Claimed by the Italian: Virgin: Wedded at the Italian's Convenience / Count Giovanni's Virgin / The Italian's Unwilling Wife

Ignoring the choice of seating, Paolo led her down a shallow flight of stone steps to the garden—a maze of box-bordered paths, sentinel cypress trees and an abundance of roses in leaf and promising bud.

Only when she tripped did he slow his pace, an arm going round her to steady her. ‘We sit. And we talk with sense.’

Registering from that slight slip in his usually impeccable English that he was almost as disturbed as she by the afternoon’s events, Lily sat—was glad to—as he brought her to a carved marble bench seat beside an antique stone fountain.

Confident that he would be as horrified as she by his mother’s excited wedding plans, she started, ‘There has to be a way to put her off! You got us into this mess— now get us out of it! I did my best—told her I had a charity to run and couldn’t commit to anything else for ages. But she didn’t listen!’

‘Total waste of breath,’ he incised without hesitation. ‘Mamma knows I’ve stepped in. When I become involved things happen and happen smoothly. That being so, she would know that because everything is in hand your absence would be of little or no consequence,’ he insulted blandly.

Fit to spit bricks, Lily glared at him. Arrogant brute! ‘Then put your so-superior brain in gear and think of something!’

Anger lit her big grey eyes. But something else sparked within those luminous depths. Fright?

Settling beside her, Paolo draped an arm along the back of the seat. Deliberately relaxing his body. Two of them indulging in hysterics would get them precisely nowhere.

‘I admit I didn’t expect her to launch straight into immediate wedding plans with such gusto,’ he confessed, his lips curving in appreciation of the stony glare she gave him—until her scathing response set a slow burn of discomfited heat running over his cheekbones.

‘No, you expected her to be gasping her last and whispering about how happy she was, going to her maker knowing that you were settling down to marriage!’

The moment the words were out Lily regretted them—hated herself for even thinking them, never mind flinging them at him.

Her soft heart ruling her head, she offered softly, ‘I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say.’ She reached for his hand, clenched on his knee, and curled slim fingers around it. ‘Of course you’ve been worried about your mum. When someone we love is ill we can’t help it—can’t help dwelling on the worst-case scenario, praying it won’t happen but desperately afraid it will. It’s quite natural.’

His hand was still a fist beneath her cool fingers. Affronted dignity was written on his stunning features. Mindful that she was probably irritating the hell out of him, she added uncertainly, ‘I wish I had a mum to worry about.’

Paolo’s shuttered eyes switched to find hers. Warmth curled around his heart, squeezed it. Lily Frome. Those huge eyes were drenched with the softness of sympathy, lush lips quivering slightly. In spite of her diminutive size she had a big heart, was so unused to hurting anyone she was swift to apologise when she felt she had.

And he had variously bullied, insulted and ridden roughshod over her. She didn’t deserve that. He had kissed her, and yet he knew next to nothing about her. That was an insult in itself.

Uncurling his fist, he laced his fingers between hers. ‘What happened to her?’

Taken aback, Lily blinked. Her soft mouth parted, then clamped shut again. Something really weird happened to her when he was being nice to her. She tried to analyse it and couldn’t.

He prompted gently, ‘Well?’

‘I—’ Lily was floundering. It was the look in his eyes that did it. The golden gleam was assessing, yet kind, warm. His hard male mouth had softened. As if she were a human being with feelings instead of an employee paid to do as she was told—an automaton that he could switch on and then switch off and put back in the cupboard and forget about when the task was completed to his satisfaction. It was unnerving.

‘She died,’ she got out. ‘When I was a baby. I don’t remember her.’ She smiled shakily, her eyes meeting his at last. ‘I do have a few photographs, though. She was really pretty.’

‘Then you must take after her.’ His fingers tightened on hers. ‘And your father?’

He thought she was pretty? She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. His hand, laced with hers, felt so good. Too good. She wished it didn’t. Wished she had the strength of mind to snatch her hand away. But she hadn’t.

Lily lifted her slender shoulders in a tiny shrug. ‘He left. He handed me over to my mother’s aunt. There were no other relatives.’

