The Baby Gambit

by Anne Mather

  ‘No, you wouldn’t.’ Matteo met Grace’s shocked gaze with a mocking stare. ‘Have you forgotten, cara? The car is only a two-seater.’

  ‘Oh...’ As Ceci absorbed what her father had said, Grace realised that once again Matteo had been baiting her. ‘Well, we could have taken one of the other automobiles, then,’ the girl persisted. ‘The Rolls, forse? Or the Mercedes?’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Matteo’s tone was dry. ‘And do you think Nonna would condone me taking one of her vehicles up to the monastery?’

  ‘Maybe not.’

  Ceci evidently decided to abandon the argument, and in any case they were already starting up the two shallow steps to the terrace. As they did so, Julia, also, got out of her chair, and Grace prepared herself for a different kind of protest.

  But before Julia could say anything the marchesa took centre stage. ‘You look flushed, child!’ she exclaimed, giving her grandson a reproving look. ‘Matteo, I hope you haven’t kept Grace too long in the sun.’

  ‘Really, I’m fine—’ began Grace, only to break off in confusion when Matteo bent to give his grandmother a salutatory kiss. His hand had brushed the swell of her taut buttocks in passing, and although no one else had seen it she couldn’t believe it had been accidental.

  ‘I’m sure Grace will tell you that I took very good care of her, Nonna,’ he murmured smoothly. ‘But in an open car...’

  ‘It is a problem, I agree.’ The marchesa nodded as Matteo stepped aside. ‘But perhaps she would like to freshen up before we eat? I’m sure we can all wait a few minutes longer for our lunch.’

  She was looking at her now, and Grace wondered if the old lady had any idea how grateful she was for the favour. ‘I would,’ she said at once, starting towards the door. ‘Thank you.’

  Viewing her reflection a few minutes later, Grace was relieved to see she didn’t look half as bad as she’d expected. She did look a little flushed, as the marchesa had said, but she wore very little make-up anyway, so its absence was hardly a tragedy. What disturbed her more was the unfamiliar wildness of her eyes. If anyone cared to look, they were a mirror of the agitation she was feeling inside, and she spent some minutes bathing them with cold water before tackling her hair.

  She saw, with mixed feelings, that Matteo was talking to Julia when she rejoined the others. She hoped he was redeeming his neglect of her that morning, but she was afraid he might be doing just the opposite. After the way she’d behaved, she could hardly look her friend in the eye, and blaming Matteo for everything just didn’t cut it. Julia had every right to despise both of them and as soon as this weekend was over she was going back to England.

  She knew Julia would have something to say about her going off with her boyfriend and she got her chance after lunch. The marchesa usually rested in the afternoon and Matteo’s uncle decided to do the same. Matteo had estate matters to attend to, or so he said, and Ceci disappeared also, which left the two women alone on the loggia.

  It could have been very pleasant, Grace reflected ruefully. They’d returned to the loggia after lunch because it was cooler. Its high arched ceiling and thick walls gave protection from the somnolent heat that hung over the valley, and in other circumstances she would have been quite content to while the afternoon away reading or simply relaxing on the cane chairs. But Julia wanted to talk, she knew it, and she couldn’t altogether blame her.

  ‘Did you tell him?’

  Julia’s first words when they were alone startled Grace into an unwary exclamation. ‘Tell him?’ she echoed. ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘Think,’ said Julia flatly. ‘Why I was ill, of course.’

  ‘No.’ Grace was glad she could be completely honest. ‘I just said you had a headache, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Julia didn’t sound convinced. ‘So why was he so solicitous of my welfare when you got back?’

  ‘Well...’ How to answer that? ‘I don’t know. He was concerned about you, I suppose. Why do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Julia was doubtful. ‘I don’t always understand him.’ She grimaced. ‘Well, he is three-quarters Italian, I suppose.’

  Grace nodded, hoping to change the subject. ‘What time did you get up?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Julia held up her hands. ‘We’re not going to leave it there. I want to know what you thought you were playing at, going off with him like that. It wasn’t your place to monopolise his whole morning. I felt like an interloper when I came downstairs and found only Matteo’s grandmother and his uncle sitting on the terrace.’

