Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal

“I lead a very busy life, and so did my sister.”

“Indeed, yes.” He nodded. “She traveled widely with my brother. He was heavily involved in the family automobile business, particularly as it pertained to our foreign dealerships.”

“I know that. Vanessa and I kept in close touch, even if we didn’t see each other often.”

“Then you must also be aware that once Clemente and Gina started school, they weren’t always free to accompany their parents. They stayed, instead, with their grandparents.”

“And your point is?” Although she tossed the question at him nonchalantly enough, Callie sensed where the conversation was leading, and another ominous chill ran up her spine.

“That my mother and father have invested a great deal of time and effort in the wellbeing of their grandchildren.” Leaning forward, he leveled a telling stare her way. “And that, in case you’re wondering, is the real reason I chose to meet you in Paris. Because if you harbor any notion that you’re going to disrupt the status quo, I intend to disabuse you of the idea before we touch down in Rome. I will not have my parents made any more upset than they already are.”

Unfortunately that would probably be unavoidable, but Callie decided now was not a good time to tell him so. Instead, choosing her words carefully, she said, “I don’t take pleasure in inflicting unnecessary pain on anyone, Paolo. It’s not my style.”

“My father will be particularly glad to hear it. My mother is suffering enough. He won’t tolerate you, or anyone else, adding to her misery.”

Ah, yes! The refined, reserved, decidedly suspicious Signor Salvatore Rainero thought all he had to do was snap his fingers and the rest of the world would gladly leap to accommodate his wishes.

Well, Ermanno hadn’t, and nor was Callie about to do so. Not that she relished heaping more grief on the Raineros who were unquestionably suffering greatly, but they weren’t the only ones with rights.

“Just so that we understand one another, Paolo, I won’t be bullied, not by you or your father. I have just lost my only sister—”

“And I, a brother. That should not make us enemies.”

“It seems not to make us friends, either, all your talk on the phone about my being family notwithstanding.”

“There is family, and then there is family, Caroline. You would be making a mistake to interpret my words as being anything more than an attempt to offer you comfort and sympathy at a time when you need both. My loyalty, first, last and always, lies primarily with my blood relatives.”

Goaded beyond caution, she shot back, “So does mine. Whether or not you like it, the twins are related as closely by blood to me as they are to you Raineros, and I promise you, I’m not about to take a back seat on your say-so. Far from it, Paolo. I intend to take a very active role in my niece’s and nephew’s future.”

His jaw tightened ominously. Fixing her in a glance so lethal that she shivered, he said softly, “Then I was mistaken. We are indeed fated to be enemies—and you should be aware that I make a formidable foe, my dear. Ask anyone who’s ever crossed me, and they’ll tell you I take no prisoners.”

Chapter Three

IN CONTRAST to the bright day outside, the Rainero family crypt was dim, and terribly, terribly cold. The kind of cold that seeped into a person’s bones. A dead cold. Even if the sun had been able to penetrate the thick stone of the outer walls, its heat would have been rendered ineffectual. Not even raging fire could touch the vault’s smooth, thick marble floor and interior walls. They were impervious.

For Callie, this final part of the funeral proceedings was the most difficult to bear. The church in Rome had been filled with people, with human warmth and emotion. The swell of the organ, the scent of incense, the flowers, the ritual of prayer and hymns—they’d spoken of hope, of eternity. But here, on Isola di Gemma, with only the immediate family and a priest present, the finality of death hit home with a vengeance.

The small gathering of mourners formed a semicircle. Beside her, somber in a black suit and tie, Paolo stood with his head bent and his hands clasped at his waist.

Next to him, his mother wept silently, the tears running unchecked down her face. Her hands cupped the shoulders of the grandchildren in front of her, keeping them close, letting them know they were not alone.

Salvatore Rainero completed the group, his face unreadable, but Callie knew, if it had been left to him, she would not have been included in this final ceremony. Ever since her arrival at the Raineros’s Rome apartment, he had remained civil, but distant.

