The Brabanti Baby. Catherine Spencer
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How is your salad?”
“Excellent, thank you. What do you mean by her foreign ways?”
“Our different tastes made it impossible to find a common ground.”
“Which is your polite way of saying she wasn’t refined enough for you.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, signorina. I meant nothing of the kind, merely that she could not, or would not, recognize that things are done differently here. Malta is a culturally mixed bag, regarded by many as the place where east meets west. Initially Marcia claimed to be fascinated by this aspect of our society, but she soon tired of it and complained we weren’t Americanized enough.”
“Perhaps because she was homesick.”
“Quite possibly. And if so, it was undoubtedly made worse by the fact that her infatuation for me died as quickly as her infatuation with everything else Maltese.” He topped up their wineglasses. “You look somewhat dismayed. Have I offended you?”
“No,” Eve had to admit. “That’s the trouble. Everything you’ve said so much fits the Marcia I know that I can’t begin to defend her.”
“Then since we’re of the same mind, tell me something.” He inched closer. Close enough that his body heat reached out to embrace her. He’d used a faintly spicy soap or shampoo that made her senses swim. Made her want to reach out her hand and touch his skin, his hair.
“Yes?” To her ears at least, her voice emerged in an embarrassing near-whisper thick with expectation.
“Why are you here, instead of her?”
Reality smashed aside her brief fantasy with such a vengeance that the succulent morsel of crayfish Eve had popped into her mouth came dangerously close to popping out again. “I already told you,” she said, swallowing hastily. “We’re cousins.”
“I know what you told me, Eve,” he replied levelly. “Now I want to know the true reason. What’s Marcia really up to?”
“Nothing.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “She just doesn’t want to see you again, that’s all.”
“Is it?” he said, the inflection in his tone clearly voicing his disbelief. “I very much doubt that.”
“I don’t know why! You’ve as good as admitted you can’t stand to be around her for more than five minutes at a stretch, so why wouldn’t the reverse be true? It’s a perfectly normal response. Divorced people aren’t usually the best of friends.”
“Yet if they happen also to be parents, they frequently set aside their differences and put the interests of their children ahead of their own.”
“Which is what Marcia was doing when she agreed to have Nicola spend the summer with you.” Stifling a yawn, she set aside her unfinished meal and made a move to get up from the couch. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really am exhausted, so—”
“There’s just one flaw in that argument,” he said, closing his long, tanned fingers around her wrist to prevent her from moving. “Marcia’s not one to share the limelight unless there’s something in it for her, so why would she designate you to show off her baby, when she’d much rather reap all the attention?”
His touch scalded her. Sent the blood boiling through her veins and bolts of sensation shooting up her arm. “In this case,” she said breathlessly, “I think it had more to do with the length of time you expected her to stay here. She’s married again, as you know, and—”
“I didn’t know.”
“Oh, dear!” Eve realized the news had come as a complete and unpleasant shock. “I’m so sorry. I just assumed she’d have told you.” She stared at him incredulously. “She really didn’t mention it?”
“Not a word.”
“I can’t imagine why not.”
“I can. Now that she’s found herself a new husband, she’d like to cut me out of the picture altogether and have my daughter call another man ‘Papa.’
His grip tightened painfully. Wincing, Eve said, “You’re hurting me, Gabriel. Please let go.”
He glanced down, seeming almost surprised to find his fingers still locked around wrist. “Dio!” he exclaimed ruefully, releasing her at once. “I didn’t realize…forgive me.” Then, seeing the mark he’d left behind, he touched her again, stroking the pad of his thumb over the redness. “Your skin is so fine, so translucent,” he murmured. “Like mother-of-pearl. I’m a brute to have handled you so carelessly.”
“You were caught offguard,” she said, knowing she’d have to be the most naive fool in the world to believe he meant anything by his words. But although her brain recognized the logic of such reasoning, her pulse operated on a different wavelength and thundered like a runaway locomotive bent on destruction. Striving to control the resulting havoc to her breathing, she went on, “If I’d known Marcia hadn’t told you about Jason, I’d have broken the news more tactfully.”
His hand drifted down to unfold her fingers and lay bare her palm. “So Marcia fancies herself in love again, does she?”
“It would appear so.”
“And when did this marriage take place?”
“The beginning of last month, I believe.”
“You believe? You mean to say you weren’t invited to the wedding?”
“No. I gather it was a very simple civil ceremony, with just two close friends as witnesses. I live in Chicago, and it was hardly worth my making the trip to New York for something which lasted no more than twenty minutes.”
“What’s your impression of the new husband?”
“I’ve never actually met him. He was out of town when I picked up Nicola. The closest we’ve come is talking on the phone. He seemed nice enough.”
“He must be extraordinary, that Marcia would choose to remain at his side, instead of being with her child.”
“I don’t think it’s quite that clear cut. He’s on tour with a play he’s written, and since she’s both his wife and his agent, she wanted to be with him.”
“Just when I insisted on meeting my daughter? How very convenient!”
“As a matter of fact, it was. It spared Marcia having to take Nicola on the road.”
“So that she could devote herself to representing the undiscovered genius she married, without being hampered by the demands of a four-month-old baby, you mean?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” She snatched her hand away from his encroaching fingers. “Stop twisting my words. She couldn’t be in two places at once and had to make a choice. If anything, you should give her credit for trying a bit harder to make this second marriage work.”
“At the expense of our child?”
“Oh, come on, Gabriel! You make it sound as if she abandoned Nicola to a stranger. I assure you I’m well qualified to look after your daughter, and given the way you’re spoiling for a fight, it’s just as well I’m here and not Marcia. It’ll save you arguing about who’s the better parent.”
“You have a point,” he said, the glimmer of a smile curling his mouth, “and you certainly seem comfortable handling Nicola.”
“I ought to be. I’ve dealt with enough babies over the years.”
“Ah! You have children of your own?”
“No. I’ve never been married.”
“The two don’t necessarily go hand in hand these days.”
“They do for me,” she informed him flatly. “I’m the old-fashioned kind who believes in two-parent families.”