Sara Craven Tribute Collection. Sara Craven
wiser to stay as we are.’
‘Who cares about wisdom?’
‘I think it’s time one of us did,’ he said wryly. ‘We haven’t been very sensible so far.’
‘And now you’re walking out on me.’ She made it jokey, to hide the little pang of hurt. ‘And I can’t even comfort myself by talking about you.’
He framed her face in his hands, looking at her with heart-stopping tenderness. ‘When we’re married,’ he said, ‘you won’t be able to get rid of me, and that’s a guarantee.’
‘I know I’m being really stupid.’ She sighed. ‘But I don’t want to lose you. It’s just too soon. I need to have you all to myself for a while.’
‘You’re not losing me,’ Rome said steadily, ‘because I’m taking you with me—in my heart, my mind and my soul. And when I come back you’ll have the rest of my life—if you want it.’
She pulled him down to her. ‘You think there’s some doubt?’ she whispered against his lips.
Yes, Rome thought, as he let himself into his flat. There was a chasm—an abyss of doubt.
More than once over the past forty-eight hours he’d come within a hair’s breadth of telling her everything.
And perhaps, in the end, that was the only way to cut himself out of this maze of deceit he was enmeshed in.
Which, of course, he should have done before he asked her to marry him. He was a fool and more than a fool for that, he thought bitterly, but he hadn’t been able to help himself—if that was any excuse.
Her enraptured response to his loving had sent him over the edge into a kind of madness where nothing mattered other than she should belong to him for ever.
And then he’d woken and found her gone.
He’d argued with himself every mile of that headlong drive back from Suffolk, trying to convince himself that she’d done the right thing. That the enmity between their two families was too strong, and there was no way they’d ever be allowed to be together.
Her affection for her grandfather shone out of her. How would she react when she found that he, Rome, was being paid to seduce her with the aim of extorting more money from Arnold Grant? She’d think that every bad thing she’d heard about the Sansoms was fully justified. He’d about been able to see the stricken look in the clear eyes as she turned away from him.
But he hadn’t allowed himself to think like that, or he might really have gone mad. His priority—his pressing, urgent need—had been to find her—to talk to her about some of the feelings that were tearing him apart. And to ask her to wait for him while he sorted out the stinking mess his life had become.
But when he’d seen her, standing in front of him, he’d lost his last precarious hold on reality and asked her to marry him instead.
He’d had no right to do anything of the kind, and he knew it. But there was no way he wished the words unsaid.
And now he had to fight to keep her, along with Montedoro. And with no real idea even how to begin, he thought with bitter weariness.
The light on his answer-machine was blinking, and when he pressed the ‘play’ button, he got Matt’s angry voice, demanding to know where he was.
It was a good thing that he hadn’t yielded to the overwhelming temptation to bring Cory back here with him, Rome thought, his mouth twisting wryly as he listened. Because Matt Sansom on the rampage defied explanation.
‘You’d better have some good news for me when I call next time,’ his grandfather rumbled furiously at the end of his tirade. ‘Because I’ve had enough of this.’
‘Which makes two of us,’ Rome muttered, and deleted the message.
‘You seem very pleased with yourself these days.’ Arnold Grant directed a shrewd glance at Cory, who was singing softly to herself as she sat in front of the computer screen.
‘I do?’ Cory realised she was blushing. ‘I—I can’t think why,’ she hedged.
Arnold glanced over her shoulder. ‘Been making a killing on the market?’ He sounded amused. ‘Since when have you been interested in stocks and shares?’
‘For quite a while.’ She gave him a sedate smile. ‘It’s my hobby.’
‘You’re full of surprises, child. You look different, too.’ He gave her a long look. ‘What have you done to your hair?’
Cory put up a self-conscious hand. ‘Just a few highlights.’ She paused. ‘You don’t approve?’
Arnold said drily, ‘I don’t think it’s my approval you’re looking for.’ He paused. ‘So, who is he?’
Cory studied the screen with extra concentration. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘In other words, I’m to mind my own business.’ Arnold nodded. ‘But ultimately, my girl, your happiness and well-being are my business. Remember that, please.’ He paused. ‘So why haven’t you mentioned him before? Is he someone I wouldn’t approve of?’
Cory bit her lip, wishing with all her heart that she hadn’t pledged to keep her relationship with Rome a secret. Especially when it was impossible to hide the sheen on her hair, the colour in her cheeks, the swing in her step—all the tell-tale signs of happiness.
And this might have been the perfect moment to enlist her grandfather’s support.
‘No. And I haven’t told you about him because I haven’t known him that long, and it’s too soon for formal introductions. Besides, he’s away at the moment on business,’ she added quickly.
‘Hmm.’ Arnold was silent for a moment. Then he said gruffly, ‘Is it serious?’
She said a quiet, ‘Yes—I hope so,’ and was frankly relieved when he did not ask her to elaborate further.
Rome had called once, leaving an outrageous message on her answering machine which had made her blush to her toes, but giving no clue as to when he would be back.
This was the third day and night, she thought forlornly, and it felt like for ever.
For the rest of the afternoon she was aware of her grandfather’s speculative gaze, and was quite glad when he told her that she could leave early. A certain abruptness in his tone told her that he was hurt because she hadn’t confided in him more fully.
Up to now, she thought ruefully, her life had been pretty much an open book where he was concerned—and fairly dull reading at that.
But what would his reaction be when he found she was planning to live in Italy?
I’m all he has, she thought, troubled, as she made her way home. But I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it.
Earlier that day, Rome had been on his way back from the North of England, where he’d been following up a list of contacts that Allessandro had given him. And a gratifying number, it seemed, were ready to give the Montedoro vintages a trial.
At any other time Rome would have been well-satisfied. He might even have been turning cartwheels.
But he could not escape from the knowledge that the wine he was selling might soon no longer belong to him.
But if he could demonstrate that his business was prospering, surely he’d be able to attract some independent financial backing somewhere, to ensure that he and Cory would have a life together at Montedoro?
However, nothing was certain in this uncertain world, he reminded himself bitterly, and there were powerful forces stacked against him.
But, as Steve had once told him, if you didn’t stake everything, you didn’t deserve to win. And he was fighting for his future. And for Cory.
When