The Baby Gambit Part 3

Grace's breath caught in her throat. 'Julia hasn't given me an unfavourable opinion of you.' She swallowed. 'You must know she thinks you're-' She found it difficult to find a suitable word.

'Marvellous!'

'Really?'

'Yes, really.' She looked at him again, convinced now that he was simply baiting her. 'What is it with you, signore, I can't believe you're so desperate for compliments that you need to hear them from me.'

His short laugh lacked humour. 'As I said before, you don't believe in pulling your punches, do you, cara' He slowed to accommodate an elderly couple who were crossing the street in front of them and received a wave of acknowledgement in return.

'And if it's not something Julia has said, then I can only a.s.sume that you have taken an instant, and inexplicable, dislike to me.

Am I right?'

Was he right?

Grace looked down at her bag, smoothing her long fin gers over the folds of canvas, trying desperately to find an answer.

She could hardly tell him why she'd taken such an aversion to him. Not without betraying Julia's confidence, at any rate, and she couldn't do that, however tempted she might be to explode his myth of superiority.

'I don't know you, signore,' she said at last, and earned a slightly disbelieving glance from those deep-set dark eyes. 'I don't,' she insisted, feeling some relief at having found a reasonable explanation. 'And I'm not used to being familiar with men I only know by reputation.'

'By reputation?' He groaned. 'Heaven protect me from women who judge me by my reputation!'

He was laughing at her now, and Grace was overwhelm ingly relieved to see the gates of the Villa Modena up ahead. She realised she had no idea how to di al with him. and she was seriously worried that he was having far more of an effect on her than she would have ever thought possible. Indeed, she was afraid that half the antagonism she felt towards him stemmed from her own unwilling ultrm tion towards him, and it was obviously wiser for her to ensure that she was never in this position again.

'Anyway,' he said now, his voice deepening to a softness that stroked her tortured nerves, 'we can easily remedy that.'

Remedy what?

For a moment, Grace's mind was blank, but then com- prehension dawned. 'I think you're making fun of me,' she said, avoiding a direct answer. 'Oh-' As if she was sur prised! 'Here we are.'

'Just a minute.' His hand closed round her arm, and al though it was the last thing she wanted to do she was forced to turn and look at him.

'I beg your pardon?'

'Grace...' The way he said her name caused the hairs on the back of her neck to p.r.i.c.kle in sympathetic response. 'Look, I'm not making fun of you.' He paused. 'It's ob vious we've got off on the wrong track-'

'Foot.'

'What?'

'It's foot,' said Grace awkwardly, wishing she'd never interfered. 'People get off on the wrong foot,' she added, her face burning. She shook her head at his expression. 'It's not important.'

if you say so.' His thumb rubbed distractingly against her sensitive flesh. 'Whatever-you've obviously got the wrong impression of my intentions.' His eyes darkened with disturbing warmth, 'I'd like us to be friends, no?'

No!

& For a moment, Grace thought she'd said the word out loud, but his face hadn't changed so she knew she hadn't done anything so foolish.

'Um- well, of course,' she began, wondering how she could bring Julia into this without giving him the impres sion that her friend had warned her off. 'Perhaps when we all get to know one another better-'

'I know Julia very well,' he said flatly. 'And that's not what I mean and you know it. I'd like to think you and I could spend some time together without you treating me like last week's bad news, hmm?' He looked down at where his fingers were caressing her arm and grimaced. 'You've obviously got a poor opinion of my s.e.x, yes? Well, I'd like to try and change that.'

Grace gulped. 'You know nothing about me.' 'Okay.' But she sensed he was only humouring her. Dear G.o.d, she wondered, what had Julia been telling him about her? She'd never thought of that. ' Bene, I suggest we get to know one another, as you say.

You can't have a problem with that.' Couldn't she?

Grace just wanted this conversation to be over, not just for her sake, but for Julia's as well. She wasn't sure what he meant, what he wanted, but as far as she was concerned he was off limits in a big, big way.

'Look, I've got to go,' she said, praying her friend wasn't up in the apartment at this moment gazing down on this scene which would look decidedly suspicious from a dis tance. 'Thank you for the lift.' She swallowed. 'I was tired. It's been a long day.'

'I would have taken you to Viareggio,' he said softly, and although he hadn't moved Grace could feel his eyes on her mouth like a palpable caress. 'Tell me, have you found the time to visit the monastery of our local martyr, Sant' Emilio di Falco?'

He must know she hadn't, thought Grace crossly. She'd only been here a few days, after all. 'Oh, I've got lots of sightseeing to do yet,' she told him, trying to sound crisply positive. 'And now I really must-'

'Let me take you tomorrow,' he broke in, as she'd half expected he would. 'Or the day after. It's not the easiest place to get to, but I can a.s.sure you it's well worth the visit.'

'I'm sure it is, but I don't know what Julia's got planned for the rest of the week,' declared Grace, barely civilly, and, removing his fingers from her arm, she thrust open the car door.