  Grace sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So you should be. I didn’t bring you here to make my life more difficult than it already is. You still haven’t told me how you came to go out with Matt in the first place. Did you ask him to take you sightseeing?’

  ‘No!’ Grace was indignant. ‘Of course I didn’t ask him. But he mentioned the monastery, and the marchesa—’

  ‘Oh, yeah!’ Julia snorted. ‘I might have known that old woman had a hand in it.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor Matt! I bet she put him on the spot, didn’t she? She’s always doing that.’

  Grace couldn’t honestly say she’d noticed, but if Julia wanted to believe that the marchesa had organised the whole thing, then so be it. She had other, less easy matters to discuss with her.

  ‘Look at when you got back earlier,’ Julia went on disparagingly. ‘It wasn’t Matt’s fault that you were stupid enough to go out without a hat, but did his grandmother see it that way? Oh, no.’ She made a derisive sound. ‘The sooner she’s shunted off to a retirement home, the better!’

  ‘Oh, but—’

  Grace had been about to say that she was sure Matteo would never agree to exiling his grandmother from the place that had been her home for over sixty years, but she thought better of it. What did she really know about Matteo, when all was said and done? Just what he’d chosen to tell her. And if half of what Julia had said about their relationship was true, she didn’t know him at all.

  ‘I mean it.’ Julia was speaking again. ‘This villa simply isn’t big enough for the two of us, and if Matt and I are to get married—’

  ‘But are you? Are you sure that’s what you want to do?’ Grace turned impulsively towards her friend, and although she could see that what she was saying was not being well received she had to go on. ‘I mean it, Julia. These people—well, they’re very nice, of course, but do you really think you would be happy living here? I mean, it’s not what you’re used to, is it? I always thought you preferred the town to the country, and there are no nightclubs here—’

  ‘There are in Portofalco. Places with music, anyway. And besides, Matt has an apartment in Florence. That was where he was staying when I met him.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘I don’t think you’ve thought this through.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re going to have a baby, Julia. Someone’s going to have to look after it. Not to mention the fact that you’re going to have to feed it—’

  ‘If you think I’d feed a baby myself, you’ve got another think coming!’ exclaimed Julia incredulously. ‘My baby will have a nanny and it will be bottle-fed, right from the start.’

  ‘And what if Matteo doesn’t agree with your arrangements? What then?’

  ‘What is this?’ Julia was staring at her now. ‘What has he been saying?’

  ‘Matteo?’ Grace made a helpless gesture. ‘What could he say? He doesn’t even know about the baby, does he?’

  ‘No. So why are you so knowledgeable all of a sudden? Does sucking up to the marchesa give you some divine right to interfere in my affairs?’

  ‘No.’ Grace was horrified. ‘And I haven’t been sucking up to the marchesa.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ Julia was bitter. ‘So how come she always speaks in English when you’re around?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Grace couldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed. ‘Perhaps it’s because she knows I don’t understand Italian. Whereas you do.’

 
; ‘How would she know that? I don’t remember you telling her.’

  ‘Well...’ Grace was stumped. She could hardly suggest that Matteo might have told her without inviting more questions. She compromised. ‘You must have told Matteo yourself.’

  Julia frowned, but clearly that suggestion had more merit. ‘Perhaps,’ she conceded slowly. ‘Anyway, we’re getting away from the real substance here. Why these doubts about whether or not Matt and I should get married? What’s it to you?’

  Grace sighed. ‘I just want to be sure you know what you’re doing, that’s all. Have you discussed this with your mother?’

  ‘With my mother!’ Julia was scornful. ‘Since when have Madeline and I discussed anything? D’you think I want to be like her?’ She scoffed. ‘Forget it.’

  Grace shrugged. Perhaps that hadn’t been the wisest suggestion, she acknowledged. Julia’s parents had split up when she was a baby, and she had never really known her father. Madeline Calloway had farmed her daughter out to anyone who would look after her, and by the time Julia was a teenager they had become virtual strangers to one another.