Nor had he been the only one. The children had greeted her with faces shuttered with pain and eyes downcast.

“Hello,” she’d murmured, her heart breaking for them. “Do you remember me?”

“You’re our aunt from America,” Gina replied politely, “and Mommy’s sister.”

“That’s right. She brought you to visit me when you were three, and then again when you turned five.” She knelt down and drew them into a hug, “Oh, my darlings, I’m so dreadfully sorry about what’s happened. I never thought that the next time we were together…”

Her voice broke and she fought to hold back the tears. “You still have your nonna and nonno, and your Uncle Paolo, but I want you to know that you have me, too, and I love you very much.”

They stood stiff as boards, tolerating her embrace because they were too wellmannered to push her away. But she felt their indifference anyway, and it hurt. It hurt badly.

In marked contrast, their grandmother had held out her arms and welcomed Callie with soft murmurs of sympathy. Lidia’s kindness, when she had her own burden of grief to bear, had filled Callie with guilt.

Small wonder Paolo was so protective of his mother. She was a woman who gave first to others, and thought of herself last. That she would shortly face losing her grandchildren to a virtual stranger would be a devastating blow.

Not that Callie had any intention of denying either grandparent access to the twins, nor Paolo, either, come to that. Her reasons for claiming the children weren’t based on malice or vengeance. They had to do with promises made over eight years before, when the children were newborn. But the Raineros would soon discover what Callie had realized long ago: that even with the best intentions, maintaining close ties with someone who lived half a world away was difficult at best.

Of course, in her case, there’d been more to it than a matter of miles. At nineteen, the only way she’d been able to cope with her situation had been to put geographical distance between herself and her children.

When Vanessa and Ermanno had first suggested adopting the twins, it had seemed the best solution. Best for the children, at least, because what had Callie to offer them but a heart full of love and not much else?

Her sister and brother-in-law, on the other hand, could give them the kind of life every child deserved: a stable, comfortable home, the best education money could buy, and most important, two parents. Wasn’t having both a mother and a father every child’s birthright?

At fifteen weeks pregnant, and beside herself with worry and grief, Callie had thought so. But as time passed, she had grown increasingly less sure. They were her babies. She had conceived them and carried them in her womb almost to term.

With the sweat pouring down her face and no loving husband at her side to cheer her on, she gave birth to them. Heard their first tremulous cries. And when they were placed in her arms, they’d filled the huge empty hole in her heart left by the man who would never know he’d sired the two most beautiful, perfect children in the world.

Give them up? Not as long as she had breath in her body! But in the end, and even though it had nearly killed her, she’d made the sacrifice. For their sakes. Because they deserved better than what she could give them. Because she was only just nineteen and hadn’t the wherewithal to support one child, let alone two. Because in allowing Vanessa and Ermanno to adopt them, they’d be with family and she’d know they’d always be cherished and loved. Because, because, because…

Who could have foreseen how tragedy would intervene and give her a second chance to take her rightful place in her children’s lives? And it was her right, wasn’t it? She was their birth mother.

Her gaze slid again to where they leaned against their grandmother, their little faces pinched with cold. Gina had cried herself to sleep last night and rebuffed Callie’s attempts to comfort her. She’d wanted her nonna. Natural enough, Callie had reasoned, but that didn’t soften the blow of rejection.

Clemente’s sadness was more contained. He said little, but the loss showed in his eyes—a mute uncertainty where, two weeks before, there had surely been absolute faith in a parent’s indestructibility. In his child’s world, the elderly might sometimes die, but mothers and fathers never did.

A sudden sob welled up in Callie’s throat. So much loss and sorrow for all of them, but especially the children. How could she justify tearing them away from everyone dear? How could she expect them to uproot themselves from the familiar, and settle in a foreign place, with a woman they barely knew?

And yet, how could she walk away from them again, when Vanessa had told her that, in their wills, she and Ermanno had named Callie the twins’ sole guardian. Ignore her dead sister’s wishes?

