Desire Has No Mercy (5 page)

'
Grazie
.' He inclined his handsome head, his lashes still dark across the centres of his eyes. 'With a shrew for a mother and a brute for a father the pair of us can expect to have a charming infant!'

'It's your fault there's to be an infant at all,' she rejoined bitterly. 'Nothing could be harder to bear than having your child inside me. A child should be made with love, and this one is already branded with hate.'

'Not mine,' he said quickly. 'It wasn't one of the worst experiences of my life, having you in my arms. You're very lovely—'

'For God's sake stop it!' She flung a hand over her eyes and turned her head away from him, gazing out blindly at the sheer white clouds bouncing by in a sky of incredible blueness. The plane dropped a little, then rose again and her stomach heaved. No… no, she mustn't be sick. Not in front of Rome. It was bad enough that she felt so queasy when she first woke up, the physical proof that she was bearing his child, so mortifying when she looked in the mirror and saw her own pallor and the tiny beads of sweat on her skin. And there would be more to suffer! Her body would fill out and grow heavy, and that unwanted burden inside her would sap her energy and take the youthful spring out of her walk and the lustre out of her hair. She would look horrible, and then would come the painful, sweating business of giving birth!

A shudder went through her body. It would be different if she wanted the baby… if she loved the man who had given it to her. 'Are you feeling all right?' His fingers closed upon her arm. 'Come, Julia, if you wish to be sick—'

'Shut up and go to hell!' she said fiercely, pulling free of his touch. 'I don't want you or your concern. Leave me alone!'

'You know I can't do that, so don't be childish, Julia. What has to be, will be, and we have to make the best of it.'

'All right for you, Rome. Your body hasn't been violated!'

'
Santo Dio
, do you have to say such things?'

'Do they hurt, Rome?' She turned to look at him curiously. 'Can you actually feel them pricking your insensitive skin? I'd never stop saying them if I thought that was possible. It would be a gratifying way to pass the time I must spend with you.'

'I won't take too much goading,' he warned her. 'Push me too far and you already know what happens.'

'Yes, Rome, you use brute force. I imagine it's in you. The Romans were never very gentle, were they? Look what they did to the Sabine women, not to mention those poor devils they fed to the lions. Isn't it true that we are what our forebears have been?'

'No doubt the Van Holdens kept slaves for years,' he said sarcastically. 'Your grandmother certainly took it for granted that other people were around to take her orders. But maybe you wouldn't be aware of that. She obviously spoiled you and your sister and turned the pair of you into pretty little dolls, too rare -to be touched by human hands. I remember the boys at your sister's party, wearing kid gloves to handle the little girls in their satin dresses. Kids who grow up thinking there are two types of women, those they must treat like art objects, and those they pay for an hour's fun.'

'You'd know all about that, no doubt,' Julia said coldly.

'On the contrary,' he gave a soft laugh, 'I've never had to pay a woman.'

'How flattering for your ego!'

'No, my dear, I flatter women by treating them as such. I wouldn't insult them by presuming they have feelings as fragile as glass, and that only the male of the species has senses that can give him pleasure. That's why the girls of your class develop into dissatisfied harridans, it's because they've never known what it feels like to be treated as sensual women, with desires that need the human touch. They become brides in clouds of lace and silk, and then are initiated into wifehood with swift cool politeness by a bridegroom who believes that if his bride has social pedigree then she has no sex.'

Rome lit one of his dark Italian cigars and quirked an eyebrow at her. Julia knew what he meant… to him all women were the same, whether from her background or the backstreets of Naples. He had never treated any of them with swift cool politeness when he took them in his arms.

'You're quite the Lothario, aren't you?' she said, a certain fine disdain showing on her face. 'I prefer a man who has more of an objective in life than proving his machismo at every opportunity.'

'Like strolling around art galleries and writing literate pieces for the art magazines?' he drawled. 'I doubt if even you, my dear, would have found that very thrilling after a while.'

'What do you mean?' she asked. 'I enjoyed my work and people I met in the course of it—'

'Wineman the art critic in particular, eh? What does it feel like to be kissed by someone who looks as if he has pale blue ink in his veins?'

