Shameful Secret, Shotgun Wedding

by Sharon Kendrick

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet. You can feel a flutter at about fourteen weeks, apparently. So there’s still a little while to go.’ She felt her cheeks begin to glow because she liked the sensation of his hand there. It made her feel safe and protected—and if you weren’t loved, then surely those were pretty good substitutes. ‘Are we…are we going to mention the baby?’

  He looked into the darkened violet of her eyes. ‘Not unless you want to make this even more difficult than it is.’

  ‘You think it’s going to be difficult?’

  ‘No, Cassandra—I think we’re all going to clasp hands and hug and laugh and joke together,’ he said sarcastically.

  Plucking at a soft fold of her cashmere coat, she wondered if he was about to smash all her stupid fantasies with one careless admission that she would only ever be second best. But she already knew that, didn’t she?

  Yet when she raised her face up to look at him she saw the unmistakable tension on his aristocratic features—and, despite her own feelings of worthlessness, she couldn’t help her heart from twisting. Is he hurting? she wondered as he helped her from the car. Was this meeting going to be unbearably difficult for him—and could she do anything to help alleviate his pain? Well, she could try by biting back questions which made his emotions feel raw and concentrate instead on getting through the evening and making him proud of her.

  ‘Just remind me,’ she said softly. ‘Your brother is Raul and your sister-in-law is called Gabriella—and Allegra doesn’t have any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘Sì, cara, esattamente,’ he said softly, and paused. ‘Ah, and here she is in all her glory to meet us.’

  For a moment, Cassie thought he meant Allegra—because she remembered what she had been like at twelve. Could have easily imagined a young girl watching and waiting by the window, filled with excitement at the thought of seeing an uncle like Giancarlo. Yet it was not a coltish teenager who came towards the car, but a woman.

  And what a woman.

  Small and perfectly proportioned, her thick, glossy hair fell in a raven cascade over narrow shoulders. Her skin was olive, her restless eyes the colour of dark chocolate, and she wore an exquisitely cut dress in softest ivory—accessorised by brown crocodile-skin shoes. From her slender wrist dangled a narrow circlet of glittering diamonds and there were more diamonds at her ears—as well as a colossal solitaire beside her wedding band. On anyone else, that many diamonds might have looked showy—but the petite brunette exuded so much class and confidence that Cassie thought she could probably have worn a bin liner and convinced you it was haute couture.

  So this, Cassie thought, was Gabriella.

  Suddenly, she felt utterly insignificant in comparison—too pale and too wishy-washy with her fair skin and hair. Because this was the woman Giancarlo had loved, she reminded herself painfully. The woman he had wanted to marry—without anyone pointing a shotgun at him. The woman who had chosen his richer twin over him—and Cassie wondered whether a man like her new husband would ever recover from a blow so heavy to his pride and his heart.

  ‘That’s Gabriella?’ she whispered.

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘She’s…she’s very beautiful.’

  Giancarlo’s mouth hardened into an odd kind of smile. ‘Isn’t she?’

  Cassie felt her heart plummet. Her husband would have been a liar if he’d denied what was a glaring fact—but in that moment of terrible insecurity, what she wanted more than anything was for Giancarlo to tell her that the woman was a hag and he’d never loved her. But there was no time for further conversation, because the petite Italian beauty was upon them with a rush of heady scent and an unmistakable sparkle of her dark eyes as she stared up at her brother-in-law.

  ‘Giancarlo,’ she said, her hands moving familiarly to his shoulders as she offered him one cool cheek to kiss, followed by another. ‘How good to see you again. It has been too long. Much, much too long. Nearly a year since we met you for dinner in New York!’

  ‘That long?’

  ‘I could tell you down to the very second,’ she pouted. ‘And in the meantime, you went and got married without even telling us!’

  ‘But I thought you liked surprises,’ he said archly. Stepping away from Gabriella’s embrace and the overpowering scent of her perfume, he rested his hand lightly at Cassie’s waist. ‘And besides, I’ve brought my wife to meet you. This is Cassandra.’

