The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding (9 page)

“Yes, but that isn’t it,” she answered, aware that his
grandmother and Carisa had also stopped eating to watch the by-play.

“It’s an excellent vintage,” Nicholas coaxed, “made here at
the villa from our own grapes.”

She could feel her resolve slip a notch. That added fire to
her resentment. “My mother died from mixing drugs and alcohol. I promised
myself I would never chance—”

“Ah,
certo
,” he interrupted, his face clearing. “
Mi
dispiac
e, I apologize.” Turning to Erminia who had emerged from the house
with more bread, he ordered mineral water to be brought for her.

“I’m sorry to be extra trouble,” she murmured in her turn.
Nicholas de Frenza became more Italian when moved by emotion, she thought,
whether anger, desire or, as now, chagrin. It was an interesting discovery.

His grandmother leaned forward at that moment, asking a
polite question that allowed the conversation to return to normal. Her English
was polished yet formal, as if it had been learned at some finishing school
decades ago. Aunt Filomena, by contrast, spoke with an American accent, one she
had apparently gained in the States while married to her second husband — or
was it her third? — who had been from California. She had apparently been
unlucky in her marriages, though it was unclear whether death or divorce had
ended them.

Carisa did not join the conversation but watched closely,
dividing her attention between Amanda and Nicholas for the most part. Now and
then a small, secret smile touched her lips, as if she might comprehend a
little more of what was being said than Nicholas or the others seemed to think.

It was only as a pause came while Erminia cleared the table
in preparation for dessert that the girl spoke up. Her voice was soft and
engaging but carried an obvious question in its lilting syllables.

“Carisa! If you please!” Aunt Filomena exclaimed. “
Per piacere!
”

The girl stared at Nicholas, putting her question again in
puzzled tones. After a moment, he gave a short laugh before answering in quiet
reassurance, “
Si, si
, little one.”

Carisa sprang to her feet with sudden joy in her face. She
ran to fling her arms around his neck while glancing toward Amanda and then
back again, chattering happily. In that flood of Italian, Amanda caught only a
single word, one which sounded like
bambino
.

Nicholas laughed again, returning the hug. Talking in low
tones, he smoothed the girl’s shining hair as if to calm her exuberance.

Nonna, smiling with a slight tremor at the corners of her
mouth, reached to pat Carisa’s arm with caressing fingertips then indicated
that she should return to her seat. At the same time, Aunt Filomena signaled to
Erminia that she was to serve Carisa’s desert at once. When that was done, she
slipped her own
dolce
of cake and nuts with sweet cream onto the girl’s
plate.

Obediently, Carisa seated herself once more and dug into the
food in front of her. It seemed some small crisis had been averted.

Amanda could not imagine anything too unusual had been said,
still she was curious. She turned to Nicholas with a smile. “What was that all
about?”

“Nothing of importance.” His voice was distant, dismissive.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He looked away, drew a controlled breath, then turned back
again. “Carisa asked if you were a special lady, my fiancée.”

Amanda’s heart somersaulted in her chest, while her stomach
muscles clenched. Still it took less than a moment to realize Carisa could only
suspect that state of affairs if she was unaware of the accident and Amanda’s
connection to it. But what, then, had that been about a bambino? Everyone
recognized the word for baby.

“She doesn’t know I’m Jonathan’s sister.”

“No.” He made a staying gesture with one hand, lowering his
voice as he went on. “Please. I will explain later.”

Carisa might have some small disability, but her
understanding seemed more than adequate when people spoke to her directly. At
least her lack of knowledge explained why no one had mentioned Carita or
Jonathan since they’d sat down at the table.

Nicholas must have spoken to his grandmother and aunt
earlier, and they’d agreed among themselves to avoid the subject in front of
Carita’s twin. This meant no one could express sympathy for her brother’s
injuries or address her natural concern for him. The knowledge eased a small
ache in Amanda’s heart that she had not realized was there.

