“Sure you can, here I’ll print you one each.”
Blair wanted nothing more than to curl herself up into a ball in the darkest corner of her bedroom and weep. But even that was lost to her, since her father had moved back into the tiny accommodation in preparation for taking over the management of the restaurant. Now she was back in Draco’s apartment, and if the sense of dispossession she felt was any indicator, going to the palazzo in a few days’ time was going to be even worse.
Draco settled back into the deep, comfortable leather seat of the charter jet that was taking them home. The week had been a blur of activity, tying off any loose ends to do with his business both in New Zealand and across the Tasman in Australia. He’d barely spent any time with Blair, although he doubted she minded that much at all.
All week he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the sonogram he kept in his pocket. He’d never attended any of Marcella’s checkups with her, he’d always been too busy with work, and she’d understood that—never demanding his company. Now he began to realize all he’d missed out on. It didn’t alter the measure of his grief for her or their baby, but he silently vowed he would not be so distant this time.
By the time they reached the private airfield on the outskirts of the Sandrelli land near San Gimignano, they were both weary of travel. The stopovers en route had done little to break the tension between them, and despite the fact that Blair had rested in the private sleeping quarters for several hours, he could tell she was near to dropping with exhaustion. He made a mental note to ensure the obstetrician he’d engaged for her and the baby’s care would come to the palazzo.
He wondered how she would find things there now. It would be totally different for her. A temporary home instead of a holiday venue.
The customs officers who met them at the airfield were polite and efficient, welcoming Draco back to his homeland in voluble Italian. Inch by inch, he began to feel his body ease into the rhythms of his land, into the undeniable sense of rightness and belonging he experienced every time he came home. His heart swelled with the thought that, in time, his child would know this feeling too. Would embrace the wide world with all its glories, but would eternally want to return to its roots.
It had been just over six weeks since he’d left, and the land had awakened from the lingering chill of winter that had extended into March. Around them, fields were ablaze with the fire of poppies and the golden glow of wild mustard.
Yes, it was good to be back.
Once the official requirements had been met, Draco ushered Blair into the waiting limousine. As they neared the palazzo, Draco looked around him with great eagerness, observing the various plantings that sustained part of the business enterprises of the Sandrelli Corporation. Olive groves, in the peak of health, marched like a giant green army over the gently rolling hills, while on the rise of land leading up to the palazzo lay row upon row of grape vines. At the top of the hill, inured against marauding invaders by a 16th century stone wall, stood the palazzo. Home.
It was good to return to what were essentially the grass roots of his heritage.
He flicked a glance at Blair. She sat pale and rigid on the seat, her eyes fixed out her window. She had barely said a dozen words on this final leg of the journey. He hoped she would be able to relax, once settled back into the palazzo. For both her sake and the baby’s.
Once inside the palazzo, Draco led Blair to her room.
“This is different from where I stayed before, isn’t it?” Blair noted as they went up a wide staircase to the next floor.
“Yes, this leads to my private quarters. Where you stayed before was the wing we have reserved for guests, both corporate-and tourism-related.”
“I had no idea the accommodation was so extensive here. I really only saw such a small part of it, didn’t I?”
Draco nodded, his mouth pulling into a wry smile. If you counted the commercial kitchen, where the culinary tour classes were given, and her sleeping quarters of the time, the part she saw was indeed small.
“I will give you a full tour of the palazzo when you’re rested. Perhaps tomorrow, hmmm?”
“I’d like that.”
Was that an overture of friendship? He realized she must feel completely displaced. Not even the room she’d be sleeping in now was familiar to her. He swung open the heavy, paneled door that led into her room. In the warm glow of the evening, the deep rose-pink drapes, edged in gold braid and tied back from the mullioned windows, looked friendly and inviting, as did the canopied 19th century bed that dominated the room.
“Oh my God, it’s like a museum. Are you sure I can sleep here?” Blair said with a nervous laugh.
“These pieces have been in my family—well—since they were new. We use them. That’s what they were designed for.”
Draco gestured to one of his staff to put Blair’s cases through another door on one side of the room.
“A maid will be along shortly to unpack for you.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I can do that for myself.” Blair protested.
“It is very necessary. You look shattered. Why don’t you turn in early and in the morning we can start anew? What do you say?”
There was something in Draco’s eyes that went straight to Blair’s heart. Start anew. It was so appealing. If only she could start anew back to February when she was last here. Where would they be now? She certainly wouldn’t be here. She’d be back at Carson’s doing what she loved.
Well, she decided she could make herself miserable for the whole time she was here, or she could make the most of it.
“Thank you, I’d like that,” she replied softly.
Draco lifted a hand and traced one finger along the line of her jaw. Instantly her nerve endings went crazy. He hadn’t touched her since that brief moment when they’d clasped hands in the radiography room. Suddenly she realized just how much she missed his touch. Missed him. Tears sprang to her eyes. Stupid, helpless tears that did nothing to reflect the jumble of emotions that cascaded through her.
“I’ll let you rest then.” Draco turned to leave the room.
