by Lucy Monroe
“Do not speak to me of love again. I can do without the kind of love a woman like you feels.”
“A woman like me?” What did he mean? “You told me you would treasure my love.” Whatever kind of woman she was.
“A man will say anything when his libido is involved.”
“I don’t believe that.” He couldn’t mean it. “You wanted to marry me. You said you wanted me to be the mother of your children.” He had to care a little, even if he didn’t love her.
He scowled at her. “I have no choice about that, do I?”
Did he mean because like her, he thought she was already pregnant? “I don’t know,” she said honestly. Her menses weren’t due for another week.
His laugh was harsh. “For a man with family pride, it is no choice.”
“You feel like you have to get me pregnant?” She felt further and further out of her depth, while the pain of his rejection went deeper and deeper.
“Enough of this playacting. You know the alternative is untenable for me.”
“I only know that three days ago I was happier than I have ever been in my life and now I’m miserable.” Tears clogged the back of her throat and she couldn’t go on.
Something twitched in his face, but he turned away from her. “Go back to bed, Hope.”
“I don’t want to go back without you.” Her pride was in tatters around her, but she was desperate to get through to him.
“I’m not in the mood for sex right now.”
For a hopelessly oversexed guy like her husband, that statement was the final blow to her rapidly toppling confidence.
“Neither am I,” she whispered from a tight throat as she turned to leave the room. She had never wanted just sex with him and clearly even that wasn’t on offer.
He let her go without a word.
The next day, Luciano took off for a business trip abroad and Hope did her best to hide her despair from his mother and sister. She wasn’t entirely successful, but both women assumed her melancholy was due to Luciano’s absence and she did not disabuse them of the notion. In a way it was the truth. She did miss him, but she had missed him before he left and had no faith his return would decrease that one iota.
On the third day of his absence he called to tell her he would be gone another week. While he had not been overly warm on the phone, the fact he had called at all led to a rise in her spirits. His rejection had not diminished her love or need for him any more than years of her grandfather’s neglect had exorcised the old man from her heart.
Was she destined to spend her whole life loving, but never receiving love?
Luciano walked into the bedroom he shared with Hope without turning on a light. He had been gone for ten days and he’d missed his wife. He hated the knowledge. It made him crazy. He shouldn’t miss a woman who had deceived him so ruthlessly, but he had.
He woke in the night, reaching for her body and she was not there. He had dreamed about her and ached for the release he found in her sweet flesh. That, at least, he would no longer deny himself.
He reasoned that he had to make her pregnant so his control of his family’s company would be assured. Which meant he had to make love to her. Besides sleeping in separate beds was not an option. His mother and sister would notice and his pride would take another lashing.
He’d told himself that was why he called her so frequently when he was gone. It would look odd if he called his mother more frequently than his wife and he had no intention of telling his family how he had been blackmailed into marriage.
He stripped off his clothes and climbed into the bed. His wife’s small body was wrapped around a pillow. She looked so damn innocent, completely incapable of the duplicity he knew she harbored within her. She also looked desirable like no other woman did to him now.
He caressed her in a way he had learned aroused her and she moaned his name in her sleep. A shaft of pain went through him. At least she had been honest about that.
She did want him.
He pulled the pillow from her arms and kissed her in one movement. Her lips responded even though her body remained limp from sleep. He tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth and she opened her mouth. She tasted so sweet, it was impossible to keep reminding himself that she was his enemy.
Right now, she was just his wife.
He slid the thin strap of her nightgown off her shoulder, exposing one pouting breast. Caressing the velvet flesh of her nipple with his palm, he nuzzled her neck, taking in the scent of wildflowers that he associated so completely with her.
The soft bud below his palm hardened and she moaned.
His body responded predictably.
It had been almost two weeks since he had lost himself in the sweetness of her body. Thirteen days too long. He ached with hunger for her, with the need to feel her naked skin against him.
She did not wake up as he carefully removed her gown. He laid down beside her again, pulling her body into full contact with his. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to revel in the sensation of holding her again. Something he could not have done if she was awake.
He let his hand trail down her body, brushing tender buds that taunted him with remembered sweetness.
He lightly touched the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and she stirred.
Her breathing changed and he knew she was waking up.
CHAPTER TEN
HOPE swirled to consciousness, unsure whether she was awake or still dreaming.
Luciano was kissing her, touching her.
She’d dreamed about it so much that she was sure at first it was just another realistic flight of her subconscious and she did not want to wake up to the reality of her marriage and Luciano’s absence. She fought her return to consciousness, but it was if his voice was whispering in her ear, telling her he wanted her.
Then his hand made a path between her legs, penetrating moist folds with intimate caresses and she realized she was awake; Luciano was with her; and they were making love.