‘How often do you see him? Hear from him?’

Her chin lifted at his suddenly grim tone. ‘Never. OK? Though, to be fair to him, my parents married young. Too young. They were still in their teens when I was born. I guess he couldn’t cope with the demands of a baby. I must have been a mistake. I expect he thought he and Mum would have years of married life together before they had to settle down to be parents. He would have seen letting Great-Aunt Edith adopt me as the best thing for me.’

Dio! Paolo’s eyes widened in perplexity. How could a man hand over a tiny scrap of his own flesh and blood and walk away? Yet she was making excuses for the inexcusable! Did she always turn the other cheek? Look for the good where others could see only bad? If so, she was unique in his experience!

He was looking at her as if she were from another planet, Lily registered, confused. She moistened her dry lips, parted them to stress that her lack of parents had nothing to do with the knotty problem they were facing, then promptly forgot what she’d been about to tell him when he leaned forward, sliding his arms around her as he kissed her.

Tender this time. Achingly tender. Amazingly beautiful. And her head was spinning, her heart hurting, when he broke the kiss, held her head into his shoulder and murmured softly, ‘I’ve given you a hard time. It is my turn to apologize, cara. It won’t happen again.’

Where had that come from? Never apologise, never explain—what had happened to the code he lived by?

Shaken with the depth of what he was feeling—compassion, admiration, disgust with his earlier unfeeling treatment of her, whatever—he turned his head to touch his lips to the so-vulnerable spot below her ear.

‘Trust me. I got us into this mess, just as you said, and I’ll get us out of it.’ He could feel her heart beating beneath her perfect breasts. Nameless emotion claimed him and his voice was dark and husky as he told her, ‘In the meantime relax, enjoy being here.’

He almost added with me, but stopped himself in time.

CHAPTER SIX

SHE was becoming addicted to him, Lily admitted with agitation. Really addicted to him. When he was with her, by her side, in the same room, meeting up with his mother for lunch or dinner, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, and when he turned his beautifully shaped head, caught her moony eyes on him and gave her that lazy, sexy smile of his, she just about went to pieces.

Did he know that? Know that he only had to smile at her, casually touch her hand in passing, rest his hand lightly on her shoulder, to make her breathing quicken, her heart leap, her body sting and burn with sexual tension?

She had the terrifying feeling that she was falling in love with him, and she so didn’t want to! Why, in full knowledge of what she was looking at, would she want to buy a one-way ticket to a place called Misery?

She could tell herself with cold, stark truth that this new display of tender togetherness he’d displayed during the couple of days they’d been here was just an act, but it didn’t make the slightest bit of difference.

And as for kissing her—well, she’d worked that out too. Without any trouble whatsoever. Both times he kissed her had been when she’d displayed serious misgivings or signs of mutiny. In that first instance, her deep reluctance to meet his mother, and in the second her hysterics over his mother’s insistence on making plans for a wedding that wasn’t going to happen.

He was manipulating her, but knowing that didn’t make a scrap of difference either. And that made her the worst kind of fool—her own worst enemy.

Her cheeks pink with annoyance—at herself, mostly—she swiftly tucked her shirt into the waistband of the classic cream-coloured linen skirt she’d selected from the abundance of fabulous garments Donatella had unpacked for her, ran a comb through her gleaming jaw-length fall of hair, and added just a touch of gloss to her lips. Looking in the mirror, she smiled wryly at the understated high-maintenance reflection she saw there, and set off to obey Carla’s summons, issued from the house phone near her bedside five minutes earlier.

Signora Venini was taking her morning airing on the terrace and would be pleased if Signorina Lily would join her.

It would be the first time she’d been alone with Paolo’s mother, and the prospect made her feel even more nervous. Without his presence as a buffer who knew what she might let slip by unguarded word or look? Especially if the older woman brought up the scream-inducing subject of wedding arrangements. She just wasn’t used to pretending to be what she wasn’t. Living a lie.

Paolo, as he’d informed her last night, would be spending most of the day in Florence on business. He’d invited her to go with him—to hit the shops, do the tourist thing until he was ready to return. She’d refused flatly, wanting time alone to get her head straight, talk herself out of what she was beginning to feel for him, put in some hard work on her sense of self-preservation.

