The Italian’s Baby

CHAPTER FIVE

IN THE early hours of the morning Rebecca heard something being pushed under her door.

She looked down at the envelope without touching it. Then she lifted it and stared longer, while thoughts and fears clashed in her mind.

‘Destroy it, unread. If you read it you’re embarking on uncharted seas. Play safe.’

She opened the letter.

His handwriting hadn’t changed. It was big and confident, an assertion in the face of life. But the words held a hint of something else, almost as though he was confused.

You were right about almost everything. But the day your father arrived wasn’t our last meeting. If you want to know about the other one, I’ll tell you. Otherwise I won’t trouble you again.

Luca

He was playing mind games, was her first thought, but she dismissed it, in fairness. Mind games demanded a subtlety that he didn’t have.

She decided to go back to bed and think about it.

An hour later she was knocking on his door. He answered at once.

He was in a white shirt, heavily embroidered down the front, as though he’d spent the evening at a smart function. Now he’d returned and tossed aside his black jacket and torn the shirt open at the neck.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he growled.

‘I want to hear what you have to say, Luca, but then I’m leaving at once.’

‘My God, you won’t give an inch, will you, even now?’

‘No, because whatever you tell me can’t really make any difference. How could you ever imagine that it would, after what you did?’

‘After what I did?’ he echoed. ‘What did I do?’

‘Oh, please, don’t pretend you don’t know. We talked about it the first evening. You took my father’s money.’

‘Naturally. I had every right to it.’

‘Of course you did,’ she said scornfully. ‘After all, you’d given me several months of your valuable time, and I didn’t even reward you with a living child. There had to be some recompense for that. But what do you think it did to me to hear my father crowing with delight because you’d lived down to his worst expectations?’

‘That I…?’ He frowned. ‘What did he tell you?’

‘That you’d taken his money to go away and never see me again. That’s another reason I wouldn’t touch those diamonds. Did you think I’d want to take anything from you after you sold me back to him? Besides, you overpaid. I know what those diamonds are worth, and it must be twice what he paid for me. Or is that interest added on?’

For a thunderous moment Luca was so silent that she had an eerie feeling that he would never speak again. Then he swore violently, turning away and smashing a fist into the other palm while a stream of invective flowed from him.

‘And you’ve believed that, all these years?’ he raged when he turned back.

‘What else was I to believe? He showed me the cheque when it had been cashed and returned to him. It was your bank account. Don’t pretend it wasn’t.’

‘Oh, yes, it was mine. He paid me that money, I don’t deny it.’

‘Then what more is there to say?’

‘He lied to you about why. I left because, when Frank had finished, I was sure it was all my fault, the state you were in, the baby’s death-I felt guilty about the whole thing.

‘Then he had you whisked off to England, to a place I didn’t know. I couldn’t reach you. I went back to the cottage, and found him there, setting fire to it.’

She stared at him, trying not to believe.

‘My father burned our home?’ she whispered.

Something flickered across his face.

‘Our home. Yes, that’s what it was. I’m glad you remembered. He burnt it with his own hands. Luckily there were witnesses. On their evidence he was arrested and put into the cells. He could have faced a long stretch in prison if I hadn’t told the police that it was a “misunderstanding” and I wouldn’t press charges.’

‘Why would you do that?’

His grin flashed out again, cynical, jeering.

‘Why, for fifty thousand pounds, of course. That was my price for letting him off. I sold him back his freedom. Nothing else.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ she whispered, just as she had done long ago.

‘He got caught in the fire himself and burned his arm. Did you never notice that?’

And it came back to her, the memory of Frank arriving one day with his arm in a sling. He said he’d broken it, but months later she’d seen the ugly mark and thought it looked like a burn. When she’d asked him about it, he’d become angry and evasive.

‘All these years,’ she murmured, ‘he told me that you-’

‘You heard him offer me money once before,’ he reminded her, ‘and you heard my reaction.’

‘Yes, I remember. He said you’d turned against me when I lost the baby and lost my looks.’

‘You never lost them,’ he said simply. ‘Never. And did you really believe that of me?’

She nodded dumbly.

‘You should have had more faith in me, Becky.’

His voice was sad, but not reproachful. He had never blamed her for anything.

‘Oh, God,’ she whispered. ‘All these years, I thought that you-oh, God, oh, God!’

She had thought she’d touched bottom long ago, but now she knew that this was far worse. She went to the window and looked out into the darkness, too confused to think.

