by Sara Craven
The real, lasting brutality had been aimed unerringly at herself.
Doria Venucci. She tried the name under her breath. A woman beautiful—experienced—and married. Everything she’d needed to know in one smiling, destructive sentence.
And everything that she was not, she thought, remembering those endless mirrors in the bathroom.
Because she was nothing special and never had been. Her sole venture into allure had been a disaster, whatever Renzo might have told her earlier, when he was trying to seduce her.
Although I have novelty value, she thought, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. Let’s not forget that.
Or that for a few brief moments he almost made me forget something—the reason I’m here. The only reason…
She would not, however, allow herself to cry. That was definitely not an option. Because she needed to stay calm and rational in order to prepare for the moment when she would have to face Renzo again. When all her skill at self-protection would be brought into play once more.
Because wasn’t that what the whole of the past year had really been about? Mounting guard on her emotions—her needs? Denying every instinct—every desire?
Nothing but an endless, futile attempt to convince herself that the war going on inside her was really fuelled by hate, she told herself broodingly. At the same time armouring herself against the possibility that one day he might come back.
And what good had it done her? she asked herself with despair. It had only taken a few kisses—the stroke of his hand on her breast—to bring her conquered and whimpering into his arms.
But for Rosalia’s intervention she would have committed the worst mistake of her life—would have given herself completely—and she knew it. And in her surrender could have betrayed herself irretrievably. Could have sobbed out her pathetic yearnings against his skin.
Might even have broken the ultimate taboo and said the ‘love’ word, she thought in self-derision. At least she’d been spared that.
Otherwise, after tonight’s bombshell had exploded, she’d have been forced to live, humiliated beyond belief, with the consequences of her own folly.
But now she needed to be strong. So a tear-stained face would simply be a sign of weakness she could not afford.
She moved restlessly, wondering what was happening in the other part of the house. What kind of recriminations were being aired.
No doubt she would find out tomorrow, she thought, then realised, with a startled glance at her watch, that it was nearly the next day already.
And that, in spite of her reluctance, it was time she went to bed.
I need to do the rational—the conventional thing, she told herself. As if it had been just another evening, and the signora had only been giving her some kindly but misguided advice.
A little tactless, maybe, but no lasting damage done.
Yes, that would be the way to handle it in the morning. As if the older woman’s poisonous revelations really didn’t matter.
With never a hint that she was falling to pieces and might never be whole again.
Rosalia seemed to have been busy again, because Marisa found her bed had been turned down—on both sides—and her nightgown arranged prettily on the coverlet.
She’s clearly an optimist, Marisa thought ironically as she undressed quickly and slipped the white voile folds over her head. Or maybe, if there’s any kind of furore going on downstairs, it hasn’t reached the servants’ quarters yet.
She went through the routine of removing her make-up, before finally unpinning her hair and brushing it loose into a silky cloud on her shoulders.
Then she walked reluctantly over to the bed, climbed in, and turned to switch off the lamp.
Only to realise with sudden, frozen shock that she was no longer alone. That Renzo was there, standing silently in the open doorway of his room.
‘So,’ he said at last, ‘you are not asleep, after all.’
‘But I plan to be,’ she said tautly. ‘In about two minutes.’
He was wearing, she noticed, one of the white towelling robes hanging in the bathroom and almost certainly nothing else. She felt her mouth go dry.
‘And I thought I asked to be left in peace,’ she added with hauteur.
‘Is that how you see the present situation?’ he asked. ‘As peaceful?’ His mouth twisted. ‘You astonish me, mia cara.’
She bit her lip. ‘But then in some ways it’s been quite an astonishing evening all round, signore.’ She made a business of arranging her pillows. ‘Now, perhaps you’ll excuse me?’
‘There is nothing to excuse.’ He came across to the bed and sat down on its edge, looking at her. ‘You have taken down your hair,’ he commented meditatively. ‘I had hoped to do that for myself.’ He smiled at her. ‘Before, of course, I removed the charming concealment of that blouse, and everything else you were wearing tonight.’
