Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal. Catherine Spencer
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“With a marriage in name only? I don’t think so, Paolo!”
“Nor do I. Such marriages stand no chance of succeeding.”
By then too confused to be delicate, she said bluntly, “Are you suggesting we sleep together?”
With enviable aplomb, he replied, “Why not? I admit, intimacy coupled with love makes for the best bedfellows, but between compatible, consenting adults, intimacy alone can nurture a closeness they might otherwise never know.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Then they part as friends and go their separate ways, which is why I ask you to give me a year. If, at the end of it, we agree we cannot make the marriage work, we will end it.”
“And exactly how does that help the children?”
“It gives them a breathing space, a time to heal, among people who care about them enough to put their personal ambitions aside. At the same time, it allows them the chance to get to know you, which cannot be a bad thing if, as you say, you want what is best for them—because you surely must agree, no child can have too large a loving family.”
“I do agree. It’s this other thing you’re suggesting…this business of…of sex…”
“I’ve taken you by surprise, I know, Caroline, and I don’t expect an answer from you tonight. All I ask is that you consider my proposal.”
Consider it? Good grief, it was all she could do not to grab hold of it with both hands before he changed his mind! But his businesslike approach cooled her enthusiasm. He was proposing a marriage of convenience, even if it did include bedroom privileges, and she’d be a fool to forget that. The odds that they could make a success of such an arrangement were dim at best.
So, matching his detachment, she said, “I suppose that can’t hurt.”
“My father wants us to stay here another week, but I suggest we make it two. That should give you enough time to reach a decision, shouldn’t it?”
“I can’t imagine it’ll take me that long.”
“But if you say yes, as I’m hoping you will, the extra time will give the children the chance to get used to the idea of us being a family, before too many changes take place. Then, once they’ve accepted the idea, we can return to Rome, and concentrate on finding a place to live.”
“That makes sense, I suppose,” she said, and wondered how he managed to make what was surely a rash, improbable idea seem so utterly sane and workable.
“You were gone a long time, Paolo,” his mother said, coming out to where he leaned against the terrace balustrade, nursing a snifter of brandy. “Your father is in bed already.”
“And why aren’t you, Momma?” he asked fondly, noting the long silky robe she wore over her nightgown, and the embroidered satin slippers on her feet. “Aren’t I bit past the age where you have to wait up, to make sure I get home safely?”
“I’m too worried and sad to sleep. First, Caroline told us she’d like to take the children back to America with her—”
“We’ve known all along that was a possibility. It shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise.”
“No, but it still came as a shock to hear it put into words so plainly. Then, after the pair of you left the house, I found the twins huddled at the top of the stairs, with their arms around each other. They were very upset and confused. I’m afraid, with their grandfather’s shouting, they heard more than was good for them.”
“My father was out of control. People on the mainland probably heard him. Were you able to reassure them?”
“I tried, but they heard Caroline, too. Their English is too good, Paolo. They understood every word that was spoken, and they’re frightened. Everything they’ve always been able to count on is crumbling around them.”
A sigh shook her slight frame, and Paolo realized that Ermanno’s death had taken an even greater toll on her reserves than had first been apparent. The silver in her hair grew more noticeable every day. The spring had gone from her step, and she’d lost a shocking amount of weight.
Nor was grief the only culprit. She was exhausted. Even with Jolanda’s help here on the island, and with the nanny, Tullia, standing by in Rome, caring for the twins exacted too heavy a toll on a woman of their grandmother’s years.
“My heart bleeds for Caroline,” she continued sadly. “She’s in an impossible position, even if she doesn’t yet realize it. She loves those children, and there’s no question but that their lives would be enriched by having her be a part of them. But even if she could force the issue by taking them to live with her in America, what good would it do, if they ended up hating her for it?”
“No good at all. Technically they are half-American, as Caroline says, but in their hearts and outlook, they are as Italian as I am. Their true home is here, and always will be, regardless of who wins this battle of guardianship. Not only that, they’re no longer babies. We speak of rights as if they’re exclusive to adults only, but the children have their rights, too, and they deserve to be heard.”
Another deep sigh escaped his mother. “Oh, Paolo! How are we ever going to resolve the difficulties facing us?”
“We’ll find a way, Momma. In fact, I might already have come up with a solution that will make everyone happy.”
His mother stepped closer, her face illuminated with sudden hope. “What kind of solution? Oh, tell me, please! I crave hearing some good news, for a change.”
“No,” he said. “You’ll have to be patient a little longer. It is too soon.”
Too soon for Caroline, and in all truth, too soon for him. The idea of marriage had struck him out of the blue, and before he’d had time to consider the wisdom of it, he’d proposed. And why? Because of a kiss that had been equally unplanned, yet one which had awoken in him a hunger not easily assuaged in the usual way. Rather, he’d been reminded of that long-ago night when he’d taken an innocent virgin and almost lost his heart in the process.
The depth of his feelings had terrified him then, and it terrified him now. At eighteen, she’d been a girl on the brink of life; one who deserved better than a man unprepared to accept responsibility for anything but his own pleasure and pursuits, and so he’d turned away from her.
Now, she was a woman and, in the space of a few days, she’d shown his life for what it really was: empty and superficial. Granted, at a professional level, he took pride in his accomplishments, and had believed that to be satisfaction enough. But because of her, he’d suddenly glimpsed the fulfillment of a deep-seated personal need that he hadn’t known existed. Plainly put, she exemplified all the things he’d once thought he’d never want.
Children, marriage, a place to call home—they’d taken on different meaning, this last week, yet with one kiss, she’d made them appear not merely appropriate at such a grief-rav-aged time, but eminently desirable, too.
He was not the twins’father, nor was Caroline their mother, but given the will to make it happen, together they could fill the void left by the tragic absence of parents, far better than either could hope to achieve alone. Like her, though, he needed time to adjust to the idea; to swing his mind set around from that of unattached bachelor, to family man. And he needed peace and quiet and solitude to do so.
“You should try to get some sleep, Momma,” he said, urging her inside the villa. “You’re worn-out.”
“Sleep?” She passed her hand over her face in a gesture of utter despair. “How can I sleep, with so much gone wrong in my family?”
“By allowing someone else to carry the load, for a change.” Taking her arm, he walked her to the foot of the staircase. “Put your worries aside, go to bed, and leave everything to me.”
He watched as she took the stairs one at a time.