Her Last Night of Innocence (13 page)

‘My PA handles all my post,’ he said flatly, getting to his feet. Time was running out, and he knew that he had to keep his promise and take her back to the hospital soon. Running a restless hand through his hair, he tried to keep the impatience from his tone. ‘Why didn’t you tell me when we were at the chalet?’

She stood up too, raising her chin and saying defiantly, ‘Because I realised very early on that it was useless. You don’t want a family—you said that yourself. And although I knew that was true when I met you, I hoped I might have been able to change your mind.’

‘To change me,’ he said bitterly. ‘All the time we were together you were testing me, privately making up your mind whether I was good enough to be allowed into my son’s life.’

The simple truth of that hit him with all the force of an
express train, knocking the breath from his lungs. She had judged him and found him lacking. And the thing was, he couldn’t blame her.

He remembered her telling him of her question about wanting a child to carry on the Maresca name and reputation, and knew exactly why he would have answered it so unequivocally. He knew only too well how futile it was to place any expectations on your children—how cruel it was to make them carry their parents’ dreams.

She shook her head vehemently. ‘That’s not true. I didn’t want to put you in a position you clearly didn’t want to be in. I didn’t just want Alexander to have a father. I wanted him to have a
family
.’

There was something unbearably touching about the way she said it. Cristiano got to his feet. Frowning, he looked out of the window.

‘He still can.’

There was a small silence. On the street below a siren wailed.

‘How?’ she asked quietly. ‘What are you saying?’

Cristiano turned back to look at her, keeping his expression neutral. ‘That we can give him that. I’m asking you to marry me.’

M
ARRY
M
E
.

On paper, those words coming from the beautiful lips of Cristiano Maresca should have made her want to scream with joy and throw herself into his arms. They should have made her yell
yes
without a moment’s hesitation, and have her running to the nearest bridal shop to lose herself in racks of ivory satin and lace.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

‘Well?’

Cristiano’s voice was cool and almost mocking. Which said it all, really.

‘Marry you…’ she echoed hollowly, staring up at him in disbelief. ‘As in properly…for real?’

‘Is there any other way to get married?’

‘I don’t mean that. I mean…’

‘To have and to hold, from this day forward,’ he said scornfully. ‘If you’re asking if it’ll be some kind of fairytale happy-ever-after, then the answer to that is probably no. I’m not talking about the soft focus bit at the end of a romantic movie. I’m talking about providing Alexander with a stable base, security—two parents living under the same roof, bringing him up together.’

Security. Together. Like arrows, those words went straight into the heart of her. The man she’d loved with every beat of her heart for four years was standing in front of her, offering the things she’d always craved.

Or some of them, anyway. The kind of marriage he meant seemed to have one or two significant elements missing.

‘To have and to hold from this day forward?’ she whispered hoarsely, getting to her feet and tucking her hands down into the pockets of the voluminous robe. ‘But what about the other things, Cristiano? What about forsaking all others? Are you going to give up your one-night stands with the paddock club hostesses and the PR girls?’

‘That would be up to you. It depends what kind of marriage you want it to be. I can’t live like a monk.’

‘So sh-sharing a bed would be part of the deal?’

‘Only if you wanted it to be.’ In contrast to her, he sounded completely offhand, as if he was discussing some trivial aspect of his Clearspring sponsorship. ‘I may be guilty of many things, but forcing myself on an unwilling woman isn’t one of them.’

Kate didn’t imagine for a moment that it was a situation he’d ever encountered.

He took a step towards her, brushing a stray strand of hair off her face with a fingertip. ‘
Do
you want it to be part of the deal?’ he asked softly.

‘No!’ His touch scorched her, bringing her back to her senses. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. What she’d vowed to avoid. Backing away from him, she raised her head defiantly, pulling the robe more tightly around her. ‘Thank you for your offer, but the answer is no. When I get married I want it to be for the right reasons. For
love
, not for practicality.’

His lip curled in a sneer of disdain, as if she’d just said something unbelievably childish. ‘In that case I’d better get in touch with my solicitor to work out some kind of formal arrangement for me to see Alexander.’