Promise me you’ll take over, if something should happen to us. Lidia and Salvatore are past the age where they can keep up with two active children on a fulltime basis, and Paolo is no more fit to be a father than he is to look after a puppy. But you, Callie, you’re the perfect choice…the only choice…

Was she, after all? Had too many years gone by? Unsure of anything but a renewed sense of loss, Callie covered her mouth to suppress a sob.

A hand in the small of her back took her by surprise. “This is hard, I know, but lean on me, cara,” Paolo murmured, urging her close. “It will soon be over.”

He was wrong. It would never be over. No matter how things were resolved, someone would end up being dreadfully hurt.

The jolt of compassion, of the urge to pull her into the shelter of his arms and protect her, shook Paolo to the core. He’d thought himself armed against her. Believed his alliance with his parents too invincible to be breached by the one person who could wreak utter havoc and heartbreak on his family.

After their confrontation en route from Paris to Rome, that Caroline was capable of just such action was a foregone conclusion. He’d seen the determination in the tilt of her chin, in the sparks shooting from her lovely blue eyes. Had heard the implicit threat behind her declared intent to play a very active role in the twins’ future.

The insecure, anxious-to-please young maid-of-honor at his brother’s wedding had turned into a steelyspined woman on a mission. That, since her arrival, she’d shown hints of a softer side, especially in her dealings with his mother and the twins, was something Paolo had done his best to ignore. She was, after all, intelligent enough not to alienate those she most needed as allies.

Yet all that notwithstanding, her smothered sob touched him profoundly. All at once, she was not a one-person army bent on war, but a sadly outnumbered creature badly in need of a defender. The quivering droop of her mouth, the sheen of unshed tears glimmering in her eyes, rendered her powerless.

She had walked alone, with her head held high, as the family made its way through the grounds to the crypt. But when the brief burial ceremony ended, he tucked her arm through the crook of his elbow and, disregarding the censure in his father’s surprised glance, escorted her back to the villa.

“I remember the last time I was here,” she said quietly, stopping on the limestone path to gaze at the sea, turning dark now as the sun sank lower. “I never dreamed that when I came back again, it would be to bury my sister.”

He clasped her cold hand and squeezed it gently. “None of us did, Caroline.”

A tear sparkled on her lashes, clung there a moment, then broke free to trickle down her cheek. “I miss her desperately. Even though we lived so far apart, she was always there when I needed her.”

“I know. She loved you very much.”

“Yes. Far more than you can begin to understand.”

The rough edge of passion suddenly charging her grief, overlaid his sympathy with mistrust. In the last six years, as he’d gradually taken more control of the family business interests, he’d learned a lot about reading other people. His finely tuned instincts told him now that Caroline was hiding some sort of secret, one so onerous that even indirect reference to it left her eyes haunted with a sorrow that had to do with more than her sister’s death.

Although he wished it could be otherwise, instinct also warned him to unearth that secret before she used it as ammunition in the custody battle he knew was in the offing. Anxious not to alert her suspicions, he said casually, “Before he takes the motor launch back to the mainland, Father Dominic will stay to commiserate with my parents, over a glass of wine. I can’t speak for you, but I’ve had about all I can take of well-meant homilies on everlasting life. Right now, all I know is that I’ve lost a brother, and you’re the only person who really understands what I’m going through. Will you take a walk through the gardens with me, before the sun goes down completely?”

“I’d rather be with the children.”

He’d been afraid she’d say that, and had his reply all ready. “Jolanda will be supervising their early dinner. You’d be better off spending time with them later, before they go to bed.”

“Who’s Jolanda?”

“Our resident housekeeper. She and her husband live on the island and keep the villa prepared for whenever the family decides to visit. You don’t need to worry, Caroline. She’s known the children all their lives. They’re very comfortable with her.”

She shrugged, drawing his attention to how narrow and delicate her shoulders were beneath her black silk coat. “I suppose a little fresh air can’t hurt. Anything’s better than the scent of lilies. They used to be one of my favorite flowers, but all they are now is a reminder…”

“For me, too.” He steered her along a side path that wound through the manicured grounds. “Ermanno never liked them, either.”