'Paul isn't the sort who grabs hold of a woman and forces himself upon her. He's a gentleman—and if you don't mind I'd like to change the subject. I find it offensive discussing my good friends with you.'

'You're a bit of a snob, Julia, but that's to be expected when you grew up in the care of a woman like Blanche Van Holden. It's a wonder she didn't ruin you entirely.'

'She left that to you,' Julia retorted. 'If anyone has had a bad effect on my character, then it's you, Rome. I never knew I had an edge to my temper until I met you.'

'Temper in a woman is like garlic in food, fine so long as there isn't too much of it.' His eyes were amused through the smoke of his cigar. 'I think I'm able to control your temper,
carina
. If it gets too shrewish, then I'll put you over my knee and apply a little paddling to your backside.'

'You wouldn't dare,' she gasped. 'Don't forget—'

The smile in his eyes deepened at the way she bit her lip, the colour rising from the neck opening of her blouse to the smooth curve of her cheekbones.

'Pregnant women aren't all that fragile until the final few weeks,' he said. 'I have a stretch of beach at Domani and you'll be able to swim, and I daresay ride. You're a very fit girl. Most of the activities of a bride will be within your scope, so there should be no need for either of us to feel deprived.'

Julia felt an alarming throb of her pulse when he included himself in the activities she could enjoy until her figure became too ungainly. There seemed a double meaning in his words and she saw the little glint in his eyes when she searched them, as if he mocked her for an innocent fool.

'Can't the master of Domani swim and ride and enjoy some dancing?' he asked. 'The
terrazza
of the villa is above the beach and it's quite romantic there on a moonlit night and wide enough for two to dance to the music of the stereo. I know you learned to dance as a child. Then, of course, you were partnered by polite little boys wearing kid gloves. I wonder how you'll like me for a partner? I'm told I dance quite well.'

The lean grace and suppleness of his body gave proof of that, but it wasn't curiosity about his dancing that occupied Julia's mind. There had been some other meaning in his words, and the acceleration of her pulse made her feel breathless. She twisted the rings on her finger, symbols of his status as a husband… a man who had already proved conclusively that he could be deaf to a woman's pleading when passion held sway over him. Now he had a legal right to her, and it was there in his bold features that he would hardly live with a woman on any basis but a fundamental one.

She had been foolishly innocent to believe his talk about behaving like a guardian to her! A naive fool to accept his word that it was only the child he wanted!

'Are those rings hurting you?' He reached out and drew off her glove, the sun through the window catching the facets of the emerald and making it glow as he studied her hand. 'They seem to fit all right, but you've been twisting them about as if you would like to wrench them off. I'm not going to allow that, Julia. You are now my wife and you'd better make the best of it.'

'You were stringing me along,' she said tensely. 'You never meant to be a—a sort of guardian to me. It was your intention all along to have your money's worth when you bought me these rings. Damn you, Rome! I didn't dream I'd ever come up against a—a devil like you! I truly didn't think it possible to despise a man so much—you're everything I thought you, every name I called you that night in Naples. You schemed to have Verna lose money at your gaming tables and if I hadn't come to the casino on her behalf I expect she'd be the one paying the price I'm now paying!'

'No, my dear.' He held her gaze as firmly as he held her hand. 'I saw you one day in the market place at Naples buying a wickerwork bag from a vendor and right away I knew who you were. The girl in the rose-coloured dress, shyly holding out a strawberry ice to a boy who couldn't believe the dandelion hair was real but whose raging pride made him drop the ice-cream all over your best shoes. Great big tears filled your eyes and I was about to swallow my pride and say I was sorry when your grandmother came storming out after you and made my mother pay for those tears—tears I was suddenly angry about because I knew you must have lots of shoes in your closet. Because of those shoes my mother had to get down on her knees and scrub the corridors in an office building and come home at night with pains in her bones from all that kneeling on cold damp floors.'