He pronounced it
Alessander
, Kate noticed distantly. A mixture of Italian and English—which was what Alexander was going to be from now on. A child with two homes, two lives. Two parents—but not in a good way.

‘Is that really necessary? You’ll be going away soon—back to M-Monaco, or wherever, to race.’

It was a long shot, she knew that. But she also knew how deep Cristiano’s passion for racing went. It was her best hope.

‘Of course.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m a racing driver. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be a father too.’

‘But what kind of father?’ Inside the pockets of the robe Kate’s fingernails were digging into her palms. She felt as if she was pleading for her life. ‘What kind of security can you give a child when you put your neck on the line for a living?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What exactly are you afraid of, Kate?’

She gave a humourless laugh, as if to acknowledge that she understood how stupid it was going to sound. ‘That he’ll just get to know you and he’ll lose you.’

Cristiano’s voice was ominously quiet. ‘So you think he’s better off not knowing me at all?’

‘Yes.’

The smile he gave her was chilling. ‘You don’t know what it’s like not to know your father.’

‘No,’ Kate gasped, struggling to hang onto her last shreds of control. ‘But I know what it’s like to know him and adore him and think he’s invincible, and then to have him snatched away from you like
that
!’

She snapped her fingers, blinking back tears. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the robe. By contrast he was glacially calm.

‘Even more reason to get some formal arrangement in place, then.’

Kate took in a deep breath, holding it for a second until her lungs burned. Then she let it out slowly, trying to steady herself for a last attempt at reasoning with him.

‘Please, Cristiano. Think about it. You can’t just walk into his life and then disappear again. It wouldn’t be fair on him.’

Cristiano looked at her. Her hair was almost dry now, and in the weak sunlight it gleamed like spun gold. Distantly he was aware of a steady pulse of desire, but desire he could deal with. It was the complicated mix of emotions that this girl seemed to arouse in him that was far more problematic.

His solicitor was excellent. He could hand the matter over to him and keep emotion out of it entirely. It was a legal matter. A matter of rights.

Wasn’t it?

Suddenly he was aware of how long it had been since he’d last slept. ‘I think you mean,’ he said tonelessly, ‘it wouldn’t be fair on
you
.’

‘What are you trying to say?’

‘You want him to yourself.’

‘No, I—’

‘I’m not criticising you, Kate,’ he interrupted wearily. He was too tired to play games any more, and the issue at stake was too important. He’d never really given much thought to the idea of having a child, his own miserable childhood having made him feel that it wasn’t something he’d want. But now it had happened, he realised he did. Very much. ‘I’m not blaming you—you’ve done this on your own for three years and it can’t have been easy. I just want you to know that I’m not going to go along with it either. I’m not going to walk away. So now, when you’re dressed, it’s time to go back to the hospital. I’d like to meet my son.’

‘I don’t want him to know who you are yet,’ Kate said in a low voice as they waited to be let back in through the security door to the children’s ward.

Cristiano looked down on her, one eyebrow arched in sardonic enquiry. ‘Do you mean that I’m a racing driver or his father?’ he asked blandly. ‘I can’t decide which you think is worse.’

‘Both, now you come to mention it. But I meant that I don’t want you to tell him you’re his father. It’s too soon. Too sudden. Especially when he’s been ill.’

A voice crackled over the intercom, telling them to go in. Kate kept her eyes fixed straight ahead as they walked along the corridor—outwardly like two ordinary parents going to visit their sick child together. Her heart was beginning to beat uncomfortably hard at the prospect of what lay ahead.

As they passed the desk Kate noticed that the two nurses who, a moment before had had their heads bent together over a file of notes looked up, mouths open, their eyes following Cristiano as if they were a couple of starving stray dogs and he was the butcher. Irritation fizzed inside her.

‘He’s also quite shy with people he doesn’t know—particularly men—so don’t expect too much,’ she snapped.

The door to Alexander’s room was in sight now, and as they got closer she quickened her steps, feeling a strong urge to run ahead along the corridor and gather him up into her arms, holding him tight so that no one could take him away from her.

