The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (2 page)

Nico cursed silently as he reached to take her arm again. He
should not have been so brusque. The situation was fresh to her while he’d had
many hours to grow used to it. It did not ease his self-blame to discover that
fine shivers moved through her in waves.

From out of nowhere came the urge to take her in his arms
and hold her close, whispering his
mea culpa.
He could almost feel her
willowy form molded against him, her silky hair against his neck. His palms
stung with the need to smooth down her back, to draw her close as he rocked her
as he might a child. He wanted to banish the anguished dread he’d seen in the
gray depths of her eyes before she shielded it from him.

That would go over well, he was sure. She already thought
him capable of enticing her to his hotel room for an afternoon of pleasure.

The elevator chimed their arrival at the suite and the door
slid open. Nico let out the breath he had not realized he was holding.

He ushered Amanda Davies from the elevator. They crossed a
small foyer, entering a living area furnished with comfortable sofas and a
plethora of tables, lamps and original artwork. He glanced at the view of
Atlanta through the floor to ceiling windows as he heard the spatter of rain
against them. They had barely made it in time to escape the deluge.

The drinks tray he’d ordered before leaving for the
restaurant waited on a side table. He walked toward it after seating his guest
on the largest of the suite’s sofas. “Sherry?” he inquired over his shoulder.
“Or would you prefer a brandy.”

“Neither one, thank you. I want — I just need to know about
Jonathan.”

He poured brandy into a small snifter anyway, and carried it
with him as he joined her. Setting it on the table next to her elbow, he took
the seat beside her. “You are familiar with the Cinque Terre?” he began at a
tangent to remedy his earlier callousness. “You perhaps know this region
sometimes called the Italian Riviera?”

“No — yes, but only in a vague sort of way. Just tell me.”
She clasped her hands in her lap while dark apprehension gathered in the gaze
she fastened upon him.

“It has a rocky coastline with a narrow road that winds
along a ledge above the sea before traveling over the mountains. Your brother’s
car went off this road some miles north of Livorno.”

She drew a sharp breath as if at a blow, but did not look
away from him. “Was — was he hurt?”

“He has injuries, yes. He and his passenger were taken to a
medical center in Florence.”

“His passenger.”

“My sister, Carita de Frenza.”

“Dear heaven,” she whispered. Her fingers turned as white as
the Carrera marble of his home region as she gripped them together.

Nico reached to take the brandy snifter and put it into her
hands, wrapping her fingers around it, feeling their chill within his own warm
hold. When she made no move to drink, he lifted the glass to her lips that were
white-rimmed and trembling, tipping it with slow insistence.

She took a sip, though only to prevent the fiery liquid from
spilling down her chin, he was sure. Her eyes watered and she swallowed with a
convulsive movement in the white line of her throat. She refused to cough,
however, turning her head away from him until she could breathe again.

When she looked back, a touch of color had returned to her
cheekbones. Watching it, and also the sheen of anger in her eyes, Nico
suspected they was caused as much by his attempt to help her as by his rather
graphic description of the accident.

“Jonathan’s injuries,” she said. “Are they so bad?”

“Painful but not life-threatening according to his doctors.
He has a broken leg, cracked ribs that bruised a lung, a dislocated shoulder
with strained muscles and various other cuts and bruises. He is heavily
sedated, or was when I saw him some hours ago.”

She closed her eyes so moisture rimmed the base of her
lashes, but opened them again almost at once. “You said — your sister was with
him?”

He inclined his head. “He and Carita have been seeing each
other for two months or more, though I only learned of it when called back from
an extended business trip because of the accident. You did not know this?”

She shook her head so her hair swung around her face,
framing it in shining strands.

“You are quite sure you had not heard the De Frenza name,
did not know, perhaps, that Carita was of my family?”

“I told you I’d never heard it. Jonathan is grown man with
his own life and a career that often takes him abroad. I was no more aware of
this — this relationship than you.”

Her lips compressed into a firm line as she stopped
speaking. Nico caught himself watching that movement, even as he realized with
divided attention that she’d almost labeled the relationship an affair
.
Though he resented the implication for his young sister, he was intrigued by
the tender surfaces of Amanda Davies’s mouth, its tucked corners and the soft natural
color of lips she must have wiped clean of lipstick with her luncheon napkin.

Purest sensual interest stirred in his groin. It was
inappropriate beyond words, particularly the painful strength of it. He was
thankful for the distraction as she spoke again.

“Your sister will live, won’t she?”

“They cannot say. She is in critical condition, has a severe
concussion with resulting coma. Much depends on the next forty-eight hours.”
The words were abrupt because that was the only way he could force them from
his throat. Glancing at the flat watch on his wrist, he corrected himself. “Or
make that thirty-four hours now.”

Compassion turned her eyes a darker gray. “I’m so sorry. I
know my brother must be devastated. That is, if he knows.”

“
Davvero
, indeed,” Nico answered, retreating
momentarily into formal Italian to cover his anger at the thought of her
brother’s useless concern. “It appears Carita was thrown from the automobile
when it left the road. The hillside sloped there, rather than being a sheer
drop to the sea. Your brother crawled back up to reach her, stayed with her
until emergency vehicles arrived.”

“He would, of course,” she whispered with a small nod before
looking down at the glass in their clasped hands.

“It would have been more to the point if he had not driven
off the road in the first place.”

“Yes.”

A warm tear splashed on his hand that still steadied the
brandy glass. She was crying without sound, the wetness sliding over her
cheekbones to drip into her lap.

