The Italian's Secret Child

by Catherine Spencer

  “So what does that matter? As long as we agree to let go of old resentments and unhappiness, we can shape a better future.”

  “Just like that?” she said wryly.

  “But yes, just like that!”

  “With me sneaking out to meet you every night for the next two weeks?” She squirmed and looked away again. “It doesn’t sound so very different to me, Matteo, except that, at the end, I’ll be the one to leave, instead of you.”

  He slid an arm over her hip and pulled her close. Forced her again to meet his gaze. “No more sneaking, cara. We are of an age to do as we please, regardless of what your family might have to say.”

  “But I’m living in the same house with them. I can’t flaunt an affair in their faces. It would defeat the whole purpose of our spending the summer together.”

  “Then come away with me for a week. Give us the chance to find out if what we feel for one another this time is made of sterner stuff than what we had before.”

  “And what about Simon?”

  “We’ll bring him with us, if you wish.”

  “To witness his mother sleeping with a stranger? I don’t think so!”

  “Rediscovering one another amounts to more than just making love, Stephanie! Sex between us has always been good. What we’ve never had, and very much need, is the luxury of time, of hours at a stretch without outside interference, for us to explore the wider possibilities of our relationship.”

  Still, she hesitated, and he had to bite back the accusation springing to his lips: what is it? You need to ask Daddy’s permission?

  “Don’t look at me like that!” she said, reading his thoughts. You know the only reason I’m in Italy is to honor my grandmother’s request that all of us—my father and mother, my brothers and me—try to strengthen our family bond.”

  “And you seriously think that will ever happen between you and your father or the older brother?”

  “Is there any reason it shouldn’t?”

  “From what I witnessed at lunch today, every reason in the world, cara mia! Victor is your father’s burattino—how do you say it in English?” He jerked his fingers up and down, pulling imaginary strings. “His puppet, yes? Padre says ‘jump,’ and Victor says, ‘how high?’

  “I’m not Victor!”

  “But you spent the first nineteen years of your life trying without success to please your father. That you’re here now, still battling the same demon, tells me you’ve yet to succeed. Do you really expect another few weeks is going to change that?”

  “That’s not the point. I have to make the effort. Family means everything to my grandparents.”

  “It means everything to me, too, Stephanie. To have children, to watch a son take his first, unsteady steps into my outstretched arms, to have a baby daughter wrap her tiny fist around my finger, to feel my heart swell with love and pride for them…these, when they happen, will be my most prized accomplishments.”

  She flinched as if he’d struck her, and again a haunted misery flickered in her lovely blue eyes. “Don’t!” she begged.

  He caught her face between his palms. “Tell me what troubles you so deeply, cara. Because it has to do with more than honoring your promise to Signora Anna. I know in my bones that there is more.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, then another. And suddenly he remembered what she’d said just a moment before. It’s got nothing to do with my father—at least not in the way you think….

  “Tell me!” he said urgently, an unspeakably ugly suspicion assailing him. “Did your father…?” He stopped, choking over the word begging to be aired. But her wide, terrified gaze drove him on. “Did he abuse you? Or no, not him, but your brother Victor? Was he the one? Because if so, I will kill him!”

  “No!” she cried, curling up into a ball. “Nothing disgusting like that! It’s…it’s my grandfather. He’s a very sick man and this is probably the last summer he’ll be with us. He’s the reason I can’t bail on my promise to stay here.”

  “So that’s it!” Relief and sorrow swept over him in equal measure and he cradled her against him as if she were a child. “Ah, Stephanie, that such a fine man should have to bribe his children to love one another is tragic.”

  “Then you do understand?”

  “Sì. And I admire your devotion, your willingness to fulfill his wish. Just don’t reject my invitation out of hand, because I don’t believe he would want you to turn away from the chance to find greater happiness. We’ve been given a gift, my Stephanie—a small window of opportunity, as they like to say in your country. If there is any way to take advantage of it ….”

  He left the sentence hanging, knowing he’d done all he could, and the rest was up to her.

  She looked at him pensively. “Even if I were to agree to come away with you, I couldn’t be gone a whole week. It wouldn’t be fair, not to Simon or my grandparents.”

  “Then we’ll make it a day or two only,” he said, recognizing a shift in her thinking. “Just long enough for you to learn something about the man I really am, and for us then to decide if we want to pursue this relationship after your time here comes to an end. I’m not suggesting we swear lasting commitment to each other on such short notice, only that we leave ourselves open to the possibility.”

  Again she hesitated, but this time he saw longing in her eyes. “Let me think about it.”

  “That’s all I ask.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth.

  Not a smart move! Their lips clung. Lingered. She closed her eyes; caressed his face. One touch, and the dying sparks of spent passion caught fire again.

  He wanted to imprint the taste of her in his memory; the feel of her smoother-than-cream skin, the scent of her hair. But night had slipped into early morning and he wasn’t willing to settle for another hasty, hungry joining of bodies, with worry gnawing at the back of her mind because she’d stayed away from her son for too long.

  When…if they made love again, it would be with the full realization on both their parts that they were taking a major step forward in their long journey of discovery.