‘I won’t.’

She reached the doorway a little before Cristiano. Alexander was sitting up, and he and Lizzie had their heads bent together over the racing car book which lay open on the bed. Some of the machines had been taken away, Kate realised, and the room looked bigger, less alarming.

Lizzie looked up as she came in.

‘You’re back!’ she said, her face breaking into a smile. ‘And you look
so
much better! How did it—?’

She stopped abruptly as Cristiano appeared in the doorway. Her eyes widened.

‘Lizzie, this is Cristiano Maresca. Cristiano—Lizzie Hill.’

He moved forward, his hand outstretched, his face perfectly grave except for a faint smile.

‘
Molto piacere
, Lizzie.’

Lizzie was blushing, Kate noticed disgustedly. Confident, sassy, in control Lizzie had fallen instantly under Cristiano’s spell just like everyone else, and was blushing like a schoolgirl. Luckily Cristiano turned his attention to Alexander before she actually swooned.

‘And you must be—’

Alexander was looking at him steadily with dark, unblinking eyes. Before Cristiano could finish he said, very clearly, ‘Man in the car.’

Kate went over to the bed. ‘What’s that, sweetheart?’

Alexander kept his eyes fixed on Cristiano, as if he expected him to disappear at any moment. ‘Man in the car. In my book.’

Kate opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again. She wasn’t sure that either of them would hear her anyway. Alexander was still staring up at Cristiano with solemn, fascinated eyes, and Cristiano was looking right back.

The expression on his face took her breath away.

‘I’m Cristiano.’

‘From the car. See…?’ Dropping his gaze, Alexander began turning the pages of the book Lizzie had brought him until he came to a huge photograph, spread across two pages, of a green sports car. The driver was quite clearly Cristiano.

Cristiano lowered himself gently onto the edge of the bed, leaning in to see the book. Kate turned away, closing eyes that stung with sudden tears, but the image of the two dark heads so close together seemed to have burned itself onto her retinas.

Oh, God—this was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? So why did it hurt so much?

‘Yes, that’s my car.’ The deep, dark Italian voice reached her through the darkness like a caress. ‘Do you like cars?’

‘Yes,’ Alexander said quickly. Kate opened her eyes in time to see him reach for the red car Dominic had given him for Christmas from on top of the bedside locker. ‘I got lots of cars. This is my Spider.’

Very gently Cristiano took it from him, holding it in his beautiful brown hand. Turning it round reverently, he examined it for a long time. Kate and Lizzie were both watching, spellbound. ‘
Magnifico
,’ he said gravely, handing it back. ‘I wish I had a Spider.’

Alexander took it, an expression of fierce pride on his face. ‘What car do you have?’ he asked.

‘A Campano. At the moment I have the new CX8. I’ve been testing it.’

His eyes met Kate’s, and a meteor shower of dazzling sensation exploded in her pelvis.

On the bed, Alexander gave a little bounce of excitement. ‘Can I go in it?’

There was a pause. Kate seemed to have forgotten about breathing. Cristiano’s gaze was still holding hers, and the intensity of unreadable emotion in it made her feel as if she wanted to shield her eyes. It was such a contrast with the remote, businesslike stranger in the hotel that for a second she felt hope leap inside her.

And then he was turning away, back to Alexander, a slow, heartbreaking smile spreading over his face.

‘Yes,’ he said, his voice a deep rasp. ‘Yes, of course. If your
mamma
says you can. When you’re better.’

‘Can I, Mummy? Can I?
Can I?
’ Alexander piped, looking up at her with his face alight with excitement.

And in that moment Kate understood that she had lost him. Or rather that there had been a part of her son that had never been hers.

‘A
ND SO
I thought I’d leave Dominic and join the Moscow State Circus as a naked trapeze artist. What do you think?’

‘Hmm. That’s good.’

Dully, Kate pushed a mass of pulped tomatoes through a sieve to get rid of the pips. Making soup had seemed like a good idea when she started, but somewhere along the line she seemed to have lost interest. Or energy. Or both.

