Hot Christmas Nights: Shameful Secret, Shotgun Wedding / His for Revenge / Mistletoe Not Required

He moved her cool fingers from his face and kissed their tips, one by one. ‘That is both my pleasure and my duty as your husband, cara.’

Husband. A little thrill of pride and possession ran through her as she stared up into his formidable features. She still felt disconnected from him—as if they had never been intimate as a couple before, and yet the growing life within her made mockery of that particular thought. Maybe that was what they needed. To become lovers again and to connect at the most fundamental level of all. Wouldn’t that at least block out some of the harsh words they had spoken—and the realisation that he was only here under sufferance?

‘Shall we—go to bed?’ she asked tentatively.

Giancarlo looked at the dark shadows under her eyes and the lines of tension which had pleated her pale brow and at that moment he felt a twist of guilt. She looked so damned young. So impossibly fragile. He thought of the stress she had been under and the new life which was growing within her. Maybe that was why her face looked so strained that she resembled a sacrificial lamb more than a new bride.

‘Bed is exactly what you need,’ he said.

Cassie smiled as he took her upstairs to the master bedroom and stripped the clothes from her body as he had done many times before. But this time was different. This time there was no fire and urgency as he undressed her. His fingers were as light as feathers drifting over her skin. He seemed to be almost restrained as he carried her over to the bed and quickly pulled the silken cover over her—as if he wanted to shield her nakedness from his eyes. Was it possible that Giancarlo’s desire for her had died?

And even as her body sank gratefully into the soft mattress she looked up at him in alarm—thinking how distant he seemed all of a sudden. Was he regretting that he had been forced to marry the mother of his child, or was he simply regretting not having invited his own family today, despite all the bad blood which had flowed between them?

Maybe he was thinking about Gabriella—the woman he should have married. And wishing that it were her who now lay naked and waiting in his bed. Was he? She had to know. She had to.

Some self-destructive urge took over and forced the question out—even though inwardly she prepared herself to be wounded by his answer. ‘And what about your family?’ she ventured as she looked up at him, wondering when he was going to get undressed and join her in bed.

Giancarlo stared down at the slender shape of her body outlined beneath the coverlet and felt an unmistakable kick of lust. ‘What about them?’

‘None of them there today.’

‘I did not feel that it was…appropriate.’

‘Do they…your brother and his wife…do they know about our marriage?’

‘No,’ he answered flatly.

Cassie sucked in a breath. ‘But even if…even if things aren’t good between you—don’t you think you should tell them?’

He resented her intrusion—even though her words had hit home. ‘I was planning to.’

‘Oh? When were you going to do that?’

He traced his finger over one of the faint shadows beneath her violet eyes and registered the sudden tremble of her lips. She looked all in. And even though the soft curves of her body were screaming out for his caress, he forced himself to draw back from her—telling himself that he must temper his hunger until the roses were back in her cheeks. She needed rest, not passion—and at least he could provide that for her. His mouth hardened. And maybe bury a few ghosts at the same time.

‘I thought I’d take you to Italy to meet them for yourself,’ he said slowly. ‘How does a honeymoon in Tuscany appeal to you, Cassandra?’

Chapter Nine

THE sleek black car moved through the darkening night and Cassie glanced out of the window, trying to quell her fluttering nerves. But it wasn’t easy—not when Giancarlo sat beside her, as silent and as unapproachable as a statue as they headed towards his old family home.

Their honeymoon in Tuscany should have been the icing on the cake for a new bride who longed to know more about her husband’s past and what had helped make him the man he was today. It gave her the opportunity to visit one of the most beautiful places on earth—and the chance to meet Giancarlo’s twin brother, with whom he had fallen out so spectacularly, all those years ago.

But it didn’t feel at all like that; it felt wrong—just as her life did. As if she was facing the unknown with a man who had become a stranger to her since their hurried marriage. And now she was heading towards a meeting which would intimidate the most confident of new brides.

The facts spun round and round in her mind. Giancarlo’s twin was married to the woman who had shattered her new husband’s heart and his trust in women. And not only was Cassie going to have to meet her and be judged by her—but she was also going to have to face up to something even more unpalatable. Something which seemed to make a mockery of their marriage and their future life together.