  So, “Stop tormenting me,” he growled, reluctantly dragging himself out of bed and stepping into his shorts. “It’s time I took you home.”

  She popped upright, the sheet clutched to her breasts, and peered at the clock on the nightstand. “I had no idea it was so late! I told my mother I wouldn’t be away very long, and I’ve been here over two hours. Hand me my clothes, will you?”

  He retrieved her dress and underpants, found her other shoe, and laughed when she blushed and said, “Turn your back, Matteo. You’re not going to watch me getting dressed.”

  Bewitched by the contradictions he saw in her—demure and innocent on the one hand, sophisticated and provocative on the other—he smiled and said, “I’ll wait for you downstairs, then walk you back to the villa.”

  She shook her head. “No, better not. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  He didn’t want to let her go. Nor did he understand how, when he’d been so certain there was nothing left between them, he could have fallen so quickly and completely under her spell. He did know it had to do with more than sex.

  Could it possibly be love? Was this deep, stirring need to cherish and protect a woman what made the difference between passing attraction and lasting commitment? Time would tell.

  He went with her as far as the courtyard gate. When she was safely on the other side, she shook his hand, an absurd yet oddly touching gesture in light of the intimacy they’d so recently shared. “Good night, Matteo. Thank you for…everything.”

  “Good night, Stephanie,” he replied soberly. “I’ll wait to hear from you. The next move’s yours.”

  The minute she passed beyond his magnetic field, her appalling lapse in judgment and self-control made its presence felt in an overwhelming tide of regret, and she cursed under her breath.

  Make the next move? Go away with him? Was she crazy, even to consider the suggestion?

  Don’t worry, you won’t
get pregnant, he’d said, brandishing his condom as if it were some sort of talisman capable of warding off all disaster. Ha! Little he knew! Condoms sometimes failed. Simon was living proof of that! And even when they didn’t, they offered no protection against a broken heart.

  So how foolish did that make her, that she’d allowed him to seduce her yet again?

  Still berating herself, she slipped quietly back through the gardens and let herself into the villa. At least no one was waiting up, to see what time she came home. The last thing she needed was another confrontation. One a night was enough!

  Once in her own room, she debated taking a bath or shower, but feared the sound of running water might betray her late return. So she slid between the sheets of her own bed, the scent of Matteo, of love, still clinging to her body, and turned out the light—another in her long list of mistakes where he was concerned!

  The instant the room plunged into darkness, her mind lit up with Technicolor pictures of his lovemaking. Her flesh puckered and sang as it relived his touch. Images of him, naked and powerful, stormed her senses: the solid planes of muscle underlying the warm smooth texture of his skin; the silken weight of his arousal; the taste of him, of herself, when he brought his mouth to hers; the hypnotic seduction of his voice, heavily accented, irresistibly attractive.

  Oh, honestly! This was sheer self-indulgence and she wouldn’t allow it! Snapping on the lamp again, she concentrated instead on the room’s soothing ivory walls, the graceful Italian provincial furniture, the bouquet of flowers beside her bed. They lessened Matteo’s sensory onslaught on her body, but did nothing to dispel his vastly more dangerous impact on her heart.

  He’d said he wasn’t the same man he used to be and she realized shakily that he was right. The Matteo she’d once known hadn’t been given to gentle persuasion. His had been a take-it-or-leave-it attitude, and when she hadn’t been able to meet his uncompromising expectations, he’d left her—high and dry, and pregnant.

  He’d never been open to discussion; never ended an evening with Think about it. The next move’s up to you. Never, for that matter, had he once implied they might have a future together. Instead, he’d made it plain theirs was a summer affair, and if she’d fallen in love with him anyway, it was her own damn fault. She’d known from the outset what the rules were.

  Tonight, though, he’d been tender, patient, kind.

  Matteo kind?

  She’d have laughed aloud if the idea hadn’t unnerved her so. Sexy, devil-may-care and chauvinistic might have applied, but kind had never once entered the equation! That it crept in now, changed everything. She’d been girlishly infatuated, bewitched and bedazzled by the old Matteo. But this new model…oh, him she could learn to love as only a woman knew how. Deeply. Irrevocably.

  Enough to trust him again with her heart.

  Enough to trust him with her son’s.

  But not, sadly, enough to tell him the truth.

  “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” her mother wanted to know, when Stephanie staggered down to breakfast the next morning, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, fully aware of her grandmother observing her with bright, birdlike curiosity. “I had a very…nice time.”

  Nice, dearie? How about, so amazing that it’s taking everything you’ve got not to race back over to Matteo’s place and beg for a repeat performance!

  “I’m so pleased,” Vivienne said, her smile wistful. “You should take time for yourself more often, Stephanie. Simon wasn’t a speck of trouble, and I’d be happy to look after him again.”

  “I don’t expect I’ll ask you to do that, Mom, but thanks for the offer.”

  As the day wore on, though, and she found herself drifting through it, so preoccupied with thoughts of Matteo that she was barely aware of her surroundings, temptation eroded her resolve. She told herself she needed to see him again, not to leap into bed with him for the momentary release of sex, but to discuss, rationally and calmly, the sheer impracticality of continuing a relationship beset by so many obvious drawbacks. She owed him that much.

