At Her Latin Lover's Command: The Italian Count's Command / The French Count's Mistress / At the Spanish Duke's Command. Susan Stephens
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she cried, managing to smile at Dante’s much-loved younger brother.
Curly-haired, shorter than Dante and stockier, he came towards her, his arms open wide in greeting.
‘Miranda! You look sensational!’ he purred.
And something odd happened. She looked into his eyes and felt a spurt of fear travel right through her. It took all her willpower not to take a step back.
‘Thank you!’ she said breathily and found herself wrapped in Guido’s bear hug. Panic screamed through her. She began to breathe harshly as he kissed her enthusiastically on her hot cheeks, his body too intimate with hers. ‘Hey! Put me down!’ she cried, choking back the nausea and pretending to be amused. But his mocking eyes told her that he knew she wasn’t comfortable. ‘What will my husband say?’
‘I’m family!’ Guido protested, but he did let her go.
Miranda had to get away before she was sick right there. ‘Was that Carlo?’ she fudged, her head on one side as though she’d heard a cry. ‘I’d better go up. Shan’t be long.’
In her bathroom, after a rather undignified scuttle up the stairs on incredibly shaky legs, she cooled her face with cold water and stood with her eyes shut, mastering her nausea.
What an odd reaction! She’d never felt like this before! She’d eaten nothing strange to make her sick…
She froze. Her eyes snapped open in shock. No. She couldn’t be! Not…pregnant? Would that explain the odd feelings?
Her period was overdue. And she had always been regular. But there had only been that one occasion—at least a month ago—when she and Dante had made love, she calculated. He had been away so much. It seemed unlikely that she’d become pregnant then, but it was possible, of course. It only took the once.
Pale and dizzy, she clutched at the basin, not sure whether to be delighted or horrified. The last thing she wanted was for Dante to come back to her just because she was carrying his child. She needed him to choose her, not because she was producing another addition to the Severini dynasty—the heir and a spare.
Her hand strayed to her flat, hard stomach and she found herself smiling blissfully to think that Dante’s child might be already growing inside her. It would be lovely, she thought dreamily. And prayed that she was pregnant. However, if she was, then she would keep it a secret until she knew for sure that Dante really cared for her.
But where, she wondered, could she go to get a pregnancy test, without half of Italy knowing? She giggled, excited and happy again.
High on adrenaline and glowing with delight, she descended the stairs and drifted into the salon. The two men stopped talking as if they’d been discussing her but their admiring expressions told her that she looked strikingly different from a few moments ago.
Yet it only took a leer from Guido to throw her off balance and unnerve her again. He seemed to be getting under her skin though she didn’t know why.
Deliberately she chose to sit as far away from him as possible, settling herself on a Renaissance chaise longue beneath a wall displaying portraits of medieval Severini cardinals.
Dante brought her a drink. ‘You look wonderful,’ he murmured.
Her starry eyes flicked up to his and she couldn’t stop the radiant smile from lighting up her whole face.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered back.
Then, as he gazed into her eyes, a slight frown formed, drawing his black brows together as if he was puzzled. Could he tell? she wondered, absently taking a gulp of the champagne. And then she wished she hadn’t in case she really was pregnant. She put the glass down on the gilt table and concentrated on appearing normal.
‘What bright eyes you have!’ Guido drawled. ‘You look like an advert for eye drops. Or something.’
Eye drops? She blinked. And understood the cause of Dante’s frown. ‘I am happy,’ she said calmly. ‘I don’t need artificial substances.’
‘I should hope not!’ Guido declared in rather overdone horror. ‘I’ve been to too many parties where people disappeared into bathrooms for a snort of cocaine and came back with suspiciously bright eyes.’
‘Miranda wouldn’t dream of using drugs here.’ Dante spoke with firmness and she smiled at him gratefully.
‘No. I wouldn’t,’ she said softly. ‘It would destroy our relationship and that’s too precious to risk.’
Dante visibly relaxed and she realised how tense he’d been. It worried her that Guido was sowing seeds of doubt in Dante’s mind. And she couldn’t fathom why.
‘Guido has brought some of your possessions from England,’ Dante said, adroitly changing the subject.
‘I gather you were the special messenger, Guido. Thank you,’ she managed to say to him. ‘I appreciate your efforts.’
‘No problem,’ he said airily. ‘I had some help from Lizzie. Some pad, eh?’
He leaned back in his deep armchair. His narrowed eyes scanned the richly decorated room, the carved ceiling, marble fireplace and elegant furniture with greedy approval.
‘You know Lizzie?’ she said, surprised.
Guido grinned rather nastily and gave a suggestive little chuckle that made her flinch and shrink into the depths of the upholstery.
‘As well as I know you,’ he said with a smirk.
Not well, then, she thought with relief. Although Dante doted on his brother, she’d never quite taken to him. There was something sly and self-seeking about the guy. The last thing she wanted was for the impressionable Lizzie to get involved with him.
She looked at his stubby hands and inexplicably found herself shuddering. The pleasure of her possible pregnancy had been completely overshadowed by her irrational dislike of Guido.
‘I asked Lizzie to sort out a few must-have items for you,’ Dante explained to her, ‘and to contact Guido so that he could bring them over. The rest will come overland. I hope that’s all right?’
‘Yes. Fine,’ she said brightly. And forced herself to address Guido. ‘How long will you be staying?’
Lazily the dark eyes lingered on her with such boldness that it felt as if he were ripping off her clothes. Stupid, she told herself. He was young, good-looking and virile, and probably gave all women the glad eye.
‘A few days or so,’ Guido drawled, his lips wet and seemingly bloody from the red wine he was drinking. ‘If that’s acceptable.’
‘Of course.’
She tried to sound enthusiastic for Dante’s sake but her instincts were to recoil from him as if he were a venomous snake.
Maybe she had become super-sensitive—a downside of pregnancy, perhaps? Guido hadn’t affected her like this in all the time she’d known him at the London office. She knew his reputation with women from office gossip and that he had a rather cavalier attitude of ‘love ’em and leave ’em’. Although she’d never liked him, these feelings of extreme revulsion were entirely new.
‘The weather’s vile in England,’ he confided. ‘I look forward to swimming and sunbathing by the pool with you both.’
The thought of exposing her body to Guido’s lecherous stare almost made her throw up. Hastily she took a sip of her drink and put it down again guiltily as Dante threw his brother an indulgent look.
‘We’ll catch up on business, Guido, then we can all have a lazy day chilling out.’ He turned to Miranda. ‘You haven’t christened that new bikini yet, have you?’
Vowing to plead a headache—or at least to wear the boring one-piece—she stretched her lips in the shape of a smile.
‘That’s