‘You—hoped?’ Marisa echoed, her throat tightening to choking point.
She mustered her resources. ‘How—how dare you? Just—get out of here.’
He smiled faintly. ‘I grieve to disappoint you, Maria Lisa, but I am going nowhere.’
She stared at him. ‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’ she asked unsteadily. ‘Because, arrogant as you are, you can’t possibly imagine you’re going to stay here. That I would allow you to—to…’
‘But it has always been my intention to share your bed, mia cara sposa.’ His gaze was steady. ‘To make this the wedding night we never had. And nothing has happened to change my mind.’
‘Nothing?’ Marisa queried hoarsely. ‘My God, didn’t I make it clear enough that you wouldn’t be welcome?’
‘As always, you were a model of clarity, mia bella. Even my grandmother was left with nothing to say. And that does not happen very often,’ he added reflectively.
He paused. ‘You may be relieved to learn that she will be leaving after breakfast, and that any future visits will be—discouraged.’
‘Why? Because she told the truth?’ She took a quick harsh breath. ‘Or are you now going to deny that you’ve been having an affair?’
‘Deny it?’ His brows lifted. ‘Why should I?’
She stared at him defiantly. ‘That underworked sense of decency you once mentioned, perhaps?’
‘But I prefer to begin our marriage with honesty, Maria Lisa, rather than a convenient lie,’ Renzo retorted. ‘In spite of my efforts you were clearly determined to prolong your absence from me. To behave, in fact, as if I had ceased to exist for you.’
‘I hoped you had,’ she threw back recklessly.
‘I do not doubt it.’ His voice hardened. ‘But did you really expect me to live like a eunuch until you chose or were forced to return?’
She gasped. ‘You really have no sense of shame, do you?’
‘An overrated virtue, I think.’ He shrugged. ‘Although I admit I deeply regret that I was stupid enough to seek consolation when you shut me out of your life, rather than take a more effective course of action. I must learn to curb my temper.’
He went on flatly, ‘I also wish very much that I had done as I planned this evening and told you about the affair myself, before anyone else had a chance to do so.’
She stared at him. ‘You—planned?’ Her voice sounded dazed.
‘Sì. I told you when I visited you earlier that there were things that needed to be said between us. But then I allowed myself to be—most exquisitely—diverted from my purpose,’ he added ruefully. ‘I hoped there would be time later, but unfortunately my grandmother always likes to be the first with bad news, so I had no chance to talk to you…to explain, perhaps, how—why—it happened.
‘In that Nonna Teresa bears a certain resemblance to your cousin Julia,’ he added coldly. ‘We are neither of us blessed with our relatives, carissima.’
‘You may think that.’ Marisa lifted her chin. ‘On the other hand, I shall always be grateful to them both, for reminding me what you’re really like—and the kind of
life I might expect with you.’ She took a breath. ‘Besides, what was there for you to explain—apart from the fact that you’re a—a serial womaniser who can’t keep his zip fastened?’
There was a tingling silence.
‘Never a problem when I was near you, my little saint,’ Renzo returned eventually, and too courteously. ‘Although even you are not immune to the temptations of the flesh with other men, it seems.’
She gasped. ‘What the hell do you mean?’
‘Those intimate lunches with the unhappy husband,’ he came back at her. ‘Where might they ultimately have led, if he had asked for more than sympathy? Also the unfortunate Alan, who accompanied you back to your cosy flat with its one bed only last night, mia sposa.’ The golden eyes narrowed. ‘What would have happened, I wonder, if I had not been so tactlessly waiting?’
‘Nothing,’ she said curtly.
‘How can you be so sure?’
Because I’ve never loved anyone but you, she thought, staring down at the coverlet. Never loved or wanted any other man. That’s the truth I’ve had to hide ever since you walked back into my life and asked me to marry you. That’s the truth I’ve been trying to hide from myself all this time.
