Authors: Sara Wood

The Impatient Groom (4 page)

BOOK: The Impatient Groom

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He'd be used to that kind of response, she thought crossly, and made sure that he suspected nothing. With
a scowl, she said flatly, âThat doesn't explain why you're here.'

The dark eyes became veiled and she wondered if she'd been imagining his appraisal. âI look after Alberto D'Antiga's affairs. We have old family connections and he is ill and alone in the world,' Rozzano said, a surprising tenderness creeping into his voice. 'Your grandfather is growing weaker every day, Sophia. He will be delighted to know he has a granddaughter.'

âHmm. This is the man who drove my mother away from the home she loved!' Sophia reminded him vigorously.

âYou feel nothing for an old and sick man who is your blood relation?' Rozzano's reproachful glance was putting her to shame.

She heaved a sigh and came off her high horse. âOf course I do. What's past is past. I'm sorry he's not well. And yes, I'd like to contact him. He's the only family I have now.' Efficiently she whipped a pen and small notebook from her handbag. âCan you let me have his address?'

âCertainly. Il Conte D'Antiga; that's D apostrophe, capital A...'

âIl Conte...' She looked up to see if the prince was teasing her but he appeared to be perfectly serious.

âHis
palazzo
is called Ca' DâAntiga,' he drawled. âCapital Câ'

âJust a minute!' Shock widened her smoke-dark eyes. âA...count? In a
palace
? You're having me on, aren't you?' she said with a nervous laugh.

âNo. He is, as you say, a count.' He saw her disbelief and added quietly, âThere are many
palazzi
in Venice. A few hundred. And there are many minor nobles. We still keep our titles, even after Napoleon abolished them.
Sophia, I would not lie about this. What would be my motive? Think about it Surely you don't imagine that D'Antiga would have been so anxious about his daughter's marriage if he were a butcher or a gondolier, or perhaps an ice-cream seller?'

âIâI don't know!' she mumbled, unable to take in what he was saying. It made horrible sense suddenly. âI s-suppose,' she said slowly, leaping to a conclusion that made sense to her and stumbling over her words, âhe was desperate. He'd lost his money and needed his daughter to marry someone rich to preserveâ'

âHe's wealthy. Always has been.'

With her idea shot down in flames, she shook her head slightly to clear the confusion there. âThen why did he insist on this loveless marriage?'

âYou have to be careful of fortune hunters,' Rozzano said abruptly. âIf wealth marries wealth, the partners are equal.'

Sophia let her horror show. âNo wonder Mother ran away if that's the way you aristocrats think!' she said indignantly, putting the notebook firmly away. âLove is the only reason for marriage! Anything else would make a mockery of marriage vows taken before God! I'm proud that she valued love more than moneyâ'

âShe could have had both.' The prince smiled a little wryly at her raised eyebrows and spoke slowly and with emphasis as if aware that her fuddled brain was working at a snail's pace. âYour mother was an heiress with a fortune of her own.'

Silence. Stunned by his claim, she stared at him, frowning. That couldn't be right. They'd been horribly poor. They'd shivered in the draughty vicarage and worn extra jumpers and socks against the cold. If there had been money, it had long since gone.

She tried to speak, to tell them this, but the words wouldn't come.

Rozzano had moved closer and was now standing over her. She had to look up to see his face, her eyes skittering nervously over his superb body.

Was he deliberately dominating her? she wondered. She contemplated jumping up and doing a bit of striding around herself, but she knew that right at this moment her legs would buckle. A weak, rubbery goo seemed to have replaced her bones.

He pushed back his jacket and thrust his hands into his pockets, drawing her unwilling attention to his narrow waist and slim hips. She lowered her eyes. He was speaking and his purring voice curled into her with remorseless insistence, distracting her even from the staggering claim he'd made about her mother.

He is unbelievably magnetic, she thought, terrified that he'd realiseârightlyâthat her shallow breathing wasn't entirely due to his revelations. Desperately she struggled to stop herself reacting so stupidly to Rozzano's highoctane sex appeal and to attend to what he was saying.

âBut you'll find that your grandfather,' he was telling her smoothly, âis a kind and generous man. He would be very happy to see you take your place in Venetian society.'

She gave a short laugh, seeing herself parading in a tiara and ermine-trimmed robes, or whatever count's granddaughters wore. Probably fluorescent Versace and a baseball cap nowadays, she thought mefully, trying to make herself see the funny side.

Rozzano frowned faintly at her scathing expression. âYou're amused?'

âNo. Yes. I'm sorry. But it's so crazy! I apologise if my reaction has offended you. It's just that I think you
should check your facts. Far from being an heiress, my mother was impoverished.'

âHow do you know?'

She gave him a pitying glance. âBecause of the way we lived. I know she adored us. She would have shared her money with us, then left it to Father. But he and I lived from hand to mouth! He never had a bean. Look at me! Look at these clothes! They hardly shout “Heiress!”, do they? They come from the local nearly new shop!'

She cast a realistic glance at herself. It wasn't surprising that he'd been riveted by her appearance. Having compared her to the photo of Violetta DâAntiga, he would have begun to wonder how Violetta could have given birth to such a poorly dressed shambles of a woman!

âAll I know is that she didn't touch her trust fund. It's still intact in a Venetian bank,' Rozzano said relentlessly.

âBut... why would she do that, deliberately make herself poor?' Sophia demanded in disbelief.

âPride and fear,' answered Frank. âVioletta's father wasâisâone of the trustees. She would have had to ask him to release the money. From what your father said, I gather she felt her happiness would have been compromised by wealthâsomething she didn't want to risk. I had the whole story from your father; it's in this letter.' He held it out to her.

