What followed was the stuff of nightmares. She managed to reach the child and grab hold of her, but when she tried to turn back the rip tide caught her and they were both swept farther out.
Battling to stay afloat, Beth felt another large wave crash over her, then another, and another. However hard she fought, she could not beat the current, and was being dragged farther out towards the rocky headland. A massive wave submerged them, and for a heart-stopping moment Beth was convinced the end had come. With that came the thought she would never see Dante again....
Suddenly she could breathe again, and with the terrified child’s arms locked tightly around her neck Beth twisted to protect her as they were flung against the rocks. She felt a stabbing pain in her back. But the pain in her heart was worse than any gash from the rocks as she realised that against all rhyme and reason she loved Dante.
Clutching the child with the last of her strength, she managed to scramble up onto the rocks. A backward glance told her the tide was coming in fast, and she could not swim back to the shore with the child.
She sat down on a flat rock before her legs gave way completely, cuddling the sobbing child to her chest and breathing great gulps of air into her oxygen-starved lungs in between murmuring words of comfort to the little girl—whose name, she discovered, was Trixie. She had no idea how long she sat there, soothing the child and anxiously watching the water rise. Then she saw the coastguard rescue boat ploughing through the waves and heard someone shouting her name. She rose to her feet, handed Trixie into the outstretched arms of a man in the boat, and almost collapsed with relief—the child was safe.
The rest was a bit of a blur.
She remembered being hauled into the boat, having a blanket wrapped around her and Trixie placed in her arms again. At the harbour an ambulance waited, and Janet had brought her clothes and her bag from the beach. The ambulance crew were insisting on taking them to the hospital.
Later Beth sat in the hospital, with the blanket still around her, waiting to see the doctor. She took her phone out of her bag and read the text Dante had sent her earlier. She texted back that she was fine and that she would see him tomorrow night. She thought of ending with love, and didn’t quite dare. But Beth knew she loved him without a shadow of a doubt—though she would have preferred to realise it without half drowning in the process.
Perhaps she always had loved Dante? Maybe there was such a thing as love at first sight? she mused. All along there had been that deep underlining attraction that had begun in the courtroom when she was only nineteen and too innocent to recognise it, and after the trial it had been easier to hate him. Now she was married to him and carrying his child, and though he didn’t love her he wanted her physically. With a child between them she could hope he would grow to love her. The three-year time limit was a minimum, not a maximum....
A young couple with tears in their eyes came up to her and thanked her over and over again for saving their little girl Trixie.
Beth smiled as they walked away, but there was more—much, much more than she had ever expected—until finally she fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
‘Mrs Cannavaro...’ Beth opened her eyes and saw a woman in a blue uniform, standing by her bed. She glanced around. The room was white and she was completely disorientated for a moment. Then, as the events of yesterday came flooding back, she closed her eyes again.
‘Mrs Cannavaro.’
The nurse repeated her name, and reluctantly she opened her eyes.
‘Good news. Your husband will be here soon, and a cup of tea and food is on its way. I need to check your vitals, and then you can have a wash and get dressed,’ she told her with a broad smile. ‘Dr James will be here to see you soon, and after that you can be discharged. And don’t worry—you are very fit and an extremely brave young woman...you will be fine in no time at all.’
The nurse was so unrelentingly cheerful, while avoiding the elephant in the room, that it made Beth want to scream. But she didn’t. Stoically, she said, ‘Thank you.’ And then asked, ‘How is Trixie today?’
‘Oh, the little girl is fine—thanks to you. She went home with her parents last night.’
‘Good,’ Beth said, and suffered the nurse’s ministrations in silence, reliving the tragic events of yesterday that had put her here. In her mind she blamed herself, though she knew she could never have done anything different. Trixie was safe and that was all that mattered.
But now she was no longer quite so certain.
At nine last night a doctor had told her that the pain that had suddenly doubled her over as she was leaving was the start of a miscarriage. Probably brought on by the tremendous amount of physical energy it had taken to save the little girl. The bruising and the gash on her back had not helped, and it had cost the life of her own baby. By eleven it had all been over, and for the first time since Helen died Beth had broken down and cried until she had no tears left.
Now she felt nothing at all—just totally numb inside.
She nodded and said yes and thank you to the nurse’s endless chatter, until finally she was washed and her hair was combed. Wearing the clothes Janet had handed her yesterday, she sat on the edge of the bed and drank a cup of tea. The food was of no interest to her.
Dr James arrived and after checking her over, his eyes full of compassion, he told her how sorry he was and made an appointment for her to see him on Monday to confirm everything was clear. He told her that she was a healthy young woman and he was sure she would have no trouble getting pregnant again when she wanted to, not to worry. It had been an extraordinary set of circumstances that had caused the miscarriage, and it was extremely unlikely to happen again.
Beth smiled and said thank you again, and sat down on the bed as he turned to leave. She heard the door close behind him. Suddenly the numbness that had protected her bruised mind and body faded away and her shoulders slumped. Her spirit was broken. She could never regret saving Trixie, but it had cost her a soul- destroying price. But then that seemed to be the story of her life, she thought, looking back over the past few years that had led her to this point.
