Modern Romance November Books 1-4. Sharon Kendrick
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to me would mean the debt would be wiped out overnight.’ His gaze bored into her. ‘And I was careful that night, Molly. You know I was.’
She was still staring at him as if he were the devil incarnate. ‘You’re saying that I...made it up? That the whole pregnancy was nothing but an invention?’
‘Why not? It’s not unheard of.’ He shrugged. ‘It happens less often these days but I understand in the past it was quite a common device, used by women keen to get a wedding ring on their finger.’ His mouth hardened. ‘Usually involving a wealthy man.’
Her body tensed and Salvio saw the change in her. Saw the moment when her habitual compliance became rebellion. When outrage filled her soft features with an unfamiliar rage which she was directing solely at him. Her eyes flashing pewter sparks, she sprang to her feet, damp hair flying around her shoulders.
‘I was pregnant,’ she flared, her hands gesturing wildly through the empty air. ‘One hundred per cent pregnant. I did two tests, one after the other—and if you don’t believe me, then that’s your problem! And yes, I was waiting until this morning to tell you, because last night I just couldn’t face having the kind of discussion we’re having now. So if keeping the news to myself for less than twelve hours is harbouring some dark secret, then yes—I’m guilty of that. But I’m not the only one with secrets, am I, Salvio?’
He heard the allegation in her voice as he met her furious gaze full on and braced himself for what was coming next.
‘When were you going to let me know you’d been engaged before?’ she continued, her voice still shaking with rage. ‘Or weren’t you going to bother?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘My mother told you?’
‘Of course your mother told me—how else would I know?’
‘What did she say?’
‘Enough.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I know the woman you were going to marry was rich and I’m not. I know she was beautiful and I’m not.’
Something about the weariness in her tone made Salvio feel a sharp pang of guilt. He stared at her shadowed eyes. At the milky skin now tinged with the dull flush of fury. At the still-drying shiny hair and the voluptuous curves which had lured him like a siren’s call into her arms. And he felt an unexpected wave of contrition wash over him.
‘You are beautiful,’ he stressed.
‘Please. Don’t,’ she said, holding up her hand to silence him. ‘Don’t make things even worse by telling me lies!’
Her dignified response surprised him. Had he been expecting gratitude for his throwaway compliment about her looks? Was he, in his own way, as guilty as Lady Avery had been of underestimating her? Of treating her like an object, rather than a person—as someone born to serve rather than to participate? Did he think he could behave exactly as he liked towards her and she would just take it?
‘You are beautiful,’ he affirmed, as repentance flowed through him. ‘And yes, I was engaged before. I didn’t tell you because...’
‘Because it’s too painful for you to remember, I suppose?’
The pulse at Salvio’s temple now flickered. In a way, yes, very painful—though not in the way he suspected she meant. It was more about the betrayal he’d suffered than anything else because, like all Neapolitans, he had an instinctive loathing of treachery. It had come as a shock to realise that Lauren hadn’t loved him—only what he represented. He gave a bitter smile. Perhaps he should have had a little more empathy for Molly since he too had been treated like an object in his time. ‘It happened a long time ago,’ he said slowly. ‘And there seemed no reason to rake it up.’
She looked at him in exasperation. ‘Don’t you know anything about women? On second thought, don’t answer that since we’ve already proved beyond any reasonable doubt that what you don’t know about women probably isn’t worth knowing. Except maybe you don’t know just how far you can push them before they finally snap.’ She tugged the towelling belt of her white robe a little tighter. ‘Who was she, Salvio?’
Salvio scowled. Did he really have to tell her? Rake up the bitterness all over again? He expelled air from his flared nostrils, recognising from the unusually fierce expression on Molly’s face that he had to tell her. ‘Her name was Lauren Meyer,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I met her at an official function on a pre-season tour of America and brought her back here with me to Naples.’
‘And she was blonde, I suppose?’
‘Yes, she was blonde,’ he said, ignoring her sarcastic tone. ‘What else do you want to know, Molly? That she was an heiress and that she loved fame and fortune, in that order?’
‘Did she?’
‘She did. She met me when I had everything.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘And dumped me the moment I lost it all.’
‘So, what...happened?’ she said, into the silence which followed.
Salvio’s lips tightened, because Lauren had been the catalyst. The reason he had kissed goodbye to emotion and battened up his heart. During his career there had been plenty of women who had lusted after his body and his bank account—but he’d made the mistake of thinking that Lauren was different.
His gaze flicked over to the dark sweep of the bay before returning to the grey watchfulness in Molly’s eyes and suddenly he was finding it easy to talk about something he never talked about. ‘After the accident, she came to visit me. Every day she sat by my bedside, always in a different outfit, looking picture-perfect. Always ready to smile and pose for the photographers who were camped outside the hospital. She was there when the physiotherapists worked on my leg and she was there when the doctor told me I’d never play professional football again. I’ll never forget the look on her face.’ His laugh was harsh. ‘When I was discharged, she didn’t come to meet me, but I thought I knew the reason why. I went home expecting a surprise party because she loved parties, and that’s when I discovered she’d flown back to the States and was seeing some all-American boy her parents wanted her to marry all along. And that was that. I never saw her again.’
There was a pause while she seemed to take it all in.
‘Oh, Salvio, that’s awful,’ she said. ‘It must have felt like a kick in the teeth when you’d lost everything else.’
‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted your pity, Molly. I told you because you wanted to know. So now you do.’
‘And, did you...did you love her?’
He felt a twist of anger. Why did women always do this? Why did they reduce everything down to those three little words and place so much store by them? He knew what she wanted him to say and that he was going to have to disappoint her. Because he couldn’t rewrite the past, could he? He was damned if he was going to tell her something just because it was what he suspected she wanted to hear. And how could he possibly dismiss lies as contemptible if he started using them himself? ‘Yes, I loved her,’ he said, at last.
Molly hid her pain behind the kind of look she might have presented to Lady Avery if she’d just been asked to produce an extra batch of scones before teatime, and not for the first time she was grateful for all the training she’d had as a servant. Grateful for the mask-like calm she was able to project while she tried to come to terms with her new situation. Because in less than twelve hours she’d lost everything, too. Not just her baby but her hopes for the future. Hope of being a good wife and mother. Hope that a baby might help Salvio loosen up and become more human. And now it was all gone—whipped away like a rug being pulled from beneath her feet. There was no illusion left for her to cling to. No rosy dreams. Just a man who had once loved another woman and didn’t love her. A man who had accused her of lying about her baby.
A baby which was now no more.
She wanted to bury her face in her hands and sob out her heartbreak but somehow she resisted the compelling urge. Instead she chose her words