“So you can’t pinpoint exactly where she might be on any given date?”
“I’m afraid not. But I’m quite certain her office forwards all messages to her and that we’ll hear from her before much longer.”
He glanced at Gabriel, lifting his brows as though to say, She’s not much help, is she?
“Grazie, Eve,” Gabriel said. “You may leave now, but if you think of anything that might help—”
“I’ll be sure to mention it. Would you like me to take Nicola upstairs, too?”
“No,” he said. “She’s content enough. I’ll keep her here with me a little longer.”
The minute the door closed behind her, Gino said, “Is she telling the truth?”
“I’ve no reason to believe she’d lie. She’s straightforward to a fault.”
“You must admit, though, that it’s odd she’s as much in the dark as you about the mother’s whereabouts?”
“If we were talking about anyone else but Marcia, I’d be inclined to agree. But my ex-wife is an unpredictable creature, as you well know. There could be any number of reasons she chooses to remain incommunicado, and she’s smart enough to recognize that her cousin doesn’t have her affinity for deception. If she’s hatching some sort of scheme, Eve’s the last person she’d confide in.”
The lawyer flung down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “So, where do we go from here?”
“We follow the original plan and try to track her down. There’s no love lost between me and Marcia, but she is my daughter’s mother. I’d prefer not to wage all-out war until we’ve exhausted every other avenue.”
“And if we continue to come up empty-handed? If we find her and she still refuses to cooperate?”
He paced to the window and noticed Eve heading down to the pool. She wore a short cover-up over her bathing suit, and had slung a towel over her shoulder. When she’d come to his study, he’d seen the light in her eyes die at his cool reception, and he’d felt a certain grim satisfaction that she wasn’t the only one suffering because of their falling out.
But watching her now, he could tell by the discouraged slump of her shoulders that she was miserable, and he was ashamed. Their estrangement had lasted long enough. It was time to make amends.
“Gabriel?” Gino was eyeing him curiously. “Did you hear me? What will you do if Marcia continues along her present path of noncooperation?”
He bent and plucked Nicola out of her playpen. How easily he’d adjusted to her presence in his life, to her physical needs. With what confidence he swung her in the air and cradled her in the curve of his arm, no longer afraid that he might hurt her or drop her. And how emotionally painful it would be to let her go when they time came for her leave him.
“If that happens, Gino,” he said, and there was a catch in his voice when he spoke, “then we do whatever we have to do to protect my daughter’s interests.”
CHAPTER NINE
THEY were late arriving at the Manoel Theatre on Wednesday evening, which left little opportunity for pleasantries with their hosts.
“Don’t blame Eve,” Gabriel said, shaking hands with Henderson Ripley-Jones. “She was ready on time, but I…detained her.”
In fact, at his request, they’d left the villa over two hours before and driven down the coast to a quiet country inn for a light pretheater dinner.
“I’ve missed you,” he told her, after they’d been seated at a table in the courtyard, and served a platter of antipasti accompanied by a bottle of Pino Bianco.
“I’d never have guessed,” she replied, fiddling with the black beaded evening bag on her lap.
“I know, and I’m sorry I shut you out.” He’d shrugged and aimed a smile in her direction, but she hadn’t noticed. “Can we start over?”
She stared out at the sea, her lashes forming a long, dark curve against the early evening sky. “Is there any point? We obviously don’t see eye to eye on the things that matter.”
“Cara,” he said, “we had a misunderstanding over a gift. Let’s not allow something so trivial to come between us.”
“You call the last three days of your acting as if I didn’t exist, trivial?” The wounded look she turned on him almost brought him to his knees. “I was angry with you on Saturday, with good reason, Gabriel, and said things I probably shouldn’t have. But you wouldn’t accept my apology, and you’ve done nothing but punish me ever since. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”
“If I didn’t before, I do now. I have only to look in your eyes to see the pain I’ve caused you.” He grabbed her hand and refused to let her pull away. “Look, I made a mistake, Eve, but I’d like the chance to fix it, if you’ll let me.”
