Sara Craven Tribute Collection. Sara Craven
time—early next week, say? Thank you.’
Flora sat as if she’d been turned to stone, listening to the tape switch off and run back. Her mouth was bone-dry and her heart was beating an alarmed tattoo against her ribcage. She did not dare look at Marco, but the words of the message seemed to hang in the room.
Useless to hope that he had not picked up its exact implication.
If it had just been five minutes later, she thought, fighting back a sob of desperation. Just five minutes… He would have been gone. And she would have been safe. Whereas now…
When he eventually spoke, his tone was almost remote. The polite interest of a stranger. ‘Is it true? Are you carrying my child?’
She set her teeth to stop them chattering. ‘What—makes you think it’s yours?’
‘Now who is playing games?’ There was a note under the surface of his voice that made her shiver. ‘Do not prevaricate—or lie to me. Are you having our baby?’
She closed her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘At last, some honesty.’ There was another terrible silence, then he sighed. ‘Well, even if I am a bastard, as you say, Flora mia, I will not allow my child to be born as one. You and I will be married as soon as it can be arranged.’
‘No.’ She was on her feet. ‘I won’t do it. You can’t make me.’
He smiled grimly. ‘I think I can, mia bella. You have made it clear you find me repulsive.’ He shrugged. ‘I can accept that. But our child will be born within the protection of marriage.’ His voice hardened. ‘What happens afterwards will be a matter for negotiation, but it will not include the usual demands a husband makes of his wife.’
‘To hell with your negotiations.’ Flora was shaking. ‘I still say no.’
‘You wish to give up the baby?’ Marco asked coldly. ‘Or do you want me to fight you for custody through the courts, with all the attendant lurid publicity that will entail? Because I guarantee you will lose.’
‘You can’t say that.’ The breath caught in her throat. ‘Judges favour mothers.’
‘Not always. And can you afford the risk—or the cost of a long legal war?’ His smile froze her. ‘I do not think so.’
He paused. ‘But, if you marry me, I promise complete financial support for you and the baby in return for proper visitation rights. I shall not even require you to live under my roof after the birth,’ he added drily. ‘And in time we can divorce discreetly.’
There was a terrible tightness in her chest, as if someone had grasped her heart and was squeezing out every last drop of blood.
She said thickly, ‘You’ve betrayed me once. Why should I trust you this time?’
His mouth curled. ‘Because I don’t bed unwilling women, cara. As my wife, and the mother of my child, you will receive my respect, but nothing more.’ He paused, his gaze faintly mocking. ‘Do you want my lawyers to draw up a written assurance?’
‘No.’ She bit her lip. ‘That—won’t be necessary.’
‘Do I take it, then, that you agree to my terms?’
She said, dully, ‘I don’t seem to have a great deal of choice.’
‘Then you may choose now. Do you wish a large wedding or a small one?’
‘A small one,’ she said. ‘And as quiet as possible.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’m not proud of what I’m doing.’
‘It is not what I would wish either,’ Marco said quietly. ‘But we must consider what is best for the child we have made together.’
She walked over to the window and stood, staring unseeingly at the street. ‘Have you thought of what your godmother will say about this?’
He said curtly, ‘Her views are of no concern to me. In any case, she is giving up the villa and returning to Rome, so you will not be obliged to meet with her again.’
She said with difficulty, ‘But you—do expect me to live at the castello?’
‘It is a tradition for Valante children to be born there—as I am sure you already know.’ His tone was brusque.
Yes, she thought, with a stab of anguish. In that big canopied bed in the tower, where we were lovers…
Dear God, I can’t bear it—I can’t…
She didn’t look at him. ‘I presume you will be spending most of your time in Milan?’
‘Naturally,’ he said drily. ‘I would not be the first husband to use work as an excuse to keep his distance. Although not usually so early in the marriage.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I—I suppose not.’
She kept her back turned because she dared not—dared not—face him. Because he might look into her eyes and see all the confusion of misery and yearning that was suddenly rising inside her in spite of herself.
And she knew if he came to her, and took her in his arms, she would be lost for ever. She could not take that risk.
He said suddenly, ‘Your friend Hester. How much have you told her?’
‘Just that I had a stupid, dangerous affair, and am now pregnant as a result.’ She spoke defiantly. How silly, she thought, to have imagined that there was anywhere she could go where he wouldn’t find her exactly when he wished. ‘I also said that I wanted nothing more to do with you, so I shall have some explaining to do.’
‘I am sure you will make your—change of heart convincing,’ he said softly. ‘Do you wish her to be a witness at our wedding?’
She forced a smile. ‘I don’t think I could keep her away if I tried.’
‘Perhaps you should let me talk to her, so that I can reassure her that this marriage is in everyone’s best interests.’ He hesitated. ‘Will you both have dinner with me at my hotel this evening?’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But that—won’t be necessary.’ She steadied her voice. ‘I’ve agreed to go through a wedding ceremony with you. Let that be enough.’
He said icily, ‘As you wish. I will contact you, then, only when the arrangements are made.’
‘I think it would be better,’ she said, then weakened her position by adding, ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Why should I mind? As you reminded me, cara, I am a philosopher, and one woman is like any other. I will try not to forget again.’
His tone was sardonic. ‘However, I should warn you that my respect for you as my wife will not necessarily guarantee my fidelity. I do not intend to be lonely, although I shall be discreet. I trust you can accept that?’
‘Of course.’ Her voice was barely audible.
‘Good.’ He sounded almost brisk. ‘Then I will leave you in peace, as you desire. Arriverderci, Flora mia.’
She heard him leave the room, and, presently, the sound of the front door closing.
She made her way slowly to the sofa and sank down on its cushions. Well, she had managed to keep him at a serious distance, she thought, and, under the circumstances, that was a personal triumph. So why did she feel as if she’d suffered a crushing defeat instead?
I do not intend to be lonely. The words reverberated over and over in her mind, creating images she did not wish to contemplate.
Especially when it seemed she had condemned herself to an agony of loneliness for the rest of her life.
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. Well, she had done what she had to do—if she was to preserve her self-respect—and her sanity.
And now—somehow—she