When the dessert was eaten, a young Polish woman appeared
who was introduced as Carisa’s companion, Yolanda. With her flaxen hair, sky
blue eyes, and rather vapid expression, she appeared the perfect model for a
child’s doll. Looks were perhaps deceiving, however, as she was not only
greeted with affection by Carisa, but spoke to her charge in Italian, greeted
Amanda in English on being introduced and muttered an soft oath in her own
language when a lizard darted across her path.

Yolanda drew the girl into the house for her afternoon rest
with the promise of a chapter from the book they seemed to be reading. A short
time later, Nicholas’s grandmother drifted away with a similar idea in mind, or
so it seemed, and his Aunt Filomena excused herself for a hairdresser’s
appointment. Left alone with Nicholas, Amanda drank the last of her mineral
water as she sought an excuse for her own escape.

Nicholas sent a brooding glance her way as he leaned back in
his chair, fingering the rim of his coffee cup.  Abruptly, he pushed cup and
saucer away and got to his feet. “Come,” he said as he offered his hand, “let
me show you the garden while I tell you a thing or two about this business with
Carisa.”

She might not have agreed so readily except for the riddle
of Carita’s twin. As it was, she allowed him to place her hand in the bend of
his arm as they left the table and descended the steps that led from one
terrace level to another. It was surprisingly difficult to let go when they
reached flat ground, not just of the firm, warm muscles under her fingers but
of the odd sense of security it provided.

The gardens were formal, with tree-shaded alleyways that
arrowed toward a sea vista in one direction and the purple line of the distant
hills in the other. Geometric beds centered by statuary and edged with low
evergreens lay between them. Nicholas led the way down the main path that was
lined with the dark green cylinders of cypress trees and had a giant olive oil
urn at its end. The urn had been turned into a fountain that flowed into the
swimming pool which lay across the entire bottom of the garden, set like a
great aquamarine jewel within its surround of lapis tiles.

The garden was lovely, well-kept, filled with birdsong and
the drone of insects, a place designed for rest and repose. Amanda might have
found those things except for the man who walked at her side.

“Carisa was of course born as you see her,” he said,
breaking the silence at last. “Carita, on the other hand, was and is perfectly
normal in all respects. There is no reason to think the child she carries will
be like Carisa.”

“The thought had not crossed my mind.” It really hadn’t,
though there’d been little time, of course, and so much else to consider.

“It would be a problem for many. My own parents—”

“What about them,” she asked as he stopped speaking, looking
away toward the gray haze of olive trees.

“They separated over it,” he answered with a faint shrug,”
though their marriage was strained from the beginning.  It was a practical
alliance rather than a love match. To cement a merger of the Florentine olive
oil production of my father’s family with that of my mother’s family from near
Naples was the intention.”

She gave him a quick look. “I thought that kind of thing went
out ages ago.”

“There was nothing arranged about it, if that’s what you’re
thinking. It was more of a business merger that both went into with their eyes
open. My father lived for the land and the business, so was satisfied with the
doubling of his holdings. My mother preferred life in Rome, Venice, Cannes — anywhere
except the Villa de Frenza — and was happy as long as the money flowed to
support her lifestyle. I was born early on, the requisite heir. The twins were
the result of an effort at reconciliation when I was ten.”

“Not a successful one,” she suggested when he did not go on.

“It was a spectacular failure. My mother blamed my father
for Carisa’s problem, claiming there had never been such a birth in her family.
My father said she was so afraid of gaining weight during pregnancy that she
starved herself, affecting the baby’s development.”

“Oh, no.”

Nicholas sent her a quick glance at that soft sound of
regret. “Both were wrong, of course, but it made no difference. My father
buried himself in work, spending most of his time at the office in Florence or
else in London or Paris. She returned the favor by escaping to a fairly wild
social set. The result was as you might expect.”

“They divorced?”

