HELEN BROOKS - Second Marriage

Crazy. She lowered her eyes to the menu Aldonez had placed in front of her a couple of minutes before. Absolutely crazy to allow her senses to be dominated like that—and wouldn’t he just love it if he knew how she was thinking? When all was said and done, even if he did still love his wife, he didn’t have to be so arrogant, did he? So impossible to communicate with, so abrasive?

‘Would you like me to translate?’

‘What?’ As she raised her head and met the hard gaze she would have given the world to be able to say she spoke fluent Italian, but she didn’t, and, infuriating man that he was, he knew it.

The fact that she was forced to acknowledge she had been gazing at the squiggles on the card in front of her without even seeing them didn’t help either—but that, at least, he didn’t know.

‘The menu? Would you like me to translate for you?’ he asked again, his voice patient but with the kind of long-suffering tone one might adopt with a difficult child.

‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.’ She’d rather walk through coals of fire first. ‘I only want a green salad and a long, cold drink,’ she said evenly. ‘If that’s possible.’

‘Of course.’ He bowed his head slightly, and the movement should have been polite but was definitely sardonic. ‘May I suggest a side dish of garlic and butter potatoes with that? It is one of Aldonez’s specialities.’

‘Thank you.’ She nodded her head and wondered how someone so altogether stunning could have inspired such dislike in her. ‘Is there a cloakroom here? I’d like to wash my hands...’

‘Sì, just to the left of the main door. I will show you.’

Once alone in the small stone cloakroom, that boasted one deep-set porcelain bowl of ancient origin and one very modern lavatory in bright yellow, she gazed into the ornate and rather fine mirror above the wash-basin despairingly. This had all gone wrong somehow, badly wrong, and she had been so excited earlier in the day. Large, soulful brown eyes stared seriously back at her as she nipped at her lower lip anxiously, her pale creamy skin a perfect foil for her dark eyes and chestnut hair.

Beautiful! She grimaced at her reflection disbelievingly. What an obvious line, and yet it hadn’t been like that, not really. But he couldn’t have meant it. She shook her head, causing her silky fine hair to flow in a soft wave across her hot face. She wasn’t ugly, she knew that, but she was no beauty either—not like Grace. Men had always turned to take a second and third look at Grace, even though her friend was oblivious to their attention most of the time.

Oh, well... She shrugged, dropping her eyes from the mirror and running her wrists under the cold water tap before splashing her face. She was quite happy with who she was, give or take her hot temper and a few other faults she could have done without, so her looks weren’t important one way or the other. But she did wish she hadn’t got off to quite such a bad start with Donato’s friend. She was here to make Grace’s life easier and worry-free as her confinement approached, not to enter into a war with her friend’s husband’s brother-in-law from day one.

She’d just have to bite her tongue and keep quiet when Romano was about. She raised her head and nodded at herself determinedly. She could do that, couldn’t she? She should have done it already, not reacted to him like an indignant hedgehog with prickles at the ready. It was kind of him to have come all this way to fetch a virtual stranger, and she hadn’t even thanked him properly. It wasn’t even as if she had met him before and he was renewing an acquaintance; he had been in America when she had come to Italy in the summer and she had left before he had returned.

Yes, she had behaved badly. She prepared to go back to the table full of good intentions. He might be arrogant and imperious, and more than a little high-handed, but he must have some good points for Grace to rate him so highly, and it wasn’t as if she’d see much of him while she was here anyway. She’d thank him nicely for coming to fetch her, smile sweetly regardless of how maddening she found him, and refuse to rise to any provocation, intended or unintended, from now on.

He was as far removed from her humble orbit as the man in the moon anyway, and once he’d safely delivered her at Casa Pontina he’d probably barely notice her on the occasions when he came to visit Donato and Grace.

The last thought should have been comforting, but was instead mildly depressing. Oh, for goodness’ sake don’t be so pathetic, girl, she told herself irritably, before brushing her hair into gleaming order with hard, stiff strokes that set her scalp tingling, spraying a touch of her favourite perfume on her wrists, and then walking firmly out of the cloakroom, her head high.

CHAPTER TWO

‘CLAIRE!’ Grace waddled out of the front door, her face beaming and her arms outstretched, and Claire had left the car before Romano could reach her door. The two women gave each other as close a hug as Grace’s bulk would allow before Claire drew back and looked at her friend with something akin to amazement on her face.

‘You’re huge.’ It wasn’t tactful, but they had always been honest with each other.

‘Tell me about it,’ Grace said ruefully. ‘I can’t watch any of those wildlife programmes on TV lately, the sight of hippos plodding around hits too near home!’

‘Don’t be silly.’ They were both laughing helplessly now. ‘You’re still as beautiful as ever, just...’

‘Fat?’

‘Mumsy, which is exactly what you are going to be, isn’t it? How are you feeling?’ Claire asked softly.

‘Big, tired, achey...and incredibly happy.’

Grace grinned at her and they hugged again before a cool voice behind Claire said, ‘Shall we go into the house? Donato has asked me to make sure you keep your feet up, Grace, until he gets back this evening. You and Claire can gossip all you like once you’re sitting down.’

‘See how it is?’ Grace grimaced at Claire as she tucked her friend’s arm in her own and turned towards the house. ‘If it isn’t Donato or Lorenzo fussing, it’s Romano. I’m surrounded by men who think I’m going to break.’

‘That’s no bad thing.’ As they walked up the huge stone steps that led to the ornate studded front door of Casa Pontina Claire smiled at her friend. ‘And now I’m here to add my pennyworth to the nagging.’

‘“Nagging”?’ As the three of them entered the magnificent hall with its beautifully polished floor and air of timeless graciousness Romano stopped and looked down at the two women. ‘What is this “nagging”? This is an English word?’

‘I suppose it is.’ Grace smiled up at him, and Claire was struck by how open and relaxed his face was as he returned the smile. The austerity had gone, along with the coldness, and the result was devastating. He certainly hadn’t smiled at her like that.

He really was something else, Claire thought wryly as she watched and listened to Grace explaining the meaning of the word. Not that she was affected by him, not at all, she assured herself quickly. But, nevertheless, one certainly didn’t get many men like him to the pound. Or many women who could match such wealth and power and good looks...women like Bianca. They must have made a stunning couple.

Explanations over, the three of them walked into the imposing drawing room where Cecilia, the robust cook, and Anna and Gina, the two little maids, were waiting to greet her, along with a long, low coffee-table groaning with a selection of sandwiches and cakes. ‘I thought you might be peckish. It’s some time until dinner, although Romano insisted he would take you to lunch,’ Grace said happily. ‘Was it nice?’