Now she wished she’d accepted his invitation, if only to avoid the coming tête-à-tête and the pitfalls it was sure to present.

Reaching the doors to the terrace, Lily allowed herself a moment to let the soft light and gentle warmth of the Tuscan spring wash over her, and hopefully begin to relax her, starting slightly when a cheerful, ‘Buongiorno, Lily!’ hit her ears.

‘Signora,’ Lily responded feebly, her feet carrying her with a reluctance she hoped didn’t show towards the table beneath the vine-covered loggia, where the old lady sat in the dappled shade.

‘Sit with me. And do you think you could manage to call me Fiora? Less formal, si?’ Her smile was pure charm. Lily now knew where Paolo had got it from. When it suited him! ‘“Mamma” we will save until the happy day when you are my daughter-in-law.’

Knowing that day would never dawn, Lily felt slightly sick as she forced herself forward and sank into a chair on the opposite side of the table.

How she hated deceiving this nice old lady! Part of her was strongly urging her to come clean, confess all, put her conscience to rest and weather the storm that would erupt from Paolo’s direction. But then Fiora said, ‘How pretty you look—my cynical son has followed his heart and at last chosen well. A lovely young thing in possession of a loving and gentle heart, instead of a glossy model with a calculating machine where her heart should be! You are going to make him very happy!’

All Lily could manage was a painted on smile that covered the sinking conviction that there was no way she could tell Paolo’s mother the truth—because not only would it shatter the old lady’s obvious happiness, it would cause a deep rift between mother and son, and she couldn’t bring herself to be responsible for that.

Thankfully, Agata arrived with a tray of coffee, and while Fiora was pouring from the elegant silver pot she confided, ‘The nurse my son hired has departed—such a bossy creature! I told Paolo that as I felt so much better she was not needed.’

‘And he agreed?’ He was so protective of his mother, so anxious for her well-being, that Lily couldn’t keep the note of sheer astonishment out of her voice.

‘Not without argument!’ The hazel eyes lit with laughter, and Lily reflected that Paolo’s mother did look better. There was colour in her cheeks and strength in her voice now, and the faint bruising around her eyes had disappeared. ‘He had to agree that the news of his wedding has given me a new lease of life!’ She reached out a hand to cover Lily’s, where it lay on the sun-warmed wood of the tabletop, and confided soberly, ‘My husband’s death ten years ago was a terrible blow. Sergio and I were very dear to each other. But I had my two handsome sons to live for. The hope of grandchildren.’

She sighed, withdrew her hand and laid it with the other in her lavender silk lap. ‘Then, just over a year ago, my son Antonio and his pregnant wife died in a car accident. Another dreadful blow. And Paolo, to my sorrow, seemed quite determined never to marry again.’ She shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘In a way I could understand his reluctance. He couldn’t trust his emotions, you see. Twice they’d let him down very badly. But of course he will have told you all this.’

With effort, Lily nodded, cringing inside. Another lie! Paolo wouldn’t confide in her, tell her anything personal. She was a mere employee, fit for carrying out his orders and nothing more. She could tell Fiora that it hadn’t been his emotions that had let him down because he didn’t have any—not real ones—except in respect of his adored mother. It was all down to a low boredom threshold, as Penny Fleming had explained. But she’d hold her tongue and let the old lady keep her fond illusions.

‘Apart from a mother’s natural wish to see her son happy and settled, I knew that if Paolo didn’t marry the ancient bloodline my Sergio was rightly so proud of would die out, and that was another great sadness to me. But—’ a smile broke through the miasma of sad memories ‘—he has found you, lost his heart and found a happy future. So, after a long and painful year I can look forward to the future with a sense of joy I had never expected to know again.’

It was the first Lily had heard of the tragedy, and Fiora’s year of hopeless depression. At last she could fully understand why Paolo, on hearing of his mother’s possibly fatal illness, had decided to lie. He would have been at his wits’ end, and must have seen announcing a fake engagement as the only way to give his adored mother a measure of happiness.

But fully empathising with him now didn’t make the deception any easier. It made it harder.