  ‘Anyway, of course I know what I’m doing,’ Julia declared now. ‘I’m going to marry Matt. I’d be a fool not to.’

  ‘Because you’re pregnant?’

  ‘Well, that would seem to me to be a pretty good reason, don’t you think?’ Julia asked sarcastically. ‘Or are you suggesting I’d be better off as a one-parent family?’ She gave Grace a belittling look. ‘Sorry, girl, but I’m not particularly interested in being a mother!’ She grimaced. ‘I just want to know that whatever happens in the future I shan’t ever have to worry about—well, about security again.’

  Grace blew out a breath. ‘You mean money, don’t you?’

  ‘All right.’ Julia didn’t argue. ‘I mean money.’ She shrugged unrepentantly. ‘Do you have any conception of how much the di Falcos are worth?’

  Grace lifted her shoulders. ‘A lot, I suppose.’

  ‘You’re not wrong.’ Julia spread her arms wide. ‘Just think about it. This villa must be worth millions of lire.’

  Grace pulled a wry face. ‘That’s not saying a lot.’

  ‘All right, know-it-all. Millions of pounds, then. You’re an expert. You must know that the artwork alone is worth a fortune.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘So what?’ Julia’s jaw dropped. ‘Come on, Grace, level with me. Would you turn down an offer like that?’

  Grace breathed a little unevenly. ‘He’s asked you to marry him already?’

  ‘No.’ Julia looked impatient. ‘Matt’s far too crafty for that. Oh, yes,’ she said as Grace looked shocked, ‘I know it’s not going to be easy, despite what I said before. He warned me at the beginning that he had no intention of getting married again.’

  ‘Oh, Julia!’

  ‘Don’t look at me like that, Grace. All men are wary of committing themselves to marriage. Heavens, with our experiences, you should know that. As a matter of fact, Ray—you remember my first husband?—he didn’t want to get married either. I’m afraid we have that kind of effect on men, girl. I guess you’ve decided you’re never going to make the grade.’

  Julia was blunt, but Grace couldn’t entirely blame her for that. Besides, it was true. Men did only want one thing from her, Matteo included. Which made the idea of his marriage to Julia even more distasteful. How could anyone trust a man like that?

  ‘I just think you might be making a big mistake,’ she said flatly. ‘Do think about it, Julia. You know I’ll help you, if I can.’

  ‘How?’ Julia was sardonic. ‘By adding me to your list of good causes?’ She gave a short laugh. ‘No, thanks, Grace. I think you’ve got all the lame ducks you can handle.’

  Grace pressed her lips together. ‘My mother is not a lame duck,’ she protested, stung into a heated defence.

  ‘Well, you always put more store in family relationships than I did,’ replied Julia dismissively. ‘Which reminds me, what did you think of the enfant terrible? I could do without her always hanging about Matt. Of course, she and the old lady are thick as thieves.’

  ‘I liked her,’ said Grace at once. ‘And she’s a student, Julia. It’s natural that she wants to spend some time with her father while she’s at home.’

  ‘Well, I notice you managed to shake her off this morning,’ retorted Julia caustically. ‘Oh, God, here she comes. I think I’ll go and have a bath.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  GRACE was dreaming.

  She dreamed she was at the monastery again, only now it was dark. A thin sickle moon, riding in and out of the racing clouds, provided the only real illumination, but the huge cavern of sky over her head was filled with stars. The air was soft and warm, much warmer than she remembered, the ruined walls of the old building silhouetted against the sky, stark, yet eerily beautiful. She wasn’t afraid; on the contrary, she felt strangely powerful. No longer bound by earthly ties but at one with the night.

  She dreamed she was standing in what had once been the refectory, where the stones beneath her feet were overgrown with coarse grass. Her feet were bare, she noticed, but she didn’t feel any discomfort. Her toes curled into the cool turf, loving the feeling of freedom it gave her.

  It was only as the breeze stirred the hem of the overlarge tee shirt she had been wearing to sleep in that she realised that it wasn’t just her feet that were bare. Beneath the shirt, cool air curled intimately between her bare thighs, and she lifted her arms above her head and spun around in an uncontrolled display of excitement.

