with somber intensity, “this is the child I fathered. She’s small.”
Small? She was beautiful! Perfect from the top of her downy head to the tips of her dainty little feet! If small was the best he could come up with, he didn’t deserve her, and Eve would gladly have informed him of the fact if it weren’t that alienating him would serve no useful purpose.
“Most babies are, Signor Brabanti,” she said, with as much restraint as she could muster.
“I suppose.” Continuing to hold the carrier at chest height as easily as if it weighed no more than a loaf of bread, he made his way slowly across the hall and through a doorway on the left.
Following, Eve found herself in a reception room so exquisitely furnished that she couldn’t contain a small gasp of pleasure. She’d visited enough museums to recognize that the gorgeous ceiling and wall moldings, the beautiful faded rugs, the inlaid cabinets, and silk-covered sofas were priceless. But it was the combination of color and texture, as much as the antiques themselves, which lent the room such extraordinary distinction.
“There is a problem, Signorina Caldwell?” Elegant eyebrows raised in question, Gabriel paused before the fireplace. “You’re perhaps thinking that this isn’t a house where a child could roam freely, and play without fear of breaking something irreplaceable?”
She ran a self-conscious hand down her travel-worn suit. A stain marked the lapel of the jacket, where Nicola had spat up during the flight from Amsterdam, and the full skirt was woefully creased. “Actually I’m thinking that, to be in a room like this, I should be wearing formal evening dress—something in heavy slipper satin with a train, and diamonds and pearls.”
“The opportunity will arise in due course,” he remarked ambiguously, “but for tonight, what you have on will serve well enough. You will have noticed, I’m sure, that I’m not dressed for a night at the opera, either.”
Of course she’d noticed! What woman in her right mind wouldn’t have, when confronted by such a splendid male specimen? His blue jeans clung to his long legs and molded themselves to his hips like a jealous lover. His shirt, unbuttoned halfway to his waist, ebbed and flowed over the breadth of his chest, allowing tantalizing glimpses of bronze skin and a smattering of dark hair.
With cavalier disregard, he set the infant seat in the middle of an elaborate gilt occasional table, and it was all Eve could do not to utter a protest. “How do I unfasten these restraints?”
“There’s a release button here.” She hurried forward, unsnapped the buckles holding the safety belts in place, then lifted Nicola out of the seat before it did irreparable damage to the table’s delicate surface, and handed her to her father.
He held her with his elbows pressed to his sides, his forearms extended, his hands too inexperienced to know how to scoop up so tiny a burden, and he too unaware to know she’d feel more secure cuddled up against his chest. Instead he stared down at her, the doubtful look on his face speaking volumes. Picking up on his uncertainty, Nicola stretched and let out an annoyed squawk.
He froze. “Per carita! She wriggles like an eel!”
“Hold her upright,” Eve suggested. “You’ll both feel safer that way.”
“Like so?” Tentatively he hoisted Nicola so that she rested solidly against his chest, with her head on his shoulder. As if she sensed she’d come home, she turned and burrowed her face against the smooth, tanned skin of his neck, her mouth seeking.
Unexpectedly moved by the sight of the baby, so pink and delicate, nestled trustingly against the man, so dark and strong, Eve swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “Exactly like that.”
He made a face. “Why is she’s slobbering on me?”
“Because she’s hungry.” She nodded to where she’d left the diaper bag in the hall. “I’ve got a bottle of formula out there. If you’ll tell me where the kitchen is, I’ll go warm it up, then feed her.”
He indicated a velvet rope hanging beside the fireplace. “Ring for my housekeeper. She’ll heat the bottle. And I,” he said flatly, “will feed my daughter. You’ve done your part by bringing her to me, signorina. I’ll take over now.”
She hadn’t been so summarily dismissed since her student nurse days when she’d accidentally stepped on the hospital chief of staff’s toe. “Fine,” she said, smarting at his high-handed tone, and yanked the bell pull with rather more force than was warranted. “Then you can change her diaper as well. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s leaking all over your shirt. In fact, give her a bath while you’re at it. She could use one, after spending most of the day either in airports or on a jet.”
His horrified expression would have been comical if Eve had been in any mood to laugh. But all she could think of was Marcia’s warning. Establish your rights from the start…because given half a chance, he’ll eat you alive…!
“Perhaps,” he murmured grudgingly, “I’ll allow you take care of her needs this one time, after all.”
Allow? Oh, the man had gall to spare! “You’ll allow me to look after my own niece? How big of you!”
For a second too long, they glared at one another, and in that time a turbulent sense of recognition swarmed through the air; a sense that beneath the surface of resentment and rivalry, something much less antagonistic and much more disturbingly erotic, was struggling to emerge.
Even he felt it. “Forgive me, signorina,” he said, almost pushing Nicola at her, then backing out of range of that sudden, strange, high-voltage jolt of electricity. “I didn’t intend to come across as quite so overbearing. Please attend to my daughter’s needs as you see fit. There’ll be time enough in the coming weeks for me to become better acquainted with her.”
“As you wish,” Eve said, feeling oddly disoriented herself. Just as well a pleasant-faced, motherly woman appeared in the doorway and took charge.
Appearing equally relieved by her arrival, Gabriel said, “This is Beryl, my housekeeper. Beryl, my daughter’s mother won’t be staying with us, after all. Instead Signorina Caldwell is taking her place.”
If the housekeeper was surprised by the change in guest arrangements, she was too well-schooled to let it show. “Si, signor.”
He glanced again at Nicola who’d begun to howl in earnest. Raising his voice over the din, he asked, “How long do you expect it will take to settle her for the night, Signorina Caldwell?”
“An hour, at least.”
Eyeing the large gilt pendulum clock on the wall, he said, “Then we’ll sit down to dinner at nine-thirty.”
“I’d prefer to have a snack in my room.”
“Don’t push your luck, signorina! I’ve made enough concessions for one night.”
“And I’ve been traveling for the better part of two days.”
For a moment, from the way his mouth tightened, she thought they were in for another confrontation. Then, on a long, controlled exhalation, he said, “Indeed you have. How remiss of me to have overlooked that fact. Beryl, show Signorina Caldwell to the suite you’ve prepared, will you, and make sure she has everything she needs?”
“Certainly,
