by Lynne Graham
‘You look well,’ Gaetano’s grandfather said approvingly. ‘On your wedding day you looked as though a strong breeze would blow you over, now you look…’
‘Fatter?’ Poppy laughed. ‘You can say it. I’d got too thin and I look better carrying a little more weight. Dolores has been feeding me up like a Christmas turkey.’
Hands banded round her raised knees, Poppy gazed out over the valley, scanning the marching rows of bright green vines. The property referred to as the guest house was a substantial building surrounded by trees and it had a spectacular view. It had always been Rodolfo’s favourite spot and when he had tired of his late son’s constant parties at the main house he had built his own bolt-hole.
Cinzia, who looked after the guest house and its elderly occupant, brought out the lemon drizzle cake that Poppy had baked.
Poppy and Gaetano had been in Tuscany for a whole month, days fleeing past at a speed she could barely register. As soon as she had regained her strength, Gaetano had begun taking her out sightseeing. Her brain was crammed to bursting point by magnificent artworks and architectural wonders. But the memories that lingered were of a rather more personal variety.
Her delicate gold earrings were a gift from Gaetano, purchased from one of the spectacular goldsmiths on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence. In Pisa they had strolled through the magical streets to dine after the daily visitors had left and he had told her that in bright light her red hair reminded him of a gorgeous sunset. In Lucca they had walked the city walls in the leafy shade of the overhanging trees and Gaetano had briefly held her hand to steady her. In Siena she had proved Gaetano wrong when he’d told her that climbing more than four hundred steps to the top of the Torre del Mangia would be too much for her and he had laughed and given her that special heart-stopping smile that somehow always rocked her world. And in the Grotta del Vento he had whipped off his jacket and wrapped it round her when he’d seen her shiver in the coolness of the underground cave system.
Personal memories but not the romantic memories of a newly married couple, Poppy conceded unhappily. There was no sex. There had been no sex since she had taken ill and he refused to take hints. And she refused to count as romantic all the many evenings they had talked long and late at the farmhouse after a beautiful leisurely meal because every evening had ended with them occupying separate beds.
Indeed, Gaetano only got close to her in his grandfather’s presence, clearly as part of his effort to keep up the pretence that they were a normal couple, and then he would close his arms round her, kiss her shoulder or her cheek, act as if he were a touchy-feely loving male even though he wasn’t. His determined detachment often made Poppy want to scream and slap him into a normal reaction. What had happened to the sex-hungry male who couldn’t keep his hands off her?
And while Poppy was lying awake irritating herself by wondering how to tempt Gaetano without being too obvious about it and scolding herself for being so defensive, another bigger worry slowly began to percolate in the back of her mind. At first she had told herself off for being foolish. After all, they had only had sex once and she had conscientiously taken the contraceptive pill from the first day it was prescribed to her. When her period was late she had believed that her illness or even the change of diet or stress could have messed up her menstrual cycle. As the days trickled past her subdued sense of panic had steadily mounted and she was very glad that she was visiting the doctor the following day for an official review following her release from hospital a month earlier. She would ask for a pregnancy test then just to be on the safe side. And of course she would soon realise that she had been foolishly worrying over nothing. There was no way she could possibly be pregnant.
Leaving Rodolfo snoozing in the shade, Poppy clicked her fingers to bring Muffin gambolling to her side as she strolled back to the main house.
Muffin had made a full recovery from his injuries and had been inseparable from Poppy from the day Gaetano had brought him back from the vet’s and settled the little terrier in his wife’s lap. The dog ran ahead as Poppy walked below the trees enjoying the cool shade rather than the heat of late afternoon. She smiled at the colourful glimpses of poppy-and-sunflower-studded fields visible through the gaps between the trees.
Since the wedding she had talked to her mother and brother every week on the phone. Damien was happy in his new job while her mother had renewed contact with Poppy’s aunt, Jess, who had stopped seeing her sister when she became an alcoholic. Now there was talk of Poppy’s mother going to live with her sister in Manchester after she was released.