Nico felt something twist inside him at the sign of her
silent pain. What was this ache he felt in return, this compelling need, yet
again, to give her the comfort of his arms? Surely it was no more than his
ingrained habit of offering consolation and protection, though usually to women
of his family?

She was not a family member. He must use other methods of
stemming the flow.

“Your brother,” he said deliberately, “has been cited for
reckless driving. He will face more serious charges if Carita — that is, if my
sister fails to live.”

“What?” Her tear-drenched eyes widened with a different kind
of shock. She shifted away from him on the sofa, removing her hands from his
grasp. Reaching out, she set the brandy glass on the side table with a sharp
click.

“You would expect nothing else, surely.”

“Jonathan may drive a little fast at times, but he isn’t
reckless! He learned to handle a car almost before he could walk, has been on
the racing circuit for years. He has excellent timing and reflexes.”

“Skills that perhaps led to overconfidence.”

“He would never endanger a passenger. I’ve ridden with him
many times. He’s far better than average at avoiding accidents.”

Nico lifted a brow. “Yet he crashed, and my sister now
hovers between life and death.”

The light from the window slid over her hair in silvery-gold
gleams as she shook her head. “Something must have gone wrong, wet weather or
another vehicle he swerved to miss.”

“The police reported nothing of that nature.” The heat in
her gray eyes now was enough to dry a river of tears, Nico noted with
satisfaction.

“I know my brother,” she insisted. “He is extremely careful
behind the wheel.”

“You believe I would mislead you?”

She looked away, gripping her hands together in her lap as
her face clouded.  “No, I just—”

“
Bene
. Let it pass. You will fly with me now to
Florence. We can be at the hospital in a matter of hours.”

Her chin came up and wariness returned to her eyes. “There’s
no need for that. I’ll go to Jonathan as soon as possible, tomorrow at the
latest, but have things that must be done first.”

“Time is of first importance,” he said with hard precision.
“It will be better to go at once.”

“But I have a job, an apartment to be looked after.”

“A leave of absence has been approved for you. An agency
that monitors apartments while tenants are away has been contacted, and will
send someone to water your plants and retrieve your mail. If you like, I can
have your clothing packed and sent after us, though it would be more practical
to buy a few things after you arrive.”

She sprang to her feet. “You went to where I work?”

“Naturally,” he answered as he stood as well, facing her in
the gray dimness of the room. “Your employer was most understanding. The
receptionist was kind enough to tell me where you normally lunch when both
understood why I had to speak to you.”

“You know where I live, that I have plants?” Her voice climbed
an octave. “You went into my apartment?”

“By no means,” he answered with an impatient gesture.

“But how can you—”

“The details were handled by my personal assistant. An
investigating firm was called in as all I had was your name and city. They
located your employer, discovered your address, and interviewed the
superintendent of your building.”

“Just like that.”

Her voice held remnants of anger, but also a trace of
bewilderment. Hearing it, he gentled his tone. “Come, this is getting us nowhere.
I have a car and driver downstairs. We will stop at your apartment long enough
to collect your passport and other personal belongings, but must be at the
airport within the hour. Our window for takeoff is narrow and may be altered by
the rain.”

“You can’t just arrange my life as you please.”

“It’s done,” he said with finality.

She searched his face for long seconds while a pucker of
suspicion lingered between her brows. “Why are you doing this? Why are you
going to so much trouble to take me to Italy?”

“Not for the purpose you seem to think,” he answered, while
heat kindled in his veins at the idea. “To meet you was Carita’s dearest wish
as she hoped to be a sister to you one day, the last words she said to
nonna
,
our grandmother, on the morning of the accident. Nonna is no longer young and
has great faith in portents. She asked that I find you, and will be greatly
relieved to know you are on this return flight.” That he also wished to meet
Jonathan Davies’s sister was not pertinent, nor was the fact that this fast
journey gave him something to do other than prowl hospital corridors while
Carita lay comatose in Critical Care.

Her features smoothed a degree, but she still shook her
head, opened her lips to speak.

He responded to that negative movement before she could make
a sound. “I also assumed you would wish to be with your brother. You are, so I
am told, his only family, just as he is yours. If I am wrong, if you don’t want
to be with him as soon as possible, you have only to say so.”

“Of course I want to see him! I intend to see him. But I’m
not helpless. I can book my own flight, make my own way.”

“No doubt, but it will take time. I am here, the plane is
ready, and you can be with your brother many hours sooner by putting your trust
in me. Can you not do that?”

Silence descended in which he could hear the distant roar of
traffic, rain against window glass and the muted ping of the elevator bell on a
floor somewhere below. His nerves stretched to annoying tightness. His
fingertips tingled with the urge to touch her, to soothe her distress and
encourage the answer he wished as well as to test the softness of her skin. The
impulse, natural as it might be for him, could have the opposite effect from
the one intended. Restraining it did nothing to soothe his temper.

She met his eyes then, her own silver with defeat. “I
suppose I had better.”

“Excellent.” Nico kept his voice rigorously even to conceal
his satisfaction. “Shall we go?”

Amanda could not believe she had agreed to
this rushed trip. The shock of the news about Jonathan was the explanation. She
had been numb with it, still was, even after the brief stop at her apartment.

Yet Nicholas de Frenza had gone to considerable trouble to
find her and let her know what had happened. The arrangements he had made were
certainly convenient. It would be ungrateful of her to fling all his careful
planning in his face.