‘I should have known,’ she said at last, ‘but I wasn’t myself.’

‘No, you were never yourself after the day your father came,’ he said. ‘I saw you once after that. Do you really not remember when I came to the hospital?’

Distressed, she shook her head. ‘I always wondered why you never came near me again.’

‘Do you think he would let me? He was your father, your next of kin, and I was nothing. If he’d arrived a day later we would have been married, but we weren’t, and I had no rights.’

‘Yes,’ she said, suddenly struck. ‘I remember him saying, “Then I’m in time.” He meant in time to stop us marrying. But you were the baby’s father.’

‘Before he came to our door your father had approached the police chief, and got him in his pocket. I was arrested and held in the cells for a week.’

‘Dear God! On what charge?’

He shrugged. ‘Anything they could think of. It didn’t matter, because they never meant to keep me inside for long, just long enough to suit Frank Solway’s purpose.

‘I thought you were dying. I begged to be allowed to see you, but nobody would listen. And then, at last, your father came to me and told me that the “little bastard” as he called our child, was dead.

‘He said it was all my fault, that I’d caused you to lose the child by my “rough behaviour”-’

‘But that’s not true,’ she burst out. ‘He was the one who was rough. You didn’t fight him back, you just stood there like a rock. I do remember that.’

‘Of course I did, because I was afraid to harm you.’

‘Then how could you have felt guilty when you knew it wasn’t your fault?’

He tore his hair. ‘Why does an innocent man ever confess to a crime he hasn’t committed? Because they torture his mind until he thinks lies are truth and truth is a lie. I was in such torment, with our child dying, longing for you, not able to get near you, it wasn’t hard for him to make me feel that I was entirely to blame.’

She looked at him, torn with pity.

‘And then he took me to see you. I thought my chance had come, that I could take you in my arms and tell you that I loved you. But you weren’t in your right mind.’

‘I had post-natal depression, very badly, and I think they gave me some strong medication.’

‘Yes, I understand that now, but at the time I just walked in and saw you staring into space. I didn’t know what had happened. You didn’t seem to hear or see me.’

‘I didn’t,’ she breathed. ‘I had no idea you’d even been there.’

‘I wasn’t able to be alone with you. There was your father, and a nurse, in case I “became violent”. I begged you to hear me. I told you over and over how sorry I was. You just stared at me. Don’t you remember?’

Dumbly she shook her head. ‘I never knew,’ she said. ‘I must have been completely out of it.’

‘And your father knew the state you’d be in while I was there. I wonder what he persuaded the doctor to give you beforehand, to make sure.’

She nodded. She could believe anything of Frank now. ‘And he never told me that you came.’

‘Of course not. It suited him to have you think I’d callously abandoned you. I went away half-crazy with guilt at the harm I thought I’d done you.’

‘It wasn’t you, Luca, it wasn’t you.’

He regarded her sadly.

‘You can tell me that now, but how can you tell the boy I was then? His agony is beyond comfort. Do you remember how it was between us at the very start, how I tried to resist you, for your sake?’

She nodded. ‘And I wouldn’t let you.’

‘My conscience had always troubled me about taking you away from the life you were used to, making you live in poverty.’

‘You didn’t make me. I chose it when I chose you. And I never felt poor. I felt rich because we loved each other.’

‘But I knew I ought to have been stronger. And in the end your father convinced me that the best thing I could do for you was to free you. He said that if I kept trying to “force myself on you”, you might never recover.’

‘He was a bad man,’ she said. ‘I never fully understood that before.’

Luca nodded.

‘I took his money to make myself rich and powerful enough to revenge myself on him. I promised myself we would meet again, but we never did. My business flourished, so I made it my life. Now it’s all I know. Becky-’

‘I’m Rebecca now,’ she said quickly. ‘Nobody calls me Becky any more.’

‘I’m glad. I want it to be just my name for you. It was special, that time.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘It was special. But it was another life.’

‘But I don’t like my life now. Do you?’

‘Don’t,’ she begged, ‘don’t ask me that kind of question.’

‘Why not? If you’re happy, you have only to say so. Danvers Jordan is the man of your dreams, right?’

She almost laughed at that. ‘Oh, please! Poor Danvers. He’s not the man of anyone’s dreams.’

‘No, he’s a dead fish.’

This time she did laugh. ‘Your English is still shaky. You mean a cold fish.’

‘Whatever. I prefer my version. So life with him isn’t blissful. Are you going to marry him?’