When she was safely on the pavement outside the Villa Modena, she permitted herself one last salvo. 'I intend to hire a car myself, signore. I'm sure it will be easier, in the circ.u.mstances.'

She thought he'd let her go then; she expected him to drive away without another word, but she hadn't counted on his innate courtesy. As she waited, hands clutching her tote bag like a lifeline, he vaulted out of the vehicle, coming round to where she was standing rooted to the spot.

'I'll see you to the apartment,' he said, and although she wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary his expression now warned her that she had probably said too much already. So, without another word, she walked rather jerkily through the gates, entering the building through the arched door way, and ascending the shallow staircase that rose on her right.

She heard rather than saw the old caretaker emerge from his apartment on the ground floor and gaze after them, but she didn't stop to offer a greeting as she normally did. There were two flights of stairs to Julia's apartment, and she climbed them without pausing, only aware that her knees were shaking when she reached the second landing.

It was necessary to find her key when she reached the door, but to her relief it came easily into her hand. Then, pushing it into the lock, she turned to face him, her fingers on the handle behind her supporting her quivering legs.

'Thanks again,' she said, brushing her braid back over her shoulder. 'At least I've got a bit more time to make Julia a meal.'

She forced herself to go on. 'Unless she's going out with you, of course. Then I'l only have to cook for one But, in any case, I'll find the time to tell her how- how kind you've been.'

'Will you?' He didn't sound particularly interested in what she told his girlfriend, if you take my advice, you'l forget about running after Julia, and have a bath and then get into bed. We both know you're exhausted. That's why you can't cope with how you feel. But don't insult me by pretending you harbour any grat.i.tude towards me. Our as sociation-short though it is-has progressed much too far for that.'

CHAPTER FOUR.

It was the following evening before Grace got a chance to talk to her friend again.

Julia had phoned the previous evening to say that she'd been asked to work an extra couple of hours and that Grace should expect her when she saw her. 'You go to bed if you're tired,'

she'd suggested kindly, knowing in advance how Grace had intended to spend her day. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

But in the morning Grace slept late, having spent most of the night fretting about her encounter with Matteo di Falco, and by the time she emerged from her bedroom Julia had gone.

Consequently, it was a good twenty-four hours before she could tell Julia what had happened and by then much of the resentment she had been feeling had dispersed. Perhaps she had overreacted, she brooded. He had only been civil, after all. And time had a habit of making the memory selective so that she was no longer so certain of the facts.

Her doubts weren't helped by Julia's reaction either. The other woman seemed to regard what had happened as char acteristic of Matteo. 'He's like that,' she declared care lessly. 'He must have realised how beat you were. I'm sorry if you thought he shouldn't have followed you. I guess he thought he was only being kind.'

Kind was not an adjective Grace would have used to describe Matteo di Falco, but Julia didn't really want to hear about that.

And, in the circ.u.mstances, there was no way Grace could have told her about his offering to take her to the monastery of Sant'

Emilio di Falco. She was afraid if she did so Julia might suspect she was trying to split them up, when in fact that was the last thing she wanted to do.

All the same, she had spent at least part of the previous night worrying whether Julia had any real grounds for be lieving that, just because she was carrying his child, Matteo would agree to marry her. The more Grace thought about him, the more convinced she became that he was unlikely to be coerced into anything, whatever pressure his grand mother might put upon him. He might deny it, for instance. He might even call Julia a liar. And even if a blood test eventually proved his paternity, who would look after Julia until the baby was born?

Grace found it all very unsatisfactory, and she knew that if she was in Julia's shoes there was no way she'd be able to wait cold-bloodedly for several months before telling Matteo she was pregnant. In fact, she found the whole idea of Julia's being pregnant rather repugnant, and she didn't really approve of the underhanded way she was keeping it to herself.

That was why, when they were sitting on the balcony, having a gla.s.s of wine after supper, she felt compelled to bring the subject up again. However reluctant she might be to talk about Matteo di Falco, she told herself she had to try and understand Julia's motives.

'When-when did you find out?' she asked. And then, seeing Julia's blank expression, and realising she wasn't privy to her thoughts, she added hurriedly, 'About the baby? How long have you known?'

Julia shrugged. 'Not long,' she said offhandedly. 'Why do you ask?'

'Well-for obvious reasons,' murmured Grace awk wardly. 'I mean, I just wondered when you intend to tell- Matt.'

Julia cast her a sardonic look. 'I thought I already told you,'

she remarked drily. 'When I'm sure the marchesa can't do anything about it.'

'But do you really think she'd suggest you have an abor tion, anyway?' Grace persisted. 'She does have a Catholic background and I don't think-'

'You'd be surprised,' Julia broke in. 'These old aristo crats will do anything to protect their bloodlines, believe me.'

Grace sighed. 'So when will you feel it's safe to tell them?

Two months, three months? Six months? How long do you think you can hide it? Babies show!'

'Not all babies,' retorted Julia. 'Actually, 1 was reading a case the other day of a girl, a teenager, actually, who knew nothing about it until the baby arrived.'

