Happy Mother's Day! (19 page)

Erin shook her head in stubborn rejection. ‘I don’t consider it
irrational
to expect fidelity.’

‘Fou were the woman I married.’
The woman who is carrying my child.
He dragged his eyes upwards from her stillflat stomach where they kept drifting.

His original intention had been to confront Erin immediately. His plan had been simple: reveal the phone, play back the message and watch her face when she realised that he knew her secret.

Now he found himself wondering how long she would be prepared to prolong this lie of omission. How long she would be able to look him in the eye and conceal the truth.

‘
You
were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with …’

The throaty catch in his deep voice brought Erin’s downcast eyes sweeping upwards. It wasn’t the molten anger she encountered as their eyes connected that drew the involuntary gasp of shock from her throat, but the unexpected glitter of pain and loss she saw in the smoky, expressive depths of his thickly lashed eyes.

‘That,’ he added, bracing one hand against the back of a leather armchair, ‘should have been enough for you.’

A full thirty seconds’ nerve-shredding silence elapsed before Erin could drag her eyes from his mesmeric dark gaze. ‘You mean I should take whatever crumbs you throw in my direction and not ask too many awkward questions.’

‘I mean that my word should have been enough for you.’

‘I should have been enough for you,’ she countered, dismayed because his simple statement increased her growing sense of irrational guilt.

But was it irrational? What if it was merited? A chill swept over her at the unbidden thought and without wanting to she remembered how none of the many who had witnessed the embrace on the night of the ball had looked at her with anything that approached discomfort when Francesco had ruefully disentangled himself from the tipsy blonde.

I’m not the one who had cause to feel guilty,
she reminded herself deliberately. The image of the curvaceous blonde plastered all over him brought the taste of bile to Erin’s mouth.

They had been married almost a month and had still been enjoying their extended honeymoon. The charity ball in Venice, a glittering society affair, had been the first—and as it turned out the last—public event they had attended together.

It was his intention, Francesco had explained, to use the occasion to show off his beautiful new wife to the world.

It had clearly not occurred to him that the idea of being paraded in public scared her stiff.

When he had commented with some concern on her quietness the day leading up to the ball, Erin had finally confessed that she was nervous.

‘What if I let you down by using the wrong fork or saying the wrong thing? What if your friends don’t like me?’

Francesco seemed astonished by her anxieties, but she had already worked out that concern for what people thought of him did not register with the man she had married.

He laughed at her fears. ‘Of course they’ll like you. Just be yourself.’

‘I will,’ she promised, wishing that
herself
was more interesting.

So dressed in unaccustomed designer finery, her confidence buoyed by the sensual glow in Francesco’s eyes as she had paraded before him in the slim black silk sheath dress that swished deliciously against her bare legs as she moved, Erin walked in beside her handsome husband. Her head held high, her stomach tied in nervous knots.

The scene inside the spectacular room took her breath away. She was dazzled as much by the people as the chandeliers glittering overhead.

The first people Francesco introduced her to were a colleague of his, and his wife.

The sophisticated-looking brunette was so charming to her that Erin actually began to relax and think that this might not be so bad after all. This made her even less prepared for the sudden change in the older woman’s manner when the men briefly excused themselves to speak to a mutual acquaintance.

Her charming smile stayed fixed, but there was a hostility in the other woman’s eyes that bordered on malice as she looked Erin up and down in a way that brought Erin’s insecurities rushing back.

‘Married? Well, you’ve succeeded where many before you have failed, so I suppose there must be something more to you than meets the eye. I can’t say I envy you … Francesco is the sort of man who makes a perfect lover, and I’m not the only woman in the room tonight who is in a position to vouch for that. But as a husband?’ She arched an artfully shaped brow. ‘He would, I think, be difficult to manage.’

The men returned before Erin could respond and the woman switched to being sweetness and light again, going as far as to suggest that Erin join her for lunch the following week.

Erin smiled and thought,
Over my dead body.

Francesco, one hand lightly in the small of her back, bent his head to speak in her ear as they left the other couple. ‘See—I told you everyone would love you.’

Shivering in response to the warmth of his breath on her neck, she lifted her head and smiled serenely. ‘So you did, but you’re prejudiced … at least,’ she amended, ‘I hope you are?’

Deep down she had never been able to believe that a man like her lethally handsome husband could really be satisfied with someone as ordinary as her and the evil seeds of distrust the other woman had planted in Erin’s mind fed on this self doubt.

Of course, she accepted that there must have been other women in Francesco’s life—her husband was a very sensual, passionate man. But after the brunette’s malicious comments Erin found it hard not to wonder when she saw a beautiful woman look at Francesco—was there some secret message in her smile?

