by Penny Jordan
Annie was outraged. Outraged and—although she was reluctant to admit it—hurt, as well.
‘Just because the kind of women you favour—just because your…your girlfriend dresses in fashionable designer clothes—that doesn’t mean—’
‘I do not have a girlfriend.’ Falcon stopped Annie’s outburst in mid-flow.
He didn’t have a girlfriend? Why was she suddenly feeling oddly light-headed, almost pleased? She wasn’t. At least not because Falcon didn’t have a girlfriend.
‘The summer heat in Sicily is such that it will be impossible for you to dress as you are dressed now and be comfortable. Sicily’s young women go bare-legged in the summer, and wear sleeveless tops.’
‘They may do as they wish, but I prefer to wear clothes that are not revealing and do not draw attention to me.’
‘To wear clothes as inappropriate as the ones you have on now will draw attention to you. So maybe secretly, for all that you deny it, that is what you want?’
‘No. That’s not true. It isn’t true at all. The last thing I want is for men to look at me.’
Annie stood up as she spoke, so agitated and upset that all she could do was look wildly around for an escape.
Falcon hadn’t meant to provoke such an extreme reaction. And so far as he knew he hadn’t said anything about his own sex looking at her. But she was trembling from head to foot, her eyes huge in her delicately shaped face—huge, and haunted with something that looked like fear.
‘I didn’t intend to imply that you are deliberately courting male attention,’ he tried to assure her, but Annie shook her head.
‘Yes, you did. I suppose you think secretly that I encouraged Antonio—that I deserved what happened to me?’
The words were bursting out of her now, like poison from a deep wound. The sound of her pain filled him with pity for her, awakening his own deep-rooted sense of responsibility towards the vulnerable, honed during the years of his youth, when he had tried to protect his younger brothers from the results of their father’s lack of love for them.
He stood up himself.
‘I think no such thing. I know that you were totally blameless.’
He had her attention now. Her lips parted and the hot pain died out of her gaze.
‘You…’ Annie gasped as the plane was suddenly buffeted by turbulence, throwing her off balance.
Falcon caught her as she stumbled and fell against his body, her cheek pressed against the pristine cotton of his shirt whilst his arms wrapped tightly around her. She could feel the strong, even beat of his heart. Her own pulse was racing ahead of it, fuelled by a mixture of panic and shock. She was feeling light-headed again, Annie acknowledged dizzily. It must be something to do with the atmosphere in the cabin—not enough oxygen or something…Or something? Perhaps something such as too much proximity to a certain man? He was wearing the same cologne he had been wearing before, its scent slightly stronger this time, because she was closer to his body.
Something kicked through her lower body. Shame, of course; it had to be that. She wasn’t allowed to feel anything other than shame in a man’s arms. She knew that. Her body shuddered and the arms holding her tightened around her.
‘It’s all right, keep still. It’s only a bit of turbulence.’
It took her several seconds to recognise that the turbulence to which Falcon was referring as he murmured those words against her ear was outside the plane and not inside her body.
It was only natural that she should be wary of men, given what had happened, Falcon acknowledged. She needed his reassurance and his protection; she needed to feel safe so that she could enjoy her womanhood and her beauty. And he would provide her with that reassurance—just as he would provide Oliver with a secure home, and just as he had tried to provide his brothers with a strong protector. The instinct to give his protection to others was a deeply embedded part of his character and his destiny.
What must it be like to know that when a man’s arms enfolded you like this you were safe and you could trust him? What was it like to lean your head against a man’s chest and know that your vulnerability would be respected and your need answered?
Just for a second Annie allowed herself to let those questions into her thoughts—let her own response to them into her heart. Such a storm of unfamiliar feelings was surging through her, and at such a pace, that she felt too weak to move away. Something within her that was stronger than her learned fear, some deeply buried instinct, was pushing small, exploratory tendrils of new emotion and sensation through her fear with an unexpectedly powerful urgency, carrying to her feelings and needs within herself she didn’t recognise. The urge to turn her head and breathe in the scent of Falcon’s skin; the heavy pounding of her heart that did not have any association with fear; the aching urgency that seemed to have infiltrated and permeated every part of her body right down to its most intimate core. All of those things were new to her—and yet somehow known to her, as well.
The plane had levelled off and was flying smoothly again.
Ollie woke up and gave a small cry.
Brought back to reality, Annie tried to wrench herself out of Falcon’s hold. She was trembling violently, fear of her own reaction to him darkening her eyes.
Seeing that fear, and mistaking the cause of it, Falcon asked in disbelief, ‘You are afraid of me?’
Annie couldn’t speak. Guilt and shame gripped her.
‘This is what Antonio has done to you, isn’t it?’ Falcon demanded. ‘He has left you with a fear of all men.’
Annie couldn’t look at him.
‘You have nothing to fear from me,’ Falcon told her gently as he released her. ‘I give you my word on that, and I give you my word that in Sicily, on Leopardi land, you will be treated only with respect.’
Should she believe him and trust him? She wanted to. Just as she had wanted him to go on holding her? Guilt burned through her. No! That was not true. She had not wanted that. She had not been in danger of shaming herself by behaving provocatively.