âI can't believe that!' she cried vehemently, desperate to deny it all, afraid of the doubts crowding her mind, afraid there might be some truth in this preposterous story.

Suddenly she felt very scared, as if the ground had been swept from under her to leave a gaping hole beneath. And she was falling into it, like it or not.

Words spun around her mind. Italian. Venice. A count. An heiress. Obviously she'd fallen asleep by the window in Frank's waiting room and this was a dream, prompted by thinking of the prince. She drove her top teeth into her lower lip.

And knew she was awake.

Shaking, she clapped a hand to her forehead. It burned, yet her cheek felt clammy. A fever. Hallucinations, then.

âPlease... ' she whispered, feeling hot and unbearably dizzy. âIâI can't breathe...'

Strong arms enfolded her, one slipping around her back, one tucking beneath her knees. He'd done this before, she thought muzzily, and pouted, irrationally resenting all the women he'd carried to bed. Her head swam as she was raised in the air as if she weighed nothing.

Nauseous, with the room seeming to whirl about her, she allowed herself to be borne a short distance to an old sofa by the window, where Rozzano gently laid her.

Her eyes closed as she fought the swirling mist filling her head. She mustn't pass out. She had to focus her mind, deal with this mad suggestion... And yet Frank had been so certain. It couldn't be true...could it?

A moan whispered through her pale lips. The evidence was overwhelming. Why else had the prince come to England? The facts were staring her in the face. Frank was convinced. So was the prince. That meant... She groaned, then shuddered when Rozzano whispered something to her and his fingers lightly smoothed her furrowed brow.

âWater, please!' he called urgently.

Warm silk touched her chin. A jacket lining, she thought hazily, as its weight settled across her body. It smelled of him, a fragrance that was faint and elusive but
wonderfully enticing, like the natural perfumes her mother had used. And she wanted to reach up her arms and pull him down to her till his cheek rested against hers and she could inhale those delicious scents.

Instead she kept her eyes tightly shut, giving herself thinking space. And time to settle her wild and shocking urges. Something awful had happened to her. The news had weakened her, torn her apart and left her defences open to the first devastatingly handsome man who crossed her path. And Rozzano was more devastating and handsome than most.

âGoodness!' exclaimed the temp, tapping in on her tottery heels.

Sophia blessed the woman for ripping into her panic-stricken thoughts. Nevertheless, she remained still, listening to Frank's muttered dismissal. Cool water was being dabbed on her temples and wrists.

And then Rozzano's moistened finger brushed a few times across her trembling mouth. It was terribly, wonderfully sexy and she didn't know how she kept her eyes shut or stopped herself from catching his fingertip between her lips and tasting it, perhaps letting it wander into the moistness of her mouth...

At the contraction of her loins, Sophia moaned again, aware she needed to release her deep and terrifying feelings. She was in a state of turmoil, and no wonder. Desperately she gritted her teeth, appalled at the way her barriers were tumbling.

His hand stroked hers rhythmicallyâshe knew it was his, recalled its strength, the sinews, the dryness of his palms and the suppleness of his long fingers. And she realised that she could also recall every line of his face, the angles of his eyebrows, the way he stood, walked...

âSophia, just relax,' he murmured somewhere near her ear.

Relax! Suppressing a sharp gasp when his cool breath feathered over her face, she went through every muscle of her body, one by one, in an attempt to do as he said.

She opened her eyes and wished she hadn't. He was leaning over her, kiss-close, an expression of concern softening his autocratic features.

âDon't be alarmed,' he said. âNothing bad will come of this, Sophia. You and your grandfather will be reunited. You won't have to worry about money ever againâ'

âMy grandfather!' she breathed raggedly, feeling emotion sweep over her.

She was too choked to continue. All these years and the old man had aged and become ill, unaware that she existed. Without any warning, she began to cry as she lay there, the hot tears squeezing themselves pathetically from the corners of her eyes and running down her cheeks to the top of her jaw.

âWhy's she upset?' she heard Frank hiss. âI thought she'd be pleased! She deserves a break after all she's been through,' he said, warming to his theme while Sophia cringed with dismay at being openly discussed. âShe gave up everything to look after her father. It can't have been easy. No fun, no boyfriends, all those years of devoted attentionâ'

âFrank,' she mumbled hastily before the violins started playing, âyou don't understand! I'm crying because I have a grandfather who doesn't even know I'm alive. He might have died and I would never have met him! How could my mother have done this to me?' she cried passionately, so distressed that she forgot her reserve. âWhy did she keep me from her family? She was married. She
would have been beyond her father's interference! Surely they could have made up their differences! It seems so cruelâ' She faltered, her eyes filling with tears again. âMy mother's become a mystery. I hate that,' she finished miserably.

âThen find out. Come to Venice and talk to your grandfather,' suggested Rozzano gently. âLet him explain.'

âVenice?' she cried in blank amazement, sitting up.

âOf course,' the prince said patiently. âHe can't come to you. He isn't strong. Any day now I fear the worst...'

She bit her lip, getting his drift. Her grandfather didn't have long to live and time was running out. She hesitated. âI couldn't afford the tripâ'

âYou can. You're rich,' he reminded her.

âI don't have a passport,' she said stubbornly, blanking her mind to all the things she didn't want to deal with.

And she knew she was clutching at any straw to stop her from making the journey, even though she longed to meet her grandfather. Fear and love were vying with one another.

âNo passport?' Rozzano exclaimed in amazement.

âThere's never been any need,' she said stiffly. âMy birth certificate was lost andâ'

âNot lost. In my safekeeping.' Frank held it out to her.

BOOK: The Impatient Groom

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