When she found herself on the brink of asking a particularly
lovely woman if she had ever been Francesco’s lover Erin knew she had let things get out of hand. She excused herself and took refuge in the ladies’ room.

It was unfortunate that when she emerged a short while later almost able to laugh at her paranoia, the first thing she saw was her husband locked in a passionate embrace with a tall, leggy blonde.

As Francesco came up for air, his dark, sleek hair dishevelled from the clinch, his eyes met Erin’s over the woman’s shoulder. If he had displayed some sort of remorse or guilt that would have been something, but instead he rolled his eyes and gave a wry grin as if inviting her to share the joke. The humour died from his face to be replaced by concern and puzzlement as he saw Erin’s expression.

As he bodily put the tipsy blonde away from him and took a step towards her Erin gathered her long skirts in one hand and fled, not caring about the startled and speculative looks her exit drew.

Francesco caught up with her outside.

His initial concern quickly turned to annoyance when she rashly accused him of humiliating her.

‘Do not be ridiculous,’ he recommended curtly. ‘Diane is totally harmless. She has just had a little too much to drink. If I wanted to embark on an illicit affair I would hardly advertise the fact to five hundred people who know me.’

‘Have you ever slept with her?’ The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them, but it was too late. Francesco’s expression had frozen into one of icy displeasure.

‘What I did before we were married is none of your business.’

‘But what you do after is.’

‘I am not your father, Erin.’

The soft words stopped Erin in her tracks. ‘This has nothing whatever to do with my parents’ marriage.’

He angled a dark brow. ‘You’re not stupid; I don’t think you really believe that.’

Erin shook her head. ‘I want to leave,’ she said, flinching away when he touched her shoulder.

Francesco looked down at her, disdain and anger etched on his patrician features. ‘We will not leave yet.’

‘You can do what the hell you like!’ she yelled back. ‘I’m leaving. You stay; I’m sure you won’t be lonely.’

‘Dio!’ he breathed. Eyes narrowed, he stood there, the angles and planes of his face thrown into sharp relief by the lights illuminating the tree behind him.

‘You seem determined to push me into another woman’s arms,’ he observed in a voice that seemed clean of all emotion. ‘Be careful, Erin—you just might get your wish,’ he warned before turning and striding towards the façade of the brightly illuminated building without a backward glance.

E
RIN
physically shaking in reaction to the row, had hailed a cab and returned to their hotel suite; by this time doubts about the moral high ground she had claimed had crept in. Her selfrighteous anger had been the only thing holding back the tears and when that had dissipated the floodgates had opened and she had flung herself on the bed and wept.

Examining her tear-stained face in the mirror when the storm had subsided, she had forced herself to look at the evening’s events through Francesco’s eyes.

It had not made pleasant viewing!

‘You’ve got a problem,’ she told her reflection.

Still, problems had solutions, and Erin gave the matter a lot of serious thought as she stood under the reviving spray of the shower.

She decided that she had to be totally open and frank with Francesco. She genuinely thought that they could work this through together … she just hoped that after tonight he still thought their marriage was worth the effort!

Despite all her protests it was pretty hard under the circumstances to continue to claim that her parents’ dysfunctional marriage had not left its mark. When it came to men she had some serious trust issues.

It wasn’t that she actually believed deep down that Francesco had any intention of being unfaithful. Her aggressive overreaction that evening had more to do with her deepseated and previously unacknowledged fear that if faced with a similar situation she would react as her mother had.

Erin awaited his return with a mixture of trepidation and resolution. She would not give up on this marriage. It was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Francesco
was the best thing that had ever happened to her!

By three-thirty she was feeling less upbeat.

Around six-thirty she finally realised Francesco wasn’t coming back at all. Her soul-searching of the night before now seemed utterly pathetic. While she had been trying to think of ways to heal their marriage he had been hitting out at her by sleeping with the first warm and willing body.

Recalling his warning parting shot, she didn’t know why it had taken her this long to work that one out.

Erin knew without soul-searching that the one thing that was a total deal-breaker for her was infidelity—she couldn’t and
wouldn’t
live with that!

Around eight-thirty, looking more piratical than ever with the dark shadow on his lower face lending him an air of dangerously attractive dissipation, Francesco finally returned.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, propping his shoulders against the wall.

She zipped up her flight bag and straightened up. Reminding herself of the reason for his drained and exhausted appearance enabled her to treat him to a dazzling and icy smile of total indifference.

‘I’m doing exactly what it looks like. Now, if you’ll excuse me—I’ll be late for my flight.’

The colour seeped out from under his tan. He appeared genuinely shocked by her attitude. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘Never more so,’ she promised, fighting the crazy compulsion she had to sweep the hank of dark hair from his brow.