“You’re home,” she whispered, her vocal cords thick with sleep.
“Si. I am here, cara.”
Had he said cara? Or was that part of the dream that had meshed with reality?
His mouth trailed down her neck, nibbling her skin and making her shiver.
She whispered his name, clutching at his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re home.”
His fingers did something magical to her feminine flesh.
“I missed you,” she panted, her defenses obliterated by his touch and her disorientation in coming awake to it. “I missed this also,” he said in a husky voice that sent shivers of need rippling through her.
He wanted her again. Relief mixed with her growing passion in a volatile combination that had her moving restlessly under him, spreading her legs in an age-old invitation. “I want you.”
He groaned his approval and took her nipple into his mouth, but he did not move to join their bodies together. He tortured her with bliss, touching her body in ways he knew drove her crazy with desire.
“Please, Luciano. Now.” She arched toward him. “Be with me. Please.”
He made a sound that sounded as tortured as she felt and joined their bodies with one passionate thrust.
Tender flesh stretched to capacity, but she did not murmur a complaint. She wanted this very thing. Needed it.
He cried out in Italian and then began to move, his body surrounding her, filling her, completing her.
Afterward, he rolled over so she was on top of him, but they were still connected. He was still partially aroused inside her and little jolts of pleasure shot through her every time he moved.
She nuzzled into his neck and kissed wherever her lips landed. “You’re not mad at me anymore.”
Instead of answering, he gripped her hips and started moving her on his rapidly hardening flesh. Soon, she lost all desire to talk as sensual hunger took over.
This time they reached the pinnacle of pleasure together and their cries of satisfaction ming
led in the air around them. When they were finished, he pulled her into his body and fell asleep before she could get answers to the many questions roiling in her mind.
She snuggled closer to him, reveling in the physical contact, needing the affirmation of her place in his life. He’d been desperate for her, but did that mean anything more than he hadn’t tired of her physically yet? She could not believe he could touch her so gently and take such care to insure her pleasure and still hate her.
The absence of hatred did not guarantee love, however.
And she needed his love, now more than ever.
She took the masculine hand resting on her hip and pulled it over her to press against her flat stomach. Her menses had not come. She wanted to take a pregnancy test, but she was sure deep inside that she carried Luciano’s baby.
Would he be happy?
His mother would be ecstatic, but it wasn’t her mother-in-law that Hope wanted to please. It was the man who had made such beautiful love to her, the man now holding her as if she meant something to him, as if he had missed having her in his bed as much as she had missed his presence in the night.
The last two weeks had been horrible and she had vacillated between certainty that marrying Luciano had been the biggest mistake of her life to an irrepressible hope that things could get better, that he would come to care more deeply for her. After that first phone call, he had called every day. She didn’t know if it was because he wanted to put a good front on for his family, or if he’d discovered he needed the connection as much as she did. Did it really matter?
Those phone calls had been her lifeline.
They hadn’t talked about personal issues, but he hadn’t been curt with her either. He always asked how she was doing and showed interest in how she had spent her day. He’d answered her questions about his business, sharing his frustrations and satisfactions depending on how his day had gone.
Would a man who hated being married to her share that kind of meaningful communication with her?
It was a question she’d asked herself at least fifty times a day since he’d gone. No satisfactory answer was forthcoming.
Still, after their recent lovemaking, she had more peace than she’d experienced in days.
The next day, Luciano was gone before she woke up, but since he had woken her to make love around dawn, she wasn’t too upset by that fact. The renewal of their physical relationship had gone a long way toward increasing her sense of security in their relationship. So, that evening when Luciano called and said he would not be home for dinner, she took the news with equanimity.
At least he had called.
She ate with Claudia and Martina and spent the rest of the evening teaching her mother-in-law how to play gin rummy after Martina had gone out with friends.
When Hope went to climb into bed, she was in a fairly good mood even though Luciano had still not returned to the villa. Claudia had assured Hope that this was not unusual for her son and had hinted heavily that he would work less when the bambini started coming.
She was dozing lightly when she sensed his presence in the bed and woke up. They made love again and just like the night before, Luciano fell asleep without giving her an opportunity to talk about anything important. To be fair, she hadn’t tried very hard. She didn’t know if she wanted to tell him about her suspicion that she was pregnant. Having proof one way or the other would be better.
That day set the pattern for the ones to follow. If Luciano did return in time for dinner, the hours before sleep would be spent making love. Yet, no matter how many times they made love the night before, he always woke her around dawn to make love again. And just like the first day back, he was always gone to the office before she came awake for the day.
They didn’t talk and sometimes she caught him looking at her with a bitterness that shocked her. The look never lasted long and the one time she’d brought it up, he had changed the subject very effectively by seducing her.
