The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (21 page)

“Water.” She swallowed, spoke again in a rasp. “My throat … so
dry.”

A small pitcher sat on the bedside table. Amanda, being
closest to it, splashed an inch or so into a glass and moved closer to him as
she held it to Carita’s lips. Nico watched in grim forbearance as Jonathan
moved nearer as well, bracing his crutch under his arm and taking Carita’s hand
as if he could not help himself.

Carita smiled into Jonathan’s eyes with such loving
affection that an ache formed in Nico’s chest as he watched. Then she turned
back to him with a resolute lift of her small chin. “Nico, my dearest brother,
you must not — must not say hard things to Jonathan.”

“Carita—”

“You must never, never think of vengeance. He — he doesn’t
deserve that from you.”

“
Cara
, I would not—”

“Hear me,
Per piacere
.”

“
Naturalmente.”
He waited, even as he wondered that
she would have to plead to be heard. Had he become so autocratic she thought he
would not listen to her?

“He didn’t, that is, he is not—”

Jonathan shook his head. “It’s all right, Carita. You must
be so tired. You don’t have to say anything, really, you don’t.”

Nico was impressed against his will by this show of concern,
just as he was impressed in retrospect with the younger man’s understanding of
how close Carita had been to consciousness. All the same, he had the distinct
feeling there was some extra communication between them, some meaning only they
grasped.

“But yes, I must,” Carita said. “It’s only right and — and
just.”

“No, really,” Amanda’s brother protested.

“
Si
, really.”

Carita’s dark eyes held such apprehension in their depths
that it hurt Nico to see it. “Perhaps you should rest now,” he said. “We can
talk later.”

“No, no.” She turned her head to search his face, moistened
her lips before she went on. “You must not blame — blame Jonathan for the
accident, Nico. He was not — not behind the steering wheel.”

“What?”

“No,” she whispered. “It was — it was I.”

In the sudden silence, he was aware of the humming of the
monitors at the head of the bed, as well as the sudden sharp breath Amanda
took, there where she stood beside him.

“You were behind the wheel,” he said, though the word had no
more meaning to his stunned mind than if she had said a newborn lamb had been
driving.

Carita gave a slow nod. “I begged Jonathan to let me drive.
He didn’t want to, not at all. He said to me that his car was too fast, too
powerful. I became angry. I thought he did not trust me, and so—”

Amanda stirred, sighed. “So he gave in and let you have the
driver’s seat.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Nico swallowed, shook his head. Jonathan Davies was not
responsible for Carita’s injuries. Rather, she, his sister, was responsible for
his broken leg, his bruised and dislocated shoulder and cracked ribs.

It required a major shift in his thinking to accept this
fundamental change, yet it must be done. His obligations as a result were many
and imperative, Nico saw plainly. Not the least of these was to acknowledge the
wrong.

“I should not have jumped to conclusions,” he said to the
man across the bed from him. “Please accept my sincere apology for assuming you
were at fault. You should have said something to make the situation clear.”

“I was at fault,” Jonathan said with a moody shrug. “I
should never have let her get behind the wheel.”

Such a rationale made perfect sense to Nico. It was how he
would have felt himself. “Besides which,” he suggested, “you preferred not to
direct the blame toward Carita when she could not defend herself — or so it may
have appeared to her family.”

“Damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t.” Amanda’s brother
lifted his good shoulder. “It looked as if no one would believe me, anyway.”

“Oh, Jonathan,” Amanda said softly then. “Even I thought you
were driving. I am so sorry.”

“It was better that way,” he muttered. “The police — you
know.”

Nico did know all too well. He had himself taught Carita to
drive but she had no official permit nor had he provided her with an
automobile. It was a considered decision, another incidence of his high-handed
methods, as Amanda would no doubt tell him. The result, if the police had known
Carita was driving, would have been a morass of red tape and almost certainly
the filing of charges. If the tabloids had got hold of it, they’d have had a
field day. No detail would have been missed, including Carita’s pregnancy. The
embarrassment to the family would have been considerable.

He must make certain, first thing tomorrow, that nothing of
it would ever appear on Jonathan Davies’ record; this Nico told himself in
stern reminder. Meanwhile, there were other matters to be considered. Reaching
for the call button, he summoned the nurse on duty and asked that Carita’s
doctors attend upon them at once.

~ ~ ~

The sight of the villa as the limo rounded
the curve was a relief beyond words. Amanda was so tired. It was not only the
release from anxiety, both for Carita and for Jonathan’s part in the accident,
but the trip home had been a huge strain. The only one who said a word was
Carisa, still glorying in seeing her sister after so long a time, and the fact
that Carita had awakened for her sake. Nico had been withdrawn, staring out the
window with his gaze considering behind narrowed lids, as if immersed in plans
of major importance. Not that Amanda had anything to say to him. She could
barely stand to share the same space. All she wanted was to get away, to lie down
somewhere and forget everything that had happened since the day they met.

It was ridiculous, then, that she could not ignore him,
could not prevent herself from looking at him every time he moved or patiently
answered some query from Carisa who sat between them on the wide seat. She had
almost forgotten how disturbingly attractive he was in the few days he’d been
away, and it struck her anew now that he was back. His eyes, his mouth, the
dark waves of his hair, the width of his shoulders drew her gaze, causing a
pulling sensation in her lower abdomen.

