The Impatient Groom

by Sara Wood

  Sophia pulled away a little, sitting back on her heels and blinking back the unshed tears. ‘Flatterer!’ she reproached, emboldened to tease him by the lively twinkle in his eyes. ‘Mother was beautiful—’

  ‘And so are you,’ he assured her, touching her flushed and happy face.

  ‘I think,’ she said in amusement, ‘that you’re horribly biased.’

  With an immaculate linen handkerchief, he dashed away the tears that had fallen to his cheeks and sighed. ‘Forgive an old man’s weeping, Sophia. Seeing you means so much to me. I believed that I was the last of the D’Antiga bloodline. It broke my heart that I had no descendants.’

  ‘Would you both excuse me?’ Rozzano fingered his trilling mobile phone.

  ‘Of course! All of Venice must know you’ve returned!’ Alberto said indulgently. His doting eyes followed Rozzano as he strolled to the far end of the salon and answered the call.

  ‘You love him very much,’ Sophia ventured. It was as if, she thought ruefully, she wanted someone—anyone—to praise him, and thus to allay her fears.

  ‘He has become my son,’ D‘Antiga said simply. He squeezed her hand. ’I was very lonely till he came here. And now he has brought you to me! So generous, so typical of him when he stands to lose everything because of you!’

  Sophia froze. Her hands tightened convulsively in her lap. ‘Gracious! How?’ she jerked out.

  ‘My dear, he married little Nicoletta, a distant relative of mine. She was the only remaining D’Antiga apart from me. And then she died.’

  Sudden tears filled her eyes and she stared at her trembling fingers to hide them. Rozzano hadn’t told her that Nicoletta had been a D‘Antiga. Her mouth twisted. How economical with the truth he was!

  ‘I knew he’d married and his wife had died in childbirth. I didn’t know about the connection,’ she said, hardly able to breathe.

  ‘Nicoletta was my last hope,’ grumbled her grandfather. ‘It was an excellent union between our two families! And it brought me so much happiness when Nicoletta said she was pregnant.’

  She struggled to comment. ‘It was a tragedy that she died so young. It must have been a terrible shock for you all.’

  Her grandfather’s eyes were pained. ‘Yes, but Rozzano felt the blow the hardest. He’s always been so strong and capable, coping with emergencies, tragedies... He was very brave when his parents died in a boating accident out on the lagoon—and he was only eighteen. He took over the business as if he’d been doing it all his life and became a father and mother to Enrico. But when Nicoletta died he was inconsolable. He went to pieces and we didn’t see him for days after the funeral. I’ve never known a man to look so deeply shocked. It was as if his world had come to an end.’

  She felt very sad. This was confirmation that Nicoletta had been Rozzano’s great love. How could she compete with that?

  Stiffly she got to her feet, knowing the truth behind Rozzano’s interest in her. ‘So that’s what you meant, Grandfather. Rozzano became your heir!’ she said steadily, amazed that her bitterness could be kept so strictly in check. But she didn’t want to hurt the old man. He’d be devastated to know what Rozzano had been planning.

  ‘Of course. But now,’ said her grandfather tenderly, catching her cold, lifeless hand, ‘you will inherit the D’Antiga fortune instead. See how honourable he has been, not to discourage you?’

  ‘The extent of his honour amazes me,’ she fudged. Her heart was breaking. He’d really fooled her! How could he! How dared he?’

  Alberto chuckled. ‘Keep looking over your shoulder, Sophia!’ he joked. ‘We must make sure Rozzano doesn’t push you into the lagoon!’

  She laughed, though the sound rang false to her sensitive ears. ‘He wouldn’t do that,’ she declared as brightly as she could.

  Why would he, she thought angrily, when he could marry her instead and get a nursery full of children first, and secure his rights to the D‘Antiga fortune? It was no wonder that he’d been agitated at the solicitor’s, when he’d first learned that her mother had had a child!

  And how clever, how quick-witted he’d been to see that he had the answer to his problems right in front of him, in the guise of a simple country girl who’d be flattered and only too thrilled to be courted by such a handsome, passionate prince!

  Damn him! she cursed, so consumed with anger that she could hardly breathe. Then she realised her grandfather was speaking, and for his sake she tried to pay attention and not to throw daggers of hatred at the lying, cheating deceiver silhouetted like a lounging Adonis against the tall window.