She stopped telling him she loved him, even in the throes of passion. Because although he had clearly not rejected her completely as his wife, she felt an important element of their relationship had been lost. His respect for her.
The longer she played the role of lover, but not true wife, the more she felt like nothing more than a body in his bed.
Even his exquisite lovemaking was taking on a bitter aftertaste when he refused to discuss the stalemate their marriage had become.
She couldn’t quite get how he could blame her for her grandfather’s matchmaking. It didn’t jibe with the man she knew Luciano to be. He was ruthless in business, but fair. Taking out his anger over her grandfather’s actions on her was anything but. Not to mention that those actions hardly warranted the fury they had sparked in her husband.
If she didn’t talk it out soon, she was going to lose respect for herself. She’d been afraid to make waves, to risk another all-out rejection from her husband, but being a body in his bed and nonentity in his life was taking its toll on her sense of self-worth.
She wanted to find out if she really was pregnant before they talked. Perhaps knowledge that she carried his child would give her a better chance of getting through to him.
Using the excuse that she did not want the first time she met her doctor to be during a health crisis, Hope asked Claudia to make an appointment for her with the family doctor. She felt shy about sharing her suspicions with anyone before she talked about it with Luciano. Her mother-in-law appeared to accept Hope’s excuse and made an appointment for her early that afternoon.
A couple of hours later, Hope left the doctor’s surgery in a daze of emotions.
She was pregnant.
Thinking it was a possibility was very different from knowing it to be a reality, she discovered. She felt both terrified and elated at the prospect of motherhood. She knew she would love her baby with every fiber of her being, but she had never even held a toddler in her arms.
The prospect of living with Luciano’s mother had never bothered her, but now Hope saw it as an absolute blessing. She wasn’t alone. Claudia would help her learn the ropes of motherhood and Luciano would be there as well. Family was important to him.
Suddenly she couldn’t wait to tell him. He was bound to be happy. He wanted children. She knew he did. This finally would stop him from acting like she only existed in the bedroom. A man could not dismiss the mother of his child so easily. Especially a traditional Italian male like Luciano.
She instructed the driver to take her to Luciano’s office building.
When she got there, she took the elevator to the top floor without stopping at reception. She barely waited for his secretary to buzz through and tell Luciano she was there.
When Hope walked into his office, he stood up and came around to the front of his desk. “This is a surprise.”
She nodded. She hadn’t even ever called him at work. Showing up out of the blue was bound to shock him. “I had something I wanted to tell you.”
“And it could not wait until I returned to the villa?” he asked with one sardonic brow raised.
“We don’t talk when you’re home,” she said with a tinge of the pained frustration that caused her.
He didn’t reply but led her to a chair by the huge plate-glass windows overlooking Palermo’s wealthy business section.
He took the chair closest to her own. “Would you like something to eat or drink?”
She shook her head. “I want to talk.”
He looked at his watch. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. Perhaps this can wait.”
“No.”
His expression was not encouraging. “Make it short.”
Darn it. This should be special, but he made it impossible, or was that her timing? Maybe she should have waited to tell him at home, but she was here. She might as well finish it. For a second, the words simply would not come.
He moved impatiently and looked pointedly at his watch again.
“I’m pregnant.”
He went co
mpletely still, the sculpted angles of his face moving into emotionless rigidity. “You are sure of this?”
“I went to see the doctor today.”
“And he confirmed your suspicions?”
“Yes.” Why wasn’t he reacting? He was acting like they were discussing the details of a rather boring business deal.
“I am surprised you didn’t do something to prevent conception so early.” His black eyes mocked her in a way she did not understand. “I had the distinct impression you were enjoying our physical intimacy.”
Did he think they couldn’t make love now that she was pregnant? “The doctor said there would be no risk to the baby during normal intimacy.”
“You asked. This surprises me. You are still shy about some things.”
She blushed under his mocking scrutiny. “He offered the information.”
He nodded. “That is a more believable scenario.”
She waited for him to say something about how he felt knowing she was carrying his child, but he stood and looked at his watch again. “If that’s all?”
She stood too. “Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“Are you glad about the baby?” she blurted out.
“You must know that I have every reason to be pleased that you have conceived so quickly.”
Was this the man who had made love to her with such gentleness the night before that she had cried?
“I could do with you saying it.” She could do with a lot more, but she would settle for that.
He smiled derisively. “I am happy about the baby. Are you now satisfied? May I return to my business?”
He had managed to say the words she most wanted to hear in a way that caused pain rather than pleasure. Tears burned the back of her eyes as pain radiated from her heart outward. Why her? What had she done to earn this kind of constant rejection from the people that were supposed to care about her?
She jumped to her feet and spun toward the door, not bothering to answer his hurtful question. Obviously his upcoming appointment was much more important to him than his wife or the knowledge he would be a father.
