she deserves better than to be caught in a tug-of-war between her parents.”
It was on the tip of Eve’s tongue to point out that Gabriel Brabanti’s limited interest in Nicola hardly left her in much danger of that, but to what end? Beryl’s loyalty quite rightly lay with her employer. And much though her cousin tested her patience, Eve’s lay with Marcia.
“Well, right now, she deserves to be cleaned up and fed. Do you mind going down to the kitchen to heat her bottle while I give her a quick bath?”
“No need for that, love. There’s a bottle warmer and a bar refrigerator in the kitchenette. I didn’t want you having to go up and down stairs every time she’s hungry. Here, you take her, and I’ll get the bath ready, then see to the bottle while you sponge her down. Not that I plan to be interfering every other minute, you understand, but you must be a bit worn out yourself after coming all this way. I imagine you could use some help settling in.”
In fact, fatigue had begun to take a ferocious toll. Eve’s neck and shoulders ached as if she’d just put in a twenty-four hour shift at the clinic. “You really are a gem, Beryl,” she said, grateful not just for the housekeeper’s thoughtfulness but also for her approachability. “Thank you so much, for everything.”
“My pleasure, Miss Caldwell. By the way, there’s a bell next to the fireplace in your sitting room, and another in the nursery. Anything you’d like, night or day, just ring, and someone’ll be up to see to it for you.”
“Right now, only two things come to mind. First, would you mind bringing me the diaper bag from the sitting room? It’ll save me having to go through Nicola’s suitcase to find a clean sleeper. And second, won’t you please call me Eve?”
“I’m not sure the signor would approve,” Beryl said, filling the plastic infant bath half-full of warm water, and laying out towels next to a basket containing baby lotion, cotton swabs, soap and a sponge, before retrieving the diaper bag. “His ex-wife was always Signora Brabanti to the staff, even though she was American like you, and not given to being quite as formal as he is.”
“This isn’t Signor Brabanti’s call. I’m not his wife.”
“No, more’s the pity! You’ve got your head screwed on straight, which is a lot more than could be said of her.” She heaved a sigh and checked her watch. “Well, I’ve probably said more than I should, so as soon as I’ve finished here, I’d best be getting back downstairs. It’s nearly nine o’clock now. When would you like to have your meal sent up?”
“Why don’t we say ten? Nicola should be down for the night by then, and with any luck I’ll even have time for a shower.”
She did, but barely, and had only just finished drying her hair when she heard a knock at the door. Tying the strings holding closed her light robe, she went to answer, expecting to find Beryl or another member of the house staff outside.
Instead Gabriel stood there, a guarded smile on his face, a loaded tray in his hands. She wasn’t sure which unnerved her more: that he was there to begin with, or that he was smiling. There was nothing particularly friendly in that smile. If anything, it hinted of danger and sent a burst of goose bumps spattering over her skin.
He, too, had showered, and changed into slim-fitting black trousers and a white silk shirt open at the throat. His thick black hair, still slightly damp, curled at his nape. The polished bronze of his skin made his teeth gleam all the whiter.
…Be careful…he’s a shark…!
Oh, yes, a very apt description indeed, Marcia! Eve thought, feeling as if she were being pulled into the blue depths of his eyes and stripped of her soul. And a hungry shark, to boot!
Oblivious to his effect on her, he strode into the room and deposited the tray on the coffee table. “I don’t know about you, signorina,” he announced, whipping off the starched linen cloth covering the food, “but I’m starving. We have insalata with freshwater crayfish, warm rolls and butter, ripe figs, grapes, a little cheese, some almond tarts…. “ He seized the neck of the bottle poking out of a silver ice bucket. “And a very fine white wine.”
Giving herself a mental shake, she followed him and eyed the arrangement of crystal, china and sterling grouped around the platters and bowls of food. “Why are there two of everything?”
“Scusi?” He made a pathetic attempt at innocence.
“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. There are two sets of cutlery, two wine glasses, two—”
He raised his elegant black brows. “You do not drink wine?”
“Yes, I drink wine,” she said testily.
“Buono! Then we have something in common besides an interest in the welfare of my daughter.” He half-filled both glasses with the pale gold liquid and passed one to her. “How is she, by the way? Did you have trouble getting her to sleep?”
“No. She was exhausted.” She paused long enough to impale him in an indignant glare. “As am I.”
“That doesn’t come as any surprise. You’ve covered many miles in the last couple of days.”
“Exactly. So you’ll understand, I’m sure, when I tell you I’m not up for receiving a guest.”
“I’m not a guest, signorina. I’m your host.”
She drew in a frustrated breath. “I’m well aware of that. But I’m not dressed—”
He dismissed her objection with a careless flick of his hand. “What you’re wearing is of no consequence.”
Not to him, perhaps, but the knowledge that the thin cotton fabric of her robe and nightgown were more revealing than she cared for, left her feeling at a decided disadvantage. “Then what is? I presume you’re here for more than the pleasure of my company?”
“We must talk.”
“Now?” She glanced pointedly at the carriage clock on the desk. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I really am very tired.”
“But you did ask to be served a snack, did you not?”
“You know very well that I did.” She indicated the lavish spread. “Although I wouldn’t rate this a ‘snack’ exactly.”
“Nevertheless, now that it’s here, you do plan to eat it?”
“Of course! I’d hardly have put your kitchen staff to the trouble of preparing it, otherwise.”
“Then since I also have yet to eat, doesn’t it make good sense that we do so together, and learn a little more about one another at the same time?”
He wasn’t going to back down. That wasn’t his style. Rather, he dealt in silent intimidation cloaked in verbal reason, somehow moving in on a person so thoroughly that he stole the air she breathed. Overwhelming her with his size—a big, strong man, both physically and mentally, and well aware that, on his turf, his was the last word.
Eve was a guest in his house by default, an understudy for his daughter’s mother. As such, she had few rights. And even if that weren’t the case, just then she was too worn down