Because you don’t feel the same, and you never will. You only want someone to give you a child and turn a blind eye to your other women.
And I—I want all the things you can’t give me. I want all of you, and that’s what makes any real honesty between us impossible.
Because I couldn’t bear it—I’d die before I let you find out how I really feel and embarrass you or have you feel sorry for me.
Aloud, she said shortly, ‘Alan blew his chances when he took the money and ran off to Hong Kong.’ She swallowed. ‘But even if I had planned to take a lover, what possible right would you have to object when you have a mistress?’
‘I have whatever rights I choose,’ Renzo retorted crisply. ‘And one is to ensure that I have you first, carissima. So that I can be certain that any child in your body will be mine and no other’s.’
As she gasped in outrage, he paused. ‘Also, my grandmother is out of date. The affair with Doria Venucci is already over,’ he added, with a touch of grimness. ‘And for that you have my word.’
‘To spare my feelings?’ she asked defiantly. ‘Or to avoid the scandal your grandmother was predicting tonight?’
‘Oh, the scandal, naturalamente.’ His voice bit. ‘I was not aware you had any feelings about our marriage—apart from resentment and distaste. But the gossipmongers were at work long before I met Signora Venucci—theorising on the reasons for our prolonged separation,’ he added broodingly. ‘Do not imagine I found their speculation pleasant.’
‘Oh, how terrible for you,’ she flung back at him. ‘I never realised you were so sensitive, signore.’
‘No,’ he said harshly. ‘That I can also believe.’ He paused. ‘Tell me something, mia cara, per favore. Just as you never returned any of my phone calls, did you ever read even one of the letters I wrote to you?’
She hadn’t been expecting that. Had tried to put out of her mind the airmail envelopes, which had arrived so regularly, only to be torn up and binned, unopened.
She didn’t particularly want to confess the awkward truth, but realised she couldn’t sustain a lie either. He would be bound to ask questions about their contents that she’d be unable to answer.
She played with the edge of the embroidered sheet. ‘No,’ she admitted eventually. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Che peccato,’ he said. ‘What a pity. You might have found them—instructive.’
She said defiantly, ‘Or perhaps I felt I’d already learned what I needed to know about you, signore.’
He said silkily, ‘But as you discovered in this room a few hours ago, signora, your lessons are only just beginning.’ And he began to loosen the belt of his robe.
Marisa hurled herself on to her side, turning her back to him. Because she couldn’t see him naked—she dared not…
‘No,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Do you think saying your affair is over makes everything all right? Signora Venucci wasn’t the first, signore, and she won’t be the last. Knowing that, do you really think I’m going to allow you anywhere near me again?’
She felt the mattress dip slightly as he joined her in the bed, and her whole body tensed.
‘Why, yes.’ His voice reached her softly. ‘Because that is what you agreed to do. In return, if you remember, for living the rest of your life in whatever way you wish. The agreement we reached only this morning. And also because you don’t love me, Maria Lisa,’ he went on. ‘Nor are you in the least concerned if there are other women in my life, because you are only here to have my baby.’
He paused. ‘You said so yourself, if you remember. Not long ago, and in front of witnesses too.’
His hand touched her bare shoulder. Stroked its soft skin with heart-stopping gentleness. ‘So, if you don’t care what I do, mia cara, if you are so supremely indifferent to the way I live my life and how I amuse myself when you are not there, why should it matter to you whether Doria Venucci goes or stays? Or who might take her place?
‘Therefore what possible excuse do you have to withhold yourself from me any longer. To refuse to behave as my wife—and the future mother of my son? When this, on your own admission, is your sole consideration.’
Marisa could not speak or move. It occurred to her suddenly that this was how a hunted animal must feel when the trap closed around it. But this was a trap entirely of her own making.
