Desire Has No Mercy (13 page)

'Like a precious painting, my dear? Or a rare porcelain to be handled with care?'

'He certainly didn't treat me like an object to be mauled!'

'
Grazie
.' Rome spoke through gritted teeth. 'All of a sudden, Julia, I have about as much desire for you as for a slice of cold pizza. Have the bed to yourself and your tepid dreams of Wineman. For what it's worth he won't want you now I've had you, no more than he'd want a classical vase with a handle missing.'

Rome swung himself out of bed and the moonlight glimmered on his tall body as he walked towards the door of his dressing-room. The door closed firmly behind him, but it was some moments before Julia stopped trembling from the reaction of their quarrel. Never in her life had she been party to such bitterness; it left her shaken and sick to her stomach, and with a little groan she drew up her legs and lay in a defensive, almost childish attitude.

She couldn't bear Rome to touch her when she hated him so much. He had ruined her chances with Paul… she had wanted the kind of life Paul would have given her; cool, orderly and elegant.

She'd fight Rome all the way for trying to make her his kind of woman when she wanted to be Paul's!

Julia studied herself in the full-length Venetian mirror. She wore white cotton jeans and a bright, scoop-necked shirt that hung outside the jeans. She could no longer zip them up at the waist and had closed the gap as much as possible with a safety pin. Her hair was looped back at her nape in a green ribbon, and in the months she had been at Domani her skin had tanned softly in the Italian sunlight. In contrast to her honeyed skin her eyes were luminously green, and despite the fullness of her body she looked curiously young… more girlish than she had looked before her marriage.

Suddenly through the mirror she saw Lucie enter the bedroom and turned to smile at her. 'My clothes are becoming a problem,' she said. 'Rome filled the wardrobe with smart dresses, but just like a man he forgot that I wouldn't be able to get into them after a while. Do I look awfully fat?'

Lucie ran her eyes over Julia and shook an indulgent head. 'Being like that suits you—yes, it does, miss, so don't pull a face. It's true you don't look so elegant, but you look—wholesome, rather like that bread Cosenza bakes.'

'Thanks very much,' Julia laughed. 'It's nice to know that I'm going around looking like a loaf of bread!'

'It's golden-brown and tasty,' Lucie shook and folded Julia's nightdress, 'and I've seen the
signore
looking at you as if he'd like to take a nice big bite out of you.'

Julia slipped her feet into raffia sandals and bit her lip. She didn't know how much Lucie suspected about her lack of intimate relationship with Rome, and though for the sake of appearance she sometimes thumped a hollow into the pillow next to her own in an attempt to make it look as if he had shared her bed, it had to be obvious to her personal maid that they weren't sleeping together. Julia made the excuse that she was a restless sleeper now she was pregnant and he didn't like the way she fidgeted in the night and preferred his divan in the adjoining room.

Some weeks earlier Lucie had discovered that Julia was going to have his baby, and if she wondered why they were no longer on intimate terms she kept her thoughts discreetly to herself. She did remark that Julia's child looked all set to be spoiled by an indulgent father if the nursery was anything to go by.

The bright airy room Rome had chosen for the nursery had been painted and papered, carpeted in a thick curly floor covering, and a charming suite of infant furniture had been brought by delivery van all the way from Naples. Along with the. furniture had come a stock of toys that would see the child from infancy to the schoolroom. When the train set was unpacked and its tracks laid along the gallery by Rome, Julia just had to remind him that there was no guarantee he was going to have a son.

Sprawled there on the floor admiring the trains, he had glanced up at her, smiling a little, a strand of black hair in his eyes. 'If we have a daughter,' he said, 'then I'll play with the trains myself.'

'You big fool!' Even yet Julia could feel an odd catch in her throat, aware that as a child Rome hadn't known what it was like to own a replica of the Rome Express and a full set of shunting cars. His mother had fed and clothed him and kept him in the best of health, but there had been no money left over for toys, and these that Rome brought with him from Naples were an assurance that his own child wouldn't go short of things to play with.

Now and again she came upon him strolling about in the nursery, looking intensely dark and tall as he handled the soft blankets on the cot and examined the tiny pastel garments in the chest of drawers painted with Beatrix Potter characters from her delightful little books, which were as popular in Italy as they were in America.

As the weeks had progressed Julia's resentment of the baby had lost its edge and she knew that she wanted no harm to befall it. But she still meant to leave Rome. There was no reality to a marriage such as theirs. They had merely struck a bargain and he had to abide by it… he had to release her when the time came so she could try and pick up the threads of the life she really wanted.

Being here at Domani was just a necessary interlude, and these past weeks had shown her that it was the child whom Rome wanted, and loved. It was part of him, part of Italy, and she was merely the alien woman who carried the baby and would eventually give birth to it.

