Christina Hollis - Claimed by the Italian

Paolo smiled his encouragement but Lily could see the strain behind it, and, despite her distaste for deceiving the fragile woman, it gave her the necessary impetus to move forward, sit on one of the vacant chairs around the table, smile and lie her socks off. ‘And I’m happy to meet you, too,’ she greeted her, because Paolo, now stationed directly behind her, his hands on her shoulders, was clearly desperately anxious for his surviving parent, and up close Lily could see why.

Signora Venini looked as if the slightest breeze would disintegrate her frail body. More than the recent scar that ran beneath the line of her snowy white hair—that would heal and eventually disappear—it was the lines of utter weariness, of sadness, etched on her once beautiful features that told a story of a woman who had been tired of living for a long while.

Lily’s tender heart felt wrung out as she unconsciously covered the opulent family betrothal ring with the fingers of her other hand and blurted sincerely, the words tumbling out, ‘You’ve been through a major operation, signora . You need plenty of rest, peace and quiet—not visitors!’ And, despite the warning tightening of Paolo’s fingers on her shoulders, she ploughed on, verbalising as much of the truth as she dared because she needed to be out of here. Needed to put as much distance between her and the man she now knew could make her act like a sex-starved trollop as soon as possible.

‘I told Paolo that under the circumstances I didn’t think the timing of this visit was at all sensible. It could easily have waited until you were feeling stronger.’ She managed a smile which she hoped would come over as conspiratorial. ‘But you will know how stubborn Paolo can be! Even so, I think it would be best if I left tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, and didn’t intrude further on your recuperation period.’

Lily smiled softly, willing the older woman to agree, but her slim hopes were crushed when she got a decidedly firm, ‘Nonsense! Getting to know my son’s future wife will be the best tonic I could possibly have! The one bright spot in a year that has been so awful!’

Amazingly, the older woman’s tawny eyes sparked now with lively determination. ‘And for us to get to know each other time is needed, si ? In fact I expect my son to persuade you to stay with us for much longer than the mere two weeks he promised me—we have a wedding to arrange!’

‘You’ve got to put a stop to this!’ Lily hissed frantically half an hour later when Carla, Paolo’s mother’s friendly but firm companion, appeared to chivvy the reluctant older woman away for a rest before dinner.

‘Silenzio!’ An inescapable hand shot out to take her wrist. ‘Keep your voice down,’ he ordered in the same driven undertone. ‘You will be heard. Come.’

Her legs feeling like jelly, her heart pounding fit to suffocate her, Lily was led by one very determined male out of the room, across the marble-slabbed hall, down two corridors and out of a side door to a massive paved terrace, with loungers set to catch the evening sunlight at one side and a long teak table and benches set beneath a vine-covered arbour at the other.

Ignoring the choice of seating, Paolo led her down a shallow flight of stone steps to the garden—a maze of box-bordered paths, sentinel cypress trees and an abundance of roses in leaf and promising bud.

Only when she tripped did he slow his pace, an arm going round her to steady her. ‘We sit. And we talk with sense.’

Registering from that slight slip in his usually impeccable English that he was almost as disturbed as she by the afternoon’s events, Lily sat—was glad to—as he brought her to a carved marble bench seat beside an antique stone fountain.

Confident that he would be as horrified as she by his mother’s excited wedding plans, she started, ‘There has to be a way to put her off! You got us into this mess— now get us out of it! I did my best—told her I had a charity to run and couldn’t commit to anything else for ages. But she didn’t listen!’

‘Total waste of breath,’ he incised without hesitation. ‘Mamma knows I’ve stepped in. When I become involved things happen and happen smoothly. That being so, she would know that because everything is in hand your absence would be of little or no consequence,’ he insulted blandly.

Fit to spit bricks, Lily glared at him. Arrogant brute! ‘Then put your so-superior brain in gear and think of something!’

Anger lit her big grey eyes. But something else sparked within those luminous depths. Fright?

Settling beside her, Paolo draped an arm along the back of the seat. Deliberately relaxing his body. Two of them indulging in hysterics would get them precisely nowhere.

‘I admit I didn’t expect her to launch straight into immediate wedding plans with such gusto,’ he confessed, his lips curving in appreciation of the stony glare she gave him—until her scathing response set a slow burn of discomfited heat running over his cheekbones.

‘No, you expected her to be gasping her last and whispering about how happy she was, going to her maker knowing that you were settling down to marriage!’

The moment the words were out Lily regretted them—hated herself for even thinking them, never mind flinging them at him.

Her soft heart ruling her head, she offered softly, ‘I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say.’ She reached for his hand, clenched on his knee, and curled slim fingers around it. ‘Of course you’ve been worried about your mum. When someone we love is ill we can’t help it—can’t help dwelling on the worst-case scenario, praying it won’t happen but desperately afraid it will. It’s quite natural.’

His hand was still a fist beneath her cool fingers. Affronted dignity was written on his stunning features. Mindful that she was probably irritating the hell out of him, she added uncertainly, ‘I wish I had a mum to worry about.’

Paolo’s shuttered eyes switched to find hers. Warmth curled around his heart, squeezed it. Lily Frome. Those huge eyes were drenched with the softness of sympathy, lush lips quivering slightly. In spite of her diminutive size she had a big heart, was so unused to hurting anyone she was swift to apologise when she felt she had.

And he had variously bullied, insulted and ridden roughshod over her. She didn’t deserve that. He had kissed her, and yet he knew next to nothing about her. That was an insult in itself.

Uncurling his fist, he laced his fingers between hers. ‘What happened to her?’

Taken aback, Lily blinked. Her soft mouth parted, then clamped shut again. Something really weird happened to her when he was being nice to her. She tried to analyse it and couldn’t.

He prompted gently, ‘Well?’

‘I—’ Lily was floundering. It was the look in his eyes that did it. The golden gleam was assessing, yet kind, warm. His hard male mouth had softened. As if she were a human being with feelings instead of an employee paid to do as she was told—an automaton that he could switch on and then switch off and put back in the cupboard and forget about when the task was completed to his satisfaction. It was unnerving.

‘She died,’ she got out. ‘When I was a baby. I don’t remember her.’ She smiled shakily, her eyes meeting his at last. ‘I do have a few photographs, though. She was really pretty.’

‘Then you must take after her.’ His fingers tightened on hers. ‘And your father?’

He thought she was pretty? She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. His hand, laced with hers, felt so good. Too good. She wished it didn’t. Wished she had the strength of mind to snatch her hand away. But she hadn’t.

Lily lifted her slender shoulders in a tiny shrug. ‘He left. He handed me over to my mother’s aunt. There were no other relatives.’