That Giancarlo had not made love to her since their marriage almost a week ago.

She had tried to make excuses for his blatant lack of interest—that he worked too hard and had too many high-powered deals going through at the moment. But that had always been the case, and it had never been like this between them. No matter what had been going on at work, he had always been hungry for her when he had taken her in his arms.

Yet now, he seemed to have acquired the knack of distancing himself from her—of seeming to be a million miles away even though they were alone together in the same room. The uninhibited lover she’d known during the days of their affair seemed to be a heady and distant memory.

On their wedding night, she’d fallen asleep before he’d come to bed and by the time she’d woken in the morning he was already up, behaving more like a doctor than a lover. Bringing her breakfast in bed and sternly making sure that she drank her herb tea and ate the plateful of scrambled eggs.

And afterwards, when she had tentatively tried to weave her arms around him, he had disengaged her and sternly told her that she needed to rest and recover.

Recover from what? she’d wondered as he had left her lying there—feeling slightly foolish—while he went downstairs to make the first of many phone calls.

The physical desert had continued during the next few days—and any brief contact from him had been solicitous rather than passionate. Without the reassurance of being desired, Cassie had felt her confidence trickle away. She felt as if he had tricked her—played some sort of cruel hoax on her by luring her into a marriage which had turned out to be empty. As if her pregnancy had made him stop desiring her—or perhaps he was just punishing her for having trapped him. She was only with him because of the baby, she reminded herself painfully. And only a fool would forget that.

They had flown by private jet to Rome and spent four days sightseeing before heading for the Vellutini estate—but when at last they drove through the grand gates of the Villa Serenita and she saw the enormous floodlit stone building ahead of her, Cassie could clamp down her questions no longer.

‘How long is it since you’ve been here?’

He shrugged. ‘Five years? Maybe six. I don’t remember.’

‘That’s a long time.’

‘Yes.’

Ignoring his monosyllabic response, she stared into the cold gleam of his ebony eyes. ‘Is that because—?’

‘It’s because it’s easier that way,’ he said, with faint impatience. But Giancarlo’s mouth hardened at her persistence and he wondered if she might ever take the hint. Hadn’t he told her enough about the past? Hadn’t she dug and dug to wheedle out more from him than he had ever intended her to know? About Raul. About Gabriella. And yet still she wanted more. Almost as if she wanted to suck him dry with her questions. ‘That’s just the way it’s worked out. We meet up on or around my niece’s birthday—usually in Rome, or Milan. It suits us all that way. It’s no big deal.’

Cassie wasn’t sure whether to believe him, but wise enough to heed the cool note of caution which had entered his voice—and maybe it was crazy to quiz him just before meeting his twin. Even so, she couldn’t help wondering if he felt envious when he looked at the massive Tuscan estate which could have been his. Or were his feelings still tied up with the woman who had chosen his brother? The woman she was soon to meet.

Rubbing a speck of dust off her brand new handbag, Cassie played safe. ‘Tell me again—how old is your niece?’

‘Allegra? She’s twelve.’

‘It’s a pretty name. It’s…strange to think of your brother being father to a girl who’s nearly a teenager.’ She shot him a shy glance. ‘Especially when you’ll soon have a tiny newborn.’

There was silence for a moment and Giancarlo felt the sudden lurch of his heart as he stared out into the Tuscan sky and the silver slither of the rising moon. A newborn. It sounded foreign. It felt foreign—because he still hadn’t got used to the idea—and most times he blotted it out because it seemed almost beyond his comprehension. He had not intended to become a father and knew nothing about babies—and somehow it had been easier to pretend it wasn’t happening. Safer too, since an online article he’d been reading had advised that early pregnancy was occasionally precarious and that babies could often be miscarried at this time.

And yet Cassandra’s tentative words made the idea flare into reality in his mind. A newborn. Was it really possible—this miracle which had come on him so unexpectedly? His flesh and blood growing inside her even now? He recalled the photo which had illustrated the article he’d read—of a little blob with a big head and curled little limbs. Something which had looked unrecognisable and yet had unmistakably been the form of a baby.

