Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender: Seducing His Enemy's Daughter / Surrendering to the Vengeful Italian / Soldier Under Siege. Annie West

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СКАЧАТЬ She’d begun to believe they shared something more profound than incendiary sex. Clearly she’d fooled herself.

      ‘Wait!’ A hand on her arm halted her.

      Ella looked at his fingers loosely circling her flesh. Even that was enough to send a zing of anticipation through her. Her body had never got the message that Donato wasn’t to be trusted.

      ‘I’ll make a deal with you.’ His hand slid up her arm in a caress. She swallowed. She wouldn’t let him seduce her again. ‘I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine. Truthfully.’

      ‘I don’t lie.’ She drew herself up.

      ‘But there are things you’d rather not discuss.’

      He was going to ask about her father and his business. It had to be that because that was Donato’s real focus, the reason he’d taken an interest in her.

      Hurt blossomed. But Ella was a big girl. She could cope. She could juggle the need to protect her family and her attraction to Donato.

      Still holding her arm, he moved to lean back against the trunk of a massive tree. Before she could protest he pulled her against him, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, her bottom tucked between his legs.

      ‘No, don’t move.’ His voice was a soft burr, feathering her ear. ‘Just relax.’

      Being held felt so good, the solidity of Donato’s body at her back, his arms holding her. Ella gave up and let her head sink against his collarbone. She stared out at the greenery screening them from the rest of the garden.

      ‘The garden didn’t belong to my mother,’ Donato said. ‘She knew as little about growing things as I did. It was Jack’s.’

      ‘Your father’s?’

      Donato didn’t move. His heart beat steadily behind her. Yet something stirred—a change in his breathing? A feeling of wariness?

      ‘I didn’t know my father. Jack became my mother’s partner when I was six.’

      ‘Your stepfather then.’

      Donato slid his fingers through hers and stroked the palm of her hand. ‘No. He never thought of himself as my stepfather.’

      Ella frowned. There was something so...guarded about the way he spoke.

      Of course there was! He was the most self-contained person she knew. Yet something niggled. She’d expected more warmth in his voice over a childhood reminiscence. But then, most of her childhood memories were less than happy. Had it been like that for Donato too?

      ‘He was abusive?’

      ‘Jack was decent in his own way. He just wasn’t interested in kids. All he cared about was my mother.’ Now there was a shift in his voice, a depth of feeling he didn’t bother to hide. ‘He put me to work as soon as we moved in with him—set me to weeding while he began extending the vegetable patch since it had to feed three instead of one.’

      A muffled laugh rumbled up from behind her. She felt as well as heard it.

      ‘What’s so funny?’ Being dependent on the food you grew was no laughing matter.

      ‘I was determined to do a good job, impress him so he wouldn’t kick us out. By the time he’d turned back to check on me I’d ripped out half his precious seedlings and he treated me to some curses even I hadn’t heard before.’

      Ella watched a pair of crimson rosellas land in the tree before them, quietly chattering. But her thoughts were on Donato at six, convinced he had to work hard so as not to be kicked out. A child surprised to hear swearing that was new. What sort of life had he led?

      Her hands tightened on his. ‘Is that all he did?’

      ‘He made me replant everything I’d pulled out. Then he gave us both a lesson in plant recognition. Neither of us knew a tomato plant from a potato or a bean.’

      ‘So your mother was city bred too?’

      ‘That’s more than one question.’ He sounded relaxed but, pressed against him, Ella felt the infinitesimal tightening of his muscles. ‘It’s my turn.’

      ‘Okay.’ She braced herself for a probing question about her father’s business or ethics. That was what he’d want to know. That was why he’d demanded honesty.

      ‘Tell me about your job.’

      ‘Sorry?’ She turned her head but the curve of his shoulder and encircling arm stopped her seeing his face.

      ‘I want to know what work you do. It’s no use pretending you’re like your sister, living off Daddy’s money and drifting from one amusement to another.’

      ‘I never implied I did!’

      ‘I asked upfront how important your father’s money was to you—whether it supported you—and you didn’t correct me.’

      Ella remembered that conversation the night they’d met. She’d been out of her depth, fighting not to show it. She’d been furious and combative. Later she’d revealed as little as possible about her life. It was her only defence against the feeling Donato was taking over her world.

      ‘I’m a nurse.’

      ‘Ah.’ His slow exhalation of breath stirred her hair. ‘Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?’

      Here it comes. She’d heard it all from her father. Everything from the dowdy uniform to the unglamorous nature of the job and the low pay.

      ‘I have no idea. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’ Ella tried to pull away, but Donato’s seemingly lazy hold kept her hard against him.

      ‘Now, Ella, there’s no need to get annoyed.’ His lips brushed her hair. ‘I hadn’t guessed but it makes sense.’

      ‘Do tell.’ She gritted her teeth. In her family circle, nurses didn’t exist. Careers were high profile or highly paid, preferably both. Emptying bedpans or cleaning wounds was just too nose-wrinklingly real.

      ‘You’re so assured. Nothing fazes you.’ He stroked a finger along one bare arm, drawing her skin into feathery lines of goose bumps. ‘You get angry and you’re deeply passionate, but I can’t imagine you panicking.’

      ‘Assured?’ Ella stared at the bright birds in the tree as if she’d never seen them before. She was competent and confident in her work but she didn’t feel assured with Donato. He kept her off balance.

      A chuckle rose in his deep chest and vibrated through her. ‘Absolutely. You put me in my place from the first. But you weren’t patronising in that socially superior way. You weren’t a snob. You just said it like it was.’

      ‘I’m practical.’ Her father had used that word like an insult.

      ‘Just like every nurse I’ve met.’

      ‘You’ve met a few?’ She thought of that old scar on his cheek and the others on his ribs.

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