He had kissed her, held her, and eased his rigid length into
her in intimate possession. She had pressed herself against him, bare skin to
bare skin, reveling in his muscular hardness so different from her own body.
She had traced the whorls of his ear with her tongue, brushed her mouth over
the strong column of his neck there where it met his white collar, had spread
her hands over his chest and kissed between her fingertips.

Dear heaven, she wanted to do it again. Even knowing why he
had made love to her, she wanted him.

She had been wrong, she thought in self-derision, so wrong
to think there was no such thing as overwhelming sexual attraction. She
despised Nico de Frenza, of course she did, and could not wait to get away from
him. Yet she feared what she might do if he looked at her with his hot black
eyes and whispered to her in the deep velvet of his voice the single word that
undid her.

“Come…”

“Come into my study,” he said as they entered the villa and Carisa
ran to tell Yolanda about Carita. “We must talk.”

A small shudder ran over Amanda before she could suppress
it. “I don’t believe we have anything left to say to each other.”

“I disagree. There is much to be said, much to be decided
concerning Carita and Jonathan.” He moved to a door down the hall, pushed it
open and stood aside. “If you please?”

She didn’t please, not at all. Still, she could not refuse
to discuss her brother’s welfare. Head high, she walked ahead of him into the
study with its tall windows that soared to a taller ceiling, its book-lined
walls, wingback chair covered in fine leather and jewel-like carpets underfoot.

He closed the door behind him, but did not go to the
polished walnut desk as she expected. Rather, he moved to the window and stood
staring out for long moments, holding back the heavy velvet drape as he propped
one hand on the frame. She followed him with her gaze, noting the width of his
shoulders under a shirt of tobacco brown silk, the perfect fit of his trousers
on his lean hips.

“I owe you a most abject apology,” he said over his
shoulder.

She looked away in some haste, staring at their reflections
in the glass of the bookcase behind his desk. “If you intend to tell me that
Jonathan was right, and you seduced me because of some ancient idea of—”

“No. Never that.” He turned to face her, his expression
bleak. “I am not that cold-blooded, I assure you. I will admit the idea of
tit-for-tat in ancient vendetta crossed my mind once or twice when we first
met, but merely as an excuse. I wanted you. I made love to you because I wanted
you. Let me be clear on that.”

A hard knot in her chest she had not known was there seemed
to ease at his words. She breathed slowly in and out with its release. Even so,
there was precious little comfort in his assertion. He had wanted her, past
tense. Apparently he did so no longer.

“You don’t deny the seduction,” she said almost at random.

“Are you suggesting you were unwilling?” He crossed his arms
over his chest as he braced against the window frame behind him. “I remember it
differently.”

Hot color flooded over her, burning in her face, but she
would not look away. “You made certain of it, made certain I asked. But it
doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“It matters to me.”

“A point of honor, I suppose. Well, never mind. I’ll soon be
gone. You won’t have to think of it again.”

“You would dismiss our night together, just like that?”

“How else is there to deal with it? I don’t expect you to
marry me because of it. You may have feudal tendencies, but I don’t believe
you’re that mired in the past.”

“Thank you for that much,” he said with irony strong in his
voice, “though it’s possible you’re wrong. But no, the apology I wished to make
is for being so certain your brother was at fault in the accident, for the
things I said to him and to you about it, for failing to believe you when you
tried to defend him.”

“Oh.” The knowledge that she could have saved herself a
great deal of humiliation by keeping quiet was galling. She looked away from
him, wondering how soon she could leave the room and put the memory of this
conversation forever behind her.

“Does that mean I am forgiven?”

“You didn’t know Jonathan, so had little to go on. Even I,
who did, still assumed he was behind the wheel.” She shook her head. “I didn’t
really blame you for being upset with him, and certainly don’t blame you now.”

“Excellent. We progress. You will agree, I hope, that it’s
best if Carita and your brother come here to the villa as soon as possible?”

“I’m sure Carita will be better with her family around her.”

“So you said before, and were perfectly correct as it turns
out.” The faintest of smiles came and went across his face. “You see how
magnanimous I can be when forced to it? But what of Jonathan?”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to be near your sister if you
will allow it.”

“It’s a little late to forbid it, yes? Besides, he could
have parlayed the accident and the baby Carita carries into a hefty settlement.
That he did not, that he allowed himself to be accused rather than exposing her
to public censure or police involvement speaks well for him. Added to that, his
effect upon Carita seems entirely beneficial.”

“Magnanimity indeed,” she said with a small twist to her
lips.

“A physical therapist can be brought in to work with him. In
a month or two, when they are both much better, there will be a wedding.”

She swung to face him. “You … you have made up your mind
about their marriage — you approve it?”

“As an alternative to them living together, you mean?
Davvero,
indeed. I have no doubt my sister would run away with him if he asked.
Well, or beg him to run away with her if he failed to ask soon enough.”

“And he would absolutely agree if his allowing her to drive
his car is any gauge.”

“My thought exactly. As my grandmother would be scandalized
by the thought of her granddaughter living in sin, marriage seems the best
solution all around. That is assuming that Jonathan wants to be married.”

“I don’t believe there can be any doubt.” He would be over
the moon, Amanda thought with a lump in her throat. She couldn’t wait to tell
him, or at least to be there when he understood what was in store.

“And what of you,” he asked, his voice dropping to a lower
note. “What do you think of marriage?”

She summoned a smile. “I’m sure Jonathan will do his best to
make Carita happy.”

“
Certo
, but that was not my meaning.”

“Then what?” she asked in real perplexity.

“I was not speaking of your brother and my sister, but of
you and me. I require to know what you think of marriage between the two of
us.”

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