“I don’t know that I agree with you—about her marrying solely for money. Her new husband doesn’t appear to have two cents to rub together, yet she seems completely besotted with him.”
“I’d like to think that’s indeed the case, and that she’s chosen the right man this time. But I’m more inclined to believe their wedded bliss has a lot to do with the financial settlement she and I arrived at when we divorced. Add the hefty monthly child support payments I make, and my guess is that the playwright husband isn’t too worried about starving in an attic while he waits for success to strike.”
“Dear me,” Eve said, blowing out a sigh. “Are you always this cynical?”
He shot her a quick glance. “Well, you know what she used to have, and you’ve seen what she has now, so how would you describe her standard of living?”
Lavish. Extravagantly so!
Wishing she’d never started the conversation, Eve said “She has a very nice co-op on the Upper East Side, near Central Park. But I’m sure that’s because she wants to provide the best possible home for Nicola.”
His mouth twisted in a weary smile. “Are you, Eve? Or are you just hoping that’s the case?”
“Does it matter, as long as your daughter ends up the beneficiary?”
“You’ve put your finger on it exactly: it doesn’t matter, as long as my daughter ends up the beneficiary. And that, my dear signorina, has yet to be established.” He swung the convertible through the gates to the villa and swore softly at the sight of another car parked in the forecourt. “Damn! It would seem you’re about to make your debut into society today, after all. The De Rafaellis have come calling. Brace yourself, cara. You’ll find my friend Pierone charming, but his wife Janine is the most avariciously inquisitive woman on the island. She’ll question you relentlessly.”
“She won’t get the chance. I’ll be in the nursery, dealing with Nicola, remember?”
“She’s probably asleep again by now.”
But she wasn’t. Beryl met them in the front hall, her normally cheerful face creased with worry, a whimpering Nicola cradled to her ample bosom. “Oh, I’m glad to see you, love,” she said, passing the baby to Eve. “There’s something not right about this bairn, that she gets so beside herself. She ought to be past that stage by now.”
Gabriel came close and stroked his daughter’s head. “What do you think, Eve?”
“It’s difficult to say.” She pressed her hand lightly against Nicola’s abdomen. It was rock-hard. “In my experience, most babies have settled into a comfortable routine of eating, smiling, babbling and sleeping by the time they’re almost four and a half months old. Most are plump specimens of good health who cry only when they’re tired, hungry, or needing to be changed.”
“But Nicola doesn’t fit that pattern, does she?”
“No. But neither does she exhibit specific signs of illness or abnormality.” She propped Nicola on her shoulder, rubbed her cheek against the baby’s, and patted her little bottom. “She’s not running a fever, she keeps her food down most of the time, and she is gaining weight, so I’m not seriously concerned. She’s simply an undersized, fussy baby whose diaphragm still isn’t strong enough for her to get rid of the gas, and it’s causing her a great deal of discomfort.
To prove the point, Nicola chose that moment to let out two monstrous burps, then sank her head sleepily against Eve’s neck.
“Well, thank the Lord you’ve got the magic touch!” Beryl fanned herself with the receiving blanket she’d draped over her arm. “Dear only knows what I’d have done if you hadn’t come home when you did.”
“She’d have burped for you, instead of me. It just takes her longer than most to get around to doing it, that’s all.”
“Maybe.” Gabriel regarded the baby thoughtfully. “But I want a second medical opinion, just to be on the safe side. Not that I mean to offend you, Eve, but—”
“I’m not in the least offended. It wouldn’t hurt to have her checked by a doctor. In fact, I was about to suggest just that.”
“Good. Then I’ll arrange an appointment with a pediatrician as soon as possible, and we’ll go together. In the meantime, since she appears content enough, you’d better both come down and meet our guests.”
“They’re waiting on the terrace,” Beryl informed him dourly. “She’s trying to worm information out of Leola, that new parlor maid, but I’ve told the girl to keep her mouth shut unless she wants to find herself out of a job.”
His mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. “I can always count on you to keep matters in hand, Beryl,” he said. “Come, Eve. Bring the baby and let’s get this over with.
Perhaps he should have prepared her, after all. When he introduced Pierone and Janine as the Conte e Contessa De Rafaelli, Gabriel saw Eve’s eyes widen and knew from the accusing glance she leveled at him that she’d have plenty to say about his omission, later. But he’d thought warning her about Janine had been enough, and that mentioning Pierone’s title would merely add unnecessary stress to the meeting.
As it was, Janine wasted no time getting down to business. “So why you, and not the child’s mother?” she asked, after Gabriel explained Eve’s connection to Marcia and her reason for coming to Malta.
“My cousin,” Eve replied with what he considered to be commendable aplomb, given that Janine was inspecting her as avidly as a boa constrictor about to partake of its first meal in days, “had other commitments which prevented her from spending the summer here.”
“What sort of commitments?”
“Professional engagements, arranged some time ago, which she felt obliged to honor.”
“She didn’t waste much time starting back to work, did she?”
Eve shrugged and inclined her head. Unlike Marcia, whose hair owed its sunny glow to expensive salon treatments and showed brown at the roots if she neglected it, Eve was a true blond, although her lashes, Gabriel noticed, were dark as soot with just a hint of gold at the base. “No,” she said calmly, lifting her very lovely eyes and pinning Janine in an unapologetic stare. “She wasted no time at all.”
“I don’t suppose you care, though, not when it means you can spend a month or two here with Gabriel.” Janine aimed a sly glance in his direction. “You do know, don’t you, my dear, that half the single women in Malta will be out for your blood when word gets around that you’ve taken up residence at the Villa Brabanti?”
She blushed at that, something Gabriel found utterly endearing. “I’m hardly any sort of threat.”
Ah, but she was, more than she could begin to guess! She was different from the women he knew. Different from Marcia. He found her candor refreshing, her lack of pretension engaging. He guessed she must be in her mid-twenties, yet there was an innocence about her that made him wonder if she was still a virgin.
He was disturbed at how much he resented the thought of another man having introduced her to intimacy and passion.
“I don’t suppose you are,” Janine said complacently, fixing her in a critical eye. “You’re so…wholesome. So thoroughly down to earth. No, I can’t see you posing any serious threat to anyone. What do you do, my dear, when you’re not filling in for your cousin?”
“I’m a nurse.”
Janine let out a peal of laughter. “How delightfully traditional! I should have known!”
“What do you do?” Eve asked, unperturbed. “When you’re not subjecting total strangers to the third degree, that is?”
It was Pierone’s turn to bellow with laughter then. “Finally someone with the courage to match you at your own game, Janine. How do you like it?”
“I don’t,” she said, the ice in her voice rivaling that in her glass. “I’m insulted, and frankly astonished, Gabriel, that you’re just sitting there and allowing a member of your staff to address a woman of my rank so rudely.”
Flushed with embarrassment, Eve bit her lip and flung him a penitent glance. “I really must apologize, to you, contessa, and to you, Gabriel. I don’t
know what came over me.”
He wanted to tell her she had nothing to feel sorry about. That she was like a breath of fresh air, and entirely right to take issue with Janine De Rafaelli’s inquisition. Most of all, he wanted to take her face between his hands, and kiss the place where her teeth had sunk into her lip.
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear when I introduced the two of you,” he said, sliding a little closer to her on the settee. “Eve is Marcia’s cousin, my daughter’s courtesy aunt, a welcome guest in my home, and as far as I’m concerned, Signora Contessa, the social equal of anyone here.”
“Oh, really?” No question but that Janine was put out by his defending Eve. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened as if drawn together by invisible purse strings. “Well, given that she’s related to your ex-wife, we can only pray that she’s cut from different cloth. Because another Marcia on the scene is something we can all do without, wouldn’t you say, my dear Gabriel?”