‘We need to talk about this.’

‘Why? Are you going to tell there’s a perfectly innocent reason for you staying out all night?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it doesn’t work that way. You either trust me or you don’t.’ He gave a take-it-or-leave-it shrug that made her want to scream in sheer frustration. ‘What you believe is up to you. Your problem, Erin, is as much as you despise me at the moment you despise yourself more … because you want me anyway. And that,’ he concluded with terrifying accuracy, ‘is tearing you up inside.’

It was as if he had been walking around inside her head. The idea was not a comfortable one. ‘Who says I want you?’

His eyes, dark and cynical, locked on to hers. ‘You don’t really need me to answer that, do you?’

The mortified heat flew to her cheeks.

‘This is a waste of time. There is nothing to talk aboutyou made your choice last night.’

She liked to think that if he had tried to stop her she would have had the resolution to walk away. But she’d never know because he didn’t try, he just stood there and let her leave.

‘You rejected me.’

The sound of his deep voice dragged Erin’s wandering thoughts back to the present with a jolt.
Reject … was
that how he saw it? She was astonished at this interpretation.

He took a step closer.

‘What have you been doing to yourself, Erin?’ He looked at her parchment-pale face and something twisted in his chest.
He might no longer believe himself to be in love, but this was the mother of his child; it was only natural that he should feel a strong desire to protect her.

‘You are nothing but skin and bone!’ he condemned, frowning at the sharp angles of her delicate collar-bones as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his hand a moment later empty. Was it so unreasonable of him to want her to tell him about the baby of her own volition?

She lifted her eyes to his. If ever a moment screamed perfect, this was it.
Tell him,
said the voice in her head.
Tell him …!

She sucked in a deep steadying breath. ‘I’m … the thing is, Francesco, I’m …’ Hit without warning by a sudden wave of dizziness, she swayed and lifted a hand to her head as the colour drained from her face.

‘Shall I call a doctor?’

‘No, I’m fine.’

Her head was pressed to his chest, the hand that cradled her skull was holding it there next to his heart. Having lost the last twenty seconds, she had no idea how she came to be in this position. She just knew that the moment had passed.

Being this close to him was agony.

Erin felt his long fingers slide through her hair and … a choking sound escaped her clamped lips.

‘Clearly you are not.’ Francesco tilted her face up to his. She was looking at him with a suppressed longing she could not in that moment conceal. His expression abstracted, his finger traced the soft curve of her jaw.

‘There are shadows under your eyes.’ The discovery of the violet smudges made him frown and mutter something she didn’t understand in his native tongue.

‘Really, I’m fine.’

‘You nearly fainted. That is not “fine.”
Dio,
but I find English stoicism irritating.’

Erin took a deep breath and, hands pressed to his chest, pushed hard. His hands remained curved around her upper arms preventing her stepping back.

‘Not just English stoicism,’ she muttered.

One corner of his mobile mouth twitched into a half-smile as their eyes met. ‘No, you I find infuriating.’

On the brink of smiling back, Erin stopped herself and frowned. ‘I’m not ill, Francesco.’ Pregnancy was not an illness, though this was hard to remember some mornings!

He angled a sardonic brow and let her go. ‘You make a habit of fainting?’

‘I did not faint.’ Though the past few weeks there had been a few close calls, but the doctor had soothed her concerns and told her that this was normal, especially as her blood pressure was unusually low. ‘I just … lost my balance for a moment. And you have no rights, Francesco, not where I’m concerned anyhow.’

But he had rights where his child was concerned. She pressed a hand to her stomach and wondered how many of those rights he would avail himself of.

God, I have to tell him.

She looked at him and thought,
I can’t do it! I need to psych myself up … I need to find the right words.
In the back of her mind Erin knew that there were no magical right words. She knew she was only delaying the inevitable.

‘Don’t you think it might be an idea to sit down just in case you
lose your balance
again?’

‘What? Yes, fine.’ She tore her eyes from the muscle that was clenching in his shadowed jaw and sat down in the nearest armchair.

‘I’m still waiting to hear why you’ve come here, Francesco.’

‘I came here hoping that you might have stopped avoiding issues.’

If only you knew the half of it!

She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Her shaking fingers massaging the skin of her throbbing temples, she shook her head in a negative gesture.

A hiss of frustration escaped Francesco’s lips. ‘Marriage is not something you throw away casually.’

‘I’m not doing anything casually.’

‘Walking out the way you did was hardly something you put a lot of thought into, was it?’ he retorted.

‘Well, the situation seems to have suited you.’