‘If I decide to, yes! Leave it, Luca. I’m glad to have found out the truth. I’ve misjudged you, and perhaps we can be friends now. But it doesn’t give you the right to question me about my life.’

‘Friends? You think we can be friends?’

‘It’s the best there is.’

He sighed and she thought his shoulders sagged.

‘Then let us celebrate our friendship with a drink,’ he said.

‘All right.’ She followed him to the drinks cabinet. ‘What do you drink now?’ she asked. ‘Surely not-?’ She named a Tuscan wine, valued for its rough edge.

‘No, these days I don’t move among people who could appreciate it. You have to be Tuscan.’

‘True,’ she said. ‘Dry sherry, please.’

She watched him pour, watched the deft movements of the big hands that were so powerful, and so tender. They were a rich man’s hands now, but no amount of manicuring could hide their suggestion of force. When she looked up she found him looking at her with a softened look on his face.

‘Am I very changed?’ she asked quietly.

‘Your hair’s different. It used to be light brown, not as fair as it is now.’

‘That isn’t what I meant.’

He nodded. ‘I know what you meant.’

He stepped closer so that he could look directly into her eyes, not moving for a long moment. Rebecca tried to turn away, but his gaze held her with its fierce intensity, and its sadness. She hadn’t expected his sadness, and she couldn’t cope with it.

‘No,’ he said at last. ‘You haven’t changed.’

She gave him a melancholy smile. ‘That’s not true.’

‘I say it is. No, don’t move.’

He had laid a hand on her shoulder to keep her there. She stopped and raised her head again, unwilling to meet his eyes but unable to do anything else. At last she could see the connection that spanned the years. The old force and power streamed from him, the confident authority that had been there even when he was penniless. This was Luca as he had been, and as she recognised him now.

Slowly he moved his hand upward so that it brushed against her neck, then her cheek. He seemed almost in a trance, held there by something stronger than himself. She saw his face soften, his expression become almost bewildered, as though something had taken him by surprise.

‘Becky,’ he murmured, raising his other hand and letting the fingers drift down her face.

The effect was devastating. His touch was so light that she barely felt it, yet it sent through her sensations that she had not known for years. They threatened her, filled her with alarm, yet she could not move.

‘Do you remember?’ he whispered.

‘Yes,’ she said sadly. ‘I remember.’

If only he would let her go. If only he would never let her go. The feather-light movement of his fingers against her cheek was filling her with a bitter-sweet turmoil, too intense to bear.

As if in a dream she found herself putting up a hand to touch his face. Then she took a sharp breath as she realised how close to danger she had allowed herself to drift.

‘Goodbye, Luca,’ she said.

His face became set. ‘You can’t say goodbye to me now.’

‘I must. There can’t be anything else. It’s too late.’

She tried to draw back her hand from his face, but he seized it and turned his head so that his lips lay against the palm.

‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘It’s too late-too late-’

He didn’t answer in words, only in the soft scorching of his breath against her palm. She braced herself against it, refusing to yield. He thought he could overcome her, and she would not allow it.

But it was harder than she thought because his touch affected her on two levels. She could cope with the physical excitement that scurried along her nerves, but not the memories of that other, sweeter life.

She was assailed by sensations, not only of pleasure but also of sunshine and happiness. She had forgotten about happiness, what it felt like, even what it was. But now it was there again in visions of a love that had been too intense to last.

The gentle caressing movements of his lips brought back unbearable joy, the nights when she had lain in his arms, revelling in the passion and tenderness of his love.

It had been almost frightening to feel such bliss, but his presence in the bed beside her had been reassuring, and she had fallen asleep against his shoulder, knowing that the next day would bring the same.

Now he was recalling the echoes of that time, and she wanted to avoid them and stay in the safe, chilly cocoon she had built for herself. It was painful to risk leaving that safety, but he was demanding it more insistently with every moment.

‘Do you remember?’ he murmured. ‘Do you remember-?’

‘No,’ she said urgently. ‘I don’t want to remember.’

‘Don’t shut me out, Becky.’

‘I must.’

He didn’t fight her. He simply withdrew his lips and laid her palm against his cheek again, looking so sad and despairing that she couldn’t bear it.

‘My darling-’ she used the words without knowing ‘-my darling, please-try to understand-’

‘I do,’ he said heavily. ‘It was a stupid idea, wasn’t it?’