She was relieved when Fiora’s companion appeared, to chivvy the older woman into taking her morning rest.

‘To get your strength back you must rest often,’ Carla stated with a sideways smile for Lily, holding out a hand to help the older woman to her feet.

‘Lily and I were having an important conversation,’ Fiora objected with hauteur, waving aside the proffered hand. ‘And I can walk unaided! Leave us—I am not in the least tired.’

‘That is because you have behaved sensibly up to now and rested, as your consultant said you should,’ Carla countered levelly, and Lily hid a smile, wondering who would win this contest of wills. Her money was on Fiora!

She would have lost it, she recognised sickly, when Carla delivered the power punch. ‘You will need all your strength to plan for and attend the wedding you’re so excited about. Tire yourself and you will be fit for nothing!’

Fiora rose to her feet promptly at that remark, admitting, ‘For once you are quite right.’ The smile she gave Lily was pure mischief. ‘I will see you and Paolo at dinner this evening. I have something exciting to tell you both.’ And she allowed herself to be led away, grumbling, ‘Remember, Carla, that if you get to be too bossy you will go the way of the nurse!’

Her companion’s comfortable grin showed she knew the threat was hot air and bluster and certainly not meant.

As soon as the other two had entered the imposing villa Lily leapt to her feet, too wired to sit still one moment longer. Why was Paolo absent when she really needed him?

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, she paced over to the stone balustrade and stared unseeingly out at the view over thickly wooded hillsides and fertile valleys. In her opinion Paolo was far too laid-back about the situation he had catapulted them into.

She had to make him understand that he must somehow put an end to talk of imminent wedding bells! Now. Right now! Before they found themselves even deeper enmeshed in Fiora’s plans!

She had tried on the occasion of her first meeting with his mother. Stressing her need to be home, working, because it was all hands on deck as far as the charity went.

To no avail.

So it was up to him. And since he wasn’t around, and she felt she’d go stir-crazy if she thought about it for one more moment, she’d have to do something to take her mind off it.

Turning on the heels of her supple leather courts, she headed smartly for the villa, slipping up to her room, settling on the side of the bed and picking up the phone. The nerve-racking situation made her feel as if she was fighting her way through dense clouds, no map to give her directions, and the best person to help her feel grounded again was her great-aunt.

Edith picked up on the second ring, her customary no-nonsense, ‘Yes, who is this?’ bringing the first real smile to Lily’s lips for days.

‘Me, Aunt. How are you coping alone?’ Suddenly she could see a possible way out. ‘Short-handed, it must be difficult. Did you find someone to exercise Maisie’s dog?’ If she could get her great-aunt to admit that in her absence the charity couldn’t meet its obligations she’d have the perfect excuse to cut her stay in Italy short.

‘Don’t fuss, child! We are coping beautifully. Kate Johnson is in place. She came early. And as soon as she’d settled into her accommodation at Felton Hall she started to organise the volunteers. She’s found two—got the vicar to plead for help after his sermon—and is advertising for more in the local paper. She even managed to get Life Begins a good write-up. I can’t think why we didn’t think to do that ourselves! It takes a well-paid professional to get things right. Even at this early stage everything is looking far more hopeful. I would have thought that young man of yours would have told you all this. He’s in daily touch by telephone. He’s obviously taking his involvement very seriously.’

‘Young man of yours’? She couldn’t mean Paolo, could she? How absurd? Lily fell into a glum silence, her escape route well and truly blocked. She was glad for the charity’s sake, of course she was, but it didn’t help her situation. Which, she admitted uncomfortably, was really selfish of her.

‘You still there?’ The volume of the question made Lily flinch and squawk an affirmative, holding the receiver away from her ear as her great-aunt boomed on, ‘So no need to fuss! Now, are you having a lovely time?’ Thankfully not waiting for an answer, she continued, ‘When our new partner suggested he give you a holiday in Italy, mentioning that his mother had recently been ill and could do with some young company, and that you looked very tired, I realised I had been neglecting your welfare. You’ve been working far too hard for too long …’

Lily mentally shut out the unnecessarily loud one-sided conversation. So that was how he had persuaded Edith to agree, without questioning his motives, to allow her to go to Italy without any fuss. She had often wondered. But she should have known he could charm the birds out of the trees when he had to. When Paolo Venini wanted something he got it. One way or another.