That idea left Poppy feeling oddly abandoned and she told herself off for her selfishness because it was not as if she herself would be in a position to set up home with her mother any time soon. No, Poppy was very conscious that she had a long, hard haul ahead of her faking being happily married to Gaetano for at least a couple of years. And if she was miserable, well, she accepted that that was her own fault as well. If her emotions made her miserable it was because she had failed to control them. Her craving for Gaetano’s attention had been the first warning sign, missing him in bed after only one night the second. From that point on the warning signs had simply multiplied into a terrifying avalanche.
If Gaetano held her hand, she felt light-headed. If he touched her she lit up inside like a firework. If he smiled her heart soared. Her adolescent crush had grown into something much more dangerous, something she couldn’t control and that occasionally overwhelmed her. She had fallen madly, insanely in love with the husband who wasn’t a husband. It wasn’t fair that Gaetano should be so beautiful that she found intense pleasure in simply looking at him. It was even less fair that he was such entertaining company and had wonderful manners. Nor did it help that he took great pains to ensure that she ate well and rested often, revealing a caring side she had only previously seen in play around his grandfather. It was all a cheat, she kept on telling herself. It was a cheat because he wasn’t available to her in any way even though she loved him.
She loved Gaetano. She was ashamed of that truth when he had warned her not to make that mistake long before he’d even married her. How had she turned out so predictable? It was not as if she believed in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. She was not a dreamer now that she had grown up. She knew that no happy ending awaited her and she would cope as long as she contrived to keep her emotional attachment to herself because she would die a thousand deaths before she allowed Gaetano to even suspect how she felt. He hadn’t asked for love from her and he didn’t want her love. No way was he getting her love for free so that he could pity her.
A fancy sports car that didn’t belong to Gaetano’s collection was parked outside La Fattoria. Poppy smoothed down her exotic black and red sundress, one of the designer garments Gaetano had purchased for her weeks ago. It was cutting-edge style and edgy enough to feel comfortable to her, so she had acquiesced to the new wardrobe, mortified by the suspicion that for her to insist on continuing to wear cheap clothing would embarrass Gaetano. No, he might deserve a kick for seducing her with unforgettable enthusiasm and then stopping that intimacy in its tracks, but she still cringed at the idea of embarrassing him in public.
Gaetano saw his wife from the front window, her show-stopping long legs silhouetted beneath the thin fabric of her dress. It was see-through, and it killed him to see her legs and recall that one indescribably hot night when he had slid between them. Feeling his trousers tighten, he gritted his teeth. The sooner he was out of their marriage and free again, the more normal he would feel.
In truth nothing had felt normal since their wedding. Being around Poppy without being able to touch her was driving him insane. He had a high sex drive and he had never tried to suppress it before. But for the first time in his life with a woman he was trying to do the right thing and it was hurting like a bitch. Poppy deserved more than he had to give. But inexplicably Poppy had got under his skin and since he had laid eyes on her no other woman had attracted him. Although he’d s
atisfied himself sexually with her, he still desired her, which was a first for him. The thrill of the chase had gone, but the hunger lingered, ever present, ever powerful. There was something about her that affected him differently from other women. She didn’t irritate him, she didn’t make demands, she didn’t care about his money. In the strangest of ways she reminded him of his grandmother, who had been as at home with staff as she was with visitors. Poppy’s easy charm was spread wide and he no longer marvelled that Rodolfo idolised her and the household staff couldn’t do enough for her. Even that ugly little dog was her devoted slave.
‘Sorry… I needed to freshen up,’ Serena announced as she walked back into the drawing room. ‘I got blown to bits. I forgot to tie my hair back before I drove over.’
Gaetano studied the smooth golden veil of Serena’s hair. He had never seen her with a hair out of place. Poppy’s hair got madly tangled, but she didn’t care. It had been wild that night in bed, he recalled, fighting off arousal as he pictured that vibrant mane tumbled across the pillows, her lovely face flushed and full of satisfaction, satisfaction he had given her.
Poppy entered and froze at the sight of Serena. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.’
‘Oh, I’m not company. I’m one of Gaetano’s oldest friends,’ Serena reminded her. ‘How are you, Poppy? I would have called in sooner, but it is your honeymoon, after all.’
