A Dangerous Infatuation (21 page)

It would take a matter of minutes to explain about Marco—although whether Emma would believe him was open to question, Rocco thought grimly. Anger surged through him. If she had any faith in him he should not have to defend himself. Her readiness to believe Shayna proved that she had never trusted him.

She pulled open the car door and he felt a knife skewer his heart. ‘You would walk away from what we have?’ he asked in a raw tone. This was crazy. Hang his pride. He would explain, and then she would stop looking at him as though she hated his guts.

The huskiness in his voice made Emma hesitate. He sounded as if he cared, sounded as if he did not want her to leave. But maybe her ears were deceiving her, and hearing what she wanted to hear. Rocco had lied to her—just as Jack had lied throughout their marriage.

‘What
do
we have, apart from good sex?’ She could not bear to think of all the other things they had shared. The
fun and laughter, the long conversations and lazy afternoons making love. Clearly those things had meant more to her than to him. He had destroyed her trust, but she refused to let him see that he had broken her heart. ‘There’s nothing to keep me here.’

‘Then go,’
he said savagely, stepping back so that she could climb into the taxi.

He could not force her to have faith in him, and he would not beg. What was the point? he thought bitterly. He knew her heart would belong for ever to her dead husband.

Hurt, pride and a pain more agonising than anything he had ever experienced, made his voice harsh. ‘If you leave, Emma, I won’t come after you. It’s your choice if you decide to end our relationship right now. I will not give you a second chance.’

Spring had finally arrived in Northumberland, and the garden of Primrose Cottage was ablaze with daffodils waving their golden heads in the breeze. It was a perfect day for the nursery school’s trip to a local farm to see the lambs, Emma thought, remembering Holly’s excitement this morning. The little girl had adapted quite happily to their old life in Little Copton, and although she had mentioned Rocco and Cordelia a few times she’d loved seeing her friends again.

At least she did not have to worry about her daughter or, for the time being, finding somewhere to live. The sale of the cottage had fallen through, and the owner had told Emma she was welcome to stay until new buyers were found. Aware that that might be some months away, she had decided to get on with weeding the back garden. She had arranged to return to her nursing post next week, but
until then it was imperative she kept busy so that she did not have time to think.

The image of Rocco’s furious face as she had told the taxi driver to take her to Genoa airport seemed to be branded on her subconscious, and his final words, delivered with such deadly finality, haunted her dreams.

I will not give you a second chance.

Why would she want another chance with a deceitful cheat? she thought bleakly. Throughout her journey to the airport and the flight back to England she had assured herself that she had done the right thing. For the past five days settling back into Primrose Cottage and ensuring that Holly was happy had taken up all her time, and she had managed to push Rocco to the back of her mind—at least until she was alone in bed at night.

The long hours of darkness were unbearable, she acknowledged miserably, as she knelt in front of a garden bed and attacked a clump of dandelions with a trowel. She missed him so much that there was a permanent ache in her chest, and doubts, like stubborn weeds, refused to budge from her head. Maybe there was another explanation for the identity of the boy who bore such a striking resemblance to Rocco. The child had reminded her of someone else, and after days of racking her brain she’d realised that he looked very like Giovanni—Rocco’s brother who had died twenty years ago.

But what did that tell her? she wondered wearily. Rocco’s son was bound to share a family resemblance. There was no escaping the fact that Rocco had a secret life he had not told her about. He had deceived her and made her feel a fool. Tears slid down her face and dripped onto her jeans. Even after Jack’s death she had not felt this level of raw agony—as if a serrated blade had slashed through her heart.

She heard the creak of the side gate and hastily scrubbed her cheeks with her sleeve. Gossip spread like wildfire through the village, and the postman would be curious if he saw her crying.

But instead of a cheerful good morning, there was silence—even the blackbird in the apple tree had stopped singing. The hairs on the back of Emma’s neck stood on end and she stood up and turned round, catching her breath as the ground beneath her feet lurched like a ship’s deck in a storm.

Her voice wouldn’t work properly, and eventually emerged as a rusty croak. ‘Why are you here …?’