‘You base that statement on what exactly?’ The furrow in his brow deepened as he mused. ‘Or was it an accusation?’ he speculated.

‘Well, until you got my letter you seemed happy with the situation.’ Erin’s stomach lurched sickly as her eyes fell from his. It would be too much to hope he hadn’t heard the quivering note of bitterness in her voice.

‘You expected me to run after you?’

She started to shake her head in denial while he was still speaking.

A slow smile crossed his lean features. ‘You
wanted
me to chase after you.’ He sounded smug about the discovery.

‘That’s the
last
thing I wanted,’ she denied, her cheeks burning with mortification at the suggestion. ‘I was relieved that when you thought about it, you realised I was right.’

‘Now whatever gave you that idea,
cara?’

Her head lifted. ‘Because you’re not a passive person. If you’d wanted me …’ She stopped, hot, mortified colour
flooding her face. ‘You’re not the sort of man who would meekly stand to one side and let something happen if it’s not what you actually want.’

‘So what you’re saying is I don’t want you, cara.’

‘Don’t call me that!’ she spat, covering her ears with her hands.

‘Cue a ranting irrational outburst. Now that,’ he mused, sounding bored, ‘was predictable.’

‘What was? What are you looking at me like that for?’

‘Whenever you get close to acknowledging a problem you start an argument to deflect the discussion … either that or,’ he observed with a hard laugh, ‘you pack your bags.’

Her denial was automatic. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

Francesco’s brows lifted. ‘Is it?’ he asked, dragging a hand through his dark hair. ‘I think if you let your mind drift back …’

Did he have a point? Her expression troubled, Erin shook her head in rejection of his theory. ‘How is this suddenly my problem, my fault? You spent the night with another woman.’

Still scanning her flushed face, he shook his head. ‘I don’t think that deep down even
you
are insecure enough to believe that. No, infidelity wasn’t the problem in our marriage.’

She folded her arms across her chest and tried to disguise the fact his assessment of the situation had shaken her deeply, and raised some uncomfortable questions in her mind.

‘So you’re saying I was the problem? Even if I was wrong,’ she said, grudgingly conceding to herself for the first time that it was possible, ‘it was only a matter of time before you did cheat.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘Now that was a very revealing comment. Don’t you think so,
cara?’

Hating the feeling of exposure, of emotional vulnerability, Erin shook her head mutely.

‘So you left in anticipation of my cheating on you just as your father cheated on your mother.’

‘This isn’t about my parents!’

‘I know that, but do you? Let me be clear, Erin. What you are basically saying is that you never expected me to be faithful. You never expected our marriage to last. Does the term self-fulfilling prophesy mean anything to you?’

‘You’ve been telling me half-truths from the moment you met me.’ She heard the defensive note in her voice and bit her lip.

He hit her with his trump card then and watched the guilt wash over her face. ‘And your conscience is totally clear on the truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth front, is it?’ He watched the stricken look of guilt spread across her face and was surprised to find it did not afford him the satisfaction he had anticipated.

Erin studied the toe of her shoe with deep interest as she tried to force the words from her dry throat. ‘Francesco, I’m …’

‘You’re pregnant.’

Her head came up with a jerk. Her wide, shocked eyes meshed with his implacable dark, accusing stare. The air between them vibrated with a static electricity that was almost visible.

‘What did you say?’ Her lips moved, but did the words come out? Erin wasn’t sure—the blood was pounding so hard in her ears that it drowned out everything else. She gave her head a tiny shake to clear her confused, chaotic thoughts. How could he know?

‘You heard me, Erin:
pregnant.
You are with child … my child.’ His voice dropped a note with each addition and every
syllable contained the same fury that was etched in the strong bones of his lean, patrician face.

She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand … how?’

‘How?’ Francesco echoed, in a thickly accented voice that was so hard she barely recognised it. ‘This is how.’

Erin stared blankly at the mobile phone he flung onto the chair. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘The hospital left a message concerning your antenatal appointment.’

Still wearing a shell-shocked expression, she picked up the phone. ‘I must have given my old number. You really shouldn’t have been listening to my private messages, Francesco.’ She realised even before Francesco swore forcibly in his own tongue that it had been a stupid thing to say.

‘I do apologise for violating your privacy,’ he drawled, sounding anything but and looking. Her eyes skimmed his face and her heart dropped like a stone—
angry
didn’t really cover the explosive fury that was oozing from every perfect, rampantly male pore. Francesco was incandescent!

‘However, I think,
cara,
that my
transgression
pales into insignificance compared to your own. I did not try and rob you of your child, Erin.’

Horrified by his interpretation, she lifted her face in shaky protest. ‘That wasn’t what I was doing! I was going to tell you. I
really
was …’