The Brabanti Baby. Catherine Spencer
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yes, a very apt description indeed, Marcia! Eve thought, feeling as if she were being pulled into the blue depths of his eyes and stripped of her soul. And a hungry shark, to boot!
Oblivious to his effect on her, he strode into the room and deposited the tray on the coffee table. “I don’t know about you, signorina,” he announced, whipping off the starched linen cloth covering the food, “but I’m starving. We have insalata with freshwater crayfish, warm rolls and butter, ripe figs, grapes, a little cheese, some almond tarts…. “ He seized the neck of the bottle poking out of a silver ice bucket. “And a very fine white wine.”
Giving herself a mental shake, she followed him and eyed the arrangement of crystal, china and sterling grouped around the platters and bowls of food. “Why are there two of everything?”
“Scusi?” He made a pathetic attempt at innocence.
“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. There are two sets of cutlery, two wine glasses, two—”
He raised his elegant black brows. “You do not drink wine?”
“Yes, I drink wine,” she said testily.
“Buono! Then we have something in common besides an interest in the welfare of my daughter.” He half-filled both glasses with the pale gold liquid and passed one to her. “How is she, by the way? Did you have trouble getting her to sleep?”
“No. She was exhausted.” She paused long enough to impale him in an indignant glare. “As am I.”
“That doesn’t come as any surprise. You’ve covered many miles in the last couple of days.”
“Exactly. So you’ll understand, I’m sure, when I tell you I’m not up for receiving a guest.”
“I’m not a guest, signorina. I’m your host.”
She drew in a frustrated breath. “I’m well aware of that. But I’m not dressed—”
He dismissed her objection with a careless flick of his hand. “What you’re wearing is of no consequence.”
Not to him, perhaps, but the knowledge that the thin cotton fabric of her robe and nightgown were more revealing than she cared for, left her feeling at a decided disadvantage. “Then what is? I presume you’re here for more than the pleasure of my company?”
“We must talk.”
“Now?” She glanced pointedly at the carriage clock on the desk. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I really am very tired.”
“But you did ask to be served a snack, did you not?”
“You know very well that I did.” She indicated the lavish spread. “Although I wouldn’t rate this a ‘snack’ exactly.”
“Nevertheless, now that it’s here, you do plan to eat it?”
“Of course! I’d hardly have put your kitchen staff to the trouble of preparing it, otherwise.”
“Then since I also have yet to eat, doesn’t it make good sense that we do so together, and learn a little more about one another at the same time?”
He wasn’t going to back down. That wasn’t his style. Rather, he dealt in silent intimidation cloaked in verbal reason, somehow moving in on a person so thoroughly that he stole the air she breathed. Overwhelming her with his size—a big, strong man, both physically and mentally, and well aware that, on his turf, his was the last word.
Eve was a guest in his house by default, an understudy for his daughter’s mother. As such, she had few rights. And even if that weren’t the case, just then she was too worn down to fight him. “Whatever!” she muttered, parking herself in a corner of the sofa, and attempting to tug her robe down far enough to cover her knees.
But he didn’t care that she was behaving less than graciously; he only cared about winning. “That’s better,” he said, taking a seat next to her, and touched the rim of his glass lightly against hers, causing the crystal to chime like tiny bells. “Welcome to Malta, Signorina Caldwell. May your visit prove pleasant for everyone involved.”
“If bulldozing your way into your guests’ private quarters against their wishes is your idea of being a good host, I can’t imagine either of us finding it pleasant.”
He shrugged his massive shoulders and plunged a serving spoon into the crayfish salad. “Time will tell. May I help you to some of this?”
“No, thank you. I can take care of myself.”
“As you wish, signorina.”
“There’s one other thing I wish,” she said irritably. “I wish you’d stop with these annoying ‘signorinas’ every other breath. Since I have no intention of spending the next several weeks standing on ceremony, and plan to call you Gabriel, you might as well get used to calling me Eve.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll call you Gabriel regardless—to your face, at least. What I call you behind your back rather depends on how well we do, or don’t, get along.”
Surprisingly he laughed at that, and the change it brought to his face was quite startling. Warmth invaded his cool blue eyes and left flames of amusement dancing there. His mouth softened in a beguiling curve to reveal his white, perfect teeth. She wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to become more beautiful, but he put paid to that supposition in devastating fashion. If his scowl put thunder heads to shame, his laughter outdazzled the sun.
No wonder Marcia had been smitten enough to marry him, even if the magic had been short-lived. Looks aside, he possessed a subtle, seductive charm which, should he choose to exercise it, could wreak irreparable damage on a woman’s heart.
Shaken by the realization, and disturbingly aware of how close to her he sat, Eve concentrated on the food, helping herself to a small serving of the crayfish salad and a sliver of cheese.
Eyeing the size of the portions on her plate, he said, “There’s not enough there to keep a sparrow alive. Don’t tell me you’re one of those women so obsessed with her weight that she counts every calorie she puts in her mouth.”
“I won’t, if you’ll tell me you’re not one of those men who thinks it’s his God-given right to dish out unsolicited advice every time he opens his mouth!”
Smothering another burst of laughter, he allowed his gaze to tour her face with the refined appreciation of a connoisseur. “No. But I am a man who admires a woman with spirit,” he purred, the words caressing her as intimately as a kiss.
If he’d leaned over and touched his mouth to hers, she couldn’t have responded more shockingly. Her pulse leaped, her throat constricted until she could barely swallow, and her mouth ran dry. More dismaying still, a piercing quiver of sensation shot from her heart to the pit of her stomach.
To pretend such a response was anything other than purely sexual made no more sense than pretending the sun didn’t rise every morning. Furious by her body’s betrayal, she said, “Then why didn’t you stay married to my cousin? She’s got more spirit than any other ten women combined.”
“I beg to differ. Beneath that very shallow air of mature sophistication she projects so well when it suits her to do so, Marcia is little more than a charming but spoiled, and very manipulative child. Sadly, the spoiled too soon overcomes the charming, and one is left to deal with the child and her machinations.”
That he was as astute as he was handsome didn’t come as any great surprise. But it did serve to remind Eve that she’d be a fool to underestimate him. “It takes two to make or break a marriage, surely?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “I certainly don’t pretend to be blameless in the failure of mine. I freely admit I grew tired of being cast in the role of guardian to a supposedly grown woman, and utterly bored by her attempts to bamboozle me with her little schemes. I never should have married her in the first