Her nemesis, the keeper of her soul, gave a grim smile. Rocco had had a speech prepared, but the streaks of tears on Emma’s face and her tangible unhappiness had made him forget his words and forced him to acknowledge a simple, stark truth.

‘Because I’ve discovered that I can’t live without you,
cara
.’

She closed her eyes, as if willing him to disappear. But Rocco wasn’t going anywhere. He walked towards her, his eyes lingering on the rounded shape of her breasts beneath her soft grey wool jumper. His woman. He had endured five hellish nights before he’d accepted that pride was a lonely bedmate.

He halted in front of her. ‘Marco is my half-brother—my father’s illegitimate son. Enrico’s three sons all inherited his unusual eye colour.’

Emma’s eyes flew open, and she stared at him helplessly as guilt ripped through her.
His half-brother!
That was why Rocco had pointed out that the boy she had believed was his son looked like his brother Gio. There was no denying it. Once again she had misjudged him. This time so terribly that she knew he would never forgive her.

‘My father abandoned his Swedish mistress when she fell pregnant, and he had no contact with Marco until he was dying and asked me to find the boy,’ Rocco explained quietly. ‘I could not tell my grandfather while he was recovering from heart surgery. He is fiercely proud of the D’Angelo name, and I feared the shock of learning about his son’s reprehensible behaviour could kill him. For months I have worked to build a relationship with Marco and win his trust. I wanted to tell you about him, but I had promised him I would not reveal his identity to anyone until he felt ready for me to do so.’

Emma stared at his handsome hard-boned face and her heart clenched. He looked drawn, his olive skin stretched taut over his sharp cheekbones, and she had a feeling that, like her, he hadn’t slept or eaten properly since their bitter parting.

She bit her lip. ‘I refused to believe Shayna when she told me the rumour that you had a son. I told her you were an honourable man—and I meant it,’ she insisted huskily when he gave her a wry look. ‘I trusted you—and that was hard for me. A huge step that at one time I was sure I would never take. When I saw you in Genoa with a beautiful woman and a young boy I felt devastated.’ The memory brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she owed Rocco the truth and she forced herself to go on. ‘I felt like I did when I found out about Jack.’

Rocco tried to ignore the corrosive burn of jealousy in his gut. ‘I understand how deeply you loved him, and how much you still grieve for him. Learning of his death must have been shattering.’

‘It was,’ she said slowly. ‘But it was made worse because a few hours before the news came that he had died in a fire I found out that he had been unfaithful throughout our marriage.’

Rocco jerked his head back in shock. ‘Did someone tell you that?’

‘His mistress.’ Emma gave a humourless laugh. ‘Kelly was one of a long list of women he’d slept with, but she was also one of my friends—which made it worse. She said she was telling me about Jack’s affairs out of loyalty to our friendship. But she also revealed that Jack was planning to leave me and our unborn baby and move in with her. Apparently he had told her she was “the one”, but he said the same thing to me when he asked me to marry him.’

‘I thought your marriage was made in heaven,’ Rocco said roughly.

She gave another pained laugh. ‘So did I. The revelations about Jack’s infidelity destroyed my fantasy that we were happily married, but I never had an opportunity to ask him why he had betrayed me. I don’t think he can have loved me—the only person Jack was in love with was himself. After his death I realised that I had been in love with the
idea
of love, rather than actually with him. He was good-looking and charming—the original Jack the Lad. I was flattered that he chose to marry me, and I ignored his many faults.’

She sighed. ‘But nothing can alter the fact that he died a hero. At his funeral, part of me was proud of him and part of me hated him.’

‘Dio!’
Rocco interrupted explosively. ‘All this time I thought you loved him. You allowed me to think your heart belonged to him,’ he said accusingly. Pain tore in his chest. ‘
Why
, Emma?’ he demanded roughly. ‘Was it to push me away?’

She was startled by the raw emotion in his eyes. She had no idea where this conversation was leading, but after the way she had misjudged him she owed him her honesty.

‘Jack’s parents were utterly heartbroken when he died.

I couldn’t damage their pride in him by revealing that he had been a lying cheat. They show Holly pictures of him and tell her how he was awarded a medal for his bravery. For her sake, as well as Peter and Alison’s, I will always keep up the pretence that Jack was the perfect husband.’