From the next room the theme tune to one of Alexander and Ruby’s favourite television shows started up. Lizzie got up from where she’d been sitting at the table and came to stand beside her.

‘OK. I’ll try not to take it personally that you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said for the last half-hour. The kids are going to be glued to the television for the next twenty minutes, so how about you stop doing that and tell me how you are?’

Kate looked up, blinking. ‘I’m fine.’

Lizzie raised her eyebrows sceptically. ‘Come off it, Kate. Since Alexander came out of hospital you’ve been like a cat on hot bricks, which is perfectly understandable given what you’ve been through.’ She set her mug down on the draining board with a sigh. ‘I just wish you’d talk about it, though. Dominic and I are worried about you.’

Where have I heard that before?
Kate thought sourly. The new, bitter and twisted Kate Edwards who had taken over the body of the old one couldn’t quite forgive Lizzie and Dominic
for starting all this in the first place. If it hadn’t been for their concern last time, life would be carrying on as normal now.

‘You mustn’t worry,’ she said wearily to Lizzie. ‘I’m worrying enough for the whole of Yorkshire at the moment.’

‘About Alexander?’

‘Mostly. I keep checking him for signs of a fever or mystery rashes. I go in and check if he’s breathing several times a night.’

Lizzie made a sympathetic clucking sound and laid a hand on Kate’s arm. ‘That’s entirely normal after he was so ill. And of course the situation with Cristiano doesn’t help. Have you heard from him since he went back to Monaco?’

Kate flinched. ‘No. And as the Grand Prix season is about to start I’m not expecting to hear anything for months. I half expected a letter from his solicitor, but maybe the fact I haven’t had one means he’s lost interest in being a father.’

Oh, dear, was that sour voice really hers? She clamped her mouth shut against a further tirade of bitterness and focused instead on the red pulp in the sieve, mashing it with extra force.

‘I don’t think so. He was obviously knocked out by Alexander, but he must be very busy with training,’ Lizzie said soothingly. ‘Being a racing driver is a pretty full-time job.’

‘Try explaining that to Alexander when he asks fifty-seven times a day when Cristiano is coming to take him out in his car.’

There was a knock at the door. Wiping her hands on her jeans, Kate went to open it, catching sight of her pale, pinched face in the hall mirror as she did so.
God, I look like a ghost,
she thought despairingly. This morning, knowing Lizzie was dropping in and not wanting to face another barrage of concerned questions, she had at least forced herself to wash her hair. It was just a shame she couldn’t wash the dark circles away from under her eyes as well.

Another loud knock at the door made her jump. It was probably her mother. Arranging her face in what she hoped
was the normal expression of someone who was perfectly happy and coping fine—although she wasn’t sure she knew what that was any more—she opened the door.

There, standing on the pavement, his dazzling dark beauty looking utterly out of place against the greystone drabness of Hartley Bridge, stood Cristiano.

Her heart stopped. Her mouth opened, but under his lazy, mocking gaze she found it was impossible to speak.

He, of course, didn’t have any such difficulty.

‘I’ve just driven for fifteen hours to get here, so please don’t tell me this is a bad time to call.’

His voice was husky, intimate, caressing. Kate felt the colour surge upwards into her cheeks as her stomach imploded with shameful want.

‘No, of course not,’ she said hoarsely, stepping aside to let him come in.

He didn’t get the chance. Alexander, coming into the hall to see who it was, had spotted him. Hurtling past Kate, he threw himself forward and Cristiano scooped him up in his arms.

‘
Cristiano!
You came back! Did you bring your car?’

‘Absolutely,’ Cristiano said gravely, turning around. The dark green sports car that Kate remembered from Courchevel was parked at the kerbside a little way along the street, looking as incongruous as a sabre-toothed tiger in a petting zoo. ‘I drove it all the way back from France so you could see it.’

‘Wow!’

‘We’re going,’ Lizzie whispered, giving Kate a hasty peck on the cheek and a meaningful look as she slid out of the door with Ruby—protesting hotly at being torn away from the television—wriggling in her arms. ‘Call me later.’