She heard the ring of her cell phone and automatically reached into her bag and answered. It was Janet. She had called at the cottage and the builder was there but Beth wasn’t. Janet wanted to know why she was not at home. In a few terse sentences Beth told her, and listened to her compassionate response. She asked if there was anything she could do to help. Beth said nothing except to tell the builders to take the day off. She wanted to be alone for a while, and Dante would be arriving later. She rang off.
Beth did not want to see anyone or talk to anyone. She wanted to close her eyes and forget the last twenty hours had ever happened. But it wasn’t to be. She heard the door open again and looked up to see Dante enter the room. His handsome face looked drawn, black stubble shadowed his jaw, and his mouth was a firm straight line. His eyes blazed with some powerful emotion.
Beth saw a chink of light in the darkness of her soul and rose to her feet. She loved him so much. Maybe he would recognise her pain and take it away, fold her in his arms and comfort her. But Dante made no move towards her. He simply stared.
‘Beth, how do you feel?’
How many times had he asked her that? she wondered. It seemed to be his favourite question. The chink of light was extinguished. Deep down she had always known it was the baby he was concerned about, not her. And it slowly dawned on her that the emotion she saw in his dark eyes was anger. Why had she expected anything more? He had married her for the baby—nothing else. She had actually fooled herself into thinking that it might have been something more this week and she’d been happy. But not now. The baby was gone and there was no longer any reason for Dante to be here.
The blood turned to ice in her veins; the numbness returning.
‘Fine. Can we leave now?’
The fear and the fury Dante had felt since he’d heard the news at midnight eased a little. Beth looked pale and so bea
utiful, so tragic. He wished he had been here for her. He wanted to take her in his arms...
‘I need to get home to feed Binkie.’
‘Forget the damn cat!’ Dante exclaimed, his fear and anger boiling over. ‘I have spoken to the doctor. You have just lost the baby and you are battered and bruised with a slashed back. What on earth possessed you to dive into the sea? You could have died!’
‘I am not having this conversation now. If you don’t want to drive me home, I’ll get a cab.’ Beth picked up her bag, refusing to look at him, intent on leaving.
Dante ran a hand though his hair. He had no right to be angry with Beth; she was his wife and she had lost their baby. He had promised to take care of them both and he had spectacularly failed. Worse, he could not control or explain the emotions churning inside him....
He grabbed Beth’s arm as she tried to walk past him and spun her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Held close against his strong body, Beth felt nothing. It was too little, too late. ‘You didn’t.’ She lifted expressionless eyes to his. ‘I have been sitting here thinking of everything that has happened since I first met you and you are right—I am guilty as charged. I did lose your baby.’
‘Dio! No—I never meant it like that.’
Beth saw the shock in his eyes and didn’t care. ‘Maybe not, but it is true. What happened yesterday proves the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished, and today I realised it was the story of my life. I offered two boys I thought were friends a lift and ended up in prison. I saved a little girl and lost my own child. I’ve finally learned it is best not to get involved with anyone. Now, can we leave? I want to get home.’
Dante looked at her pale blank face. The doctor had told him her injuries were not serious—a few scrapes and bruises and a gash that had needed eight stitches. As for the miscarriage—there was to be a minor procedure on Monday and in a week she should be fine. But after losing the baby she might be a little depressed for a while, and he must be patient with her. Dante knew he should not have lost control and shouted at her.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said softly, and took the bag from her hand. Taking her arm, he left the hospital.
He glanced across at Beth as he drove through the country roads. Her head was back, her eyes closed. Maybe that was best. Dante was not an emotional man, and though he was gutted at the loss of the baby he could not find the words to express how he felt.
Back at the cottage, as soon as Beth walked in the door Binkie was there. Bending, she picked him up in her arms, stroking and murmuring to him as she headed for the kitchen. She put Binkie down and methodically prepared his bowl of chicken. Then she made a pot of coffee—perhaps to prove her baby really was gone.
Dante followed her into the kitchen. ‘It is no good ignoring me, Beth. We need to talk about this.’
Beth turned expressionless eyes on him. ‘Not now. I am going to have a coffee and then shower and change,’ she said in a cool voice.
‘I’ll join you.’
‘For coffee.’
Filling two mugs from the pot, she handed him one. Her emotions were in deep freeze, and she was immune to the brush of Dante’s fingers against hers.
She walked back though the house and out onto the terrace. She sat down on one of the captain’s chairs, took a sip of coffee and stared out across the sea. The morning sun shimmered on the calm green water and the waves lapped against the fine sand. Her gaze strayed to the headland. As if to mock her, the tide was out and the rocks were barely fifteen feet from the water’s edge.
Beth heard a footstep on the terrace but did not turn her head. She took another drink of coffee.
Dante took the chair beside her, his eyes fixed on her delicate profile. ‘I honestly didn’t mean to upset you any more than you already are, Beth. I know how hard it must be for you. As for me—I have never felt so awful in my life as when I got the call from the hospital and heard what had happened to you. I really wanted our baby. Never doubt that.’
Beth turned her head, her green eyes resting on Dante. She didn’t doubt it for a second. She knew he’d wanted the baby. It was her he had never really wanted and had got stuck with.