‘No, it was a beautiful idea, but I guess I have no courage any more.’

‘My Becky had courage enough for anything.’

‘Long, long ago.’

He looked down, and suddenly she couldn’t bear for him to look at her face with the glow of youth gone from it. She pulled his head down to her, so that his lips covered hers.

She knew at once that her body had slept all this time. It wasn’t sleeping any more, because he was summoning it to vibrant new life, urgent in its need, carrying her with it despite her sensible self.

His mouth had the same power to coax and demand, but now there was an extra excitement. The boy had gone. The man had a hard edge that coloured all his actions, making her crave to know more of him. She found herself doing what she had sworn not to do, kissing him in a way that urged him on.

He needed no more encouragement to make him extend the kiss into an exploration of her jaw-line, down the length of her neck to the soft place at the base of her throat. Her heart was beating wildly with anticipation, excitement scurrying down from her throat, between her breasts-

‘Luca,’ she whispered, ‘Luca-don’t…’

Something in her voice pierced the cloud of desire that pervaded him, and he looked at her intently. There were tears in her eyes.

‘Don’t cry,’ he begged.

‘I’m not really. I’m glad it happened. I’ll never, never be sorry we met again, and put things right. But I can’t go on.’

‘Don’t give up so soon,’ he urged. ‘I’m here. You can hold on to me. Becky, take what we have. I don’t believe in “too late”.’

‘I wish I didn’t. Let me go, let me go.’

He didn’t try to restrain her as she slipped out of his arms, but he watched her all the way to the door.

‘You’ll come back to me, Becky.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘No, please believe me.’

She slipped out before he could speak again, and she knew that she was fleeing danger. She called herself a coward, but she couldn’t help it.

She reached her apartment like a refuge and secured the door behind her, leaning against it, as though fearing an invasion.

She tried to pull herself together. A heavy day faced her, and now she should be sensible and go to bed. But her body was too full of tension and excitement to relax.

She closed her eyes, trying to banish the feel of being held against his hard body, but the more she fought it the more she became aware of it. She’d started something that she had to finish.

All she had to do was go to him now. He might be asleep, but she knew he wasn’t. Her heart told her that he was waiting, listening for the ring of the telephone or the knock on the door. Because he knew, just as she did, that they had not reached the end.

She seized the phone and dialled the penthouse suite. He answered at once, just the one word. ‘Yes?’ spoken in a voice that was tense and urgent. He knew who it was.

She hung up. She was trembling.

Half an hour passed. He did not ring back.

She slipped quietly out of her apartment, and to the elevator, which drifted up almost soundlessly through the darkened building. At his door she paused only briefly before knocking, and it was opened immediately. He had been waiting for her.

He looked at her for a moment before pulling her fiercely inside and clasping her in his arms so that she was lifted clear off her feet. She could feel the relief that shook him as she put her own arms about him and laid her lips on his.

This was her kiss, with nothing held back. She was too honest to play coy. This had been inevitable from the moment she touched him, because after that she had to touch him again and again. She had to find out if his body was as strong and thrilling as she remembered.

‘What do you want?’ he whispered.

‘I want you,’ she murmured back against his mouth. Her hands were at work, pulling open the rest of his buttons, feeling the light sprinkling of hair beneath.

He took over, ripping off the rest of his clothes before ripping off hers. They fell on the bed together, both equally lost in a delirious need to be satiated with each other’s bodies.

Rebecca was awake now, every inch of her, vibrant, passionate and hungry, giving him everything she had or was, making feverish demands from the one man who had it in his power to fulfil her.

Luca had always had vigour, but time and experience had added subtlety. He explored her with hands and lips, using both with consummate skill to inflame her senses until she was drawing long, heated, half-moaning breaths.

How could so many years vanish without a trace? How could they still know each other so intimately? She was ready for every move he made, answering with caresses that were skilled in the ways he had always loved, caresses she had offered to no other man, because in her heart she had known they belonged only to him.

As he moved over her she had one last wild moment of doubt. This man was essentially a stranger. But it was no stranger who entered her with the slow, relentless power that had once thrilled her and now thrilled her a thousandfold. Her flesh had slept too long. The awakening was fierce, devastating and total.

She was in his rhythm at once, claiming and releasing him, demanding while she gave, until the mounting pleasure seemed to explode deep within her. Now there was light everywhere, blinding, dazzling, breathtaking. It filled the world, the universe, and it was what she’d been waiting for during all the dead, meaningless years.