To Wear His Ring Again by Chantelle Shaw Page A

foreplay and she would have let him. But he hadn’t taken what she had offered so freely, and that made his next words all the more surprising.
    â€˜I have to go to the New York office today. I would cancel, but a problem has arisen which requires my personal attention. I want you to come with me. The stalker is still at large,’ he continued, predicting her question
why
before she voiced it. ‘The police don’t have much to go on to help them find the man, but until they do I don’t think you should be alone.’
    He sat down on the edge of the bed, and his nearness immediately sent Isobel’s pulse-rate soaring. He had obviously taken a shower in her small bathroom, and the distinctive spicy fragrance of his aftershave teased her senses. Her breath became trapped in her throat when he lifted a strand of her hair and coiled it around his finger.
    â€˜My concern for your safety is not the only reason I would like you to accompany me to the States,’ he murmured. ‘How about us starting over, Isabella? Once my business is finished in New York we could spend a few days in the city and get to know each other again.’
    His sexy smile was almost Isobel’s undoing. Her heart had leapt at his words, and there was a part of her that desperately wanted to agree to his suggestion. But she had noticed that he did not smile with his eyes, and she sensed an air of reserve beneath his charming manner that chilled her. Something about his sudden U-turn over the divorce made her suspicious, and her voice was cool when she answered him.
    â€˜Why?’
    Constantin was thrown by the question. It occurred to him that this new, more self-assured Isobel was no longer besotted with him as she had been when he had married her. If he was to stand any chance of persuading her to agree to a reconciliation he would have to be more open with her.
    â€˜I accept that many of the problems which led to us separating were due to my reluctance to talk about my feelings, and in particular about losing our baby.’ He visualised Arianna, so tiny and perfect, so still and lifeless, and his heart clenched. ‘As a child, I was not encouraged to show my emotions, and the habit carried through into my adult life,’ he said gruffly.
    Isobel bit her lip as she recalled her feeling of desolation after the miscarriage. ‘Your attitude towards me changed after I lost the baby,’ she said huskily. ‘I couldn’t get close to you, and you never wanted to talk about what had happened. I couldn’t understand why. At the beginning of our marriage we were happy. We spent time together, and not only in bed,’ she said quickly when his eyes glinted.
    She took a steadying breath. ‘Losing our baby was devastating. But things had changed—you had changed—
before
I had the miscarriage. In Italy, when we stayed at Casa Celeste, you...you were suddenly not the man I had married.’
    Her mind flew to the exquisite villa on the shores of Lake Albano, close to Castel Gandolfo—the Pope’s summer residence. Casa Celeste had been the De Severino family’s ancestral home for four hundred years, but Constantin preferred to live in a modern penthouse apartment in the centre of Rome, or, when he was in London, the house in Grosvenor Square.
    When Isobel had first visited Casa Celeste she had felt overawed by its elegant façade, and its myriad bedrooms and bathrooms and grand reception rooms with their sumptuous frescoed walls and ceilings. She had commented that the house seemed like a museum, and Constantin had explained that his father had been an avid collector of art and antiques.
    Studying the portrait of the previous Marchese De Severino, Isobel had seen no warmth in Constantin’s father’s eyes and she had wondered what kind of parent he had been to his only son. Constantin’s tight-lipped expression when she asked about his father made her think that they had