The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (11 page)

It was so unlike her, this abandon, so beyond anything she
had ever experienced. Alarm surged through her as she realized it. That brought
the strength and resolution she needed to break the kiss, turn her head aside.

Nico stiffened, and then released her with every sign of
reluctance. Amanda lifted a hand to her lips that felt as moist and lush as
ripe fruit. Glancing around, she saw she and Nico were alone, that Carisa and
Yolanda had strolled away down into the garden.

“You may want to reapply your gloss,” he said in low
suggestion. “It was too delicious, and you entirely too…kissable.”

“What happened to your hands-off rule as host?” she asked
with the ghost of a tremor in her voice as she flicked him a glance from under
her lashes.

“That you are supposed to be my fiancée changes things a
bit,” he answered, though a trace of color seeped under his bronzed skin.
“Besides, I never said I wouldn’t touch you at all.”

“Polite touches to aid or direct me, I believe you said.”

“It was a polite kiss, as Carisa was certain you would
expect a greeting.”

The intention had been the only polite thing about it,
Amanda thought, but had no time to say so. Erminia emerged from the house just
then, bearing a coffee tray and fresh baskets of fruit and warm rolls for
Nico’s breakfast. The housekeeper placed these on the table and cleared away
what was left from the meal Amanda had shared with Carisa and her companion.

“Join me in a coffee?” Nico asked as the housekeeper went
away again.

“I’ve had enough, thank you.” The words were abrupt, but she
couldn’t help it. He had moved to pull out the chair she’d vacated with his
help. Realizing he would not take his own at the table while she stood, she
dropped down in it before she went on. “You called the hospital this morning?”

“No change in the night,” he replied, answering her fear
rather than her question. “We will visit again in a short while, if that suits
you.”

She was grateful for the offer, not least because it
prevented her from having to ask. “We?”

“You and I. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said at once. “I only wondered if your
grandmother or aunt might like to visit as well.”

“Nonna prefers not to see Carita as she is just now, it
being too upsetting for her. My aunt makes a habit of looking in on her when
she is in the city, and will do that later in the day. I fear it will only be
the two of us.””

Amanda had certainly thought it might be less awkward if the
others were present. It was uncomfortable enough now, sitting there making stilted
conversation after what had taken place. “Will we be leaving soon?” she asked.
“Should I go and get ready?”

“You might change into something cooler,” he said easily,
his gaze on the small cup of dark, rich espresso he was lifting to his lips.
“It is going to be a warm day.”

She took that as an affirmative. Leaping up from her chair,
she left the terrace for the safety of the villa.

Briefly, she considered changing clothes as suggested, but
it was a momentary weakness. The designer-label clothing that had appeared in
her closet was tempting, but far from what she had requested or could
comfortably afford. The fabrics were too fine, the luscious colors too light to
be practical. As for the fragile sandals or lacy, color-coordinated bras and
miniscule panties that had been added, forget it.

She was perfectly fine in her suit skirt and the feminine
version of a man’s dress shirt that Erminia had laundered for her. She would
eventually find an opportunity to shop. Meanwhile, the less she owed Nicholas
de Frenza, the better.

What had possessed him to kiss her again? Window dressing
for Carisa’s sake, that had to be it. He was clearly concerned for her well-being
in the midst of this emergency, would go to any lengths to keep her happy. She
could hardly blame him, but wasn’t sure she liked being a party to it.

The ride to the hospital the evening before, and the meal
which followed, had been more silent than not. Both of them had been too worn
out from travel and strained emotions to make more than a minimal effort to be
civil. She was even too tired to renew the argument over going to a hotel. At
the end of the evening, she’d thanked him courteously for dinner and taking her
to see Jonathan again, and gone immediately to bed.

Oh, yes, they were both courteous. Polite, even.

A polite kiss…

Right. If that was a mere polite kiss, she’d like to see a
passionate one.

Or no, maybe not. Pretending to be his fiancée was enough
complication without adding hormone-fueled sexual attraction.

All right, he was a handsome, dynamic man with great
internal strength and effortless charisma. She was suitably impressed by his
lifestyle, his home and the power he wielded. He raised her temperature, sent
her senses reeling with his sweet taste and fiery brush of his lips against
hers, and made her ache for his touch. But that was all.

Yes, that was all.

Soon she would be back in Atlanta and this episode would be
forgotten. She would banish all thought of Nico and the villa that carried his
family name. The only time they’d ever cross her mind was when she bought olive
oil.

She might have to switch to corn oil, safflower oil, canola
oil, butter, anything except the olive oil.

~ ~ ~

The car that sat on the front court when
she emerged from the house bore no resemblance to the conservative black
limousine that had transported them back and forth to Florence before. It was
powerful and sleek, a soft top Ferrari in a blue of such rich, jewel-like depth
that it hurt the eyes to look at it.

Nico leaned against the door with his arms crossed over his
chest. It seemed clear that he had decided to dispense with a chauffeur.

Amanda settled on the cream-colored, butter-soft leather
seat as he held the door for her. She glided her fingertips over the fine grain
in appreciation while Nico walked around to the driver’s side, but said nothing
when he dropped down beside her. Though she was becoming more intimidated by
his obvious wealth with every hour spent in his company, she refused to show
it. And in truth, it didn’t really matter except to make her feel more beyond
her depth.

The last thing she wanted was to grow used to such luxury.
The sooner she returned to her ordinary life in the States, the better. And the
more often she reminded herself of that fact, the more likely it was to stick
with her.

Still, there was something gloriously free about purring
along the road with the top down, the wind in her hair and sun on her face
while lovely vistas appeared around every bend in the road. The air smelled of
the sea, also of herbs, flowers, umbrella pines and just a whiff of Nico’s
special men’s fragrance. She could feel her spirits lift, buoyed up by hope
that both Jonathan and Carita would be all right now that the first, crucial
forty-eight hours had come and gone.