He drew a deep breath, his nostrils tightening and looking chiselled. 'I used to watch her taking off her thin-soled shoes and peeling off her damp stockings and I felt a hatred of the Van Holdens in my bones. They had so much and we had so little—it seemed to me an enormity of injustice that my pretty mother should have to work so hard while your grandmother and two small girls were waited on hand and foot, every whim and fancy catered for, with ice-cream to eat whenever you wanted it. So try to understand a little what I felt, Julia, when you came to my casino that night and asked me to give you those IOUs as if they were your due because you were a Van Holden. You stood there, a grown-up version of the little girl in the big house, looking at me with
eau-de-nil
eyes, telling me I had purposely allowed your sister to gamble and lose.'

'If you hadn't called me names, Julia, the outcome might have been different, but when you revile an Italian you take the good name of his parents as well, and mine were very dear to me. You asked for what happened—'

'Asked for it?' she gasped. 'Is that the excuse you've made for yourself, that I made you misbehave yourself and now like a proper Italian you've done me the honour of marrying me! And being so honoured I'm now to expect endless repeats of what took place in Naples?'

Tormentedly she tried to break his hold on her, but it was unbreakable and her hand twisted and turned in an impossible effort to be free of him.

'You'll only hurt yourself,' he warned. 'When we reach Campania you'll feel differently about all this. There's something in the air, especially at night when the sea below the villa window is filled with whisperings and the lanterns of the fishing boats bob on the water. Then you can smell the lemon trees and the tang of camphor and cypress. We'll take supper on the
terrazza
and you'll feel the romance of it all getting into your blood. You aren't as cool as you pretend to be. You need affection, for your own sake and for the child—'

'Affection?' She gave a bitter little laugh. 'You can't possibly imagine that I'm panting for your kisses?'

'Not right now,' he agreed, 'but Campania isn't called the place of romantic passion for nothing. Wait until you've been there a while and the soft warm air and the southern music get to you. There are sleeping fires in you, Julia.'

'But not for you,' she said fiercely. 'Whatever you do to me, Rome, you can't touch my heart. Whatever you get from me, you'll have to take. I'll just be paying for my bed and board and whenever you come to me, you'll be collecting your rent money.'

'
Santo Dio
,' he smiled thinly, 'I would never have believed that such a soft pair of lips could say such acrimonious things.'

'I have my pride,' Julia tilted her chin, 'and you won't drag that down to your
scugnizzo
level!'

He caught his breath and suddenly his grip was like a vice that threatened to crush her fingers, pressing the rings into her flesh and bone until her lips whitened with the pain. He watched her as she endured the pain, then he slowly relaxed his grip, releasing her hand so it dropped limply into her lap.

A stewardess appeared at his side, smiling into his eyes as she informed him that lunch was about to be served and what did he and his wife fancy to drink with it. He asked what was on the menu and ordered an appropriate wine without consulting Julia, who sat there feeling the ebbing pain in her fingers. Body and soul she throbbed with resentment as the deep timbre of Rome's voice mingled with the girl's lighter tones. Resentfully she didn't want to eat the food and drink the wine that would nourish his child. She wished she could be rid of it… that way she'd really hurt Rome Demario and his almighty Latin pride in making a Van Holden girl pregnant. He liked the idea of being father to a child in whose veins was elite American blood… it combined vengeance with the egotistical pleasure of taking with him to Campania a wife who was obviously a lady.

At that moment Julia's feelings were less than ladylike. She surged to her feet and pushed past Rome. 'I need to go and wash,' she said icily. 'I feel grubby.'

It was the emphasis she laid on the word that made him narrow his eyes as he rose to his feet and made it easier for her to reach the aisle.

'Don't take too long,' he said. 'Lunch is about to be served and you must be feeling hungry.'

'Must I?' she retorted. 'How clever of you to be always so sure of my feelings!'

She swept away from him, head held high as she made for the powder room, not unaware that several male heads turned to watch her progress. It was her hair which attracted attention; being natural in its fairness it had a shining look that combined with the fine silken texture of her skin and the Nile green of her eyes made her a very attractive young woman. Her ivory suit was also in good taste and her long slender legs and fine-boned ankles were encased in cobweb silk and two-toned lizard shoes. Her handbag matched the shoes and altogether she was eye-catching, though it was doubtful if anyone guessed she was a bride.