Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal. Catherine Spencer

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Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal - Catherine  Spencer

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their confrontation en route from Paris to Rome, that Caroline was capable of just such action was a foregone conclusion. He’d seen the determination in the tilt of her chin, in the sparks shooting from her lovely blue eyes. Had heard the implicit threat behind her declared intent to play a very active role in the twins’ future.

      The insecure, anxious-to-please young maid-of-honor at his brother’s wedding had turned into a steelyspined woman on a mission. That, since her arrival, she’d shown hints of a softer side, especially in her dealings with his mother and the twins, was something Paolo had done his best to ignore. She was, after all, intelligent enough not to alienate those she most needed as allies.

      Yet all that notwithstanding, her smothered sob touched him profoundly. All at once, she was not a one-person army bent on war, but a sadly outnumbered creature badly in need of a defender. The quivering droop of her mouth, the sheen of unshed tears glimmering in her eyes, rendered her powerless.

      She had walked alone, with her head held high, as the family made its way through the grounds to the crypt. But when the brief burial ceremony ended, he tucked her arm through the crook of his elbow and, disregarding the censure in his father’s surprised glance, escorted her back to the villa.

      “I remember the last time I was here,” she said quietly, stopping on the limestone path to gaze at the sea, turning dark now as the sun sank lower. “I never dreamed that when I came back again, it would be to bury my sister.”

      He clasped her cold hand and squeezed it gently. “None of us did, Caroline.”

      A tear sparkled on her lashes, clung there a moment, then broke free to trickle down her cheek. “I miss her desperately. Even though we lived so far apart, she was always there when I needed her.”

      “I know. She loved you very much.”

      “Yes. Far more than you can begin to understand.”

      The rough edge of passion suddenly charging her grief, overlaid his sympathy with mistrust. In the last six years, as he’d gradually taken more control of the family business interests, he’d learned a lot about reading other people. His finely tuned instincts told him now that Caroline was hiding some sort of secret, one so onerous that even indirect reference to it left her eyes haunted with a sorrow that had to do with more than her sister’s death.

      Although he wished it could be otherwise, instinct also warned him to unearth that secret before she used it as ammunition in the custody battle he knew was in the offing. Anxious not to alert her suspicions, he said casually, “Before he takes the motor launch back to the mainland, Father Dominic will stay to commiserate with my parents, over a glass of wine. I can’t speak for you, but I’ve had about all I can take of well-meant homilies on everlasting life. Right now, all I know is that I’ve lost a brother, and you’re the only person who really understands what I’m going through. Will you take a walk through the gardens with me, before the sun goes down completely?”

      “I’d rather be with the children.”

      He’d been afraid she’d say that, and had his reply all ready. “Jolanda will be supervising their early dinner. You’d be better off spending time with them later, before they go to bed.”

      “Who’s Jolanda?”

      “Our resident housekeeper. She and her husband live on the island and keep the villa prepared for whenever the family decides to visit. You don’t need to worry, Caroline. She’s known the children all their lives. They’re very comfortable with her.”

      She shrugged, drawing his attention to how narrow and delicate her shoulders were beneath her black silk coat. “I suppose a little fresh air can’t hurt. Anything’s better than the scent of lilies. They used to be one of my favorite flowers, but all they are now is a reminder…”

      “For me, too.” He steered her along a side path that wound through the manicured grounds. “Ermanno never liked them, either.”

      “Were you and he very close?”

      “Very, especially in the last few years. He was my mentor, my hero. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d never have amounted to anything more than a rich man’s idle son, with no ambition beyond catering to my self-indulgent lifestyle. I’d probably be dead myself, if it hadn’t been for him.”

      He stopped, momentarily unable to continue as the absolute truth of his last statement hit home, and underlined yet again the extent of his personal loss. He could see the disgust on Ermanno’s face, hear it in his voice, as clearly as if it were just yesterday that he’d taken Paolo by the scruff of the neck, shaken him like a dog with a rat, then flung him down in the dust.

       You make me ashamed to admit you’re my brother! You bring disgrace to the Rainero name, to everyone and everything you touch. What will it take for you to behave like a man, instead of a spoiled boy? How often will you break our mother’s heart before she turns her face to the wall and gives up, because living with the fear of what you’ll do next is more than she can bear? How many wrecked cars, and broken hearts, Paolo? How many fathers out for your blood, because of your treatment of their daughters? How many husbands seeking vengeance for their ruined marriages?

       Well, this time the Rainero name and money won’t get you off the hook. This time, you take your punishment, and it starts with facing our father. Did you know he had a heart attack when the police showed up at his door to tell him that you’d been arrested for brawling, and that he lies now in a hospital bed, with no guarantee that he’ll survive? Do you even care?

      For once, Paolo had had no glib answers. No pitiful excuses or shifting of blame. After a night in jail, with the dregs of Roman society keeping him company, he’d seen himself through Ermanno’s eyes, and it had sickened him.

      At his side, Caroline gave a start of surprise. “What do you mean, you’d probably be dead yourself?

      “I was not a model son,” he said, soberly. “It took seeing my father clinging to life in a hospital bed, and knowing that I had put him there, for me to recognize the error of my ways.”

      “Now that you mention it, I remember Vanessa telling me he’d been ill. Some sort of cardiac problem, wasn’t it?”

      “Yes. Fortunately his willpower was stronger than his heart. He made an amazing recovery.”

      She made a face. “He’s the type who would.”

      Too amused by her candor to take offense, he said, “You don’t much like him, do you?”

      “No,” she said bluntly. “He never thought the Leightons were good enough to be associated with the Raineros.”

      “As he got to know your sister better, he changed his mind about that. He even went so far as to say she was like a daughter to him.”

      “I suppose he didn’t have much choice but to accept her. At least she didn’t put his life at risk, the way you say you did. Exactly how did you bring that about, by the way?”

      “I publicly embarrassed him. He is a very proud man—too proud, some, including you, might say. But he was always a loving father, and it hurt him very deeply when I showed myself to be less than deserving of his affection, let alone his trust.”

      “You appear to get along well enough now. How did you redeem yourself?”

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