Cristiano set Alexander down, caught off guard by a sharp pang of reluctance to let him go. The drive through France had cut badly into his training schedule and cost about as much in petrol as the hire of a private jet, but it had been worth it, he acknowledged, watching Alexander approach the car. He stopped a few feet from it, his mouth slightly open, his
eyes wide with wonder as he slowly looked it over. Smiling, Cristiano turned to Kate.

Instantly he felt the smile fade.

She was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, the expression on her face unbearably sad. She was wearing faded jeans that clung to her long legs and some kind of long-sleeved T-shirt thing in soft, faded cotton. Although from the way Cristiano’s body was responding to seeing her again she might as well be wearing a black lace basque and crotchless panties.

‘How is he?’ he asked gruffly.

‘He’s good.’

‘And you?’

‘I’m good too.’

She didn’t look good, he thought. She looked as if she needed to be put to bed and allowed to sleep for a week. It was a noble sentiment, although he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to follow it through.

Alexander was jumping up and down on the pavement, his eyes shining with excitement. ‘Can we go in it? For a ride?’

‘Of course. Where would you like to go?’

‘To the seaside!’

Stepping forward quickly, Kate deliberately avoided looking at Cristiano.

‘Come in now, Alexander. It’s too cold for you to be outside without a coat,’ she said, hating the miserable, impatient note in her voice, and the way Alexander’s little face fell as he did as he was told, casting a final covetous glance over his shoulder at the car as he took her hand.

Why did Cristiano Maresca seem to have a knack of turning her into someone she didn’t want to be?

He caught hold of her elbow as she turned to follow Alexander inside, pulling her back so that they were both in the tiny porch. He seemed to fill it right up.

‘What’s the matter?’ His eyes were opaque. ‘You don’t like the idea?’

‘Can you even get a car seat in that thing? Because there’s no way—’

‘Relax,
carina
. I took the precaution of buying one to fit in case the one you had didn’t go in. So if that’s all…?’

‘It’s too far,’ she muttered, mustering all her defences against the onslaught of his nearness. ‘And too cold. He’s not well enough yet.’

Cristiano’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you said he was better?’

‘He is, but still—a whole day out, and you hardly know him. What would you do if he was ill? If he was sick in your lovely car?’

‘Hmm…Honestly?’

A faint smile touched his lips. Kate raised her chin, desperately trying not to let herself notice—his lips or the smile.

‘Yes,’ she said stiffly.

‘Get you to deal with it?’

‘Me?’ she gasped. ‘But—’

‘But I’m sure the situation won’t arise,’ he said softly, taking hold of her shoulders and steering her back into the house. ‘Alexander seems fine. Now, go and get whatever you need for a day at the beach in your freezing English weather and let’s get going.’

It was the kind of bright, blue-sky March day that from behind glass looked as if spring had arrived. The North Yorkshire Moors were a vivid patchwork of emerald-green and brown and purple as the wind chased cottonwool puffs of cloud across the huge, wide sky.

Sitting in the now-familiar passenger seat, Kate felt strangely numb. She had come full circle, she thought sadly. Often over the last four years she had congratulated herself on how much she had changed, matured from the tight-lipped, frightened girl who had first got into Cristiano Maresca’s car and sat petrified while he drove La Grande Corniche.

And yet here she was. More tight-lipped and frightened than ever.

In the back seat Alexander had started the journey in a state of high alert, sitting bolt upright in the new car seat, his head turning as he looked out at all the people who turned to stare at them as they roared up the high street in Hartley Bridge. But it was when they had got out onto the road over the moors that he had loved it most, when Cristiano had pressed his foot down. Alexander’s squeals of delight had been drowned out by the throaty roar of the engine as the car had leapt forward. Now he was in a kind of trance of happiness, looking out of the window for the first glimpse of the sea.

Kate glanced across at Cristiano, still not quite able to believe that he was really there. ‘I thought the Grand Prix season was starting soon,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I didn’t think I’d see you until it was over.’

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘For a moment there it sounded like you missed me.’

Heat tingled into her cheeks again. No danger of anyone mistaking her for a ghost when Cristiano was around, she thought miserably. A tomato, perhaps…

‘Yes, well, Alexander’s been asking for you.’