But I do care, she cried out soundlessly. Oh, God, I care so much.
Just the thought of you with another woman is like a giant claw ripping into me. Tearing me apart. Making me only half a human being. Only I can never tell you so. I have to go on pretending.
Aloud, she said very quietly, ‘I suppose—logically—I have no excuse.’
‘Bene,’ Renzo approved, his tone ironic. ‘At last we have reached an understanding. Tonight we will put the past behind us for ever, and you will learn to belong to me completely. And do not think to escape by telling me to do my worst,’ he added mockingly. ‘We have already trodden that path, and I found it—unrewarding.’
She said unevenly, ‘You—bastard.’
‘And no insult will stop me either,’ Renzo retorted. ‘You see, my reluctant wife, there was something about your latest piece of candour that intrigued me. While you were proclaiming your indifference you may have denied love, but you failed to mention—desire.’
His voice sank to a whisper. ‘You never said, carissima, that you did not want me. Maybe because you knew it was not true, as you proved earlier right here in this room. Or did you think I had forgotten how sweet you were—how yielding?’
He allowed his words to settle into a tingling silence, then his hands closed on her, turning her inexorably to face him.
‘So, for tonight at least, Maria Lisa, listen to your body, not your mind.’
Oh, God, he only has to touch me and I’m trembling inside—going to pieces…
‘I’ll give you nothing.’ Her voice shook.
‘You intend to break your word to me?’ Renzo tutted in faint reproof as he tossed the covers away to the foot of the bed. ‘I do not recommend it, mia bella.’ He added meditatively, ‘Also, I wonder if you can.’
He looked at the thin layer of voile that masked her body and smiled slowly. ‘And now it seems that I have the privilege of undressing you just a little after all.’
‘No.’ She pushed at the hands that were drawing the straps of her nightgown down from her shoulders. ‘I—I’ll keep my promise—but…don’t…please…’
‘You wish to do it for me?’ he asked, and his smile became a teasing, almost wicked grin. ‘Even better. Having you strip for me has always been one of my favourite fantasies,’ he added huskily. ‘I am sure you remember why.’
Marisa turned her head away, her face warming helplessly, aware that just one unwanted glimpse of his lean, burni
shed body stretched against the snowy bedlinen had prompted the unwelcome resurrection of some of her own fantasies.
She said tautly, ‘Do you have to—humiliate me like this?’
Reminding me how long I’ve loved you, how much I’ve always wanted to be yours—even when I could only guess…imagine… what that might mean?
‘That is not my intention,’ he said, with a sudden touch of harshness.
‘But for once in our lives, Maria Lisa, I want there to be nothing to separate us from each other. Not clothing, not lies, not silence. Just a man with his wife.’
Her voice pleaded. ‘Then will you at least let me turn out the light?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I will not.’ He added more gently, ‘Carissima, I have waited so very long to see you—to hold you like this.’
She closed her eyes, trying to shut him out of her consciousness. To deny what was happening between them. But her other senses were still only too alive, and she felt the fabric whisper against her skin as he discarded it. And in the silence that followed she heard him sigh quietly, and with undisguised satisfaction.
Then he reached for her, drawing her into his arms, making her aware of every inch of his undisguisedly urgent body against her nakedness as his lips took hers.
And while she could never accuse him of using force, nevertheless his kiss was deep—and, she discovered, also implacably, unrelentingly thorough. Sparing her nothing as it possessed her.
A declaration, she realised dazedly, of intent.
A challenge to her powers of resistance, stating silently but potently that it was useless for her to pretend she was unmoved by what he was doing to her.
And perhaps it was. But that didn’t mean she had to add to her earlier mistakes by making it easy for him, or by adding her name to the list of eagerly compliant women who’d shared his bed, she told herself with a kind of ragged determination, keeping her eyes so tightly shut they began to ache.
But Renzo wasn’t making it easy for her either, as his mouth continued to move achingly, intensely on hers.