She averted her gaze.
“Please! We’ve come so far in such a short time. You’ve changed my whole life. I’ve known more happiness in the last two weeks than I have in years. Throw away the gowns if you must, but please don’t throw us out with them.”
Defeated, she sighed. “You make it hard for me to refuse you.”
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“This time, perhaps,” she allowed, just the faintest hint of a smile playing over her mouth and taking the sting out of her reply, “but it’d better not happen again.”
“What can I say? I’m half-Sicilian, and swallowing my male pride doesn’t come easily. Ask anyone who knows me.” Making a shameless play for sympathy, he shot her a soulful glance from beneath his lashes. “But you’re the only one who can break me of the habit. Abandon me now, and I’ll remain a hopeless case of Italian machismo at its most annoying.”
She’d tried, but she hadn’t been able to hold back her laughter, and he’d known then that they were on solid ground again. “That’s a line and a half, if ever I heard one! Are you sure you’re not part Irish, too?”
“I’ll be anything you want me to be, cara. Just don’t give up on us.”
“I don’t like fighting with you, Gabriel,” she said, sobering.
“Nor I with you,” he murmured. “I’d much rather make love. Do you suppose we could forget we have a theater date and persuade the innkeeper to rent us a room for the night?”
“No, I certainly don’t, and you should be ashamed for even suggesting such a thing!”
“Then how about we cut things short here and spend a little time alone before heading back to the city? Better I show you how much I’ve missed you, instead of just talking about it.”
She gave the proposal serious consideration, tilting her head to one side and tapping her fingernail against her front teeth, before finally saying, “I think that’s an excellent idea. Let’s do it.”
It had been a disastrous idea! For the two of them to be alone in the car, on an isolated stretch of road, with dusk closing all around them; for him to hold her again, to inhale the scent of her hair, feel her skin warm and responsive to his touch, taste her mouth, and be satisfied with just that, was nothing short of torture.
“We can’t,” she whispered, the shudder racing over her body telling him how dangerously close to succumbing to temptation she was when he found the slit in her skirt and ran his hand up her thigh. “Not here, Gabriel, and not now.”
No use arguing the point when she was indisputably right. To renege on their date with the Ripley-Joneses was unthinkable. So, while she straightened her dress, fixed her hair, and repaired her makeup, he’d climbed out of the car and paced to the edge of the cliff, willing the painful ache in his groin to subside.
It hadn’t been easy. Even now, as they wove a path among the crowd of theater-goers milling outside the Manoel’s entrance, the recollection of how she’d looked, applying lipstick to her delectable mouth, made him hard all over again.
Oblivious to his discomfort, Marjorie Ripley-Jones gave him a hug, then kissed Eve on both cheeks. “It’s lovely to see you both again. I hope you enjoy tonight’s performance, Eve. They’re doing Carmen this month, and even people who aren’t all that fond of opera usually find this one tolerabl
e.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” she murmured, clearly smitten by the theater’s old-world decor. “What a magnificent place this is!”
“Isn’t it, though?” Tucking her arm through Eve’s, Marjorie led the way inside. “It was built in 1731 by the Knights of Malta, and is reputed to be the oldest theater in Europe still in operation. We’ll take you on a tour afterward, if you like, but right now we’d better make our way to our box. Latecomers aren’t allowed inside, once the performance starts.”
Gabriel could see that Eve was stunned by the sumptuous interior of the auditorium, and small wonder. Even he, who’d seen in countless times, never failed to be impressed. The painted domed ceiling alone was remarkable, and never mind the ornately gilded boxes, red-carpeted aisles and plush green velvet seats.
As usual for the Ripley-Joneses, who did everything in style, a perfectly chilled magnum of Bollinger Grande Annee stood ready on a table at the rear of their box. “Opera goes down much more smoothly with the help of good champagne,” Henderson said, filling four glasses and passing them around.
