Unexpected Pleasures

by Penny Jordan

  She desperately needed some time to herself, to think. She still felt slightly sick and light-headed. Without another word she hurried downstairs, and then went out into the garden, where Sam and Nico were busily engaged in showing Maria’s granddaughters how good they were at standing on their heads.

  ‘Ayeii, boy children!’ Maria’s daughter laughed, but her eyes were soft with approval and affection as she watched.

  Boy children, indeed, Sasha agreed, before thanking Isabella for keeping an eye on them for her and making her way around to the front of the house and the small, serviceable car Carlo had bought for her use.

  It wouldn’t take her long to drive into Port Cervo, the elegant resort on the Smerealda cost, with its beautiful harbour and exclusive hotels. She hoped she had dressed appropriately for the occasion. At this time of year the harbour at Port Cervo would be filled with expensive yachts, and immaculately elegant designer-clad women would be strolling its streets and shopping in its exclusive boutiques. For the purpose of her business it was important that she looked as though she was still part of that world.

  Gabriel watched her leave from an upper storey window and frowned. She was wearing a taupe-coloured linen dress similar in style to the one she had been wearing the day he had arrived. A gold bracelet glinted on her wrist; large dark sunglasses with tortoiseshell frames shielded her eyes. As she slid into the driving seat of the car, he could see the natural pink gleam of her toenails in sandals that showed off the delicacy of her ankles and feet.

  In the still heat of the late morning he felt as though he could almost smell the warmth of her scent. The whole house echoed subtly with it—in rooms through which she had passed and, earlier this morning, on the boys’ hair, as though she had bent to kiss their heads. It was everywhere except for the rooms he had claimed for himself.

  There could be only one place she was going dressed like that. And only one reason. His mouth hardened. She could give herself to as many men as she wished—once she had repaid her debt to him.

  * * *

  SASHA PARKED HER car and then made her way through the elegant streets to her destination, hesitating only momentarily outside, before pressing the bell and waiting for the door to open.

  The owner of the shop himself came forward to greet her, sweeping her into an elegant private office.

  ‘Would you care for some coffee?’ he asked.

  Sasha shook her head and opened her handbag. When she had telephoned him earlier she had explained the purpose of her visit, to save herself any potential embarrassment. From his lack of any surprise she had guessed that he had heard about Carlo’s financial problems. Placing her bag on the table in front of her, she removed the boxes she had placed so carefully inside it, opening them one by one: the necklace of diamonds and emeralds and the matching earrings Carlo had given her on their first wedding anniversary; the Cartier ring with its emerald-cut diamonds which she knew had cost over a quarter of a million euros; the huge solitaire that was her engagement ring; the yellow diamond ring surrounded by white diamonds that he had given her the Christmas before last.

  Finally she reached for her diamond earstuds, and for the first time her fingers trembled.

  ‘How much can you give me for everything?’ she asked the jeweller quietly.

  He picked up a magnifying glass and started to study each item carefully. It was over half an hour before he spoke, and when he did the amount he told her he was prepared to offer her for her jewellery made her shake with relief.

  It was, she suspected, nowhere near what Carlo had paid for it, but it was still enough to put a roof over their heads, and if she was careful there should be enough to pay the boys’ school fees. They liked their school, and she didn’t want to move them if she could avoid it.

  She gave a small, terse nod of her head, her eyes widening in surprise as the jeweller pushed her solitaire earrings back across the table to her.

  ‘I have made the calculation without including these,’ he told her quietly. ‘You should keep them. I am sure it is what your late husband would have wished.’

  Sasha had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling. She was so overcome with emotion that it took her several seconds to put the earrings back on.

  Ten minutes later she had left the jewellers and was walking purposefully into the bank, the cheque for the sale of her jewellery in her handbag.

  Carlo had been kind and generous, but he had been old-fashioned as well. Sasha had never had any real money of her own. Carlo had deemed it unnecessary. She’d had an allowance and a credit card, the bills for which had been sent to him, but that was all. It felt strange to be paying such a large amount into her account. Strange, but empowering. Now she and the boys were not beholden to Gabriel. She could, if she wished, book them seats on the first flight back to London. But her sons would be disappointed to have their summer holiday cut short, she admitted, and for their sakes she would endure Gabriel’s company—and his charity—for a few more weeks.

  But once the boys were safely back at school...

  She had it all planned out. She would rent somewhere at first, close enough to the school for her to take the boys there in the morning and collect them in the afternoon. And hopefully she would find a job quickly. Later, she would look for a small property to buy. They would not be rich, but they would manage. And her sons would be happy—she intended to make sure of that.

  Now it was time for her to go back to the house—and Gabriel. Sasha closed her eyes and wished for strength. She had never imagined their paths would cross again—Gabriel and Carlo were related to one another, but they had rarely met, and she had made it plain to Carlo that she didn’t want to have any contact with Gabriel. And she had certainly never suspected, not even in her darkest nightmares, that when she did see him again she would feel the way she was feeling right now.

