His Reluctant Bride: The Marchese's Love-Child / The Count's Blackmail Bargain / In the Millionaire's Possession. Sara Craven
Italy to love him. But what he really needs is the stability of both parents in his life. So, Paola mia, I am asking you once again, as I did three years ago, to be my wife.’
For a long, dazed moment Polly was too shaken to speak.
At last, she said huskily, ‘Is this some grotesque joke?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘We are, if you remember, already engaged to each other,’ he added cynically.
Her breathing quickened. ‘Was I really supposed to believe that—that nonsense? I—I don’t think so. And whatever happened between us, it was all over a long time ago, and you know it. You can’t simply revive it—on a whim.’
‘Very well, then,’ Sandro returned equably. ‘Let us forget it ever took place. Pretend that, for the first time, I am making you an offer of marriage, Paola mia.’
She shook her head. ‘But you don’t—you can’t want to marry me.’
‘I have no particular desire to be married at all,’ he retorted. ‘But there are good reasons why I should sacrifice my freedom.’
‘Your freedom?’ Polly almost choked. ‘What about mine?’
He looked around him. ‘You call this liberty? Working long hours. Living in little more than one room? I don’t think so.’
‘I could always sue you for child support.’ She drew a breath. ‘That would improve my circumstances by a hundred per cent.’
‘But I am already offering to support our child—as the Marchese Valessi,’ he said silkily. ‘Besides, our marriage would remove any possible objections to Carlino’s right to inherit when the time comes, and it would mean that his well-being and nurture becomes the concern of us both from day to day.’ He paused. ‘I suggest it as a practical alternative to a custody battle.’
‘Which I might win,’ she said swiftly.
‘You might, but could you fight the appeal which would follow?’ Sandro countered. ‘Or the appeal against the appeal?’ His smile was chilly. ‘The case might last for years.’
‘Or until I run out of money, of course,’ she said bitterly. ‘You don’t need a cattle prod, signore.’
His brows lifted. ‘You regard marriage to me as some kind of torture, signorina?’ he asked softly. ‘Then perhaps I should make something clear to you at once. What I am offering is only a matter of form. A way of legalising the situation between us. But it would not be a love match. Too much has taken place for that. We would share nothing more than a roof, if that is what concerns you.’
He gave her a level look. ‘I accept now that any feelings we had for each other belong in the past. That we are different people, and we have both moved on.’
‘You say that now.’ Her voice was husky. ‘Yet only last night you told me I was still in your blood.’
‘But a lot has happened since then,’ Sandro said harshly. ‘And my feelings towards you have naturally changed as a result.’ He paused. ‘Now our child remains the only issue between us, and his ultimate welfare should be our sole consideration. You agree with that, I hope?’
Polly nodded numbly.
‘Bene,’ he said briskly. ‘In return, I promise that your life as the Marchesa Valessi will be as easy as I can make it. You will be made a suitable allowance, and asked occasionally to act as my hostess.’ His smile was hard. ‘But you may spend your nights alone.’
She swallowed. ‘And—you?’
‘I hardly think that concerns you,’ he said coldly. ‘However, I will ensure that any liaisons I have are conducted discreetly.’
She bit her lip. ‘As ours was?’
‘Davvero,’ he nodded. ‘Precisely.’
She said with difficulty, ‘And what about me—if I met someone?’
His brows lifted. ‘I should require you to behave with equal discretion. I would tolerate no open scandal in my family.’
He paused. ‘So what is your answer, Paola? Will you be my wife?’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Concealed by the skirts of her robe, her hands were clenched painfully into fists. ‘I mean—you might want more children at some point.’
‘I have a son to safeguard the inheritance. That was always my priority in such matters. As to the rest …’ He shrugged again. ‘I have cousins, both married with bambini. At times my house seems full of children. Although that, of course, will be good for Carlino,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘He does not talk as well as he should, and he hardly knows how to kick a ball. That must change.’
Polly’s lips parted in sheer outrage. ‘How—dare you? Last week you didn’t even know you were a father. Now you’re a bloody expert on child-rearing.’
‘I made no such claim,’ Sandro returned mildly. ‘But Julie had concerns which she mentioned to me.’
‘Then she had no right,’ Polly flared. ‘Charlie’s absolutely beautiful, and he can do all kinds of things,’ she added hotly, burying the memory of various clashes she’d had with her mother on that very subject.
‘And could do far more, I suspect.’ Sandro’s smile was cold, ‘if he was allowed to—and once keeping his clothes clean from every speck of dust is no longer a major priority.’ He allowed her to absorb that, then went on, ‘Can he swim?’
She reddened, still stung by his last comment, but honestly unable to refute it. He hadn’t missed much during his first encounter with her mother, she thought ruefully.
‘No, not yet,’ she said in a subdued voice. ‘I meant to take him to the local baths, but weekends are always so busy.’
‘It’s not a problem,’ he said. He smiled at her for the first time that night without edge, the sudden unforced charm making the breath catch in her throat. ‘I shall enjoy teaching him myself in our own pool.’
She caught her lower lip in her teeth, struggling to regain her equilibrium. Trying to disregard the image his words had presented. ‘Yes—I suppose …’
‘So,’ he said, after a pause, ‘shall we settle this thing now? Will you marry me, and come to Italy with our son?’
‘I don’t seem to have much of a choice,’ she said in a low voice.
Something unreadable came and went in his face. ‘And if you could choose? What then?’
‘I would wish to be as far from you,’ she said passionately, ‘as it’s possible to get.’
His head went back, and his eyes narrowed. ‘Well, do not despair, bella mia,’ he drawled scornfully. ‘My home at Comadora is large, a palazzo, with thick walls, and many rooms. You should be able to avoid me easily.’
‘Thank you,’ she said huskily.
‘Tonight, however, you will not be so fortunate,’ he added.
She stiffened. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I intend to spend the night here.’
She gasped. ‘But—but you can’t …’ She tried not to look at the all too obtrusive sofa bed. ‘There’s no room.’
‘It will be cramped,’ he agreed. He took off his jacket, and began to loosen his tie. ‘But it is only for one night.’
She said in a choked voice, ‘You promised me—you swore this wouldn’t happen. Oh, why did I think I could trust you?’
‘The boot is on the other foot, cara mia.’ He began unhurriedly to unfasten his shirt. ‘I do not trust you. Who knows what you might be tempted to do,