Wed To The Italian: Bartaldi's Bride / Rome's Revenge / The Forced Marriage

‘I don’t want your money,’ she said sharply.

‘As you have already made clear,’ he murmured.

‘I mean I can’t be bought.’

‘And I am not looking for a slave.’ His tone was equable. ‘Or is that another reference to my wholesale corruption of public servants?’

Clare bit her lip. ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘But you see how it is, signore. There’s no way that we could co-exist—you and I.’ And I—I couldn’t take the risk, she added silently.

‘We would not have to co-exist,’ he said shortly. ‘I am hiring you to stay with Paola, not myself. My business interests cause me to be away a great deal. We would seldom meet.’

Clare sat down rather limply on the lounger. ‘And how will Paola feel about that? She asked. ‘It’s hardly the ideal way to court your future wife.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You do not think that my absence will make her heart any fonder?’

She said bluntly, ‘I’d say it would convince her that you don’t give a damn about her.’

‘Then she would be wrong.’ He was unruffled. ‘I care for her very deeply. But I am aware that she does not return my feelings. Or not yet.’ He paused. ‘I hope that you can, perhaps, change that.’

‘I?’ Clare echoed. ‘How can I do that?’

‘By bringing her to a more suitable frame of mind. By getting her to recognise that I can make her happy.’

Clare drew a deep breath. ‘Let me understand this,’ she demanded in outrage. ‘You want me to turn a hostile, unruly girl into a submissive bride for you?’

He smiled at her. ‘Exactly.’

There was a brief, fulminating silence, then she said shortly, ‘It can’t be done.’

‘I think it altogether possible—if you try. Just bend that formidable will of yours to the problem, Chiara mia, and who knows what miracle might not ensue?’

‘Perhaps it’s not a problem I particularly wish to address.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘Just why do you want this marriage, signore?’

‘I have a house,’ he said. ‘But it is not a home. I have a great name, but no heir. I have relationships, but not with a woman who can fill my heart to the exclusion of all others. Are those good enough reasons?’

Clare looked down her nose. ‘It all sounds a little cold-blooded to me.’

‘But you are so wrong,’ he said softly. ‘As my wife will discover for herself once her nights are spent in my arms.’

She looked down at the tiles at her feet, feeling the sudden startled colour flood her face. Aware of the urgent necessity to veil her eyes from him. Feeling some unfamiliar, confused emotion composed of envy and a kind of regret tremble inside her. And trying desperately to crush it down…

She said in a low voice, ‘Maybe you should start convincing her of that now.’

‘That would not be appropriate,’ he told her coolly. ‘We are not even officially engaged to each other.’

Back under control, she looked up, lifting her brows satirically. ‘I did not think you were so conventional, Marchese.’

‘But then you know so little about me, Chiara,’ he came back at her, sardonically.

‘That,’ she said. ‘Is my choice.’ She rose to her feet again. ‘I won’t do as you ask. Because I can’t understand why you’d want to marry anyone who’s already run away from you once.’

He shrugged as he got out of his chair. ‘Perhaps it is the nature of love—the girl to fly and the man to follow.’ He paused. ‘Is that your only reservation?’

‘No.’

‘Ah,’ he said, and was silent for a moment. Then, ‘Paola will be disappointed. It was her idea that you should take the Signora’s place.’

‘Please tell her I’m sorry.’

‘I hope you will tell her yourself.’ He paused again. ‘And do not let your dislike for me prevent you from being her friend while you remain in Umbria. She would like very much for you to visit her.’

Clare swallowed ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.’

‘Why not?’ Guido Bartaldi spread his hands enquiringly. ‘I have accepted your decision. So, what harm can it do?’

Oh, God, thought Clare, you have no idea. And thank God you haven’t…

Aloud, she said, ‘I may not be around for much longer. After all, I have…’ She paused swiftly, realising what she was about to say.

‘A living to earn?’ he supplied silkily, and accurately. ‘And yet you will not take work when it is offered. How strange.’

‘I’m a grown woman, signore. As I’ve said, I make my own choices.’

‘A woman?’ he queried thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if it is true.’

‘How—how dare you?’ She glared at him, shock tightening her throat. ‘My—personal circumstances are nothing to do with you.’

‘Basta. I am not claiming that you are still physically a virgin,’ he said impatiently. ‘That is immaterial. What matters is that sometimes, when I look at you, Chiara, I see a frightened child hitting out at the world—and hurting only herself.’

She said icily, ‘Thank you for the psychological profile. Remind me to do a run-down on you some time.’ She paused. ‘But tell Paola if she wants to visit me here, I’ll be happy to see her. Maybe we can have a dolls’ tea party.’ She bent and picked up her towel and the magazines. ‘Perhaps you’d excuse me now. I’m sure my godmother will be glad to see you before you go.’

‘I think she is quite happy talking to my uncle.’ He had the gall to sound amused. ‘He was hoping to meet you, but I see you are not in the mood.

He walked over to her, and stood for a moment looking down at her.

‘I have made you angry,’ he said quietly. ‘And also scared you a little, I think. I did not intend to.’ He took her unresisting hand and raised it to his lips, swiftly and gently. ‘Arrivederci, Chiara.’ His voice was low—intimate.

She felt the heat of the sun surrounding her like a golden web, closing her in with him as she stared at him mutely, caught in the thrall of the moment.

His tone changed—became brisk, almost businesslike. ‘And if you should change your mind about the job I have offered, naturalamente, you have only to let me know.’

The pang of disappointment was so sharp she almost cried out.

Instead, she snatched her hand away, offering him a smile that glittered like a razor.

She said dulcetly, ‘All hell will freeze over first, Marchese. Goodbye.’

And she walked away, her head held high, up the steps to the rose terrace, and into the house.