  She didn’t know when she became aware that she wasn’t alone. It could have been when the action of raising her arms above her head caused the hem of the tee shirt to ride up her bare thighs, or perhaps she heard the whisper of a breath as someone else breathed the warm air. Whatever, like a cloud across the moon, she was aware of an alien presence, and she turned slowly towards the break in the wall where she and Matteo had watched the hawk that morning.

  And he was there, as she had somehow known he would be, lounging on the ledge, one leg drawn up to provide a resting-place for the arm that supported his chin. Unlike her, he was fully dressed: all in black, as he’d been that morning, sleek and dark and sexy, and unnervingly familiar.

  Her heartbeat quickened; she could feel it. Could feel every pulse in her body responding to his effortless appeal, so that when he held his hand out towards her she had to dig her heels into the soft earth to stop herself from drifting towards him.

  But she wanted to go to him. Lord, did she ever! The pulse between her legs was the most insistent of all, and she could feel the moisture pooling between her thighs. She knew what that meant, knew what she needed, but there were barriers between them, and although she couldn’t remember what they were at this precise moment they were strong enough to keep her where she was.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said, and when she still didn’t go to him he got up from the ledge and came towards her. ‘You know you came here looking for me.’

  ‘I didn’t!’

  Grace was horrified that he should think such a thing, but he only laughed softly at her indignant response. ‘Of course you did,’ he said, halting in front of her. ‘And I came here looking for you, so that makes us equal.’

  Grace swallowed. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Me?’ She gazed at him in confusion. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I think you do.’ The tips of his fingers trailed the length of her arm. ‘That’s why you’re here. It’s no use denying it. Your body gives you away every time.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about my body.’

  ‘Don’t I?’ His fingers had reached the hem of her tee shirt. ‘I know you’re trembling, and that your heart’s beating at twice its normal rate. That’s enough to be going on with.’

  ‘Oh, please—’ When his hand touched her bare thigh, she jumped back in alarm. ‘Please, you mustn’t.’

  ‘Mustn’t I?’
His eyes held hers with a mesmerising intensity. ‘Why not? There’s no one else here.’

  ‘Because it’s wrong—’

  ‘Why? Why is it wrong?’ He bent his mouth to her neck and she felt his teeth bruising her soft skin. ‘It seems eminently right to me.’ His tongue caressed the abrasion his teeth had made. ‘There: now I’ve put my mark on you.’

  ‘Oh, no—’ Grace’s hand went at once to discover what he had done, and she was hardly aware of him lifting the hem of her shirt until she felt his hand against her bare flesh. ‘Matteo, please...’

  ‘What?’ He brushed her mouth with sensual lips. ‘Don’t you want me to touch you? Don’t you want me to look at you? You’re beautiful, cara. Don’t be afraid of your body.’

  ‘I’m—I’m not—afraid,’ she got out jerkily, but she was and she knew it Her body had betrayed her before; she couldn’t exactly remember when, but it had. And she also knew she must not let it betray her again.

  ‘Then let me do what I want to do to it,’ he said huskily, and although she wanted to resist she felt him part her trembling legs.

  But when he cupped her mound in his hand she knew he must be able to feel her arousal. And when his fingers came away wet with her essence she was mortified.

  Yet when Matteo sought her mouth again her lips parted in helpless abandon, and when he eased the tee shirt higher so that he could weigh her full breasts in his hands she could only share his satisfaction. Her swollen nipples thrust against his palms, and he murmured his approval, groaning a little when she arched against him and felt the rigid shaft of his arousal straining his zip.

  And, although she knew she was playing with fire, Grace’s hands found the buckle of his belt and loosened it. Then, with the utmost temerity, she eased the zip down over his tumescent flesh and discovered that he wasn’t wearing any underwear either. Which was as it should be, she thought. The slick throbbing length of him spilled into her hands, and he gave an anguished moan when she stroked his silky skin.

  ‘Easy, cara,’ he whispered thickly, and then somehow they were lying on the stones, and she was murmuring little sounds of pleasure at this evidence of his vulnerability.