'You're not a teenager, Julia.'

'I know that. But that doesn't mean it couldn't happen to me.'

She sipped her wine. 'I don't know why you're asking all these questions.' Her brows drew together in sud den consternation.

'You haven't said anything to Matt?'

'Of course not.' Grace was grateful that she could answer that question without restraint. 'But-well, don't you think you ought to tell him? You're still working full time. He might want you to give up your job.'

'And he might not,' declared Julia flatly, raising one knee and examining a tiny red mark on her skin. 'Dammit, I've been bitten.

Let's go back inside.'

Grace left the balcony with some reluctance. The insects didn't bother her, and the night air was soft and seductive. She could smell the night-blooming flowers from the gar den below, and somewhere close at hand a violin was play ing. She could also hear the sound of laughter and the muted murmur of voices from a party someone was giving further down the street. For the first time in ages, she found herself wishing she was going out this evening. There was something about the atmosphere here, a sense of hedonism and sensuality, that was hard to ignore.

'I think I'll go to bed,' said Julia as Grace entered the living room. She finished the wine in her gla.s.s and set it down on the counter in the kitchen with an audible clunk.

Grace was surprised the stem didn't break at such uncaring treatment, but it was evidently stronger than it looked. 'You don't mind, do you? I was fairly late last night.'

Grace shook her head. 'Of course not,' she said, feeling mean for even wishing Julia could change her mind. It wasn't her friend's fault that she'd chosen to spend the whole day in the apartment. She'd reputedly come here to have a rest. She had a good book to entertain her. Perhaps she should have an early night, too.

But, although she'd intended to use the bathroom as soon as Julia was finished, the water stopped running, Julia's door opened and closed, and still Grace lingered in her chair. She was restless-a feeling that was unfamiliar to her, but clearly identifiable. She needed something, any thing; the trouble was, she didn't know what.

Getting up. she paced about the living room, stepping out onto the balcony, and resting her bare arms on the wrought-iron bal.u.s.trade. Breathing deeply, she tried to calm the agitation inside her, but all she succeeded in doing was filling her lungs with the sensuous perfume of the flow ers. Perhaps there was something in their scent, she mused wryly, but she couldn't ever remember reading that jasmine or honeysuckle, or even the exotic oleander that grew in scarlet cl.u.s.ters round the crumbling fountain, possessed narcotic properties.

Perhaps she should go for a walk, she considered. It wasn't late, only nine o'clock, and there were still plenty of people about. If she walked down to the harbour, she could always get a taxi back.

The idea took root and flourished. Why not? she asked herself again. She wasn't the nervous type, and she had few fears for her own safety. She would have preferred to go with Julia, but in her absence she could go alone.

Straightening, she glanced down at what she was wear ing.

The slip dress with its pattern of orange lilies on a purple background was perfectly suitable for what she had planned, but she took a thin silk shawl to cover her shoul ders, just in case it was cool down at the quayside. Then, after checking that the French braid she had fastened earlier was still in place, she left the apartment before she could change her mind.

The thick heels of her sandals clattered on the marble stairs as she descended, but she doubted anyone would hear her. It appeared as if Julia's was the only apartment not hosting a social gathering of one sort or another that eve ning, and the mingled aromas of wine and pasta made Grace's mouth water.

It seemed hours since she and Julia had eaten the cheese and salad that Grace had rustled up after her friend got home. Julia had come in, kicked off her shoes, and sprawled on the sofa with a magazine, and despite her as sertion that she didn't expect Grace to cook for her so far she had made no overtures in that direction herself.

Grace had thought Julia might bring something in with her.

She'd told her friend she didn't intend to go out today, but her words had evidently fallen on stony ground. In con sequence, Grace had had to improvise, and although the meal had been tasty she now felt she knew where she stood. In future, she'd make sure they had plenty of food in the fridge.

Perhaps she'd treat herself to a gooey dessert, she re flected now as the caretaker, who never seemed to miss her comings and goings, emerged from his apartment as she reached the ground floor. Italians traditionally ate later than she was used to, and she wasn't worried that the cafes might be closed.

The caretaker frowned when he saw she was alone. 'Signorina Calloway?' he said, glancing meaningfully up the stairs, and Grace heaved a sigh before miming that she was going out alone.

'Ah, no, signorina.'

The caretaker shook his head, his hands fluttering as he endeavoured to explain what he wanted to say. But his accent was thick enough to cut, and Grace could only guess what he meant.

'I'll be fine,' she said, making a calming gesture, but the old man was not prepared to let her go without a fight.

He said something else, and Grace identified the word ragazzos in his anxious protest, which even she knew meant boys. It was obvious he was trying to warn her to be careful, and she felt a reluctant sympathy towards him for his concern.

'No problem,' she insisted. 'I'll get a-a taxi, yes? Back.'

The old man gestured towards his apartment. 'Taxi now?'

'No.' Grace sighed again. 'Really.' She held up her hand. 'I'll be all right, honestly.' She patted his arm. 'Um- thanks, anyway.'