HELEN BROOKS - Husband By Contract

‘Because it’s irrelevant,’ she said tightly, with bitter resentment.

‘I think not.’ He smiled, but it was a mere twisting of his lips, his eyes icy. ‘I asked you if he advised you not to come. That is a simple enough question, is it not?’

‘It’s nothing to do with anyone else what I do or don’t do,’ she said fiercely. ‘I make up my own mind; I won’t have it made up for me. Is that a simple enough answer?’

‘It will do.’ He rose so suddenly that she flinched before she could control the gesture. ‘Come, I will take you to your room,’ he said arrogantly. ‘You would like your lunch there?’ he continued as he walked to the door. ‘In view of your...exhaustion?’

The brief pause before the last word was meant to intimidate but she ignored the allusion to her conversation with Jim and smiled coolly, willing herself to sound distant and aloof as she said, ‘Thank you, that would be nice.’

Nice? It would be heaven, she thought weakly, preceding Donato out of the room on legs that were distinctly shaky. An hour or two to compose herself before she faced him again seemed like an oasis in the desert right at this moment, and she still had the hurdle of Bianca to overcome as well as the numerous relatives who would be sure to attend the funeral.

When she had first come to Casa Pontina five years ago as a shy and nervous eighteen-year-old she had thought the beautiful old house stretched for miles, and something of that feeling returned now as they walked along the high, elegant hall to the wide, gracious staircase that curved to the upper floor.

Besides the servants’ ample quarters, which were situated beyond the kitchens on the ground floor, there were six massive bedrooms in all, complete with en suite bathrooms, but when Donato had asked her to marry him two months after their first meeting he had ordered the immediate construction of a new wing to the building. The extension comprised a huge fitted kitchen, high-ceilinged dining room and two reception rooms, and four large bedrooms with bathrooms en suite upstairs.

There was no doubt the resulting addition was both aesthetically pleasing and unashamedly luxurious, but it was the fact that it was exclusively theirs that Donato had revelled in, although she had felt apprehensive and worried that Liliana in particular would feel rebuffed by Donato’s move from the main house.

She had been at Casa Pontina one Sunday afternoon just a few weeks before the wedding day when furnishings for her new home were being discussed, and something in her face must have told Romano, who was sitting opposite her at the dining table, how she was feeling.

‘Grace?’ He had sought her out after tea, which was unusual, taking her to one side and speaking quietly as he had looked down at her from his considerable height. ‘You feel uncomfortable about your new home, sì?’

‘Oh, I love it, I do love it,’ she said hastily, ‘and I can’t wait to live there.’ She blushed furiously at this point but he pretended not to notice. ‘It’s just that I don’t want Liliana to think we don’t want to be with her. It’s not that, really.’

‘You have told Donato this?’ Romano asked gravely.

‘Yes, and he said not to worry, that Liliana is happy about the arrangement. The thing is...’ She hesitated, feeling a bit silly. ‘I don’t want Donato to think I don’t want to live there so I haven’t really said anything else.’

‘Grace, I have known Liliana all my life, Donato and I have been friends since we were babies, so perhaps you would not think me presumptuous if I spoke to you on this matter?’ Romano asked quietly, smiling his rare smile as she shook her head quickly.

‘She is very happy that Donato has found you, and even more so that you are everything she would have liked in a daughter-in-law; I know this. She understands her son perfectly and feels it is right and proper that he wishes to be alone with you in his own domain; she even suggested that it might be time for her to move elsewhere. She feels a young married couple need time alone and she is right. This arrangement, therefore, is one that she is in complete harmony with, be assured on that, and also that she cares a great deal for you.’

‘Does she?’ Grace had no idea how her face had lit up at his words.

‘Indeed she does,’ Romano said gently. ‘In Liliana’s eyes she is mostly definitely gaining a daughter rather than losing a son; on this have no doubt.’

‘Thank you, Romano.’ She had smiled at him as she had spoken and he bowed slightly in acknowledgement, the action very Latin. It wasn’t the first time she had wondered how someone like Romano had come to be married to a petulant, attention-seeking woman like Bianca, but as before she dismissed the thought quickly, feeling faintly guilty to be thinking about Donato’s sister along those lines.

Romano’s words that day were just the reassurance she needed, and she got even closer to Liliana in the next few weeks as a result of them, her mind having been put completely at rest as to what Donato’s mother thought of her.

She told Donato what his friend had said when he drove her home that same night, and he nodded in agreement. ‘Madre is thrilled you have consented to be my wife; they are all thrilled, but it would not have mattered if I had not had one other person who approved of our match, my love. From the first moment I set eyes on you I knew you would be mine, I knew it; nothing could have kept us apart. You are my destiny, as I am yours; I am going to love you as no other woman has ever been loved before.’

And he had—oh, he had... Her eyes flickered now as she remembered how wildly passionate he was—something she had only fully appreciated on their wedding night, which had also been her nineteenth birthday, when the restraint he had employed during their courtship had blazed into a raging fire that had both thrilled and frightened her with its intensity.

Nevertheless, in the taking of her virginity he had also taken her to the heights, into an experience where she was pure sensation, liquid and mindless and wholly his. He had been the perfect lover, her ecstasy his ecstasy, her pleasure his first concern, and there had been times when their union had left them both stunned and shaking as they had slowly returned from the world of colour and light and exquisite richness that their lovemaking had taken them into.

But that time was over, dead, finished, slashed into oblivion by his infidelity, and now, as Donato passed the staircase and walked to the heavy carved oak door that led to the separate wing of the house, Grace caught at his arm, her voice taut. ‘You don’t expect me to stay in Bambina Pontina?’ she asked sharply, unconsciously using the nickname they had christened their home with in the early days.

‘Of course.’ She could feel the muscled strength in his arm beneath her fingers but he was completely still as he glanced down at her small, dainty hand on his body before raising his eyes to her face. ‘It is your home,’ he said flatly.

‘It was.’ She could hear the panic in her voice and forced it back as she continued, ‘“Was” being the operative word. I’ve no intention of staying anywhere but in the main house.’

‘Grace...’ Her name was said with deep exasperation and he closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head slowly. ‘Are you going to continue to defy me at every turn? Is this to be my punishment while you remain at Casa Pontina?’

‘I’m not defying you...well, I am, but not just for the sake of it,’ she amended quickly, agitation evident in every line of her slim body and stiffly held head. ‘I want to stay in the main house, that’s all,’ she said firmly, taking a step backwards away from him.

‘I see.’ He surveyed her for a moment from dark, hooded eyes before continuing, ‘And the fact that all your clothes and belongings are as you left them in Bambina Pontina—your books, your records and tapes and so on—this does not mean it makes sense that you should stay there? You have your own sitting room, your own quarters—’