Panic flared through her and her hands trembled as she reached for Ollie.
Silently Falcon watched her. She had felt so vulnerable in his arms. And it was because he had recognised that vulnerability and had wanted to reassure her that he had wanted to go on holding her. Nothing more.
Antonio had damaged her very badly. Like a small bird with a broken wing, she needed protection until she was fully recovered and able to fly once again.
He had thought originally that his only duty was to her child, but he had been wrong; he realised that now. She was just as in need of his care in her own way as her son. Now that he was aware of it he could not ignore that fact.
He had a duty of care towards her, and he would fulfil that duty. No matter what.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE heat of the Sicilian night wrapped round them like a moist blanket when they left the plane, and by the time they reached the waiting car Annie, in her heavy clothes, was drenched with perspiration.
‘Rocco.’ Falcon greeted the brother who was waiting for them with obvious affection and warmth, and the two men exchanged fierce hugs before Falcon somehow managed to catch hold of her arm before she could stop him, to draw her forward to be introduced to the tall, good-looking man standing alongside the waiting Mercedes.
She expected him to shake her hand, but instead he hugged her, enveloping her in an embrace which oddly did not have anything like the effect on her that being held by Falcon had.
He then admired Ollie, picking him up out of his buggy with such obvious expertise that all Annie’s maternal fears were immediately soothed. He made her son smile widely as he held him high in the air with an expert male care that said that Rocco was familiar with the needs of a young child.
‘He is a true Leopardi,’ she heard Falcon saying as proudly as though Oliver was his, whilst his brother laughed and teased him.
‘I can see that he has your eyes, brother.’
Somehow it was Falcon
who took charge of Ollie when they got into the car, fastening him into the waiting baby seat whilst he made conversation with his brother.
The road to the castello was dark and winding—in contrast with the castello itself which was ablaze with lights.
‘My wife is very anxious to meet you and welcome you,’ Rocco told Annie before she got out of the car. ‘She wanted to come with me tonight, but Falcon forbade it because he thought you would be too tired. She will be calling to see you tomorrow, though, and I dare say bringing our little one with her.’
He then kissed Ollie soundly on the forehead and gave him a firm hug, before passing him to Falcon who fastened him in his buggy whilst two men removed the cases from the back of the car.
She was then swept inside the castello and introduced to the housekeeper and two very young maids.
She had learned during the drive from the plane that Rocco and his wife lived in a villa some miles away from the castello, and that Rocco was a property developer, who travelled a great deal with his work, whilst Falcon’s middle brother owned an airline. He apparently had his own apartment within the castello, but spent most of his time in Florence, which was where his business was based. What had surprised her most was learning that Falcon too had business interests independent of his responsibilities as his father’s heir. He was an architect and conservation expert, who also had a home in Florence, as well as his own wing of the castello.
‘So you don’t live here all the time?’ she questioned him now they were inside.
‘Not normally, but you need not fear that I shall abandon you and Oliver.’
‘I wasn’t thinking that,’ Annie lied. She didn’t want him thinking that she needed him, because then he might start thinking that she had a personal interest in him—and she didn’t.
‘Maria has prepared rooms for you both,’ Falcon told her, ignoring her fib. ‘She will show you to them now.’
It was late, and she was tired—so tired that the minute she saw the huge, comfortable looking bed in the bedroom Maria took her to all she wanted to do was lie down on it.
She was a mother, though, with responsibilities. Although one brief look was enough to reassure her that the room into which her bedroom opened, which had clearly been turned into a nursery, was expertly quipped with everything Ollie could possibly need—including facilities for making and heating Oliver’s bottle.
‘The wife of the signore—she choose everything,’ Maria told her in broken English.
‘The signore?’ Annie queried uncertainly, whilst trying not to look too yearningly at the waiting bed.
‘Sí. The signore who is the brother of Signor Falcon. She will come tomorrow to see you.’
Maria must be referring to Rocco’s wife, Annie recognised.
She woke up to find that someone must have come into the room earlier and left her a breakfast tray, with coffee and fruit and soft breads. They had also pulled back the curtains to allow the most glorious sunshine to stream into the room.
She got out of bed, wrapping herself in the towelling robe she had found in the bathroom the previous night, and went first to check on Ollie who was lying happily in his cot, watching the mobile hanging above his head.
She then poured herself a cup of coffee, drinking it with one eye on the open door to the nursery and the other on the view from the elegant French windows of her room, which opened on to a balcony large enough to contain a small table and two chairs, protected by railings high enough to make it safe for Ollie.
Already it was hot. The sky was a brilliant matt blue and the realisation that she could see the sea beyond the walls of the castello thrilled her with delight. Directly below the balcony were formal gardens enclosed by ancient walls over which roses climbed and tumbled. In the distance, beyond the walled garden, jagged mountain peaks rose up to meet the sky, their lower slopes cloaked in what looked like olive groves.
