s young women go bare-legged in the summer, and wear sleeveless tops.’
‘They may do as they wish, but I prefer to wear clothes that are not revealing and do not draw attention to me.’
‘To wear clothes as inappropriate as the ones you have on now will draw attention to you. So maybe secretly, for all that you deny it, that is what you want?’
‘No. That’s not true. It isn’t true at all. The last thing I want is for men to look at me.’
Annie stood up as she spoke, so agitated and upset that all she could do was look wildly around for an escape.
Falcon hadn’t meant to provoke such an extreme reaction. And so far as he knew he hadn’t said anything about his own sex looking at her. But she was trembling from head to foot, her eyes huge in her delicately shaped face—huge, and haunted with something that looked like fear.
‘I didn’t intend to imply that you are deliberately courting male attention,’ he tried to assure her, but Annie shook her head.
‘Yes, you did. I suppose you think secretly that I encouraged Antonio—that I deserved what happened to me?’
The words were bursting out of her now, like poison from a deep wound. The sound of her pain filled him with pity for her, awakening his own deep-rooted sense of responsibility towards the vulnerable, honed during the years of his youth, when he had tried to protect his younger brothers from the results of their father’s lack of love for them.
He stood up himself.
‘I think no such thing. I know that you were totally blameless.’
He had her attention now. Her lips parted and the hot pain died out of her gaze.
‘You...’ Annie gasped as the plane was suddenly buffeted by turbulence, throwing her off balance.
Falcon caught her as she stumbled and fell against his body, her cheek pressed against the pristine cotton of his shirt whilst his arms wrapped tightly around her. She could feel the strong, even beat of his heart. Her own pulse was racing ahead of it, fuelled by a mixture of panic and shock. She was feeling light-headed again, Annie acknowledged dizzily. It must be something to do with the atmosphere in the cabin—not enough oxygen or something... Or something? Perhaps something such as too much proximity to a certain man? He was wearing the same cologne he had been wearing before, its scent slightly stronger this time, because she was closer to his body.
Something kicked through her lower body. Shame, of course; it had to be that. She wasn’t allowed to feel anything other than shame in a man’s arms. She knew that. Her body shuddered and the arms holding her tightened around her.
‘It’s all right, keep still. It’s only a bit of turbulence.’
It took her several seconds to recognise that the turbulence to which Falcon was referring as he murmured those words against her ear was outside the plane and not inside her body.
It was only natural that she should be wary of men, given what had happened, Falcon acknowledged. She needed his reassurance and his protection; she needed to feel safe so that she could enjoy her womanhood and her beauty. And he would provide her with that reassurance—just as he would provide Oliver with a secure home, and just as he had tried to provide his brothers with a strong protector. The instinct to give his protection to others was a deeply embedded part of his character and his destiny.
What must it be like to know that when a man’s arms enfolded you like this you were safe and you could trust him? What was it like to lean your head against a man’s chest and know that your vulnerability would be respected and your need answered?
Just for a second Annie allowed herself to let those questions into her thoughts—let her own response to them into her heart. Such a storm of unfamiliar feelings was surging through her, and at such a pace, that she felt too weak to move away. Something within her that was stronger than her learned fear, some deeply buried instinct, was pushing small, exploratory tendrils of new emotion and sensation through her fear with an unexpectedly powerful urgency, carrying to her feelings and needs within herself she didn’t recognise. The urge to turn her head and breathe in the scent of Falcon’s skin; the heavy pounding of her heart that did not have any association with fear; the aching urgency that seemed to have infiltrated and permeated every part
of her body right down to its most intimate core. All of those things were new to her—and yet somehow known to her, as well.
The plane had levelled off and was flying smoothly again.
Ollie woke up and gave a small cry.
Brought back to reality, Annie tried to wrench herself out of Falcon’s hold. She was trembling violently, fear of her own reaction to him darkening her eyes.
Seeing that fear, and mistaking the cause of it, Falcon asked in disbelief, ‘You are afraid of me?’
Annie couldn’t speak. Guilt and shame gripped her.
‘This is what Antonio has done to you, isn’t it?’ Falcon demanded. ‘He has left you with a fear of all men.’
Annie couldn’t look at him.
‘You have nothing to fear from me,’ Falcon told her gently as he released her. ‘I give you my word on that, and I give you my word that in Sicily, on Leopardi land, you will be treated only with respect.’
Should she believe him and trust him? She wanted to. Just as she had wanted him to go on holding her? Guilt burned through her. No! That was not true. She had not wanted that. She had not been in danger of shaming herself by behaving provocatively.
Panic flared through her and her hands trembled as she reached for Ollie.
Silently Falcon watched her. She had felt so vulnerable in his arms. And it was because he had recognised that vulnerability and had wanted to reassure her that he had wanted to go on holding her. Nothing more.
Antonio had damaged her very badly. Like a small bird with a broken wing, she needed protection until she was fully recovered and able to fly once again.
He had thought originally that his only duty was to her child, but he had been wrong; he realised that now. She was just as in need of his care in her own way as her son. Now that he was aware of it he could not ignore that fact.