CHAPTER FIVE
THERE it was again: a light but persistent tapping, at an hour when everyone should be sound asleep. Balancing Nicola on her shoulder, Eve hurried to the door. “We’ve disturbed you again. I’m so sorry…!” she whispered, fully expecting to find Beryl outside.
Instead Gabriel stood there and even at two in the morning, with his hair mussed and his eyes at a sleepy half-mast, he managed to look good enough to eat.
“Don’t be sorry.” Uninvited, he stepped into the suite and closed the door softly. “I heard the baby crying and thought I’d better investigate. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”
“If you couldn’t sleep through the noise, I don’t know how you thought I’d be able to.”
“No need to be so defensive, Eve,” he said mildly. “I’m not suggesting you’re falling down on the job, just that you might welcome a bit of relief. She’s been fussing now for well over an hour.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” She stroked a worried hand up Nicola’s back, not nearly as confident in the small hours of Thursday morning as she had been in the middle of the afternoon, two days earlier. “She’s been fed, burped and changed, but still she’s inconsolable. I’m sorry, Gabriel, but I don’t seem to be coping as well as I should. You’d think I’d be able to manage better than this. Heaven knows I’ve dealt with much worse in my time. But it’s different when it’s one of your own. Not that Nicola’s mine exactly, but I am the one responsible for her—”
“You’re babbling again, Eve,” he chided softly, his gaze so warm, so kind, that the hard lump of misery in her chest swelled and threatened to erupt into a flood of tears. “And I now know it means you’re running on fatigue and nervous energy, and need a break.”
“But I promised Marcia I’d take good care of her baby, and look at me! Worse than useless!” Eve’s voice wobbled embarrassingly. “I’m so sorry!”
He pressed his fingers to her mouth. “Stop apologizing! I guarantee Marcia’s not losing sleep wondering how this child she claims to love so dearly is faring.”
“She would be, if she knew what a mess I’m making of the job.” Moving out of range, because having him touch her, even if it was only briefly, left her weak at the knees, Eve leaned wearily against the back of the sofa. “She said Nicola sleeps through the night for her.”
“That was probably just part of the sales pitch to persuade you to take over maternal responsibility.”
“I don’t believe she’d lie about something like this.”
“Only because you’re too worn out to think straight. Here, give the baby to me before you fall asleep on your feet.”
“No. It’s my job to look after her. I can’t ask you to walk the floor with her.”
“Why not? Isn’t that what parents do when the occasion calls for it?”
Struggling to come to grips with her runaway emotions, she said, “Yes, that’s what parents do.”
“Then instead of arguing the point, hand her over and go get some rest.”
In taking the baby, his hands brushed against Eve’s and somehow lingered, but although the contact left her so vibrantly conscious of the feel of his skin on hers that she could hardly breathe, Gabriel appeared totally engrossed in his daughter. He transferred her to the crook of his left arm, his dark head bent attentively as he studied her tiny features. As though sensing she was safe in her father’s arms, Nicola gave a hiccupping sigh, and stared at him, the tears strung on her cheeks like minuscule pearls, her eyes wide with wonder.
The moment was sacred; the bonding between parent and child a magical, almost tangible thing. Eve lowered her gaze, knowing she wasn’t part of the scene, knowing she should remove herself from it. Yet the powerful, invisible strands linking Gabriel forever to his daughter entrapped her, too, and held her mesmerized.
“You feel it, don’t you?”
His question cut through the silence like a bullet. Startled, she looked up and found Gabriel watching her, his eyes scorching her with blue fire. If he’d reached out and touched her intimately, in places reserved for a lover, her response couldn’t have been more acute. Warmth swirled through her body, flooding into quiet, innocent corners and bringing them to singing awareness.
“Feel it?” she stammered. “Feel what?”
“The connection between us. The thing I looked for in Marcia and have found, instead, with you.”
She wet her lips nervously, afraid of what his words implied. Afraid to admit how readily her heart acknowledged the truth of them. “How’s that possible when we’ve known each other only a few days? The reason we seem so in sync is that we’re both focused on your daughter. She’s the common denominator here, not you and me.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do this, Eve. Don’t deny what we both know is really happening. Yes, we’re focused on Nicola, but there’s something else going on here, something that has to do with man-woman chemistry at work.”
