‘What are you talking about?’ Strings cut, her legs remembered what they were there for and she walked towards the small circular table by the bay window, which overlooked the swathes of grapevines.
It was the most relaxing view she had ever had. The sea, in all its glory, was fascinating and ever changing, roaring with black anger one minute, as flat and as calm as a sheet of glass the next. But this was so still, so perfectly peaceful.
It was a reminder of just why she had always craved escape from the narrow confines of her life. To taste all the different things the world had to offer. It was unfortunate that her first taste had been offered to her in the way it had.
She looked at him with guarded eyes as he sat opposite her with a plate of breads and cheese. It was a small table. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted.
‘Sylviana reported back to me, as duly requested.’
‘You’re now spying on my eating habits?’
‘You’re carrying my baby. Everything you do now is of importance to me.’ He paused and looked at her, taking everything in. Luca wasn’t a fool. He knew he had to tread gently, manoeuvre the situation with the agility and expertise of someone navigating a minefield.
She wasn’t like any other woman he had ever known. She was like quicksilver. Money didn’t interest her, which was something he had found incredibly appealing and frankly still did, it would seem. She had laughed off his marriage proposal because love wasn’t on the table. Cold logic dictated that he pay close attention to that line of reasoning. Women always wanted more than he was prepared to give on the emotional front and, even though she had made it perfectly clear that she had never seen them as anything other than a couple of people who’d had a bit of fun, an enjoyable no-strings fling that had escalated into the unthinkable because of the pregnancy...who knew...?
Was the silent rider to his proposal that she would accept if there was a courtship involved? Did she think that the only way for them to have a permanent relationship would be if they aimed for the fairy-tale ending where he looked soulfully into her eyes and promised her the earth? Did she secretly crave what every other woman craved, aside from Isabella, which was what had made her so suitable a marriage prospect? That gradual breaking down of all defences until you were left as raw, vulnerable and exposed as a mollusc without its shell?
It wasn’t going to happen and Luca knew that he had to work his way carefully around that while still getting her on board with the marriage idea, because married they were going to be.
His eyes lingered for a few seconds on her and he found himself staring.
That face of hers. Strong-boned, free of make-up, healthy and without artifice. Her hair was plaited. Just the one plait, which she had dragged over her shoulder. The vibrancy of her blonde hair stood out even more over here in a country where most of the women were brunettes.
He felt his pulse pick up speed and a dragging in his groin. He’d spent the night thinking of her, working out a future that he hadn’t bargained for. He’d thought of her and had felt the same ache, reminding him that his libido was all present and intact and had not been sated since he had last slept with the woman now carefully working her way through the various fresh breads she had taken. He’d had a lot on his plate workwise and, with Isabella looming on the horizon, he had not been tempted to immerse himself in any kind of dating scene.
Marriage, he reflected, was not going to be all bad. They would naturally share a bed and, while love in all its nauseating complications wouldn’t be part of the equation, sex most definitely was going to be on the menu, and the menu looked very tempting from where he was sitting.
But, he reminded himself with baffled frustration, nothing was going to be on any agenda until vows had been exchanged. Right now, he would do well to keep her at arm’s length until the details had been sorted.
‘I have already apprised my father of the situation.’
Cordelia looked at him in consternation. ‘He must have been devastated. All those plans made...’ The enormity of what Luca was prepared to sacrifice for her made her suddenly uncomfortable with her stubborn refusal to play ball. Her head was pointing her in one direction but her heart...what it wanted...
‘Have you decided when you will tell your father?’
Cordelia shifted uneasily. Would a simple ‘No’ sound too abrupt? It was so complicated, but then she thought of arrangements made from birth, a marriage understood, a future planned, the twinning of great fortunes and everything that came with that...all gone in a whoosh. For Luca, there would be devastation all round and not just for him, but for everyone associated with a marriage that would now never happen.
To his credit, he hadn’t raged and stormed and if he’d used the vocabulary of shock, then who could blame him? He certainly didn’t seem to be dwelling on the downsides of the situation and she could only reluctantly admire him for that.
‘I plan on phoning him later...’ she said vaguely.
‘But you’re not sure.’
‘He needs to find out, of course he does.’
Luca sat back and looked at her thoughtfully, gauging the atmosphere, his antennae picking up on things that weren’t being said, sensing her doubts and confusion and sympathetically understanding the reason behind them.
She was an innocent. She didn’t have the tools at her disposal to deal with some of the things life decided to throw at you. He did. He knew the value of working with what couldn’t be changed and then adding the upsides to the situation. It was the difference between winners and losers and he had always been a winner.
He