Initial shame and anger had made her believe that she could do something that would destroy the life that was growing in her, but such a thought no longer entered her head. Rome would have his child if all went well, and then their marriage of convenience would be over. He had surely learned that she had no intention of being a physical object in a man's life, and that was all a woman was if the man didn't love her. Marriage meant a companionship of the spirit as well as the body, and she and Rome were like enemies who had agreed to a truce, and that truce wouldn't survive beyond the next few months. Animosity would flare up again if he tried to hold her a prisoner at the villa, using the baby as a weapon at her head.

Julia was concerned that the baby be born whole and healthy, but she couldn't forgive the way Rome had forced her into his arms, making unrestrained love to her, using all his sensual power to make her respond to him, and she couldn't bury deep enough the memory of her body's response to his… a response she had tried so hard to fight as she lay in his arms and was consumed by the demands of the flesh.

Rome had made her have this baby without love, and there was a deep romanticism in Julia which made her cry when she listened to the lyrical music of
La Boheme
or the passionate splendour of
Tristan und Isolde
.

She could hardly bear at times the recollection that Rome had used her for his loveless pleasure… it must never happen again, and so far she had kept him at arm's length and this was probably due to the fact that she was now showing the presence of his baby. When he had desired her at Naples her figure had been slim and lissom, but a man had to be in love with a woman to feel that kind of desire for a body that was being pulled out of shape by a growing infant.

Lucie had just implied that Rome sometimes looked at her as if he'd like to eat her, but Lucie was a woman who devoured romantic novels in bed at night, along with her beloved custard creams, and Julia cynically told herself that what she really saw was an Italian looking with anticipation at the container of his son or daughter. Julia had seen for herself the flick of his eyes over the swell of her body. He couldn't wait, and she sensed it more and more, to hold in his arms what he had made with his big graceful body.

The child would be his assurance that he had a family again, but his interest in herself was no more than skin deep. Julia felt convinced there were other women with whom he satisfied his strong sensual needs, for often he stayed overnight in Naples. Once, rather to her chagrin, she had found herself seeking the tang of perfume on a shirt he had flung down before going to take a bath, but all she had detected on the linen was the aroma of cigar smoke and the healthy sweat from his body.

Rome was shrewd, of course, and Julia told herself that he'd hardly return home wearing a shirt upon which some other woman had left her fragrance. In his apartment above the casino he had clothes and all the comforts of home, and Julia couldn't quite control the images that went through her mind on those nights he spent away from the villa.

'I'm handy with a needle and thread,' said Lucie, breaking in on Julia's thoughts. 'I'll have a look through your wardrobe and see if there are any pleats and seams that I can let out for you. You don't want to go around looking unglamorous. The
signore
won't like that, being such a man of style. I've never seen a man who could wear his clothes so well, and he believes in buying the best, doesn't he?'

'Compensation for a deprived boyhood,' Julia replied. 'From the look of him now I would imagine his mother went without in order to make sure that he was nourished. He does have superb bones and teeth,' she added grudgingly.

'And I expect he's passed those on to the infant,' said Lucie, with a meaning look at Julia's waistline. 'You never say whether you want a boy or a girl, Miss Julia. Haven't you a preference? Some women have quite strong feelings about it. I always remember my sister couldn't stand the thought of having a boy. Her husband used to laugh and say it was that bit extra she'd have to wash if they had a boy.'

'Did it turn out to be a boy?' Julia smiled.

'No, she had a girl. They say if you wish hard enough you get your wish. I bet the
signore
is hoping for a son. Italian men like that, the first time.'

Julia's pulses gave a throb. 'This is the first and last time!' she exclaimed, before she could put a rein on the words.

Lucie gave her a protesting look, and Julia shrugged her shoulders. 'I—I don't like being out of shape,' she said. 'Women don't have hordes of children these days, and I don't think I'm the maternal type.'

'You won't know how you'll be until you have the baby in your arms,' Lucie said reasonably. 'Babies bring love with them.'

'I—I don't want to talk about having it.' Julia pressed a hand to her stomach. 'The queasiness first thing in the morning is bad enough, but it's worn off now and I think I'll go and have some breakfast. I'll be very grateful, Lucie, if you do let out a few dresses for me. Perhaps I can help you?'

'When I remember those grubby, crooked seams you sewed as a child, miss, I think it will be best if I decline your offer. You go and have a nice big breakfast—the
signore
is off on business today, isn't he?'

Julia nodded. 'So he said last night. I expect there's more fun to be had in Naples.'

'I'm sure he'd take you with him if you wanted to go, Miss Julia.'

'You think the sun shines out of him, don't you?' Julia's eyes were suddenly storm-green. 'He certainly has what it takes to make some of you women weak in the head!'

'You're anatomy's all wrong, miss, it's in the knees. And, begging your pardon, you must have lost control of your knees one fine night!'