“Separated, rather, after a year or so,” he corrected. “My
mother left the villa, left all of us but particularly Carisa who adored her.
Carisa was so bereft that her development was set back even more than normal.
She screamed for days when she realized she was really gone, failed to learn to
walk at a normal age, didn’t speak until she was five years old.”

Amanda shook her head, swallowing hard. “How awful for her.”

“Carisa is devastated even now when anyone she loves goes
away. When I return after being gone for a while, she punishes me by
withdrawing, at least until she forgets. She only spoke to me today because you
were there and distracted her. She’s even worse with Carita who shares the twin
bond, so is closer to her than anyone else.”

“That’s why she was so quiet earlier — she was annoyed as
well as missing her sister?”

He inclined his head.

“And you feel she will be terribly upset if she knows Carita
has been injured.

“I have no doubt of it.”

Amanda frowned down at the path they walked. “Won’t it be
just as bad to let her believe her sister is staying away on purpose? And what
if Carita doesn’t—”

“If anything more disastrous occurs, Carisa will of course
have to be told,” he said without allowing her to finish. “Meanwhile, it seems
best to withhold the news until she is able to speak to Carita, to see for herself
that she’s all right and is going to be well again.”

“Another difficult decision that had to be made, I suppose,
and by you alone.”

“It’s my place, my duty.”

The blame if anything went wrong would also be his, Amanda
saw with uneasy clarity. “I realize you could hardly tell her who I am or why
I’m here without getting into everything else. But why allow her to think we’re
engaged? Why not just say that I’m a friend?”

“My lady friend, you mean?” he asked, giving the words a
sensual twist.

A dark look was her only answer.

“I would never introduce a lover into our family circle.
Carisa understands that, though perhaps not the details of such a relationship.
It follows, at least to her mind, that you must be someone special, the woman I
intend to marry.”

“A fake engagement still seems a drastic solution.” Her
voice carried a waffling sound she disliked.

“Indeed, and I do apologize for it. I should have realized
how it would be and had some story ready, would have except for other things on
my mind.”

He meant Carita’s condition and the news of her pregnancy,
Amanda assured herself. It was not possible for him to mean she was the
distraction.

That reflection triggered the memory of the word Carisa had
spoken with such excitement
.
“You say she knows nothing, yet I thought —
I was almost sure she mentioned a baby.”

“Not Carita’s, but mine.”

“Yours?”

“And yours, of course,” he agreed with a trace of grave
humor. “Carisa demanded that I hurry with the wedding so she can play with the
bambino
she is sure will follow.”

An odd constriction in her throat made it difficult for
Amanda to speak. “She is going to be disappointed, after all.”

“Yet she has hit upon this reason for you being here at the
villa and it satisfies her for now. It seems best not to confuse her by denying
it.”

Si, si, little one…

Nicholas had said that in answer to Carisa’s question, and
his young sister had gone immediately into transports of gladness.

“You already told her it was true. What you want is for me
to let it stand.”

He met the accusation in her gaze with quiet irony and no
noticeable regret. “I doubt you will be able to do anything else given the
language barrier. Carita once tried to teach Carisa English, you know, but with
little success. Regardless, it would be a kindness to allow this private
deception for the short time you are here.”

The subterfuge was halfway understandable, and would last
only a short while.  It would not go beyond the family circle here, for
Nicholas would surely see to that. The last thing he would want was for this
complication to become tabloid fodder.

Pretending to be his fiancée while at the villa would change
nothing for her. As soon as Jonathan was well enough to travel she would be
gone. Whatever the fallout might be, Nicholas seemed more than capable of dealing
with it.

Still, something did not feel right.

“Are you sure this is best for Carisa?” she asked. “I mean,
what if she overhears something and fears the worst? She would trust you, I
think, if you told her about the accident while assuring her Carita will be
home soon.”

“Possibly. But what if she can’t come home? Carisa doesn’t
forget lies, nor does she forgive them.”

Amanda gave him a quick look. “You lied to her about our
relationship, something you will have to admit eventually.”