She dropped her gaze from his and stared down at the lawn. ‘And it was safer to allow you to believe I still loved him,’ she admitted in a low tone. ‘You are the ultimate playboy, and I was determined to keep my distance from you.’

‘I noticed,’ Rocco said dryly. ‘I have never met a woman as prickly and distrustful of my motives. And I admit you had good reason. My sole aim
was
to get you into bed. I was certain I did not want commitment—why would I when I had seen the fall-out of bitterness and acrimony in my parents’ failed marriage and those of several of my friends? Sex was a game, and mistresses are not hard to come by when you are wealthy,’ he drawled sardonically.

‘I was never interested in your money,’ Emma said quickly, hating the idea that he lumped her in with women like mercenary Shayna Manzzini.

He laughed softly, and lifted his hand to brush her hair back from her cheek. ‘I know that. You are different than any woman I’ve ever met. Compassionate, caring, fiercely independent and totally unaware of your sensual allure. Is it any wonder that I was out of my head with wanting you,
mia bella
?’

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat as he traced his thumb over her lips, and her heart jerked painfully beneath her ribs when he lowered his head so close to hers that his words whispered across her skin.

‘I still want you, Emma. I can’t eat or sleep or function without you. Come back to Portofino with me? I know you want me,’ he said raggedly. ‘I can see the desire in your
eyes, and your body tells its own message.’ He curled his hand around her breast and gave a satisfied smile when her nipple instantly hardened beneath his touch. ‘I can make you happy, and Holly will love living at the Villa Lucia.’

Fierce longing burned inside her so strong that her body shook with the force of it.

‘I can’t.’ She jerked away from him, fighting the temptation to succumb to his velvet-soft voice.

It would be so easy to agree. She knew he would sweep her into his arms, where she longed to be, and kiss her with his sensual mastery until she was trembling with a desperate need that only he could assuage. But there was Holly. She knew it wouldn’t be right for the little girl, and her daughter’s needs would always come first.

Rocco paled beneath his tan. He had not anticipated her rejection, and he felt as though he was teetering on the edge of an abyss of eternal blackness. ‘Why not?’ he demanded savagely. ‘You’ve told me you’re not still in love with Jack. Is there someone else?’

‘No.’
There could never be anyone but him. ‘But I can’t be your mistress, Rocco. It wouldn’t be fair to Holly. She needs long-term security, and I couldn’t bear for her to regard your villa as her home only to be uprooted and upset when you grow bored with our affair—as you undoubtedly would,’ she said painfully. It had been hard enough to walk away from him after a few weeks; it would destroy her to be forced to leave him some months in the future, when he no longer wanted her. ‘You said yourself you don’t want commitment.’

‘I didn’t think I did.’ He caught hold of her shoulders and hauled her against him, holding her so tight that the air was forced from her lungs. ‘Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?’ He stared down at her, and Emma’s heart turned over at the fierce emotion blazing in his eyes,
the betraying, shocking glint of moisture that revealed his vulnerability.

‘I love you, Emma,’ he said in a driven tone. ‘I don’t want you to be my mistress—I want you to be my wife.’

She opened her mouth, but no words emerged, and he took advantage of her parted lips by covering them with his own and sliding his tongue between them in a kiss of hungry passion and fierce possession.

Emma clung to him and kissed him back, unable to hold back her frantic response or deny the emotions storming through her.

‘Tesoro,’
he said in a shaken voice when at last he lifted his head. ‘
Ti amo.
I will love you always and for ever. I never thought I would feel like this,’ he admitted. ‘I think I fell in love with you the first night we met—when I realised you were wearing that ghastly woollen hat Cordelia had knitted for you because you didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I know you’ve been hurt, but I’m not Jack, and I swear I will love you and be faithful to you until the day I die.’

Icy fingers of fear gripped his heart when he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, and he crushed her tighter to him—as if by sheer force of will he could make her love him. ‘I know I can be a good husband, and a good father to Holly. I can teach you to love me. Just give me a chance,’ he pleaded.