“Draco, wait. Where will you be?” To her horror a note of panic slipped into her voice.
“I will call in briefly to see my parents and then I will return. I’ll be just two doors further down the corridor, in my suite. Do not worry, Blair. I will not let you go far from my sight.”
Blair nodded, barely trusting herself to speak.
“Buona sera, Blair. Sleep well. And don’t worry about the maid when she comes, she will use the door that leads straight to your dressing room, so as not to disturb you.”
“D-dressing room? I barely have enough clothes to fit in a chest of drawers, and now I have an entire dressing room?”
“Perhaps we can fly to Livorno, on the coast, for the day, and do some shopping. Or even north to Firenze. Clearly, you will need a new wardrobe, especially as the baby grows.”
The excitement that began to bubble inside her fell immediately flat as she was reminded that the true purpose behind her being here was the baby, and the baby alone.
“As you wish,” she managed to say, because all of a sudden it was quite clear to her that despite the exquisite furnishings and the plush elegance of her new temporary home, she was here only at his bidding.
“Blair? It is not just as I wish. I would like to think you’re looking forward to this baby too. I know we said some harsh things to one another last week, but I meant what I said when I suggested we start over. Think about it, hmm? And I’ll see you in the morning.”
When Draco was gone Blair took a minute to familiarize herself with her room. The large en suite bathroom was as luxuriously fitted as the bedroom—although a great deal more modern, she noted with relief. She grabbed her toiletries and a night shirt from her case and prepared for bed.
Draco’s parting words still rang in her ears. Start over. It would be so lovely to do so. But what of her dreams? She’d finally taken Carson’s to five-s
tar splendor, only to have to leave it in another’s hands. Granted, that person was her father, but still she felt cheated.
She slid between the fine cotton sheets, laundered with a hint of lavender, and rested her head onto the pillow. She’d thought she had it all under control, but where was that control now? Firmly in Draco’s hands, and there was nothing she could do about it. Absolutely nothing.
Nine
Blair was awakened the next morning by the clink of crockery on a tray.
“Buon giorno, Ms. Carson. I trust you rested well.” A uniformed maid bustled into the room and placed a tray on a nearby table. “I have brought you breakfast and a request from the Signore to be ready in an hour for a tour of the property. And Ms. Carson, the coffee is decaffeinated as per your doctor’s instructions.”
“Thank you,” Blair shoved herself upright in the bed and sniffed the air as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee tantalized her nostrils. Her eyes spied pastries in a small basket on the tray. “Are those cornetti?”
“Yes, raspberry. Your favorite, si? Cristiano, our cook, he remembered, and Ms. Carson? There is a small gift here for you also. A welcome to the palazzo from the Signore.”
Both curious and ravenous, Blair pushed the bedcovers from her legs and rose from the bed. With a cheerful smile, the maid left the room.
A narrow, long blue-velvet jeweler’s box nestled on a starched, white serviette, next to the plate of cornetti. Curiosity won the tug of war and she lifted the case and gently opened it. Inside, laid upon shining white satin, was an exquisite silver charm bracelet. Blair lifted it from the case and held it up, exclaiming over the delicate charms evenly spaced along its length.
She didn’t usually wear any jewelry. It just got in the way in the kitchen, but for now, she couldn’t wait to put this piece on. She struggled a little with the parrot clasp before managing to secure it round her wrist. She turned her arm this way and that, admiring the reflection of light on the silver and the faint jangle of the charms as they bumped together. How thoughtful of Draco to give this to her. But then her cynical, insecure side wondered if he kept a cabinet filled with such things for his female guests. She knew for a fact that he was highly sought after in international circles. Just about every article about them back home in New Zealand had put pictures of his past companions side-by-side with whichever one they’d managed to snap of her and Draco together. Whatever the case, she loved the bracelet and she’d enjoy wearing it.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the sweet delights waiting for her. Blair’s mouth watered as she tore off a piece of the fresh pastry and popped it in her mouth. For a moment, even her critical chef’s brain disengaged as it melted on her tongue. By the time she’d picked up the last crumb and enjoyed the delicious nutty-flavored coffee, she was ready to face the day. She took a quick shower in the bathroom and dressed in a loose-fitting, raspberry-colored sundress, as the day promised to be warm. The button-down style was easy to wear, and then, just for something different, she grabbed a long, multicolored scarf and tied it across her head from above her fringe and twisted it into a knot at the nape of her neck. The tails dropped over her shoulder. She studied the effect in the mirror. It was kind of retro sixties, but with her coloring, it looked good and gave her a dose of much-needed confidence. She looked at the time. She was ready early.
She paced the floor of her bedroom for a few minutes, finally settling in front of the tall windows that gave a stunning view out across the valley. In the distance, the darker shadows of the hills loomed over the verdant countryside. How different the landscape was from the blanket of winter she’d seen last time she was here. She wondered if she was to wait here for Draco, or if she should see if he was in his room. Waiting didn’t sit comfortably with her. Already she was itching to get out in the sunshine of what promised to be a beautiful spring morning. Her decision made, she spun around and opened the door.