‘I came as soon as I could.’

If she’d been hoping that he would elaborate on what he had come for, or how long he was staying, she was disappointed. Silence fell again.

‘How did your training go?’

Cristiano hid a wry smile. ‘OK.’

It wasn’t training, it was pre-season testing—as every one of the women he had slept with in the past would have known. Along with his exact lap times too, probably. The newest Campano model had caused quite a stir. From the moment Crisitano had got into the driving seat it had felt inexplicably right, and once he’d got out there on the circuit the demons that had dogged him since the accident had fallen away, and he had delivered a lap time that had made headlines on all the sports pages and several front pages as well.

No flashbacks, no panic attacks. Maybe Francine’s unorthodox treatment had worked after all.

Or maybe it had had nothing to do with Francine and everything to do with the woman beside him.

He’d got Suki to send Francine a case of vintage Krug anyway, but when he had tried to think of something to buy for Kate he’d been completely stuck. The gifts he usually bought for women—perfume or designer underwear, the odd piece of ostentatious jewellery for birthdays or to say thank you or goodbye—all seemed utterly crass when he thought of giving them to Kate.

‘Good.’ She had turned her head away and was looking out of the window. Her voice was cold and flat.

Cristiano felt a sudden surge of anger and frustration.
Gesu
, getting into that car with the eyes of the world upon him had been one of the hardest and most frightening things he’d ever done. Everyone had been waiting to see whether he could still do it, whether he had lost his nerve. Everyone had been expecting him to fail, just as they always had.

Hell,
he
had expected it, and it had been more important to him than ever not to let it happen. It wasn’t just the ghost of his mother that he had to prove himself to, it was his son.

And Kate, it seemed. He hadn’t realised until now, when she turned her head away and dismissed the achievement that had set the racing world into a tailspin of excitement in one cool word, that he wanted to prove himself to her too.

‘The sea!’ Alexander’s jubilant cry from the back seat broke through his thoughts. ‘Look, look—there it is!’

To the right of the road the land fell away, giving an uninterrupted view over the bay. A signpost pointed to a narrow lane.

‘It’s down there,’ Kate said.

The road that led down to a tiny village clinging to the rocks above the sea was so steep it made Courchevel look like a cricket pitch. The hedges scraped against the sides of the car and the engine throbbed as Cristiano eased it carefully round the twisting bends to a deserted car park overlooking the beach.

Released from his car seat, Alexander raced off in the direction of the path down to the sand.

‘Alexander, come back! You need to put a coat on, and your wellies!’ Kate shouted, but the keen wind took her voice, carrying it upwards to where the seagulls wheeled and shrieked.

‘He seems to know where he’s going,’ Cristiano remarked dryly.

‘We come here quite often.’ Kate spoke in an absent-minded undertone. Her eyes were fixed on the little boy, a frown of anxiety between them.

‘Let’s just bring his things. He’s too excited to feel the cold anyway.’

‘That’s not the point. He shouldn’t run away—there could be cars or…or he could fall, or…’

‘Kate, stop.’

Reaching up, he captured her face between his hands, gently pulling it round so she had no choice but to look at him. Her eyes were shadowed with anguish, so that instead of the clear sunlit blue he remembered from Courchevel they were the same dull grey as the icy North Sea behind them. Cristiano felt a leap of something sudden and painful inside him.

Desire, yes, but he’d expected that; since Courchevel his sexual appetite had returned with a vengeance. But it was something else too. That need to protect her. To take away the worry and the pain and make her into the woman with the shy smile who had worn his shirt and brought him breakfast in bed.

To slay dragons for her.

‘He’s OK,’ he said softly, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. Her mouth was trembling slightly. He could feel it as his lips met hers.

It was the gentlest, most tentative of kisses—a world away from the ones they had shared before, in the Casino at Monaco and the darkness of the snowy pine forests. And yet Cristiano felt the foundations of his world shift a little. In the few brief
seconds that their lips were touching it was as if he had taken a step in the dark and missed his footing…