‘Are you staying round here?’
‘Didn’t Gaetano tell you that my parents have had a house near here for years and years? We first met at one of his parents’ parties when we were teenagers,’ Serena told her with a golden-girl smile of fond familiarity aimed at Gaetano.
Serena was the wicked witch in the disguise of a beautiful princess, Poppy decided bleakly. Serena knew exactly where to plunge the knife and twist it in another’s woman’s flesh. She loved to boast of how well, how intimately and how long she had known Gaetano. ‘Fancy that,’ she said non-committally.
‘I’m actually here to beg for a favour,’ Serena confided cutely. ‘I met Rodolfo in the village last week and he told me that Gaetano was flying to Paris for a conference tomorrow. May I come too? As you know I’m looking for a new job and I could use the introductions you’d give me.’
‘Of course. I’ll pick you up on the way to the airport,’ Gaetano suggested calmly.
Hell no, Poppy thought, watching Serena look at Gaetano with a teasing girly smile and a shake of her golden head that sent the silken strands tossing round her perfect face. Her teeth ground together.
‘Are you coming too?’ Serena asked Poppy.
But Poppy could see that somehow Serena had already established that Gaetano would be travelling to Paris alone. ‘No, I’m afraid I have an appointment to keep,’ Poppy admitted.
‘I wish you’d agreed to reschedule that. I wanted to accompany you,’ Gaetano reminded her with detectable exasperation.
Poppy wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s only a check-up.’
And she didn’t want him attending the doctor’s surgery with her because she didn’t want him present for the discussion of the pregnancy possibility.
‘I could cancel and come to Paris with you,’ she heard herself offer abruptly, because she really didn’t want Serena getting the chance to be alone with Gaetano.
‘You need to keep that appointment,’ Gaetano countered levelly. ‘In any case, I’ll be back by evening.’
‘I’ll look after him,’ Serena assured her smugly and Poppy wondered unhappily if the other woman somehow sensed that Gaetano’s marriage was not quite normal. Or was it simply that the beautiful blonde could not imagine a male as well educated and sophisticated as Gaetano marrying an ordinary woman without there being some hidden agenda?
She had paled at Serena’s self-satisfaction. Gaetano had not been with a woman in a month. Naturally Poppy didn’t want him on board his private jet with a man-eater like Serena. Serena was already putting out willing and welcome signals as bright as traffic lights. But what could Poppy possibly say to Gaetano to inhibit him in such a marriage as theirs? He didn’t belong to her. She didn’t own him.
There were other ways of holding onto a man’s attention though, she reasoned abstractedly. There was using sex as a weapon, exactly the sort of manipulative behaviour she had looked down on before she fell in love with Gaetano. Now, all of a sudden confronted by Serena studying Gaetano as though he were one of the seven wonders of the world, Poppy’s stance on the moral high ground felt foolish and dangerous. Pride wouldn’t keep her warm at night if Gaetano succumbed to Serena’s advances and embarked on an affair with her. An affair that Poppy suspected would soon be followed by divorce and remarriage because she didn’t believe that Serena would accept being hidden in the background or that Gaetano would resist the chance to acquire a woman who would make a much more suitable wife.
*
Gaetano released his breath in a slow hiss when Poppy joined him for dinner in a black halter-necked dress that outlined her lithe, slender figure. His intense dark gaze rested briefly on the taut little buds of her breasts that were clearly defined by the thin fabric and he compressed his lips round his wine glass. Look, don’t touch, he told himself grimly.
‘I’ve been wondering,’ he remarked. ‘What made you choose nursing?’
Surprised by the topic, Poppy lifted and dropped her bare shoulders. ‘I like caring for people. Being needed makes me feel useful.’
‘Your family certainly needed you,’ Gaetano said drily.
The main course was served. After eating in silence for a few minutes Poppy said, ‘I’m thinking of doing something other than nursing when the time comes.’
‘Such as?’ Gaetano prompted impatiently.
‘Gardening,’ she admitted in a defensive tone.