Nico drove well, his concentration unwavering yet his
well-formed hands relaxed on the wheel as he controlled the powerful
automobile. The wind ruffled his hair into shinning furrows and slapped the
collar of his shirt against the strong brown column of his neck. He narrowed
his eyes against its force as he took the many curves and loops of the road
with the panache she was beginning to expect from his countrymen.

Actually, he reminded her of Jonathan at the wheel, driving
a little too fast for her comfort but not enough to wring a protest from her.
If she directed her attention to the scenery and the houses they passed, she
was perfectly calm.

Rounding a curve, they came suddenly upon an ancient panel
van that belched black smoke while moving at a crawl due to a wobbling back
wheel. Nico glanced ahead toward where another curve loomed a short distance in
front of them. Accelerating without pause, he zoomed forward, overtaking the
van and then regaining his side of the road with smooth precision. He braked in
time to make the curve without the least difficulty.

“And you dare call Jonathan reckless!” Amanda said when her
heart had returned to its proper place in her chest.

“I had plenty of time,” he said with the quick lift of a
brow. “There was no need to be frightened.”

“I wasn’t afraid,” she said immediately. “But I fail to see
how you can condemn my brother when you don’t know that his accident wasn’t
caused by something similar to what just happened.”

“Performing a deliberate maneuver where every inch of the
road is familiar is not the same as showing off on an unfamiliar highway.”

“There’s nothing whatever wrong with Jonathan’s judgment
behind the wheel, or with his reflexes, either. He might stretch a point with
his own life on the track, but would never risk the life of a passenger.”

He gave her a swift look while negotiating yet another bend.
“Defend him if you must — I can’t argue with your loyalty and can even admire
it. But he wound up going over the edge. Nothing you say can change that.”

She wanted to refute the charge, but that was impossible.
Turning away, blinking against a sudden press of tears, she stared out at the
steep and brushy slope that fell away down to the sea with only an occasional
stretch of guardrail at the worst bends. Some stretches, she saw with a
shudder, went straight down.

What must it have been like to go careening over that edge?
The terror of knowing it was happening, the crunch of rock and brush, the
weightlessness and endless fall. It must have been horrifying, even before the
crash at the bottom.

“Was it somewhere near here—?” she began, her voice
constricted in her throat.

“We passed the place five minutes ago.”

“Oh.” He was becoming far too adept at guessing what she
meant to say, though she was just as glad she hadn’t needed to finish her
question. Nor did she want to see the exact place where her brother and Carita
had come so close to dying, not really. It would make it all too real.

They rode in silence for a minute or two. Nico glanced her
way, for she saw the movement with her peripheral vision. His lips firmed
before he looked back at the road again. He spoke then without looking at her.

“On another topic, but one of importance, I must ask you not
to encourage Carisa to experiment with things which are not suitable for her.”

“What?”

“The lip gloss, for a start.”

“But you seemed fine with it earlier.” He had, in fact, been
charm itself as he teased Carisa about it. Watching him with his young sister
had been a revelation. She had not realized he could be so warm and caring, so
unselfconsciously affectionate.

He tipped his head in assent without taking his eyes from
the road. “I preferred not to upset her by forbidding something she may never
try again. But makeup of any kind has no place on her dressing table or in her
life.”

“Carisa isn’t a child. She should be able to enjoy some of
the small pleasures that come with being female.”

“Those small pleasures, as you call them, may well give her
ideas that it would dangerous for her to act upon. She is innocence itself, and
could be too easily led into something so monstrous it sickens me to think of
it.”

“Are you suggesting I would deliberately push her into it?”

“I’m saying the world is full of men who would love to tap
into the De Frenza bank account. Their methods of persuading Carisa she can’t
live without them could be deceptive and confusing for her. Or they could be
both sordid and painful.”

“Painful.”

“Forcing themselves on her--pressing the issue with
something more than normal persuasion — is not impossible.”

“As you think Jonathan persuaded Carita, I suppose!”

He flicked a fast glance in her direction, his eyes black
with anger. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it, or at least you did think it
before you met him.”

“I was aware of the possibility. Ignoring it is something I
can’t afford if I am to protect my sisters.”

“A noble concept, but stifling, don’t you think? And just a
little far-fetched, given how protected Carisa is at all times. If you really
want what’s best for her, you might look closer to home.”

“What do you mean?”

“You might tell your grandmother, your aunt and even Yolanda
not to stuff her with sweets. The habit is far more dangerous than anything I
might encourage her to do.”

What Carisa ate was none of her business and Amanda knew it,
but it seemed someone should point out the problem. Besides, Nico should not be
so free with his criticism if he wasn’t willing to hear a few home truths.

“Sweets?” he demanded with a scowl.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed that everyone uses them
to distract her whenever they think she may be upset, or as a bribe when
there’s something they want to her do. She’s overweight because food is
constantly being pushed at her. Well, and because she has little to do, as far
as I can tell, other than sleep and eat.”

“Food is one of the few pleasures available to Carisa. Why
should she not enjoy it?”

“She should, of course, but not constantly. She eats because
food is always there and everyone expects it, and because she’s bored.”

“Bored.”

“Reading and playing games like a two-year-old isn’t enough.
She needs something more in her life.”

“There is little more she can manage with safety.”

The certainty in his voice was annoying beyond words. “Why?
Because you say so? Just as you’ve decided she is to be told nothing about the
accident?”

“You would not dare—” he began in dangerous softness.

She cut across his words in her irritation. “Of course I
would never tell her, but she understands most of what is going on around her
very well. How long can it be before she begins to wonder why no one speaks of
Carita or why her sister doesn’t come home?”