He’d said last night he was a couple of doors down the corridor from her. Her shoes made no sound on the petit point carpet of the hallway. It almost felt sacrilegious to walk on the fine craftsmanship. A couple of doors down he’d said; a rueful smile twisted her lips. He neglected to mention just how far down the hallway a couple of doors actually was.
Blair hesitated when she reached the cream-and-gold paneled door, a twin to her own. She drew her fisted hand up and rapped gently on the wood. It opened almost immediately.
“Buon giorno, Blair. You look much better this morning.”
“Thank you. I had a wonderful sleep. And thank you too for this.” She held up her wrist.
“Ah, you’re most welcome. Here, come in, I’ll be ready in a moment.”
Draco stepped aside and Blair walked into a comfortable sitting room. While the chairs were heavily upholstered in rich floral fabrics, there was nothing feminine about the room. The wood-paneled walls and hunting paintings took care of that little detail, Blair noted.
She felt Draco as he drew up behind her. “You look and smell wonderful today.”
A small shiver ran through her body as he dipped his head to the curve of her neck and felt his hand run down her arm. His long fingers wrapped around her wrist and he lifted her arm.
“Each charm has a special significance to our land here and our place in it.” He fingered the small wine bottle nearest the clasp. “This is for the vineyard, where we produce our own Vernaccia.”
“That’s the white wine I had when I was here before, isn’t it? I tried to get it in for Carson’s, but our wine merchant was unable to secure any for me.”
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that, for your father.”
Blair bristled slightly at the assumption that she would not be equally interested in getting the wine to New Zealand, but she was distracted by the soft stroke of Draco’s index finger on the pulse point at her wrist.
He continued to hold her wrist loosely as he detailed each of the other charms on the chain, and she found herself mesmerized by the cadence of his voice. When he was finished she realized she’d allowed herself to sink back against his body, his chest a warm imprint through her dress and along her back.
She straightened, pulling loose from his clasp, feeling unsettled that she’d fallen under his spell again so easily. Last night he’d suggested they start over, but now in the light of day, she wasn’t so convinced it was such a good idea. He was very much the lord and master of all the land she could see from the windows of the palazzo. So where did that leave her? And where did that leave her responsibility to Carson’s?
“Draco, could I use a phone to let Dad know we arrived safely and that I’m okay? I saw one in my room but I wasn’t sure if I could use it for an international call.”
“No matter, I have already called him. He was happy to hear you were settled and that the journey was behind you. He said when you arrived back in New Zealand in February the trip had taken a lot out of you and that it took you a few days to recover from jet lag. Hopefully, you won’t be so affected this time.”
“After the luxury of that plane trip? I doubt it.”
Blair smiled, hiding the flair of irritation that Draco had spoken to her father without her knowledge. She’d have liked to have touched base with him, heard how he was managing back in the restaurant without her there.
“You are worrying about your precious restaurant, aren’t you?”
Was she so easy to read? “Yes, I am. And about Dad too. When we left he’d done nothing about employing a new chef. I’m concerned he’ll push himself too hard.”
“Blair, your father is a grown man, quite capable of making his own decisions.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. It was the decisions that he made that made him ill the last time.”
“But he is on medication, si?”
“Yes, but he’s stubborn.” Like you, she added silently.
“Why don’t you call him tonight around ten? It’ll be eight o’clock Sunday morning there.”
“Dam
n, I forgot about the time difference,” Blair muttered, remembering it was the time difference that had gotten her into this position in the first place. “What about now? It’ll be evening there now, right? About seven?”
“But won’t the restaurant be busy? He’ll hardly have time to talk to you, and he already knows you are safe and well.”
What Draco said made perfect sense. “All right. Tonight it is.”
“Good. Now we have that settled, let’s start on our tour. Which do you prefer first—the palazzo or the grounds?”
“Oh, the grounds, please. It’s such a beautiful day.”
“Your wish is my command,” Draco responded with a smile that sent a bolt straight to her heart.
He offered her his arm and she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. As they made their way back down the corridor toward the stairs, Draco told her of the history of some of the pieces of furniture and ornaments.
“Doesn’t it worry you that some of these things will get broken? Shouldn’t they be in a museum?”
Draco laughed. “They are a part of my family. If they break, they break. Of course, we take every step to ensure that doesn’t happen on a regular basis, and some of the more valuable pieces are locked away in glass-fronted cabinets, like the ones you would have seen in the salon used for tour guests.”
Blair envied him his casual acceptance of his world. As welcoming and comfortable as the palazzo was, she doubted she could ever fit in here. Her upbringing had been so transient, she didn’t even have school photos to look back on. Whereas Draco—she looked around at the portraits interspersed with deep windows along the corridor—he could trace back his ancestors to near-medieval times.
Draco led her outside the palazzo to a courtyard where a gleaming convertible sat awaiting them.
“We’re going to drive?” Blair asked, surprised. She’d expected they’d be walking around the grounds.
“I thought I’d take you to the furthest point of our land and then work our way back. Would you prefer we stay closer to home?”
Secret Baby, Public Affair Page 8