“Were you and he very close?”

“Very, especially in the last few years. He was my mentor, my hero. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d never have amounted to anything more than a rich man’s idle son, with no ambition beyond catering to my self-indulgent lifestyle. I’d probably be dead myself, if it hadn’t been for him.”

He stopped, momentarily unable to continue as the absolute truth of his last statement hit home, and underlined yet again the extent of his personal loss. He could see the disgust on Ermanno’s face, hear it in his voice, as clearly as if it were just yesterday that he’d taken Paolo by the scruff of the neck, shaken him like a dog with a rat, then flung him down in the dust.

You make me ashamed to admit you’re my brother! You bring disgrace to the Rainero name, to everyone and everything you touch. What will it take for you to behave like a man, instead of a spoiled boy? How often will you break our mother’s heart before she turns her face to the wall and gives up, because living with the fear of what you’ll do next is more than she can bear? How many wrecked cars, and broken hearts, Paolo? How many fathers out for your blood, because of your treatment of their daughters? How many husbands seeking vengeance for their ruined marriages?

Well, this time the Rainero name and money won’t get you off the hook. This time, you take your punishment, and it starts with facing our father. Did you know he had a heart attack when the police showed up at his door to tell him that you’d been arrested for brawling, and that he lies now in a hospital bed, with no guarantee that he’ll survive? Do you even care?

For once, Paolo had had no glib answers. No pitiful excuses or shifting of blame. After a night in jail, with the dregs of Roman society keeping him company, he’d seen himself through Ermanno’s eyes, and it had sickened him.

At his side, Caroline gave a start of surprise. “What do you mean, you’d probably be dead yourself?”

“I was not a model son,” he said, soberly. “It took seeing my father clinging to life in a hospital bed, and knowing that I had put him there, for me to recognize the error of my ways.”

“Now that you mention it, I remember Vanessa telling me he’d been ill. Some sort of cardiac problem, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Fortunately his willpower was stronger than his heart. He made an amazing recovery.”

She made a face. “He’s the type who would.”

Too amused by her candor to take offense, he said, “You don’t much like him, do you?”

“No,” she said bluntly. “He never thought the Leightons were good enough to be associated with the Raineros.”

“As he got to know your sister better, he changed his mind about that. He even went so far as to say she was like a daughter to him.”

“I suppose he didn’t have much choice but to accept her. At least she didn’t put his life at risk, the way you say you did. Exactly how did you bring that about, by the way?”

“I publicly embarrassed him. He is a very proud man—too proud, some, including you, might say. But he was always a loving father, and it hurt him very deeply when I showed myself to be less than deserving of his affection, let alone his trust.”

“You appear to get along well enough now. How did you redeem yourself?”

“I accepted responsibility for my actions. Instead of taking for granted the privileges that came of being the son of wealthy parents, I started earning them. I took my intended place in the family business.”

“Sat behind a fancy desk in a fancy office, and dished out orders to underlings, you mean?” she said scornfully.

“No, Caroline. I started at the bottom, taking orders and learning from men often younger than myself, and worked my way into a position of authority only after I’d earned their respect. To coin a phrase often used in America, I smartened up.”

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

This time, he understood her tone, and the oddly closed expression on her face. “Yes,” he said. “And that brings me to a subject we’ve both avoided mentioning, except briefly. I refer, of course, to the night of my brother’s wedding.”

She went to pull her arm free of his. “I really don’t want to talk about that again.”

Trapping her hand, he said, “I’m afraid we must. At the very least, allow me to apologize. I deeply regret having behaved the way I did. I’m afraid I treated you very unfairly that night.”

“You did a lot more than that!” she cried heatedly, then clapped a hand to her mouth as if she’d accidentally bitten off the end of her tongue and was trying to stem the flow of blood.

Curious at her outburst, he said, “What do you mean, Caroline?”

“Never mind,” she mumbled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it can cause you such distress all these years later, it certainly does.” Tugging her to a stop, he turned her to face him. “What were my other sins?”

