Husband By Contract. HELEN BROOKS

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СКАЧАТЬ than Grace the two girls had never become friends, Bianca’s jealousy and bitterness at Grace’s popularity within the family remaining despite all Grace’s efforts to win the beautiful Italian girl over. Bianca had particularly resented Grace’s closeness to little Lorenzo, the youngest member of the Vittoria family, who had been something of a miracle baby, his parents having been told at Donato’s birth that no more children were possible. He had adored Grace with the devotion of a small puppy and she had loved him right back.

      ‘There was no problem at your hasty departure?’ Donato’s cool, deep voice broke into her thoughts of Lorenzo and brought her eyes to his dark profile. For a moment she thought he was referring to that other soul-searing time, so firmly had her mind retreated into the past, but then realisation dawned.

      ‘No.’ She quickly lowered her gaze; the hard-boned male face with its strong classical features and firm, sensual mouth still possessed a magnetism that was unnerving. ‘Everyone was very understanding,’ she said quietly.

      ‘And Dr Penn? He too was...very understanding?’ Donato asked expressionlessly without turning to glance her way.

      ‘Jim? Yes, of course; I’ve said, haven’t I? Everyone was very sympathetic...’ Her voice trailed away and she raised her eyes to his face again but the cold façade was blank, no emotion in the stony features as he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

      She didn’t ask how he knew the individual doctors’ names; no doubt his source had been very thorough, she thought tightly, but why pick Jim Penn out for special mention above the other three doctors at the busy surgery?

      ‘This is good.’ Donato’s voice was smooth, too smooth, and now he turned to her slowly, his dark eyes flashing over her pale face and his mouth twisting in a smile that was no smile at all. ‘I’m sure you will be greatly missed.’

      ‘I doubt it, not in a week.’ There was something here she didn’t understand, another undercurrent flowing into the dark, turbulent river that made up her relationship with the Vittorias—and one Vittoria in particular. ‘There’s another girl, Claire, a friend of mine, and she is very efficient.’

      ‘I was not talking about efficiency,’ he said softly, ‘but being missed.’

      She stared at him for a moment, her eyes wary, before saying, ‘Now look, Donato, I told you I’m not into playing games—’

      ‘And I am not into the game-playing either,’ he bit out savagely, all pretence at coolness gone. ‘Have you forgotten Lorenzo, Grace—have you? Because I can assure you the child has not forgotten you! Since my mother’s death it is your name that is constantly on his lips, your love that he is crying for as he refuses all comfort and solace. He was devastated when you left a year ago—’

      ‘Don’t you dare blame that on me,’ she spat angrily. ‘You know why I left; you made it impossible for me to stay.’

      ‘You did what you wanted to do.’ He had immediately regained control of himself, his voice icy and his face cold and blank. ‘You did not think it fitting to discuss your departure with me first; you simply walked away, did you not?’

      ‘You could have followed me,’ she said tightly, and it wasn’t until she said the words, voicing them aloud for the first time, that she realised she had never expected that he would do anything else but come after her, not in her heart of hearts. But he hadn’t. And the days had turned into weeks and the weeks into months and she had slowly died inside, the bitterness of his betrayal on top of everything else she had endured turning her love to ashes.

      ‘To do what?’ he asked flatly. ‘To begin once again the endless quarrels, the pain, the suffering? I thought you had suffered enough, that you wanted peace.’

      ‘I did; I do.’ He had cared so little that he had just let her go. The knowledge beat against her brain, making her voice die and her body go limp. And even now the telegram, the request that she attend Liliana’s funeral, had not been sent to her because he wanted to see her, because there was any faint spark of the love they had once shared left in that cold, cold heart. Lorenzo was upset and Donato had thought the boy would be comforted by her presence. It was as simple as that. Oh, she hated him—she did; she loathed, detested, hated him...

      The rest of the journey—along winding roads which passed small villages spangled and pretty in the afternoon sun—was completed without further conversation, the atmosphere in the car thick and heavy and taut with a thousand words best left unsaid.

      Grace felt ill with the raw emotion that had taken hold of her and was shocked beyond measure to find that Donato could still affect her so violently. She had hoped, wanted, needed to find herself immune to him, to have the assurance that that stage of her life—the Donato stage—was over and done with, that the post-mortems were finally completed. Indifference...that was what she had prayed for; she had wanted to be dispassionate and distant, unmoved by hatred and resentment and bitterness, at long last able to put the past to rest.

      But now the instigator of all her pain was getting in the way... But no, that wasn’t quite fair, she corrected herself silently. They had been happy once, before—

      Her mind slammed to a halt, recognising its own frailty. She couldn’t think of it now; she would break down in front of him and that would be the final humiliation. One minute, one hour, one day at a time; that was what she had told herself all those many, many months ago, and when she managed to keep to that she got through—just.

      Nevertheless, as the powerful car ate up the miles and they entered the narrow streets of Sorrento she knew where her first visit had to be; she was being pulled there by something stronger than herself. The scent of lemon groves hung heavy in the air as they climbed into the hills towards Casa Pontina, and when they passed through the large wrought-iron gates into the Vittoria estate she found she was on the edge of her seat.

      ‘Can...can we go to the walled garden?’ Her voice was the merest whisper but he heard it, his head shooting round and his piercing black eyes fastening on her face.

      ‘I do not think this would be a good idea,’ he said quietly. ‘You are tired from the journey and Lorenzo is waiting—’

      ‘I don’t care.’ She glanced at him once before staring fixedly ahead again, but such was the look on her face that he said no more to her, leaning forward and sliding the glass partition aside before giving an order in swift Italian to Antonio.

      The Vittoria gardens were huge, bursting with tropical trees and shrubs, cascade upon cascade of sweet-smelling flowers, smooth green lawns, hidden bowers and a fine orchard where orange, apricot, olive, almond, fig and banana trees all lived in harmony, but it was to the tiny, shadow-blotched walled garden that Antonio drove, its ancient walls mellow and sun-soaked and protected by a huge evergreen oak that provided welcome shade in the height of summer.

      ‘Grace?’ Donato caught her arm as she went to move past him after leaving the car, turning her to face him. ‘Would this not be better tomorrow?’ he asked softly, his eyes intent on hers.

      ‘Lorenzo won’t mind waiting a few minutes more—’

      ‘I was not thinking of Lorenzo.’ His voice had been too harsh and he took a deep breath before he spoke again. ‘I was thinking of you,’ he said flatly.

      But she didn’t hear him, her eyes, mind and soul fixed on the high wooden gate at the top of the long slope that led from the drive, remembering how it had been that day in June, nearly two years ago, when she had been demented with grief.

      Donato СКАЧАТЬ