‘I was afraid it would be so. Which was why I delayed my journey. I hoped, if I gave you time, you might, in turn, allow me the opportunity to explain.’
‘That’s unnecessary. Your godmother supplied all the explanation I could ever need. I know everything, signore, so you may as well go back where you came from.’
‘You are determined not to listen to me,’ he said slowly. ‘Even after all we have been to each other.’
‘I know what you once were to me,’ Flora said bitingly. ‘Thanks to the Contessa, I’m now aware of all I was to you. There’s nothing more to be said.’
‘There is a great deal more,’ he snapped. ‘And I was coming back from Milan to say it to you—to tell you everything. To confess and ask your forgiveness. Only to find you had gone and all hell had broken loose.’
‘Oh, please.’ To her fury, she realised she was trembling. ‘Am I really supposed to believe that?’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t tell me any more of your lies, Marco. I won’t be made a fool of a second time.’
‘No,’ he said bitterly. ‘I am the one who has been a fool—and worse than a fool. What point is there in pretending otherwise?’
‘None at all,’ she said. ‘But pretending is what you do best, signore, and old habits die hard.’
He said slowly, ‘While we are on the subject of pretence, signorina, do you intend to maintain that you did not expect me to come after you? And that there is nothing left in your heart of that passion—the need that we shared?’
‘Your conceit, Signor Valante, is only matched by your arrogance.’ Flora’s voice sparked with anger.
‘That is no answer.’
‘It’s the only one you’re going to get,’ she flashed.
His laugh was husky, almost painful. ‘Then I will ask another question. Flora—will you be my wife?’
The world suddenly seemed to lurch sideways. There was a strange roaring in her ears and she saw the floor rising to meet her.
When awareness slowly returned, she found she was lying on the sofa and Marco was kneeling beside her, holding a glass of water.
‘Drink this,’ he directed shortly, and she complied unwillingly. He watched her, his mouth drawn into a grim, straight line.
He said, ‘And you say you are not sick.’
‘I’m not.’ Flora handed back the glass and sat up gingerly. ‘I had a shock, that’s all.’
‘Is it really so shocking to receive a proposal of marriage?’
‘From you—yes.’ She could taste the sourness of tears in her throat. ‘But then why should I really be surprised? It’s time you were married, isn’t it? And one woman is as good as any other. I’m told that’s your philosophy. Be honest, signore.’
He was silent for a long moment. ‘It may have been—once. God forgive me. But not now.’
‘So, what is it this time?’ Flora stared at him, her eyes hard. ‘A belated attempt to salve your guilty conscience? To offer some recompense for the way you treated me?’
‘I want you,’ he said quietly. ‘And I swore I would move heaven and earth to get you back.’
‘Except you don’t really believe you’ll have to go to those lengths,’ she threw at him. ‘Not when I was such a push-over the first time around.’ She gestured wildly. ‘You think you have only to smile, and take my hand—and I’ll follow you anywhere. But not this time, signore. Because I’m not playing your game any more. I’ve changed, and I tell you this—I’d rather die than have you touch me—you bastard.’
There was another tingling silence, then Marco said, ‘Ah,’ and got to his feet. The dark face was cool, composed, and the green eyes steady as they met hers.
He said, ‘Then I agree with you, Flora mia. There is no more to be said, and I will leave you in peace to enjoy your life.’
As he turned to walk to the door the telephone rang suddenly.
He checked. ‘Do you wish me to answer that for you?’
‘The machine will pick up the message.’ She hardly recognised her own voice. She felt as if she’d been left dying on some battlefield. As perhaps she had.
There was a click, and a woman’s voice, clear and pleasant, filled the room. ‘This is Barbara Wayne, Miss Graham, the midwife from the health centre. Dr Arthur asked me to contact you and arrange a preliminary appointment. Perhaps you’d call me back and suggest a convenient time—early next week, say? Thank you.’
Flora sat as if she’d been turned to stone, listening to the tape switch off and run back. Her mouth was bone-dry and her heart was beating an alarmed tattoo against her ribcage. She did not dare look at Marco, but the words of the message seemed to hang in the room.
Useless to hope that he had not picked up its exact implication.
If it had just been five minutes later, she thought, fighting back a sob of desperation. Just five minutes… He would have been gone. And she would have been safe. Whereas now…
When he eventually spoke, his tone was almost remote. The polite interest of a stranger. ‘Is it true? Are you carrying my child?’
She set her teeth to stop them chattering. ‘What—makes you think it’s yours?’
‘Now who is playing games?’ There was a note under the surface of his voice that made her shiver. ‘Do not prevaricate—or lie to me. Are you having our baby?’
She closed her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘At last, some honesty.’ There was another terrible silence, then he sighed. ‘Well, even if I am a bastard, as you say, Flora mia, I will not allow my child to be born as one. You and I will be married as soon as it can be arranged.’
‘No.’ She was on her feet. ‘I won’t do it. You can’t make me.’
He smiled grimly. ‘I think I can, mia bella. You have made it clear you find me repulsive.’ He shrugged. ‘I can accept that. But our child will be born within the protection of marriage.’ His voice hardened. ‘What happens afterwards will be a matter for negotiation, but it will not include the usual demands a husband makes of his wife.’
‘To hell with your negotiations.’ Flora was shaking. ‘I still say no.’
‘You wish to give up the baby?’ Marco asked coldly. ‘Or do you want me to fight you for custody through the courts, with all the attendant lurid publicity that will entail? Because I guarantee you will lose.’
‘You can’t say that.’ The breath caught in her throat. ‘Judges favour mothers.’
‘Not always. And can you afford the risk—or the cost of a long legal war?’ His smile froze her. ‘I do not think so.’
He paused. ‘But, if you marry me, I