  ‘Your wife!’ exclaimed Gabriella. ‘Sometimes I thought I would never hear you say those two words! How happy I am to meet you, Cassandra.’

  Cassie felt a bit like a trump card which had just been produced in a game of cards which had gone on for a long time with no sign of ending. She felt excluded by shared history and the dark undercurrents which flowed between the two of them—and found herself wishing that Giancarlo would do something significant and proprietary. Like planting a possessive kiss on her lips which would leave Gabriella in no doubt that he was completely enraptured by his new wife. But that wouldn’t be true, would it? And perhaps she should be glad that he wasn’t making empty gestures in order to gloat in front of his ex-lover.

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ she said politely, swallowing down her nerves. ‘But please call me Cassie—it’s only Giancarlo who uses my full name.’

  ‘How sweet! Already you have nicknames for each other—because I gather this has all happened very quickly?’ cooed Gabriella, hooking her arm through Cassie’s as if they had been friends for years. ‘So, I am dying to learn how you finally captured the heart of the man for whom all the women go crazy! You must tell me your secret, Cassandra—how you succeeded where so many others have failed.’

  Was that remark supposed to remind Cassie about the only person who had really captured the heart of the Italian billionaire? Or to rub in the fact that she was not the kind of bride most people would have been expecting. A young and unsophisticated English shop-girl who felt all wrong, despite her expensive clothes—as if they were wearing her rather than the other way round.

  ‘You’ll have to ask Giancarlo about that,’ Cassie answered as they passed through a stone arch into a courtyard and then into the vast house itself.

  ‘Ah, but he is a man of mystery to me now,’ sighed Gabriella. ‘Who never tells me what is on his mind. Indeed, we rarely see him these days. A snatched moment here and there—that is all we must content ourselves with!’

  ‘My brother is not here to greet me?’ questioned Giancarlo.

  ‘He has taken Allegra to look at a new horse—and the stables are miles away. He’ll be back soon. But in the meantime, will you take some tea, Cassandra?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Cassie gratefully. ‘I’d love some tea.’

  ‘Then tea you shall have.’ Gabriella slanted Giancarlo a smile. ‘Do you want to come help me, cara?’

  ‘As I recall, you used to employ a fleet of servants,’ he observed softly. ‘Which I’m sure you still do.’

  ‘Ah, I see that your husband has lost nothing of his acid tongue!’ Gabriella gave a graceful little shrug of her narrow shoulders. ‘Very well, I’ll go and organise it. But please do make yourselves at home.’

  Cassie wondered if careless comments like that were what kept Giancarlo away. Home. A mocking reminder of what might have been.

  She looked around. The room was beautiful in a faded kind of way and everything in it seemed very precious. Exquisite lamps spilled golden light onto the silken rugs which covered the flagged stone floors. There were sofas made from soft, dark velvet and gleaming wood which looked big enough to lose yourself in. Stunning Tuscan landscapes covered the walls and there was a portrait of a man whose proud, patrician features bore an unmistakable resemblance to Giancarlo.

  Cassie walked up close and peered at it. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked.

  ‘My great-great-grandfather. He was a great singer and bon viveur as well as being the finest winemaker in the region. He was born here—as were his sons, and their sons.’ He stared into black e
yes so like his own. ‘As was I.’

  Cassie paused to let the significance of this sink in, hearing the unmistakable note of pride in his voice, and wondered if it hurt for him to have no part in this beautiful place. ‘This house has been in your family for years?’

  ‘Hundreds of years,’ he agreed softly.

  ‘Do you…do you feel regret when you look around and see what could have been yours?’

  Giancarlo’s mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. ‘I’m over that, Cassandra. I’m not some deranged lunatic who counts all the family gold and secretly covets it. It’s just a pity that my—our child will have no claim on its heritage, that’s all.’

  She heard his slip of the tongue. ‘My’ child, he had said, and that was what he had meant. She was simply the incubator. The vessel which carried the baby—not a woman he wanted as an equal. Not even a woman he even desired any more, it would seem.

  But the sound of a door slamming and an excited shout woke Cassandra from her gloomy reverie and a young girl came running into the room, all long legs and long hair and muddy riding clothes—before hurling herself into the arms of Giancarlo.