  She was almost tempted to do what he had already accused her of doing and take a lover—any lover—just to prove to herself that it was the long years without sex coupled with his presence, reactivating her memories of the sex they had had making her lie awake at night longing for him. Not Gabriel himself. Her sexual experience was limited; maybe her body had stored memories of a pleasure far in excess of that which they had actually shared. And maybe if she could show her body that it would stop tormenting her so much. Perhaps she ought to put that theory to the test. Sasha stopped walking and stared unseeingly before her. That was a crazy idea. Crazy and dangerous.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘YOUR SONS ARE very fortunate in their mother,’ Professor Fennini told Sasha with a warm smile. He had arrived earlier in the afternoon, shortly after the lunch which she had made following her own return from Port Cervo. And, despite her original determination to dislike him, Sasha had to admit that he had completely won her over—and not because of his flattering remarks about her parenting. The boys had taken to him immediately, and Sasha had quickly recognised how skilled he was at dealing with children and teaching them.

  He had spent most of the afternoon not so much observing but joining in with the boys’ activities, his questions so subtle that Sasha’s maternal anxieties were quickly eased.

  ‘I believe that school holidays should be treated as downtime for them. I don’t want them hot-housed and pushed from activity to activity. I want them to learn how to learn for themselves, and how to live and enjoy life.’

  ‘That is very obvious from the way you interact with them,’ the Professor told her with another approving smile. ‘I hope I have put to rest your fears regarding the term they had to board at their school,’ he continued, and Sasha tensed.

  She had been relieved to have the opportunity to bring this up privately with him, and she had been even more relieved when he had assured her that from his conversation with them it was quite plain to him that, if anything, the boys had rather enjoyed the novelty of bein
g boarders and that they had certainly not suffered because of it, but she did not want her vulnerability and fear laid bare for Gabriel to see. However, there was nothing she could say now, with Gabriel standing there with her, to warn the Professor that she would prefer him to change the subject.

  ‘Gabriel had told me of his own concerns with regard to that situation,’ the Professor explained. ‘It is entirely understandable that you should both have raised this issue with me, but I do assure you, Sasha, that in view of the fact that their father was dying and you were attempting to get the best medical care you could for him, you really had no other alternative. I have heard of the professor you went to see in New York. He has achieved some remarkable results with his innovative cancer care.’

  ‘Yes. I had hoped... But, as he explained to me, Carlo’s condition was too advanced for him to be able to do anything. With hindsight it would have been better if I’d stayed with Carlo.’

  ‘You did what you believed to be in his best interests,’ the Professor reassured her. ‘And, as for the twins, it was far better for them to be living amongst their friends and in an emotionally familiar and secure environment than to witness the trauma of what was happening at home. I suspect there must have been many times when you wished you had them with you, for the comfort that would have given you,’ he said in a kind voice.

  It was hard for her to force back the tears threatening to fill her eyes. This was the first time that anyone had recognised how much she had longed for someone to lean on when Carlo had been dying.

  ‘Yes, there were,’ she admitted huskily. ‘But I didn’t want to turn them into an emotional support system for myself.’

  ‘I do not see you as the kind of mother who would ever do that to her children,’ the Professor said warmly. ‘We can all see how well balanced and happy they are. As I was saying to Gabriel earlier,’ he continued, ‘since it is his wish that the boys are encouraged to take an interest in the way international politics and business interact, it would be a good idea to build on their natural interest in the environment and history, which you have already encouraged.’ He was a tall man, with an earnest manner and the slightly stooped stance of an academic, and it was impossible for Sasha not to respond to his warmth and enthusiasm.

  The boys were playing outside, within view of the window of the room Gabriel had turned into his office, and Sasha watched them while she waited for the Professor to finish his coffee and tell them his observations. From the noise they were making the imaginary game the boys were playing obviously involved some kind of motor racing.

  She didn’t see Gabriel move to stand at her side and look down at the boys with her, but she immediately sensed that he was there. She desperately wanted to move and put more distance between them, but she was too close to the window. And he was too close to her.

  ‘I believe they are practising for Formula One.’ The Professor sounded grave, but when Sasha looked at him she could see that his eyes were twinkling. ‘They told me that Nico is to design the car and Sam will drive it.’

  ‘Ferrari had better look to its laurels, then,’ Gabriel said dryly.

  ‘It is good that you have allowed them to retain the closeness of their twinship and yet at the same time encouraged them to develop their individual and different skills,’ the Professor told Sasha.

  ‘Nico is the thinker and Sam the doer,’ Gabriel said abruptly.

  Sasha stared at him, unable to conceal the shock it had given her to hear him describe the twins’ personalities so accurately after having virtually only just met them. It made her more uneasy than she wanted to admit that he could distinguish the physical differences between them so easily, but this. He had always been an insightful person, of course, just so long as it wasn’t her behaviour he was analysing. Right now, though, she was far more concerned about her sons than she was about herself.

  Gabriel saw the swift, shocked look Sasha was giving him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded tersely.

  ‘You’ve picked up on the differences between Sam and Nico very quickly,’ she admitted reluctantly.