Stress, confusion and just plain tiredness brought the sting of tears to her eyes. “Stop it, please! I can’t deal with this now.”
“So we won’t talk about it anymore tonight. But tomorrow…” He shaped her jaw with his long, strong fingers, his touch full of promise, and tilted her face up to his. “Tomorrow is, as they say, another day.”
His breath fanned her mouth, a sweet narcotic flavored with a hint of toothpaste. She swayed toward him, felt her eyelids grow heavy, her resistance fade. A tear squeezed free and trickled down her cheek.
He caught it on the back of his finger. “Ah, making you cry is not what I intended,” he murmured.
“I know,” she replied, the words faint as a dying echo. “And I don’t know why I’m being so emotional. I’m not usually like this.”
“You’re not usually fighting a losing battle with this, either,” he said, and looping his free arm around her shoulders, drew her to him and brought his lips down on hers in a kiss so achingly tender that she forgot to breathe. Forgot everything but the miracle of a moment that ended too soon.
“Get some sleep, la mia bella,” he said huskily, putting her from him with marked reluctance. “You’ll see everything much more clearly in the morning. You’ll see then that I’m right.”
Right about one thing, certainly: she was exhausted to the point that she could hardly see straight. But sleep? He had to be joking! How could she sleep with her mind spinning in circles and her body shimmering from his kiss?
Still, she nodded obediently and backed away, desperate to escape before she said or did something incredibly stupid. Like sink helplessly against him and wrap her arms around his waist, and whisper, Yes! We are connected at some powerful, elemental level. Why else did my heart recognize, the second I met you, that from the moment I was born, every facet of my existence was just another step on the long road that finally brought me to your door?
It was beyond absurd! This was real life, not a fairy tale, and no woman with a grain of sense allowed her good judgment to be swayed by a pair of devastating Mediterranean-blue eyes, or a v
oice as alluring as the dark, exotic alleys crouching between Valletta’s ancient buildings. As for the kiss—good grief, she’d been kissed before, with a whole lot more passionate aggression than he’d just shown, and she hadn’t let it turn her entire world upside-down. So why such a vehement response this time?
But once she reached her room and despite her mental turmoil, she slept anyway. The second her head hit the pillow, she could feel the world slipping away.
She let it go gladly. Just for a few minutes. Just until she came to her sense….
It took much longer than she expected because when she next became aware, more than four hours had slunk by. Although it was still dark outside, the clock on the night table showed nearly six. And the house was eerily quiet.
Panic struck out of nowhere, conjuring up images too fearful to bear—crib death, suffocation, illness so stealthy and deadly that Nicola had succumbed to it without a murmur.
Breathless with irrational terror, Eve swung her legs over the side of the bed, and raced to the nursery. The crib lay empty, its covers just as she’d left them, but in the rocking chair near the window, Gabriel slept, his elongated shadow etched on the wall beside him by the dim night light.
The shirt he’d thrown on the night before hung unbuttoned over the elastic waist of a pair of cotton jogging pants. His legs sprawled, loose and relaxed. But his hands cupped Nicola’s bottom firmly, anchoring her securely as she lay stomach-down on his chest, with her heart beating next to his.
Eve stopped short in the doorway, struck yet again by the contrast of the baby’s soft, transparent skin and pale fuzz of hair against the tanned breadth of his chest. She was so small and helpless, so completely adorable.
And he…? In sleep, his mouth curved with a gentleness it seldom allowed itself when he was awake; his face appeared younger and more vulnerable, the arrogance it sometimes wore, subdued. His jaw was stippled with new beard growth, his hair fell over his brow, and his lashes lay like black crescent moons on his cheeks. With every breath, his powerful chest rose and fell in a slow, comforting lullaby of motion for his infant daughter.
The Brabanti Baby Page 7