‘Gardening?’ Gaetano repeated with incredulity.
‘I always discounted my interest in growing things because I come from several generations of gardeners. But I suppose it’s in my blood,’ Poppy opined wryly. ‘Of course if I’d ever mentioned it I would have found myself working for your family and I didn’t want that.’
‘I’ve never understood why not. We’re good employers.’
‘Yes, but working on the estate means real old-fashioned service.’
‘And what is bartending but service?’ Gaetano watched her turn to lift her water glass and his attention dropped to the firm, full, pouting curve of her breast revealed by her dress. He shifted tensely in his seat.
‘There’s not that same sense of inequality between employer and employee that there is on the estate. I can’t explain it but I’ve never accepted that you are superior to me simply because you were born into wealth and privilege.’
‘Have I ever made you feel that way?’
Poppy pushed away her plate and stood up. ‘You can’t help it. Your parents raised you like that.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘For a walk—it’s a beautiful evening. I’ll have space for dessert by the time I come back,’ she told Sean, who was hovering to remove their plates.
‘I’ll come too.’ Gaetano sprang upright.
Poppy was as restless as a cat on hot bricks, which was hardly surprising when she had set herself the objective of somehow seducing Gaetano before his flight to Paris. Sadly discussing her career aspirations and the class system wouldn’t get her any closer to him and she wasn’t very deft at flirting. If all else failed, she thought ruefully, she would simply slip into bed with him and pray that his libido cracked his detachment.
‘That’s a daring dress,’ Gaetano observed. ‘The split in the skirt shows me your thighs at every step and I can see the curve and shape of your breasts. Don’t wear it anywhere more public…’
Poppy was relieved that he had actually noticed the provocative outfit because it meant that she wasn’t yet fading into the wallpaper as far as he was concerned. Her high heels crunched through the gravel. A finger danced up her exposed spine like a flame licking at her bare skin an
d she shivered, snatching in a breath as he flicked the knot at the nape of her neck. ‘If I pulled that loose…’
‘The whole thing would probably fall off,’ she completed.
Gaetano groaned out loud. ‘Don’t tempt me.’
‘I didn’t think you could be tempted any more.’
‘Temptation runs on a continuous loop around you.’
Poppy glanced at him with disbelieving eyes. ‘Then why have you been keeping your distance?’
‘It should’ve been that way from the start, bellezza mia. I was a selfish bastard to insist on sex.’
‘So, tell me something new,’ Poppy invited.
After a moment of telling silence, Gaetano’s stunning dark golden gaze locked to her flushed face in near wonderment at that response before he burst out laughing. ‘Well, that’s telling me…’
‘If you wanted lies you married the wrong girl.’
‘Obviously,’ Gaetano conceded, lounging back against an aged stone pedestal table at the viewpoint where the land fell away to reveal the panoramic landscape beyond the garden. Poppy gazed out at the beautiful countryside, her hair glowing like a live flame against her ivory skin as the sun went down.
‘I’m not being fair to you,’ Poppy muttered with sudden awkwardness. ‘I wanted sex too!’
‘Maybe when we were actually having it but not before,’ Gaetano qualified.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Gaetano… I couldn’t wait to rip your clothes off!’ Poppy flung back at him in exasperation. ‘I didn’t stay a virgin until this age by not knowing what I wanted. I’m not some easily led little rag doll. Stop talking as if you took advantage of a naïve kid!’
‘But I did take advantage of you.’ Gaetano reached out to grip both her hands in emphasis and prevent her from her constant pacing back and forth in front of him. ‘You were a virgin and I’m a natural predator. What I want I take. And I very much wanted you.’
Poppy took a step closer to his lean, powerful body. ‘How much is “very much”?’
He brought her hands down lightly to the revealing bulge at his groin. Her fingertips fluttered appreciatively over the hard jut of his erection and he jerked in surprise at that intimate caress. His golden eyes smouldering with erotic heat, he pulled her up against him and crushed her ripe pink mouth beneath his, his tongue darting and delving deep to send tiny shudders of shocking arousal coursing through her lower body. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs.