  But when she turned back she kept the image of Rozzano in her grieving heart and it wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried to replace it.

  ‘...wouldn’t behave like that. You have judged him well. He is too kind, too generous,’ the old man was saying softly. ‘Trust him,’ he urged Sophia. ‘He is the finest man. You can rely on him to help you in the running of our business.’ He shook his head in mock bewilderment. ‘Once I could understand it all, now it’s too complicated—and I’m allergic to computers!’

  Unwilling to worry her grandfather, she stretched her face into a smile. ‘Give me a bit of paper and a pen any day!’ she agreed cheerfully.

  Alberto sighed in sympathy. ‘We’ll leave it all to him, shall we?’

  ‘Does he take a salary for the work he does?’ she asked innocently.

  Her grandfather chuckled. ‘He doesn’t need money! He’s probably richer than I am! I’m afraid his family did rather well out of the Crusaders,’ he confided. ‘Charged them exorbitant prices for accommodation on their way to the Holy Land. No, Sophia. He runs the business because he is that kind of man—though I think he would like more time to check on his publishing empire.’

  So he didn’t need money. Unless he was greedy, and had empire-building plans. Her eyes gleamed. Vowing that she would take the reins, that Rozzano wouldn’t run rings around her, she pressed his hand in excitement.

  ‘We must give him more time to himself. I think I should know the ins and outs of D’Antiga’s. I want to become familiar with every aspect of the business.’ Her face was alive with enthusiasm. ’If there’s anything I don’t understand, Rozzano can explain over and over again until I’ve got it. I’ll work hard, Grandfather, and you’ll be proud of me!’

  ‘Such fire! Such drive!’ he admired wistfully. ‘I admire you, Sophia. I have no fears about turning our fortune over to your care.’

  ‘I’ll start tomorrow,’ she promised.

  Her eyes flashed in Rozzano’s direction but he was murmuring into the receiver as if talking to a lover, his body leaning comfortably against the cream panelled shutters, his free hand idly tracing the gold leaf cherub in the centre.

  Something sharp and hot sliced into her body. Love and hate, ice and fire. Every movement he made was sensual, graceful even. The soft arc of his mouth caressed his words lovingly. His thick fringe of lashes fluttered appealingly on to-die-for cheekbones. His stance was relaxed—but he gave the impression of suppressed energy and drive nevertheless. And he was smiling with satisfaction... rather like a panther after a kill.

  Her body melted to the core. She wanted him. And hated him too.

  ‘My ancestors began by trading spices from the Orient, you know,’ her grandfather said, his eyes far away as he focussed on some distant memory. ‘Then we changed to specialising in perfumes—’

  ‘Mother had wonderful perfumes!’ Sophia cried shakily.

  ‘Did she?’ D‘Antiga’s mouth quivered. ’Forgive me,’ he said emotionally. ’Forgive me the wrong I did to her!’

  She held his shaking hands in hers and on an impulse drew them to her warm cheek. ‘Let’s forget the past,’ she said unsteadily. ‘We’ll talk about Mother another day, shall we?’

  ‘Bless you, child, for your compassion. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I am tired. We will have lunch tomorrow, yes? Press that bell if you will, for the nurse. Thank you. Oh...ask Rozzano to arrange for me to s
ee a lawyer to change my will in your favour. I am impressed by what Rozzano has told me about you, dear child. A young woman who cares for her sick father for so many years must have very special qualities.’ He kissed her affectionately. ‘Ciao, Sophia. You’ve made me happy again.’

  Lovingly she embraced him. Rozzano hastily broke off his call and accompanied her grandfather to the door, his hand resting lightly on the old man’s shoulder. And when they parted Sophia was unwillingly touched by the little bow that Rozzano gave, a bow of respect and affection.

  But now she had the answer to all her niggling doubts, all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that wouldn’t fit. Rozzano had pursued her because she embodied everything he wanted: the palazzo, the D‘Antiga fortune, a gullible mind and, she thought grimly, child-bearing hips.

  Perfect. What more could a mercenary Venetian prince want? The pain seemed to shrink her heart but she set her teeth against it. She wouldn’t allow him to hurt her. He wasn’t worth grieving over.