The lights dimmed just then, a hush fell over the audience, and the orchestra blasted into the stirring intro to Carmen with an enthusiasm and skill that would have made Bizet proud. A short time later, the curtain rose and the action unfolded in all its colorful, impassioned melodrama.
For the next three hours, Eve watched the action on stage, and Gabriel watched her, captivated. She leaned forward intently in her chair, her hands clasped at her throat, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her breasts rose and fell beneath the black lace of her gown, her skin glowed soft as pearl in the subdued reflection of the stage lights.
Her champagne remained untouched and he knew that although she sat close enough for him to reach out and touch her, in spirit she was far away from Malta, her heart and soul engaged in the fate of the wild Spanish gypsy spiraling ever closer to her dark end.
He heard her sudden intake of breath during the last tragic scenes, noticed the single tear roll down her cheek. He saw how spontaneously she rose to her feet at the final curtain, how wildly she applauded.
Suddenly, as though sensing he was watching her, she tore her attention from the stage, and turned her head. Their glances collided, and the clamor and crowd surrounding them melted away until there were just the two of them, locked in their own private world. In that moment, he knew with absolute certainty that he wanted her to be a part of his life forever.
This, he thought, is how it should be between a man and a woman—this sense of union that requires neither word nor action to be understood.
“We’ve reserved a table in the courtyard for a late supper,” Henderson told her, as they left the box and joined the throng streaming from the auditorium. “It’s the done thing after a performance at the Manoel. How’d you enjoy the opera?”
The smile she turned on him was so luminous that Gabriel knew a moment of irrational jealousy. “It was wonderful!” she exclaimed, breathless with pleasure. “Beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before, and I can’t thank you enough for inviting me to join you!”
Henderson and Marjorie beamed at one another and shot him a telling glance over her head, one that said all too clearly, You’d never know she was related to Marcia, would you?
Acknowledging the unspoken message with a nod, he slipped his arm around her waist and hugged her to his side, not giving a damn that such a public demonstration of affection would stir up a fever of gossip.
“I’m glad you’re having such a good time,” he told her, bending close to her ear to make himself heard over the noise, “but I’ll be gladder still when I have you to myself again. This evening doesn’t end here.”
“You’ve worked a miracle on Gabriel,” Marjorie confided, smiling at Eve through the mirror above the vanity, when the two of them visited the ladies’ room prior to leaving the theater. “I’ve never seen him so…well, I suppose ‘happy’ is the only word, although it doesn’t really do him justice. The change in him is quite remarkable. And if you don’t mind my saying so, you look pretty radiant yourself.”
Eve could have answered, That’s because I’ve fallen madly in love with him! She made do with a heartfelt, “Thank you! Malta agrees with me, I guess.”
“He was always a bit of a loner, you know, even before his disastrous marriage—” Marjorie stopped and clapped an appalled hand to her mouth. “Oh, forgive me, Eve! You’re so different from his ex-wife that I’d quite forgotten she’s your cousin.”
“Well, at least something good resulted from the marriage,” Eve said, steering a neutral course out of long-standing loyalty to Marcia. “Nicola is a sheer delight.”
“Oh, indeed! I don’t know how Gabriel’s going to cope when it’s time for her to go home again, but he’s a strong, resourceful man. I’m sure he’ll find a way.” She shot Eve a coy glance. “Perhaps you’ll take his mind off his loss.”
“You forget, I’ll be leaving with Nicola. She’s the only reason I’m here to begin with.”
“But it doesn’t automatically follow that she’ll be the reason you have to leave, my dear. There are other… alternatives.”
Were there? Was it possible that what had started as a favor to Marcia could end up being Eve’s passport to a future with Gabriel Brabanti, a man who could take his pick of any woman in the world, but who appeared to want her?
