work only in the daytime. At night, we will care for Carlino ourselves. You have been doing that since he was baby,' he added. 'So it is scarcely a hardship. He can decide whose room he shares each evening.' He gave her a cool smile. 'An excellent arrangement, don't you think?'
Her voice shook. 'You don't want to know what I think.'
'Probably not,' he agreed drily. 'But you will not be forced to endure my company for too long. We shall leave for Italy and Comadora immediately after our wedding, and, once there, I will do my best to keep out of your way. In view of my work commitments, it should not be too difficult.'
Polly gave him a pleading look. 'Can't we do a deal over this? As it's only for a short time, couldn't Charlie and I stay at the flat?'
'Unfortunately that is impossible.' His hand closed over hers, his thumb stroking her soft palm, sending tiny tremors through her senses which she was unable to ignore or control. 'You see, carissima, I need you near to me,' he whispered huskily. 'Especially at night. Just in case you decided to try and escape me after all.'
At that moment, the waiter arrived back with their drinks, and a colleague came hurrying with menus and a wine list.
Polly withdrew her hand from his clasp, not trusting herself to speak, longing for a sliver of ice long and sharp enough to pierce her tormentor to the heart.
She took refuge behind her menu while she regained her equilibrium.
Last night had been bad enough, she thought broodingly. She'd never envisaged having to move in with him, but she realised now that she'd been naive. There were probably plenty of other options, but his will was paramount, and he was letting her know it.
Yet he'd been so different once; gentle, humorous, patient—and adoring, or so she'd believed.
Now, she thought, wretchedness gnawing at her, it seemed that treacherous, deceitful and arrogant were more accurate descriptions.
He'd simply played the part of the sincere lover, as a ploy to keep her in his bed, trusting and eager, all summer long.
Yet, while she knew this, how was it possible that his lightest touch still had the power to stir her to the depths of her being, reigniting needs and longing that should be dead?
It was madness, and she needed to become sane again, or her existence, even on the outskirts of his life, would become intolerable.
She'd never felt less hungry in her life, but she knew she should eat something, so decided on consomme and chicken in wine sauce to follow. Fuel, she thought, for the next battle.
'So,' Sandro said when they were alone again, 'you will stay here with me, and no more arguments?'
She nodded abruptly, and he smiled at her. 'I am charmed by your obedience,' he told her, and raised his glass. 'Shall we drink to marital harmony?'
'No,' Polly said grimly, 'thank you. Not even in water.'
'Che peccato,' he said lightly. 'What a shame. Then, instead, let us drink to your earrings.' He put a hand out as if to touch one of the little cornflowers, and Polly shrank back.
He stared at her, his brows snapping together. When he spoke, his voice crackled with anger. 'Tell me, Paola, do you intend to cringe each time I come near you?'
'Isn't that the whole point?' she demanded huskily. 'I don't want you near me. You've promised to keep your distance, but can I believe you?'
'And how can I make you see that some contact between us is inevitable, and that you must accept it?' he asked coldly. 'I am letting it be known among my family and friends that we are reunited lovers.'
She said thickly, 'You can't expect me to go along with that. Not after everything that's happened...'
'I do expect it,' he said harshly. 'In fact, I insist on it. There is bound to be talk—even scandal—when our marriage, and our child, become public knowledge. I wish to minimise that for Carlino's sake. Make people believe that we were victims of fate who have been given a second chance together.'
She gave him a scornful
Her voice shook. 'You don't want to know what I think.'
'Probably not,' he agreed drily. 'But you will not be forced to endure my company for too long. We shall leave for Italy and Comadora immediately after our wedding, and, once there, I will do my best to keep out of your way. In view of my work commitments, it should not be too difficult.'
Polly gave him a pleading look. 'Can't we do a deal over this? As it's only for a short time, couldn't Charlie and I stay at the flat?'
'Unfortunately that is impossible.' His hand closed over hers, his thumb stroking her soft palm, sending tiny tremors through her senses which she was unable to ignore or control. 'You see, carissima, I need you near to me,' he whispered huskily. 'Especially at night. Just in case you decided to try and escape me after all.'
At that moment, the waiter arrived back with their drinks, and a colleague came hurrying with menus and a wine list.
Polly withdrew her hand from his clasp, not trusting herself to speak, longing for a sliver of ice long and sharp enough to pierce her tormentor to the heart.
She took refuge behind her menu while she regained her equilibrium.
Last night had been bad enough, she thought broodingly. She'd never envisaged having to move in with him, but she realised now that she'd been naive. There were probably plenty of other options, but his will was paramount, and he was letting her know it.
Yet he'd been so different once; gentle, humorous, patient—and adoring, or so she'd believed.
Now, she thought, wretchedness gnawing at her, it seemed that treacherous, deceitful and arrogant were more accurate descriptions.
He'd simply played the part of the sincere lover, as a ploy to keep her in his bed, trusting and eager, all summer long.
Yet, while she knew this, how was it possible that his lightest touch still had the power to stir her to the depths of her being, reigniting needs and longing that should be dead?
It was madness, and she needed to become sane again, or her existence, even on the outskirts of his life, would become intolerable.
She'd never felt less hungry in her life, but she knew she should eat something, so decided on consomme and chicken in wine sauce to follow. Fuel, she thought, for the next battle.
'So,' Sandro said when they were alone again, 'you will stay here with me, and no more arguments?'
She nodded abruptly, and he smiled at her. 'I am charmed by your obedience,' he told her, and raised his glass. 'Shall we drink to marital harmony?'
'No,' Polly said grimly, 'thank you. Not even in water.'
'Che peccato,' he said lightly. 'What a shame. Then, instead, let us drink to your earrings.' He put a hand out as if to touch one of the little cornflowers, and Polly shrank back.
He stared at her, his brows snapping together. When he spoke, his voice crackled with anger. 'Tell me, Paola, do you intend to cringe each time I come near you?'
'Isn't that the whole point?' she demanded huskily. 'I don't want you near me. You've promised to keep your distance, but can I believe you?'
'And how can I make you see that some contact between us is inevitable, and that you must accept it?' he asked coldly. 'I am letting it be known among my family and friends that we are reunited lovers.'
She said thickly, 'You can't expect me to go along with that. Not after everything that's happened...'
'I do expect it,' he said harshly. 'In fact, I insist on it. There is bound to be talk—even scandal—when our marriage, and our child, become public knowledge. I wish to minimise that for Carlino's sake. Make people believe that we were victims of fate who have been given a second chance together.'
She gave him a scornful
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