  ‘I’m tired too,’ she announced coolly when they were alone again. ‘I’ll go to my room and unpack and perhaps wander around the house—’

  ‘Of course. Let me know when you’re ready,’ he said quickly, ‘and I’ll escort you—’

  ‘No, thanks. I want to take my time and explore on my own.’

  ‘Sweetheart! You don’t have to keep up the distant manner when we’re in private,’ he said softly.

  Her blazing eyes challenged his. ‘Will anger do instead?’ she snapped.

  ‘Sophia! What—?’

  ‘Don’t come near me!’ she spat. ‘You didn’t tell me your late wife was a D’Antiga! You didn’t say you were my grandfather’s heir! Why, Rozzano? Did you have a secret agenda? Would you like to share it with me?’

  He stared, struck speechless by her outburst.

  ‘Lost for words?’ she taunted. ‘Surely not! You, the most glib-tongued man I’ve ever met? You must have been appalled when you discovered my mother had given birth to a child—’

  ‘If you remember correctly,’ he replied tautly, ‘I was delighted.’

  She frowned, confused. Yes. That was how it had seemed. Uncertainly she eyed him, trying to work out why, but he spoke before she could come up with an answer.

  ‘You were the reason I didn’t tell you I’d become the D’Antiga heir,’ he snapped, his face stiff with contained anger. ’You were thinking of turning down your inheritance for several reasons of your own, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but—

  ‘So why didn’t I encourage your doubts?’

  Her frown deepened. ‘I don’t know—’

  ‘I could have worked on your fears but I didn’t,’ he bit out. ‘I kept quiet about my connection with your grandfather because I could see you had unusually high moral standards, and I felt that you might be uncomfortable at the thought of disinheriting me. I was anxious not to put any obstacle in your way. I wanted you to acknowledge your link to your grandfather, for his sake.’

  She chewed this over for a moment. ‘OK, what about later, when I was more sold on the idea?’ she shot at him. ‘You had a chance to tell me then!’

  Sadness touched his eyes and mouth for a brief moment. And then his expression became a mask. ‘We seemed to be busy with other things,’ he said quietly. ‘Falling in love, for instance.’

  The wound pierced through her. In anguish, she hung her head. She couldn’t stand the sight of him any longer. Part of her wanted to run to him, to find that scrap of love and warmth which he’d shown her and to wrap herself in it. Part of her wanted to pummel his chest and scream away her fury at being deceived.

  ‘I’m going to my room,’ she muttered. ‘No! Don’t show me! There are maids, aren’t there?’

  But his body barred the door. Suddenly he looked large and intimidating, the blackness of his eyes piercing her with their chilling anger.

  ‘You’re wrong about me,’ he said tautly. His head went up and he looked down his patrician nose at her, silently demanding her capitulation and an abject apology.

  ‘Maybe you’re wrong about me!’ she flung. That’s the danger of not knowing anything about one another! I did warn you, Rozzano!’

  Silver lights flashed across the dark eyes. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Maybe I’m not as submissive as you think—’

  ‘All the better. I want a wife who is my equal,’ he replied exasperatingly, ruining her defiant stance.

  ‘Do you?’ she challenged. ‘A woman who defies you? Wilfully disagrees with everything you wish? No, I thought not!’ she declared, seeing the gradual tightening of his mouth. ‘Don’t imagine that because I’m a vicar’s daughter I’ll roll over like a doting dog and accept everything you do! I’m not a simple sweetie with a heart of gold. I have feelings. Opinions of my own—’

  ‘I don’t expect obedience. What a ridiculous idea!’ he said quickly. ‘But you have the sense to see when a course of action is wise—’

  ‘Suddenly I’m tired of being wise. Sometimes I feel like going off the rails. Maybe I’ll blow my inheritance!’ she said wildly. ‘All this could go to a girl’s head!’ she declared, waving a hand at the sumptuous room.

  ‘Not you,’ he said, with even more irritating confidence. ‘You’re steady and sensible and your values are rock-solid. All your life you’ve learnt to be careful with money and suspicious of superficial trappings. Those are qualities I admire and respect, Sophia.’