‘It was never meant to be,’ she said flatly. ‘The baby was conceived for all the wrong reasons. I was stupid, and you wanted me out of your brother’s life. If that wasn’t bad enough you and I agreed this child was going to be the product of a broken home before it was even born. I don’t know what I was thinking of... I must have been out of my mind. But not any more. I’ve had enough. I love it here. I relocated here to get out of the rat race and this time I am staying.’
‘Having got that off your chest, aren’t you forgetting something?’ Dante prompted. ‘You are my wife, and I have some say in your future.’
‘Not for much longer. The reason for our marriage is gone. I want nothing from you so we can get divorced straight away. You’re a lawyer—I’m sure you can arrange it.’ Beth rose to her feet before adding, ‘I’m going for a bath.’
Dante watched her walk back inside but didn’t follow her. Instead he looked out over the bay, his eyes narrowed as he considered his options. One thing was certain: he was not ready to let Beth go....
The more he got to know her the more he questioned his original assessment of her. She was an amazing woman... He couldn’t think of a single female he had ever met who would have leapt into the sea after that child. Most would not risk getting their hair wet, let alone risk their own life, but Beth had.
His angry outburst when he’d first seen her hadn’t been because she had lost the baby but because he had feared for her life....
Rising to his feet, he strolled back into the house.
* * *
With the dressing on her back in mind, Beth had had a bath in about nine inches of water. Stepping out, she took a towel and carefully dried her aching body. She found an old blue tracksuit in one of the drawers. It had loose pants, so would not press against the cut on her back. Then, barefoot, she walked into the bedroom, slid open the glass door to the balcony and stepped outside. She sank down on a lounger, safe in her haven, and closed her eyes.
‘Beth?’
Reluctantly she opened her eyes at the sound of her name, and saw Dante walking out of her bedroom on to the balcony, carrying a tray.
She sat up abruptly. ‘What are you doing here? This is my room.’
‘Looking for you. I was under the impression the room you and I shared last Sunday was the master bedroom, but I see I was wrong. This is much larger,’ he said, his dark eyes resting on her.
Beth didn’t need reminding of that day. ‘If you’ve brought me food you can take it away. I’m not hungry and I want to be alone.’
He put the tray down across her knees. ‘What you want and what you need are entirely different,’ he said and, pulling up a lounger, sat down.
‘Now, eat. I am going to sit here until you do.’
Beth looked at the plate of open sandwiches—ham, cheese, egg, tomatoes, salami and prawns, plus a token couple of lettuce leaves. ‘You must have raided the fridge for this lot.’
‘I did—to tempt your tastebuds. In the last twenty-four hours you have been tested to the limit physically and emotionally with the loss of the baby. You need to build up your strength again.’
She picked up an egg sandwich and realised she had not eaten since lunch yesterday. She took a bite and found she could finish it. ‘There’s no need for you to stay. I am eating.’
She glanced up into the black brooding intensity of Dante’s dark eyes without a flicker of emotion in her own.
‘I am staying. Not just to see you eat, but for as long as it takes to make sure you are fully recovered.’
Spoken like the despot he was, Beth thought. But it didn’t bother her. She was immune to him now. And from what she knew of Dante he was not cut out for the quiet life of Faith Cove. He’d be bored out of his mind in a couple of days and would go back to his high-flyin
g life. She’d never see him again.
‘Please yourself. You usually do. As long as you understand you are not sharing my room.’ He didn’t argue and she wasn’t surprised. With no sex available, why would he?
* * *
By Monday morning, when he insisted on going to the hospital with her, Beth was not quite so sure he would leave. He was a good house guest. He cooked—though not very well—he made his bed in his own room, and he had clothes delivered and his laundry collected by a concierge service. Yes, he had a tendency to wrap an arm around her or drop a kiss on her brow, but it had no effect on her.
* * *
Over dinner on Tuesday night Beth had a rude awakening.
Dante was not the most patient of men, and being blanked by Beth for four days was getting to him. When he touched her she was like a block of ice. If he told her to eat, she did. If he suggested a walk, she agreed. Tonight he had cooked spaghetti, one of the few dishes he could make well, and she had sat down like an obedient child. He’d had enough. He wanted the feisty Beth back.
Dante watched her full lips part as she forked food into her mouth and felt the familiar tug of desire. She wore no make-up, her glorious hair was swept severely back from her face—she looked beautiful, but remote.
‘My mother called me today and she sends you her love. She hopes to see us soon. As she missed our wedding, she wants to arrange a post-wedding party for family and friends. I agreed. I think a party will do you good. I have to be in New York next week, probably for three or four weeks, so I suggested mid-November.’
Beth couldn’t believe her ears. ‘A party? No way! We are getting a divorce, remember?’
‘I recall you mentioned divorce, but you were ill so I said nothing.’
The way Dante was looking at her suddenly made Beth feel threatened. He was big and golden, and the dark glitter in his eyes, the slightly predatory curl of his mouth, contained a message she did not want to recognize. She knew she had to tread carefully.
‘But I thought you’d agreed when you didn’t say anything against it?’
The Cost of Her Innocence Page 14