  ‘Zio Carlo! Zio Carlo!’ she exclaimed, and then said something in a stream of laughing Italian, until Giancarlo shushed her.

  ‘In English, please,’ he said sternly. ‘For your new aunt speaks no Italian.’

  The girl turned. ‘Hello,’ she said shyly.

  ‘Buona sera, Allegra,’ said Cassie.

  ‘Ah, so my uncle is wrong—you do speak Italian!’

  Cassie placed her thumb and her forefinger together to form a circle. ‘Poco.’ She smiled. ‘So he is nearly right!’

  Allegra laughed and so did Giancarlo and for a moment Cassie felt a stupid thrill of pride—as if she had achieved the impossible by making him give that rare, low laugh.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked Allegra.

  ‘Well, I was christened Cassandra—which is what your uncle calls me—though most people know me as Cassie.’

  ‘It’s a pretty name,’ said the young girl shyly.

  ‘Yes, it means “she who ensnares men”,’ came a voice from the doorway as Gabriella returned, carrying a teatray, an odd smile curving her coral lips. ‘And that is exactly what has happened to your zio, Allegra—he has been ensnared at long last. Isn’t that right, Giancarlo?’

  Cassie felt her cheeks grow pink and wondered how he was going to bluff his way out of that one—but at that moment Giancarlo’s brother appeared and the question was forgotten. At least, she assumed that it must be his brother—for the physical resemblance was strong enough to make her breath still in her throat, and yet…yet…

  Surely this could not be Raul?

  ‘Raul,’ said Giancarlo. The action of rising to his feet to greet his twin gave him a moment to recover his equilibrium—glad to be the owner of a face which gave away none of his feelings. But inside he felt the churning sensation of shock, which he quickly hid behind a bland smile.

  Because his brother looked like a different man!

  Tension was etched on his face and the black hair was touched with strands of silver. The features which were essentially the same as Giancarlo’s own somehow seemed sharpened and there were deep lines etched into his face. Why, he looked almost a decade older than the last time he’d seen him—what the hell had happened to him?

  ‘How are you, Giancarlo?’ said Raul. ‘Looking good, I must say. But then I hear congratulations are in order.’

  His eyes swept over Cassie and for a moment they gleamed just long enough for her to realise that once this man must have been just as formidable and as gorgeous as his brother. What on earth had happened? she wondered dazedly.

  ‘And this is your new wife?’

  ‘Yes, I’m Cassie—and pleased to meet you,’ she said politely.

  ‘Really?’ Raul’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Then I can only assume that for once my brother has been extraordinarily diplomatic—because he doesn’t usually have a good word to say about me.’

  ‘Ah, but that is because Giancarlo is floating on the pink cloud inhabited by the newly married!’ said Gabriella brightly. ‘Isn’t that right, Carlo?’

  Was it Cassie’s paranoia, or did it sound almost as if Gabriella was goading Giancarlo to contradict her—to hear him denounce his marriage and his bride as necessities rather than choices? And suddenly she saw his determination to keep the pregnancy secret as good sense rather than cynicism. Imagine the field day that Gabriella would have had if she’d known that Giancarlo had been forced to marry her.

  But it still begged the question why he had brought her here. All through dinner it nagged at her—creating a backdrop of disquiet while she struggled with the elaborate cuisine and took only a sip of the rich wine. At least she was sitting next to Allegra, who chattered brightly about England and her desire to visit it.

  ‘Perhaps you could come to stay with us if your parents were agreeable?’ Cassie asked tentatively, meeting Giancarlo’s eyes with a question. ‘Couldn’t she?”

  ‘Of course she could,’ he said softly. For a moment he felt chastened by her instinctive generosity and the fact that she could make such an offer when the atmosphere over dinner had been, for the most part, as corrosive as he had dreaded it might be.

