At The Sicilian Count's Command. Кэрол Мортимер
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she challenged furiously.
What on earth was he doing? Wolf wondered with inward self disgust.
Had his heated response to this woman’s sensual beauty made him forget all discretion?
‘No, of course I was not spying on you,’ he denied coldly. ‘I decided to go back downstairs for a brandy—’
‘And by pure coincidence it happened to be at the time I went to Stephen’s bedroom?’ she concluded. She gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘I don’t believe my relationship with Stephen is any of your business, Count Gambrelli.’
‘Stephen is my friend—’
‘I don’t believe friends spy on each other!’ Angelica challenged him again.
‘I have told you I was not spying—’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said flatly.
Wolf stiffened at this denial, nostrils flaring. ‘Do you really think that I would willingly make myself a witness to Stephen’s infatuation with you?’ he refuted.
The angry flush deepened in her cheeks. ‘Stephen’s feelings for me, and mine for him, are absolutely none of your concern—’
‘Not even if I believe he is making a fool of himself over a woman young enough to be his daughter?’ Wolf came back swiftly.
Angelica became very still, lowering her lashes as a shield to the shock she knew would be in her eyes.
Because, without realising it, Wolf Gambrelli had inadvertently hit on exactly what her relationship was to Stephen. She was his daughter. His illegitimate daughter. Born to Kathleen Singer eight months after her affair with the married Stephen Foxwood had ended.
Angelica had always known that her mother’s husband, Neil Harper, wasn’t her real father—she had been a precocious five years old when Neil and her mother were married. But it had never mattered. Neil had always treated Angelica exactly the same as his own daughters by Kathleen—Saffron and Rosemary.
Although Kathleen had told Angelica the name of her real father when, aged twelve, she had asked about him, Angelica’s curiosity hadn’t been strong enough at the time for her to want to trace him. Especially when, at eighteen and a little more curious, she had discovered that Stephen was still married to Grace.
But a year ago she had seen Grace’s obituary in the newspaper—had learnt that Stephen and Grace’s thirty-year marriage had been childless, which had reawakened Angelica’s own curiosity about the father she had never known.
A curiosity she had discussed with her mother and Neil before she had even attempted to see Stephen Foxwood. As she had known they would be, both Neil and Kathleen had been completely supportive of her decision to at least make contact with her real father and let him know that he did have a child after all—a daughter.
That first meeting between father and daughter had been extremely emotional…
It had been followed by further meetings, and by Angelica agreeing six months later to start occasionally staying with Stephen at weekends, so that they could get to know each other better.
They were still getting to know each other…
And now this man—this Wolf Gambrelli, this arrogant Sicilian count—had come along and passed judgement on a relationship he knew absolutely nothing about!
She and Stephen had agreed from the onset that for the foreseeable future their relationship would remain private between the two of them. A secret that Stephen had obviously kept even from his close friend Wolf Gambrelli. Resulting in this supercilious man making assumptions about their relationship—insulting assumptions.
Angelica didn’t believe for a moment that Wolf Gambrelli’s comments about their assumed relationship were out of concern for Stephen. She had seen the searing way Wolf Gambrelli had watched her every movement last night. And again, this morning, she’d seen the desire in his eyes when he looked at her, and had known that he was pursuing self-interest rather than concern for his friend.
A self-interest that was going nowhere as far as she was concerned. Wolf Gambrelli was just a younger version of Stephen. And while she might forgive Stephen all his past indiscretions—simply because he was her father and she was growing to love him for that alone—she certainly wasn’t stupid enough to become involved with a man who was just as emotionally unreliable!
‘Do you have nothing to say in your defence?’ Wolf Gambrelli broke into the lengthy silence.
Angelica drew in a controlling breath before raising her lids to look at him scornfully. ‘I’m not on trial, Count Gambrelli.’
‘You are playing with the emotions of a man I consider to be a good friend as well as my business partner—’
‘Stephen is a big boy, Count Gambrelli,’ she told him firmly.
‘I’m sure he doesn’t need you to intercede on his behalf!’
‘Stephen doesn’t seem to see you in the way that I do,’ Wolf grated harshly.
She raised one dark, mocking brow. ‘And just how is that, Count Gambrelli?’
Wolf’s jaw clenched, his frustration with this situation growing. Having spent most of the night thinking of this woman, imagining her naked and wanton in another man’s arms, he should never have come in here when he saw her alone in the pool—certainly should never have begun this present conversation.
He was making his own attraction to Angelica far too obvious.
And that wasn’t a situation that sat comfortably on his usually self-assured, emotionally self-contained shoulders!
‘Admittedly you seem cleverer than most, by keeping your apartment and your job, and maintaining your independence,’ Wolf admitted. ‘But as that only seems to have made Stephen even more besotted with you, I have no doubt that he will very soon insist that you change that arrangement!’
‘Really?’ Angelica Harper came back derisively. ‘Thank you for sharing that information with me, Count Gambrelli.’ She gave a sharp inclination of her head. ‘Now, if you will excuse me…? I find the air in here rather—oppressive!’
Wolf wanted to reach out and stop her from leaving. Wanted to grasp both her arms and shake her. Wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she agreed to leave Stephen and come to him…!
This realisation was shocking, totally at odds with his usual casual and unpossessive attitude towards women, and all he could do was stand and watch as Angelica walked away from him.
No doubt with the intention of telling her ‘besotted’ lover exactly how he had just insulted her!
Which meant not only had he made his own interest in Angelica obvious, but he had also probably just completely ruined a friendship and business partnership that had existed for years.
But there was no evidence that Angelica had mentioned the incident to Stephen when the three of them sat down to breakfast together an hour later, the older man seeming just as friendly and relaxed as he always was.
Angelica’s behaviour towards Wolf was a little frosty—understandably so!—but other than that she gave no indication that their conversation in the poolhouse had ever taken place.
Wolf studied her covertly: her long, silky hair had been washed and dried and pulled back in a ponytail, emphasising her high cheekbones and the delicate line of her jaw. Her only make-up appeared to be a lipgloss that matched the colour of the red tee shirt she wore with faded fitted denims, the swell of her breasts temptingly visible above its low neckline…
‘Would you go riding with Angel this morning, Wolf?’
His attention had been so intently focused on Angelica, on those tantalising glimpses of her creamy breasts, that for a moment Wolf found himself completely disorientated, frowning darkly as he turned to Stephen. ‘Sorry?’