Cutting into a pause for breath at the other end of the line, she said, ‘Look after yourself, Aunt. And I’ll see you soon.’

At least she devoutly hoped so.

Paolo swung the car onto the long curving drive up to the villa. He was running late. He would be hard-pressed to shower and change before dinner, taken at the earlier hour of seven as a concession to his mother’s recuperation. His meetings had run on for longer than he’d expected, and for some reason he’d been anxious to get home, so he hadn’t been his usual incisive self. His mind had been elsewhere.

Because he wanted to see Lily? Be with her? The thought flickered briefly, unwelcomely, across his mind. Of course not! Or if he did then it would only be to check things out, reassure himself that she hadn’t, without his presence, his guidance, done or said something to give the game away.

His strong jaw tightened. He gave thanks hourly for his mother’s recovery. That it had been hugely helped along by his fictitious engagement gave him pause. But he hadn’t expected her to jump on the wedding band wagon with such spritely agility! Only yesterday she had been pestering him to seek an appointment with the priest, fix a date for as soon as possible after her final appointment with her surgeon.

When he told her, as he would have to, that there was to be a lengthy postponement she would be disappointed. He knew that. But she would understand the importance of a sudden—invented—crisis. A need for him to travel to his headquarters in New York, Madrid, London or wherever. His need to clear business before he could settle down to married life. She had been married to the head of a world-renowned mercantile bank for long enough to know that the sound running of the business came before personal considerations. Another bending of the truth. Distasteful but necessary.

Removing Lily, whom she had confessed happily that she’d taken to her heart, would pose a different problem. The excuse that she was needed back in England to work with the charity wouldn’t wash because his mother knew he had intervened and thus made Lily redundant.

But he had the problem solved. Her great-aunt was elderly. Needed her. His mother would understand that—understand that depriving an old lady of the company and care of the great-niece she had adopted as a small baby, loved as if she were her own child, would be unkind. Thus, the engagement would stretch and stretch, until some time in the future he could say that long engagements didn’t work and the wedding was off.

Hopefully by that time his mother would be much stronger, more able to handle the disappointment. There would be recriminations coming his way, but his shoulders were broad. That his thinking was devious, to put it mildly, was in no way a pleasure to him. Normally direct, he found deceit left a bad taste in his mouth. But in this case the ends—his beloved mother’s return to good health—justified the means.

He would have to explain all this to Lily. His jaw relaxed. Put her out of her misery! Though, to do her credit, she had acted the part he’d assigned her more convincingly than he’d expected.

Her role as a woman who was deeply in love couldn’t be faulted. Nothing personal—she knew the financial viability of her charity depended on her co-operation—but the way she looked at him, her eyes dreamy, her cheeks flushing with pleasure when he smiled at her, silver lights sparkling in the clear depths of her eyes was completely convincing. And when he touched her, took her hand, slipped an arm around her tiny waist to draw her forward to join the conversation between himself and Mamma, he would hear the catch of her breath, watch as the pulse-beat at the base of her slender neck quickened and see those lush lips part. He was hard put to see a flaw in her performance. She had a totally unexpected acting ability.

Such kissable lips, too, as he’d discovered. Had her response been play-acting, too? Somehow he didn’t think so. Unconsciously, a softly sensual smile curved his long mouth. Who would have believed that the muddy scrap of his initial acquaintance could have been transformed into such a delicate, bewitching beauty?

Sexily responsive, too. Heat rolled through him and his body surged at the memory, and, unbidden, the aching need to hold her again, take that generous mouth, and take things further, much further, gripped him with driven savagery.

Basta! Enough! Braking the powerful car in a shower of gravel, he exited, shutting the door with enough force to shatter the silence. Having sex with Lily Frome, no matter how irritatingly tempting the prospect seemed, was a road he was not going to travel! Quite apart from the fact that she was temporarily his employee, and therefore strictly out of bounds, she was not his type.