Suddenly, he reached across and laid his hand over her still-flat belly, unprepared for her little gasp of surprise. ‘Can you feel anything yet?’

She shook her head. ‘Not yet. You can feel a flutter at about fourteen weeks, apparently. So there’s still a little while to go.’ She felt her cheeks begin to glow because she liked the sensation of his hand there. It made her feel safe and protected—and if you weren’t loved, then surely those were pretty good substitutes. ‘Are we…are we going to mention the baby?’

He looked into the darkened violet of her eyes. ‘Not unless you want to make this even more difficult than it is.’

‘You think it’s going to be difficult?’

‘No, Cassandra—I think we’re all going to clasp hands and hug and laugh and joke together,’ he said sarcastically.

Plucking at a soft fold of her cashmere coat, she wondered if he was about to smash all her stupid fantasies with one careless admission that she would only ever be second best. But she already knew that, didn’t she?

Yet when she raised her face up to look at him she saw the unmistakable tension on his aristocratic features—and, despite her own feelings of worthlessness, she couldn’t help her heart from twisting. Is he hurting? she wondered as he helped her from the car. Was this meeting going to be unbearably difficult for him—and could she do anything to help alleviate his pain? Well, she could try by biting back questions which made his emotions feel raw and concentrate instead on getting through the evening and making him proud of her.

‘Just remind me,’ she said softly. ‘Your brother is Raul and your sister-in-law is called Gabriella—and Allegra doesn’t have any brothers or sisters?’

‘Sì, cara, esattamente,’ he said softly, and paused. ‘Ah, and here she is in all her glory to meet us.’

For a moment, Cassie thought he meant Allegra—because she remembered what she had been like at twelve. Could have easily imagined a young girl watching and waiting by the window, filled with excitement at the thought of seeing an uncle like Giancarlo. Yet it was not a coltish teenager who came towards the car, but a woman.

And what a woman.

Small and perfectly proportioned, her thick, glossy hair fell in a raven cascade over narrow shoulders. Her skin was olive, her restless eyes the colour of dark chocolate, and she wore an exquisitely cut dress in softest ivory—accessorised by brown crocodile-skin shoes. From her slender wrist dangled a narrow circlet of glittering diamonds and there were more diamonds at her ears—as well as a colossal solitaire beside her wedding band. On anyone else, that many diamonds might have looked showy—but the petite brunette exuded so much class and confidence that Cassie thought she could probably have worn a bin liner and convinced you it was haute couture.

So this, Cassie thought, was Gabriella.

Suddenly, she felt utterly insignificant in comparison—too pale and too wishy-washy with her fair skin and hair. Because this was the woman Giancarlo had loved, she reminded herself painfully. The woman he had wanted to marry—without anyone pointing a shotgun at him. The woman who had chosen his richer twin over him—and Cassie wondered whether a man like her new husband would ever recover from a blow so heavy to his pride and his heart.

‘That’s Gabriella?’ she whispered.

‘The very same.’

‘She’s…she’s very beautiful.’

Giancarlo’s mouth hardened into an odd kind of smile. ‘Isn’t she?’

Cassie felt her heart plummet. Her husband would have been a liar if he’d denied what was a glaring fact—but in that moment of terrible insecurity, what she wanted more than anything was for Giancarlo to tell her that the woman was a hag and he’d never loved her. But there was no time for further conversation, because the petite Italian beauty was upon them with a rush of heady scent and an unmistakable sparkle of her dark eyes as she stared up at her brother-in-law.

‘Giancarlo,’ she said, her hands moving familiarly to his shoulders as she offered him one cool cheek to kiss, followed by another. ‘How good to see you again. It has been too long. Much, much too long. Nearly a year since we met you for dinner in New York!’

‘That long?’

‘I could tell you down to the very second,’ she pouted. ‘And in the meantime, you went and got married without even telling us!’

‘But I thought you liked surprises,’ he said archly. Stepping away from Gabriella’s embrace and the overpowering scent of her perfume, he rested his hand lightly at Cassie’s waist. ‘And besides, I’ve brought my wife to meet you. This is Cassandra.’

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