Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal. Catherine Spencer
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sickened him.
At his side, Caroline gave a start of surprise. “What do you mean, you’d probably be dead yourself?”
“I was not a model son,” he said, soberly. “It took seeing my father clinging to life in a hospital bed, and knowing that I had put him there, for me to recognize the error of my ways.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember Vanessa telling me he’d been ill. Some sort of cardiac problem, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Fortunately his willpower was stronger than his heart. He made an amazing recovery.”
She made a face. “He’s the type who would.”
Too amused by her candor to take offense, he said, “You don’t much like him, do you?”
“No,” she said bluntly. “He never thought the Leightons were good enough to be associated with the Raineros.”
“As he got to know your sister better, he changed his mind about that. He even went so far as to say she was like a daughter to him.”
“I suppose he didn’t have much choice but to accept her. At least she didn’t put his life at risk, the way you say you did. Exactly how did you bring that about, by the way?”
“I publicly embarrassed him. He is a very proud man—too proud, some, including you, might say. But he was always a loving father, and it hurt him very deeply when I showed myself to be less than deserving of his affection, let alone his trust.”
“You appear to get along well enough now. How did you redeem yourself?”
“I accepted responsibility for my actions. Instead of taking for granted the privileges that came of being the son of wealthy parents, I started earning them. I took my intended place in the family business.”
“Sat behind a fancy desk in a fancy office, and dished out orders to underlings, you mean?” she said scornfully.
“No, Caroline. I started at the bottom, taking orders and learning from men often younger than myself, and worked my way into a position of authority only after I’d earned their respect. To coin a phrase often used in America, I smartened up.”
“Better late than never, I suppose.”
This time, he understood her tone, and the oddly closed expression on her face. “Yes,” he said. “And that brings me to a subject we’ve both avoided mentioning, except briefly. I refer, of course, to the night of my brother’s wedding.”
She went to pull her arm free of his. “I really don’t want to talk about that again.”
Trapping her hand, he said, “I’m afraid we must. At the very least, allow me to apologize. I deeply regret having behaved the way I did. I’m afraid I treated you very unfairly that night.”
“You did a lot more than that!” she cried heatedly, then clapped a hand to her mouth as if she’d accidentally bitten off the end of her tongue and was trying to stem the flow of blood.
Curious at her outburst, he said, “What do you mean, Caroline?”
“Never mind,” she mumbled. “It doesn’t matter.”
“If it can cause you such distress all these years later, it certainly does.” Tugging her to a stop, he turned her to face him. “What were my other sins?”
“Well, you’re so proud of how smart you are, so figure it out for yourself, for heaven’s sake!” All flushed and flustered, she glared at him. “It wasn’t just that night, it was…it was the next day…and the next week.”
Again, she seemed on the brink of some revelation which, at the last second, she thought better of. “But we were together just that one time, Caroline.”
“Yes, and you couldn’t have made it any clearer I’d better not expect a repeat performance!”
“Did you want one?” he asked, refusing to acknowledge the untoward stirring of desire such a prospect inspired.
“Absolutely not!” she said, vehemently. “But that was no reason for you to parade another woman under my nose.”
“There were always other women in those days, cara.”
“And you made it abundantly clear that I was just one of them.”
“Mea culpa! My behavior was inexcusable.” He cupped her chin, again forcing her to meet his gaze. “But without trying to shift blame, I feel justified in pointing out that you were not entirely without fault. You let me believe you were sexually experienced when, in fact, you were anything but.”
“I’m surprised you even remember!”
“Such bitterness, so long after the fact, is out of all proportion to the incident,” he said, regarding her thoughtfully. “What aren’t you telling me, Caroline? What’s been eating at you all this time, that you’re still so full of anger toward me?”
She grew very still, and very pale. “Nothing. Seeing you again, here on this island, just brings everything back, that’s all.”
“What do you mean by ‘everything’?”
“You…laughed at me. Made me feel inadequate…hopeless at sex.”
“Then I should have been horse-whipped. You were a novice, yes, but you were enchanting, too. Ethereal in a gauzy confection of a gown that made you look like a princess.”
And with skin as fine as purest silk…and flesh so firm and tight that a man would have had to be made of stone not to respond with blind, untempered passion…!
“Never mind trying to flatter me at this late date, Paolo,” she said coolly. “I know I made a fool of myself.”
A vicious streak of desire licked through his blood. “What if it isn’t flattery? What if I’m finally admitting to a long-overdue truth? You’re a beautiful woman, Caroline, and I don’t believe for a minute that I’m the first man to tell you so.”
She blushed and ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, drawing his eye to the delicious curve of her mouth, and leading him to wonder how many men had tasted it in the last nine years. She was more than beautiful; she was exquisite. Fine-boned, delicately featured…and seductively feminine, in a refined, understated way. How had he managed to dismiss all that, the first time around?
She held the collar of her coat close to her throat and shivered, although her color remained high. “I think I’d like to go inside now.”
“Do I embarrass you by speaking so frankly?”
“No, but I’m surprised. We’ve been pretty much at odds ever since Paris. In fact, you’ve barely addressed a single word to me in the last four days, and now you’re suddenly full of compliments. Forgive me if I find that rather suspicious.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “I’m having second thoughts about you. Perhaps I’ve misjudged you. Isn’t that possible?”
“Possible.” She tilted her shoulder in a tiny shrug. “But not probable.”
“Then perhaps you misjudge me.”
“Equally possible, I suppose.”
“And just as improbable?”
“I’m willing to keep an open mind on the matter.”
A curious lightness filled him, blurring the sharp edges of his grief. Tucking her arm firmly in his again, he said, “Then I propose we call a truce, at least for now.”
Thoughtfully she tipped her head to one side, a slight movement only, but it was enough to send her hair sliding over her shoulder in a fall of cool, blond silk. It took all his self-control not to catch it in his hand and let it spill between his fingers. “I guess it won’t hurt to try.”
He