Swept Away!: Accidentally Expecting! / Salzano's Captive Bride / Hawaiian Sunset, Dream Proposal. Lucy Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ and he knew it. At any moment of the day or night he could collapse without warning. That was the fact he lived with, refused to duck from, even laughed at. That was the quick-step he was dancing with fate.

      Now she understood why he’d gone back into the burning house when anyone wiser would have stayed away. Inwardly he’d been yelling, ‘Go on, then, do your worst!’ to the gremlins who haunted him, trying to scare him, not succeeding.

      If he’d died that day, he’d have called it a blessing compared with the fate he dreaded: permanent disability, being as dependent as a child, pity. To avoid that he would do anything, even walk into the fire.

      This was why he chose light relationships. He couldn’t allow himself to fall in love, nor would he risk a woman falling in love with him. He was at ease with her because she fended him off with laughter and seemed in no danger of serious feelings, which was just what he liked; it was safer for them both.

      But he’d miscalculated, she thought in anguish. The news of his being in danger had brought a rush of emotion to her heart. Deny it though she might, the misery of knowing that he might be brutally snatched from her at any moment was tearing her apart.

      She should fly this place now, run from him while she might still have even a little control over her feelings. Instead she had agreed to stay in his company, to watch over him, vulnerable to his charm which seemed even more potent now that she understood the tragedy that lay behind it.

      She would probably fall in love with him despite her determination not to. And how would she bear what might happen next?

      Flee! said the voice in her mind. Forget what you’ve promised.

      ‘I can’t,’ she whispered, resting her head against a tree.

      To go was to abandon him to whatever was waiting, leave him to face it alone. The fact that he’d chosen it that way would make it no less a betrayal.

      ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘No, no, no!’

      Suddenly she knew she couldn’t keep her promise to Hope. She’d been mad to say yes, and there was still time to put it right. She would hurry back now…

      ‘There you are,’ came Dante’s voice. ‘Why are you hiding?’

      She turned to see him walking towards her. He had the rumpled look of a man who’d recently been asleep.

      ‘I came out for some air,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely out here at night.’

      ‘It is beautiful, isn’t it?’

      He didn’t put his arms about her, but leaned against the tree, regarding her quizzically.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘Yes, fine,’ she said hastily. ‘What about you? How’s your head?’

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with my head. Why do you ask?’

      ‘When you went to bed early, Hope thought—’

      ‘Hope’s a fusspot. My head is fine.’

      Was his voice just a little bit too firm? She shouldn’t have raised the subject. It was a careless mistake, and she must be more careful.

      ‘You can’t blame her for fussing,’ she said lightly. ‘You of all men, going to bed early! What kind of earthquake produced that?’

      ‘I’m probably still suffering a touch of smoke inhalation. Even I’m not superman.’

      ‘Now, there’s an admission!’ she said in as close to a teasing voice as she could manage.

      She longed to take his face between her hands, kiss him tenderly and beg him to look after himself. But anything like that was forbidden. If she stayed she would have to guard every word, watch and protect him in secret, always deceive him. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

      ‘Dante,’ she said helplessly. ‘There’s something I must—’

      ‘Oh yes, you were trying to tell me something this afternoon, weren’t you? And I never gave you the chance. Too full of myself as always. Tell me now.’

      It would have to be faced soon, but before she could speak blessed rescue came in the form of a commotion. Ruggiero’s toddler son, Matti, came flying through the trees as fast as his short legs would carry him. From behind came Ruggiero’s voice, calling to him to come back, which he ignored.

      ‘I used to escape at bedtime just like that,’ Dante said, grinning. ‘Some rotten, spoilsport grown-up always grabbed me.’

      He seized Matti and hoisted the toddler up in his arms, laughing into his face.

      ‘Gotcha! No, don’t kick me. I know how you feel, but it’s bedtime.’

      ‘It was bedtime hours ago,’ Ruggiero said breathlessly, reaching them. ‘Polly looked in on him and he made a run for it.’

      ‘Parents can be a pain in the neck,’ Dante confided to the tot. ‘But sometimes you have to humour them.’

      Reluctantly Matti nodded. Dante grinned and handed the child to his father.

      ‘You really know how to talk to him,’ Ruggiero said. Then, fearing to be thought sentimental, he added, ‘I guess it’s because you’re just a great kid yourself, eh?’

      ‘Could be,’ Dante agreed.

      Ferne, watching from the shadows, thought that there was more to it than a joke. Dante was part-child, part-clown, part-schemer, and part something else that she was just beginning to discover. Whatever it might turn out to be, he was a man who needed her protection. Somewhere in the last few moments the decision had been made.

      ‘Now we’re alone again,’ he said, ‘what were you going to say?’

      Ferne took a deep breath and faced him with a smile.

      ‘Just that I really enjoyed working with you. When do we leave?’

      Be careful what you say in jest: it may return to haunt you.

      That thought pursued Ferne over the next few days.

      She’d teased Dante about being a perfect gentleman at all times, and he’d responded with an encouraging dismay. But as time passed she began to realise that he’d taken her seriously and was being, as he’d promised, ‘just friendly’.

      He bought a car, a solid, roomy vehicle designed for serious travel, and quite unlike the frivolous choice she might once have expected him to make. They headed south to Calabria, the rugged, mountainous territory at the toe of the Italian peninsular. One of Dante’s techniques was to seek out places that had been on the market for a long time and offer his services.

      ‘There are three villas there that my research tells me have been for sale too long,’ he said. ‘Let’s try our luck.’

      Their luck was in. The owners were getting desperate and were eager for Dante to add their properties to his books. They spent several days working up a sales pitch СКАЧАТЬ