  He was right, of course. If he’d hoped for a prudent wife, he’d chosen well. But some contrary devil in her wanted to taunt him, to make him as edgy as she’d been, to bring doubts into his mind. And what better than to suggest she’d spend, spend, spend?

  ‘Too much scrimping and saving can make you want to break out,’ she declared hotly. ‘My priorities are changing. I’m beginning to enjoy the feel of beautiful fabrics against my skin, for instance. As I said earlier, designer clothes make me feel powerful. I adore them.’ She allowed a little smile to play about her lips, enigmatic, enticing and deliberately hurtful. ‘I intend to go on a gigantic buying spree. What’s the use of a fortune if it’s not enjoyed to the full?’

  There was a horrible silence. Suddenly she hated herself. With apparent calm, she tilted up her chin and looked directly at him. His mouth was drawn tight, his eyes so cold that she shivered from their icy blast.

  Bingo. She’d hit the spot. Her stomach churned.

  ‘What happened to your charitable intentions?’ he asked, shrivelling her with his contempt.

  Sophia felt sick. In a matter of hours she’d become a mercenary shrew and her happiness had been hijacked. They’d been engaged and happy. Now they were sniping at one another. Somehow she hardened her eyes.

  ‘I will do what I wish with my own money,’ she said with a glacial stare.

  She recognised the signs of his rising temper. The rock-like jaw, high shoulders, inflated chest and the utter stillness of his face, as if it were made from tempered steeL

  When he spoke, however, his words were quiet and frighteningly controlled. ‘You’re tired. I noticed how pale you were, earlier. This has been a strain. We’ll talk when you’ve had a rest Remember, Sophia, that I’m the only one who knows anything about D’Antiga’s affairs. Don’t underestimate your need for me. You would be wise to give me your trust.’

  ‘Trust?’ she exploded. ‘I wouldn’t trust you to buy me an ice-cream!’

  ‘You must!’ He grabbed her arms. ‘If you don’t—‘

  “Threaten me and I’ll have you thrown out!’ she yelled in fury.

  He went white. ‘You’ve got it all wrong!’ he grated through his teeth.

  ‘Have I?’ She was close to tears. She’d wanted him. Loved him. And now look at them! Scrapping like kids in the playground, ready to tear one another limb from limb... His grip hadn’t eased. She flashed him a scything look. ‘Let go or I scream!’ she hissed.

  ‘Sophia!’ The cry came from deep within him, a raw, visceral growl of anguish.

  His
mask had slipped, revealing a profound misery that shocked her to the core. He caught her face between his hands and crushed her mouth beneath his.

  She tried to protest and made a feeble attempt to struggle but it convinced neither of them. In a moment his arms were around her and she was silently despairing because the feel of his body was sending thrills through her nerves. And, heaven help her, she wanted him still.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHE smelt so wonderful, tasted so good... He let his lips soften and parted them slightly so their sensitive inner surfaces could savour her heart-stopping sweetness.

  Her voice whispered tremulously in his ear, imploring him unconvincingly to stop. But he couldn’t. In the back of his mind he was aware that he was being indiscreet, that this was not the place or the time to give in to his overwhelming needs. No gentleman would behave so badly. But right now he didn’t care. He had to touch her. Kiss her. Repair the damage that had been done.

  Quickly his arm snaked out to the nearest chair, which he jammed beneath the twin door handles. And then his fingers were in her hair, gently moving over her warm scalp and releasing the elusive, tantalising perfume he associated with her. The curve of her head rested perfectly in one hand, the more voluptuous dip of her waist surrendering to the other.

  And all the while his mouth moved over hers, slowly smoothing its tight anger into soft compliance. He had to obliterate her doubts. Now. Before Enrico met her.

  There was a subtle change in her body—a weakening combined with a desperate urgency. And his responded, jerking with such a fierce desire and relief that he had to press her hard against him and kiss her more passionately to ease his ravenous hunger.

  The soft cushions of her breasts burned through his shirt, each hard centre thrusting in erotic demand. She moaned and threw her head back. The sight of her beautiful throat and its vulnerability was too much. His mouth drifted over the silken skin with delicate, frustrating restraint.

  Along her collarbone, one shoulder to the other. In the little hollow, warm, pulsing...