She could hear Ollie gurgling to himself. Finishing her coffee, she started to smile. It would be wonderful to be free to be with him and enjoy his every small development. He had loved nursery, but she had envied the nursery carers. She just hoped he wouldn’t miss his little companions too much.
An hour later, with Ollie bathed, changed, fed and dressed and safely in his playpen, she went to get dressed herself. Her confusion when she couldn’t find the clothes she had been wearing when she had arrived at the castello last night turned to suspicion and then an anger so intense that it made her shake from head to foot. She discovered that not only were last night’s clothes missing, but that the suitcase containing the rest of her own things was missing, as well.
Her clothes had gone. Taken away, no doubt, on Falcon’s orders, so that she would be forced to wear the clothes he had bought for her—clothes which he deemed more suitable and which—surprise, surprise—were not missing.
She would not have his choice imposed on her. She would not be bullied and controlled. But she had no option other than to wear one of the new outfits or remain in her bedroom, since she most certainly could not go downstairs wearing a bathrobe.
She could not bear to look at herself. She would not look at herself, Annie decided as she tugged up the zip of a pair of cotton Capri pants and slid her bare feet into a pair of pretty flat shoes. At least she’d managed to find a long-sleeved cotton wrap to wear over the strappy top she’d been forced to wear. Against her will she caught sight of her pale skin, its paleness making it look very bare.
Picking up Ollie, she hurried towards the bedroom door.
She was not going to put up with being controlled like this—and the minute she found Falcon she was going to tell him so.
The castello seemed to be a warren of long corridors, and she had been too tired last night to pay much attention when Maria had shown her upstairs to her room. When she had still not found the stairs, after traversing what felt like miles of corridors that led to dead ends, Annie was beginning to panic—until she turned a corner to find that she had finally reached a large landing from which the stairs swept downwards into an imposing hallway.
She was just about to go down when a door opened further along the landing and Falcon came out.
‘I want my own clothes back,’ Annie told him angrily, before he could speak. ‘I suppose you thought you were being very clever, arranging for them to be taken away, knowing that I’d be forced to wear what you bought me. But—’
‘Your clothes are missing? The ones you arrived in?’
Annie had to fight to suppress a desire to grind her teeth.
‘You know perfectly well they are—and my case, as well. You are the one who arranged for them to be taken, You, after all, are the Leopardi heir.’
Ignoring her sarcasm, Falcon held out his hands for Ollie.
‘You are wrong in your accusations. I have given no orders concerning your clothes whatsoever. Nor would I do. Personally I think that you will be far more comfortable in what you are wearing now, but the right of choice is yours. However, I think I know what may have happened to those you were wearing. Although, I have no knowledge of the whereabouts of your case. Come with me, please.’
Somehow or other he had managed to take Ollie from her, despite the fact that she had not intended to allow him to do so. Ollie certainly didn’t seem to mind, beaming delightedly at his new relative and chattering away to him in his own brand of baby talk as Falcon strode down the stairs and across the hallway, leaving Annie to hurry to catch up with him.
From the hall he led her through several overpoweringly formal reception rooms, furnished with what Annie guessed must be priceless antiques, finally coming to a halt in a more comfortable-looking room where Maria was overseeing one of the maids.
The minute the housekeeper saw Ollie she beamed at him, and then greeted Annie herself.
‘Annie wishes to know what has happened to the clothes she arrived in last night,’ Falcon told Maria, speaking slowly and carefully in English.
Maria beamed Annie a wide smile.
‘I take them and put them in the machine,’ she told her with delight. ‘You like coffee now? And some food?’
‘We’ll have coffee on the terrace, thank you, Maria,’ Falcon answered. ‘Oh—and you had better bring extra cups for Rocco and his wife. They should be joining us soon.’
‘You will have to blame my sisters-in-law for the absence of your clothes,’ Falcon told Annie as soon as Maria and the maid had left. ‘They insisted on revamping the castello’s kitchens, with the result that Maria cannot resist using the new washing machine, on the slightest excuse. As for your case—I shall make further enquiries.’
Annie felt mortified. It was blindingly obvious that she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to start thinking she was paranoid. Despite the fact that the interior of the castello was a comfortable temperature, Annie could feel perspiration breaking out on her skin. The last thing she wanted was him asking questions about her reaction to the absence of her own clothes.
‘I must apologise—’ she began stiffly.
Falcon shook his head to stop her continuing.
‘There is no need,’ he told her. ‘The fault is mine, in that I obviously made you feel under pressure with advice that was unsolicited.’
Annie was so astonished by his admission that she looked up at him, her gaze mutely questioning his in an act of openness that was so alien to her that the realisation of what she was doing caught at her breath. Allowing him to see what she was thinking, allowing herself to be vulnerable—these were acts she had thought she had trained herself not to risk a long time ago.
‘Until they married, and I relinquished what I’d believed was my responsibility for their emotional well-being, my brothers berated me for my over-developed big brother concern for them. It was a habit I had fallen into when they were young, when the three of us were vulnerable to the moods of a stepmother who resented us and a father who did not care. If I sound self-pitying, that is not my intention. My brothers and I have led and continue to lead privileged lives.