The outer door opened just then and the Contessa De Rafaelli, decked out in flame-red taffeta, paraded into the room. “I thought it was you, Marjorie,” she declared, in her usual penetrating tones, “but I was sure I must have been mistaken.”
“Oh, hello, Janine. Why’s that?” Marjorie replied coolly.
“You’re not with your good friends, the Graysons. Don’t you usually invite them to join you at the opera?”
“Not always. We have a number of other friends whose company we also enjoy.”
“Really?” The contessa’s eyes passed over Eve much the way a broom might sweep aside a dust bunny. “I must not have noticed them tonight.”
Turning from the mirror, Marjorie took Eve’s hand. “Since you know Gabriel so well, you surely remember his lady friend, Eve, don’t you, Janine?” she inquired, the reproof in her tone unmistakable.
“How could I possibly forget, after our last encounter?” Janine fixed Eve in a cold, malicious smile. “What a sweet little dress, dear. Did you make it yourself?”
“No.” Eve felt the flush invade her cheeks, and hated it. Not for the world would she give a woman like Janine De Rafaelli the satisfaction of knowing her nasty little barb had found its mark.
“Did you make yours, Janine?” Marjorie asked, giving Eve’s fingers a squeeze.
The contessa let out a peal of laughter. “When I can well afford to pay a seamstress? Don’t be ridiculous! Why on earth would you even ask?”
“I thought perhaps you were trying to pass yourself off as another Carmen,” Marjorie cooed sweetly. “Come along, Eve. Gabriel won’t appreciate my keeping you here when I know he’s panting to have you all to himself again.”
They found Henderson among the crowd on the street just outside the theater entrance. “Gabriel’s gone to get his car,” he announced. “We’re parked pretty close by but because you were a bit late getting here, his is some distance away, so I promised him we’d stay with Eve until he gets back.”
It was almost midnight, and the Ripley-Joneses had been more than kind. Eve wasn’t about to trespass further on their good nature. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.”
“Of course we’ll wait,” Marjorie said. “We’re not leaving you out here alone at this hour of night.”
“I’m hardly alone.” Laughing, she turned to Henderson. “Please tell your wife not to worry, and take her home. And thank you both again for an absolutely fabulous evening.”
He took her hand. “It was our pleasure. Are you sure you don’t mind—”
“Most definitely.”
&n
bsp; “We’ll see you again soon,” Marjorie whispered, giving her a hug. “And pay no attention to Janine de Rafaelli. She’s nothing but a spider!”
And the spider hadn’t done with her yet!
“A scandalous affair, if you ask me!” There was no mistaking the lacquered malice in the contessa’s voice, coming from somewhere close behind Eve, as the Ripley-Joneses’s car drove away. “The ex-wife’s cousin—another grasping American, if you please!—trying to worm her way into the heart of our wounded European aristocrat, Gabriel Brabanti. Poor man! Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire! I really thought he had more sense than to be taken in by…”
Ears burning, face flaming, Eve stepped off the curb, prepared to hike back to the villa on foot rather than subject herself to another round of humiliation at the hands of Janine De Rafaelli. But she’d taken no more than three paces when a collective gasp of horror went up from those standing nearest to her, and a car, brakes screeching through the night, swerved to a stop mere inches from where she stood pinned in the bright arc of its headlights.
A second later, Gabriel sprang from the driver’s seat, his face ashen. “Dio!” he uttered hoarsely, so agitated he grabbed her shoulders in a painful grip and practically shook her. “I almost killed you! In God’s name, cara, what prompted you to walk out into the road like that, without looking first?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” she said, the adrenalin shooting through her bloodstream draping her in an unnatural calm. “I forgot you drive on the left over here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Anxious onlookers closed in on them in a dizzying confusion of texture and sound, the men starkly elegant in black tie, the women unmindful of expensive silk hems swirling in the dust.
“That was a close call!”
“Is she hurt—?”
“I don’t think the car actually hit her, but she looks ready to pass out.”
The Brabanti Baby Page 13