  Gabriel gave a dismissive shrug. He didn’t totally understand himself why he found it so easy to differentiate between the two boys, nor why he knew it was necessary to communicate with them in slightly different ways. He did know, though, that at some deep level they touched a part of him that he hadn’t even realised he possessed. He had always had good instincts where people were concerned, he acknowledged, and he had always been able to stand back and judge their behaviour analytically. Like he had Sasha’s? The Professor’s revelations about her reason for boarding the twins at school had been too reasonable for him to dismiss. And no one could have faked the emotion he had just seen her trying to suppress.

  He could almost feel the shift in mental focus within himself, forcing him to admit the possibility that he had deliberately chosen to view the facts from a warped angle to suit his own needs. Right now his conscience was making its feelings plain, and demanding some honest answers to some harsh questions. He did have to acknowledge that Sasha was a good mother, didn’t he?

  He would acknowledge nothing, he told himself savagely. The fierce surge of pain that came with thinking about Sasha gripped him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Professor moving closer to Sasha as he talked to her. Immediately Gabriel moved too, stepping close beside her.

  Sasha tensed. What did he think she was going to do? Tell Professor Fennini that she wouldn’t give permission for her sons to be tutored? Unlike Gabriel, she was flexible enough to change her mind. As the Professor had already said, the boys were at the stage where they were like greedy sponges, eager to soak up ideas and information and to learn new skills, provided they were delivered in the right way. She could see that with the Professor they would be. And she would be there to monitor what was going on so that she could step in if she felt it necessary.

  Gabriel was obscuring her view of the boys so she stepped away, her jaw tensing slightly when she saw his mouth harden.

  ‘I was particularly intrigued by the boys’ life books,’ the Professor was saying. ‘It is a concept I have seen used very effectively to help troubled children, but I must admit I had not thought to use it to provide a record of a happy childhood.’

  Sasha gave a small shrug. She wasn’t going to tell the Professor about her own childhood, or explain that it was through her therapy that she had learned about creating life books.

  ‘Originally I wanted to encourage the boys to keep diaries,’ she explained. ‘And the life books seemed a natural step. They are more interactive and fun for them. We agreed they could have private sections for their private thoughts, and open sections for what we do together.’

  Gabriel listened in silence. Professor Fennini’s praise for Sasha’s parenting underlined everything he had already seen for himself. So why was he finding it so hard to let go of his preconceived and now unsustainable belief that she was not a good mother? Was it perhaps because he wanted to be part of the twins’ lives? And part of Sasha’s—a woman who had walked out on him? Somewhere deep inside the most private and vulnerable part of him a long-buried fear was pushing painfully through the protective layers of denial. What if the blame for Sasha leaving him lay not with her, but with him?

  * * *

  THAT DEEPLY BURIED doubt, once exposed, was something Gabriel couldn’t ignore. Long after the Professor had shaken hands with him and told him enthusiastically that he was looking forward to starting work with the twins the following week, and Sasha had made it clear that she intended to spend what was left of the day with her sons, Gabriel discovered that he kept returning to the question, like a man with an aching tooth, probing the sore place even though it increased his pain.

  Inside his head he kept comparing the twins’ childhood with his own; not, he recognised with a stab of shocked bewilderment, a material com
parison, but a comparison of the love they received which he had not. Memories he had never allowed himself to acknowledge surfaced: images of himself as a child, holding out his arms to his foster mother only to retreat in bewilderment and misery when she responded with harsh words and stinging blows. He could hear his grandfather telling him how bitterly he resented him for being his only heir, that corrosive pride rasping in his voice. His grandfather had made no secret of the bitterness he felt towards him, Gabriel remembered.

  * * *

  ‘COUSIN GABRIEL...’ THERE was a distinctly wheedling note in Sam’s voice that caused Gabriel to give him a rueful look. ‘Me and Nico were just thinking that if Mum were to ask you what we wanted for our birthday next week, you could tell her that we need proper grown-up bikes.’

  It took Gabriel several seconds to properly take in what Sam was saying. ‘Your birthday is next week?’ he demanded. He made a swift mental calculation. Next week... That meant Sasha had conceived the twins while she had still been living with him. And that meant that she had betrayed him with Carlo when they had still been lovers. He could feel the savagery of his anger boiling up inside him, and threatening to overwhelm him.

  Sam nodded his head enthusiastically, oblivious to the effect of his words. ‘We’ll be ten,’ he told Gabriel proudly.

  ‘Mum says that we can’t have proper bikes until we’re eleven,’ Nico reminded his twin, but Gabriel was oblivious to the warning looks Sam was giving Nico. He needed to see Sasha and he needed to see her now. Leaving the two boys, he strode downstairs and found her in the living room, looking over some of the materials left by Professor Fennini.

  ‘I want a word with you,’ he told her grimly.

  Sasha was tempted to tell him that she certainly did not want any words with him, but he had already manacled her arm in an almost painful grip and was forcing her upstairs to his suite.

  ‘What are you doing, Gabriel?’ she protested. ‘You can’t just manhandle me as though you own me. I won’t have it. And where are the boys—’