  His sister-in-law had poured herself into a silk cocktail dress which was cut to cling to her petite form like a second skin. She had then proceeded to boast about her extravagant lifestyle in a way which had made him recoil—while she contradicted almost every remark Raul made. Even when his brother had been talking about his beloved art collection, Gabriella had been as negative as it was possible for a woman to be. He had noticed Cassandra biting her lip a couple of times and then deliberately engaging Allegra in a long talk about her horses—as if she was trying to dispel the poisonous atmosphere between the couple.

  And maybe blood was truly thicker than water—for the vestiges of Giancarlo’s long-held anger finally dwindled away, to be replaced by a cold fury that Gabriella should treat his brother with such disrespect. And fury that Raul was letting her! Well, maybe it was time for his brother to listen to a few home truths.

  Giancarlo waited until the end of the meal before rising to his feet. ‘So, Raul—are you going to show me this art collection of which you are so proud?’

  Raul shrugged. ‘Sure, why not? Let’s take a glass of grappa with us—and I’ll give you a guided tour.’

  Cassie watched them go, feeling suddenly isolated—especially when Gabriella turned to Allegra and told her that it was time for bed.

  ‘But, Mamma—’

  ‘It is late,’ said Gabriella, her dark eyes glittering. ‘Say goodnight to your aunt. And I will see you in the morning.’

  Cassie hugged Allegra, thinking what a lovely girl she was and thinking how difficult it must be, living with two such obviously warring parents. ‘And think about coming to stay with us in England,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I will! I will! Grazie, Zia Cassandra.’

  The two women sat listening to the sound of Allegra’s footsteps clattering over the flagged stone floors on her way to bed—and once silence had descended Gabriella lifted one of the wine bottles and turned to Cassie.

  ‘Drink?’

  ‘Just water for me, thanks.’

  Gabriella refilled her own glass. ‘You’re not much of a drinker are you, Cassandra?’

  Cassie sipped at her water, determined that her pleasant smile shouldn’t slip. ‘Not really, no.’

  ‘In fact, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you all evening.’ The Italian woman raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows in insolent query. ‘Are you pregnant?’

  Chapter Ten

  CASSIE’s breath caught in her throat and her heart started rapidly accelerating as she stared at her sister-in-law, feeling as if she’d been caught out in some guilty secret. ‘You dare to ask me whether I’m pregnant?’ she whispered in disbelief. ‘That’s a very personal remark to make!’

  ‘Whic
h doesn’t answer my question.’

  ‘But I don’t have to answer it. Anyway, lots of women don’t drink alcohol,’ said Cassie as Gabriella raised her glass to her lips.

  ‘So they don’t. But then, lots of women don’t marry much older Italian billionaires either.’

  ‘He’s…’ Cassie swallowed. ‘Giancarlo’s only fourteen years older than me!’

  ‘Only? My dear—that’s practically a different generation.’

  ‘You know, I don’t have to sit here and be insulted by you,’ said Cassie quietly.

  ‘I wasn’t intending to insult you. I was just being honest with you—that’s what family are for. Have you met any of his other friends? No? How come that doesn’t surprise me? Well, I can assure you that I am only voicing what they will all be thinking. You see, you are not what I expected. Not at all. Giancarlo is an experienced and highly educated man of the world, while you…Well, I can understand that your gauche freshness might appeal to an older man’s rather jaded palate—but when that fades, then what?’

  Cassie’s fingers tightened around her glass; she felt as if the blood were draining from her veins. ‘Please,’ she said weakly.

  ‘I just think you should be aware of all the facts, Cassandra.’ Gabriella’s eyes glittered. ‘You know that he was once in love with me? Wanted to marry me? Had his heart broken when I chose his brother instead?’

  ‘Yes, he told me,’ said Cassie woodenly.

  ‘Oh, did he?’ Gabriella drank another mouthful of wine. ‘And the exquisite irony is that I made the wrong choice. Totally the wrong choice. For a long time now, I’ve been toying with the idea of ending the marriage—and giving Giancarlo the chance to pick up where he left off. What do you think he’d say if he knew that such an opportunity was here for the taking?’

  Cassie didn’t know what he’d say—all she did know was that if she didn’t get away from there soon she would do something irrevocable. Like faint. Or hurl a glass of wine all over Gabriella’s insulting face.