“Well, you’re so proud of how smart you are, so figure it out for yourself, for heaven’s sake!” All flushed and flustered, she glared at him. “It wasn’t just that night, it was…it was the next day…and the next week.”

Again, she seemed on the brink of some revelation which, at the last second, she thought better of. “But we were together just that one time, Caroline.”

“Yes, and you couldn’t have made it any clearer I’d better not expect a repeat performance!”

“Did you want one?” he asked, refusing to acknowledge the untoward stirring of desire such a prospect inspired.

“Absolutely not!” she said, vehemently. “But that was no reason for you to parade another woman under my nose.”

“There were always other women in those days, cara.”

“And you made it abundantly clear that I was just one of them.”

“Mea culpa! My behavior was inexcusable.” He cupped her chin, again forcing her to meet his gaze. “But without trying to shift blame, I feel justified in pointing out that you were not entirely without fault. You let me believe you were sexually experienced when, in fact, you were anything but.”

“I’m surprised you even remember!”

“Such bitterness, so long after the fact, is out of all proportion to the incident,” he said, regarding her thoughtfully. “What aren’t you telling me, Caroline? What’s been eating at you all this time, that you’re still so full of anger toward me?”

She grew very still, and very pale. “Nothing. Seeing you again, here on this island, just brings everything back, that’s all.”

“What do you mean by ‘everything’?”

“You…laughed at me. Made me feel inadequate…hopeless at sex.”

“Then I should have been horse-whipped. You were a novice, yes, but you were enchanting, too. Ethereal in a gauzy confection of a gown that made you look like a princess.”

And with skin as fine as purest silk…and flesh so firm and tight that a man would have had to be made of stone not to respond with blind, untempered passion…!

“Never mind trying to flatter me at this late date, Paolo,” she said coolly. “I know I made a fool of myself.”

A vicious streak of desire licked through his blood. “What if it isn’t flattery? What if I’m finally admitting to a long-overdue truth? You’re a beautiful woman, Caroline, and I don’t believe for a minute that I’m the first man to tell you so.”

She blushed and ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, drawing his eye to the delicious curve of her mouth, and leading him to wonder how many men had tasted it in the last nine years. She was more than beautiful; she was exquisite. Fine-boned, delicately featured…and seductively feminine, in a refined, understated way. How had he managed to dismiss all that, the first time around?

She held the collar of her coat close to her throat and shivered, although her color remained high. “I think I’d like to go inside now.”

“Do I embarrass you by speaking so frankly?”

“No, but I’m surprised. We’ve been pretty much at odds ever since Paris. In fact, you’ve barely addressed a single word to me in the last four days, and now you’re suddenly full of compliments. Forgive me if I find that rather suspicious.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “I’m having second thoughts about you. Perhaps I’ve misjudged you. Isn’t that possible?”

“Possible.” She tilted her shoulder in a tiny shrug. “But not probable.”

“Then perhaps you misjudge me.”

“Equally possible, I suppose.”

“And just as improbable?”

“I’m willing to keep an open mind on the matter.”

A curious lightness filled him, blurring the sharp edges of his grief. Tucking her arm firmly in his again, he said, “Then I propose we call a truce, at least for now.”

Thoughtfully she tipped her head to one side, a slight movement only, but it was enough to send her hair sliding over her shoulder in a fall of cool, blond silk. It took all his self-control not to catch it in his hand and let it spill between his fingers. “I guess it won’t hurt to try.”

He wasn’t quite so sure. All at once, none of the truths to which he held fast seemed quite as absolute anymore.

“I have decided we shall remain here for another week,” Salvatore announced, when the adults congregated in the day salon for coffee, after dinner. “This is a peaceful place, a place to start the healing.”

“Another week?” Callie glanced from Lidia, to Paolo.

Neither seemed inclined to question the head of the household. Typical, she thought. The master speaks, and the other two jump to obey his commands. “I’d hoped to be back home by then.”