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind, perhaps I will go out again tonight,” she said, as casually as she knew how, when she joined her mother and grandmother for afternoon tea.

  “Good for you!” Vivienne replied. “Distance is so hard on a relationship, especially one in the early stages. You and Matteo need to make the most of the time you have left.”

  “You know about Matteo and me?” Stephanie’s jaw dropped.

  “Close your mouth, my love,” her grandmother said gently, shooting her a warning glance. “Yes, your mother knows. So would your father, if he bothered to look any further than the end of his aristocratic nose. For what it’s worth, your face lights up like a Christmas tree whenever Matteo’s name’s mentioned.”

  “It’s not quite the way you think,” she tried to explain. “We’re not really…involved.”

  Vivienne patted her knee. “You don’t have to pretend with us, Stephanie, and you don’t have to worry. Your secret’s safe. But darling, don’t be like me. Don’t let your dreams wither and die because you don’t have the courage to make them come true.”

  “I’ve never heard you talk like this before, Mother!”

  “Because I’ve always been more concerned with keeping the peace at any price. It’s only recently that I’ve seen it’s costing me more than it’s worth. If you don’t fight for what you want, Stephanie, no one else will, and you will end up like me: too old to do anything about it.”

  “As long as you have breath in your body, you’re never too old, Vivienne,” her mother-in-law said briskly. “Bruce has become lazy and complacent, but he wasn’t always this way and you have to take some of the blame for that. You’ve been too willing to let him ride roughshod over you. Perhaps if you’d set a better example, Stephanie wouldn’t be reduced to conducting her love affair in secret now.”

  “It’s hardly a love affair, Grandmother!” Stephanie protested.

  “Call it what you like, darling girl, but I ought to recognize the symptoms when I see them. Your grandfather and I have been engaged in a love affair that’s lasted nearly seventy years. Are you going to be able to say the same, when you get to be my age?”

  Probably, at the rate she was going! The difference was, she’d be the only one who knew it. Matteo had lived in her heart for the past ten years and, if the state she was in now was any indication, he’d continue to do so for the rest of her natural life.

  She might as well face it. The pain of loving him, which had subsided over time into a dull ache, had come roaring back with a vengeance, a raging monster of need which consumed her every waking second.

  She longed to be with him, to listen to him, look at him, touch him, lose herself in his arms, welcome him into her body, share his thoughts, his ideas, his dreams…the list was endless. Too bad all her wanting was poisoned with a fear that prevented her from making the most of it when opportunity came knocking.

  “So will you go out again tonight, then?” Her mother regarded her archly.

  She pursed her lips. Debated the point. And knew that however strongly her rational self might say otherwise, there was only one possible reply. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll go out again tonight.”

  To see him one last time. To explain that they could have no future. To find closure in saying goodbye.

  Good reasons, every one. Sensible reasons.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE realized at once that he’d been expecting her. A kerosene lantern shone by the courtyard gate. There were candles burning in the living room, and wine chilling in a marble cooler on the coffee table. He’d even dressed for the occasion and, instead of casual shorts, wore a pair of tailored linen pants and a white cotton shirt whose turned-back sleeves contrasted sharply against his deeply tanned forearms.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said, meeting her at the front door.

  “I’m here only to talk,” she informed him.


  He took her in his arms. “Of course.”

  The too-familiar exhilaration streamed through her blood, leaving her desperate for his kiss. Blind with yearning, she wriggled free. “I mean it, Matteo,” she said breathlessly. “I really just want to talk.”

  “About?”

  “Us, and the reason we can’t carry on like this.”

  “Like what, precisely?”

  “This for a start!” She flapped her hand between them. “Glomming onto one another like a couple of horn dogs, every chance we get.”

  “Horn dogs?” His dark, level brows rose in silent reproof. “That’s how you define our lovemaking?”

  “Not…exactly.”

  “Then how, exactly?”

  “Well, it’s been very nice, but—”

  “Nice?” The word exploded from his mouth.

  “More than nice,” she amended hurriedly. “I’ll be honest with you, Matteo. It would be very easy for me to fall into bed with you again tonight. But I’m not going to, because it wouldn’t be sensible.”

  “Sensible?” He stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. “Stephanie, cara, shoes are sensible. Wise investments are sensible. Proper diet and exercise are sensible. But I had no idea making love fell into that category. I’ve always seen it as memorable, enjoyable, and even, on occasion, incomparable. But the day—or night—I start regarding it as sensible, I’ll check myself into the nearest monastery and take lifelong vows of chastity.”

  “Perhaps ‘sensible’ wasn’t the best word choice,” she said, squirming under his uncompromising scrutiny. “Perhaps what I should have said is ‘advisable.’ It is not advisable for us to engage in sexual intimacy.”

  For a moment, he continued to stare at her. Then he started to shake. His white shirt rippled across his chest as if blown by an invisible breeze. And then the laughter came pouring out, deep and rich and so infectious that she smiled despite herself.

  “I’m not trying to be funny, Matteo,” she said, quickly bringing herself under control.