from the limousine and moved indoors.
He merely acknowledged her “goodnight” with a brief nod, and watched as she ascended the stairs.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘IS RAMON GOING to die?’
The plaintive query from so young a child was heartrending, and Shannay went down on one knee and gathered her daughter close.
‘He’s very sick,’ she said gently.
‘Like Fred.’
Fred had been a pet white mouse who’d developed a tumour, and been replaced, after due ceremony, by a goldfish.
‘Like Fred,’ she agreed solemnly.
‘It’ll be sad,’ Nicki ventured, and Shannay inclined her head, then sought to offer a distraction by suggesting a swim in the pool.
It was a warm day, with no breeze to riffle the tree-leaves, and together they donned swimsuits, lathered on sunscreen cream, then gathered up towels, alerted Carlo as to their whereabouts, and wandered down to the pool.
Nicki was like a fish in water, diving, floating, and showing her swimming prowess with a credible crawl … for a young child.
It was fun to play, to splash, laugh a little and temporarily relax her guard.
‘Daddy!’
Shannay turned slowly in the direction Nicki indicated, and saw Marcello’s tall masculine figure walking the path through the grounds towards the few marble steps leading to the pool and its surrounds.
Attired as he was in a short black towelling robe with a towel slung over one shoulder, his intention to join them was obvious, and she tried to ignore the unbidden convulsing sensation deep inside.
She didn’t want to feel like this, and hated her body’s traitorous reaction. It wasn’t fair to be constantly reminded of the sensual heat that coursed through her veins in remembered passion.
With every passing day it became more intense, the memories disruptive. The nights were worse when she lay alone in her bed, so aware of his presence as he slept in a suite not far from her own.
Did he sleep easily, or did he lie awake as she did, caught up in emotional hunger?
Enough, a silent voice taunted.
Yet being here, in his home and his constant company, attacked her defences and seriously eroded them.
There was a part of her that wished he absented himself in the city each day, instead of utilising the benefits of modern technology to keep in touch with the business world from home.
Although she had to accept he had reason enough to rearrange his life in order to spend as much time as possible with his daughter.
Now here he was, about to shrug off a robe and join them in the water.
Wearing, Shannay noted with a quick glance, a very respectable pair of black boxer swim shorts.
Her heart rate accelerated at the sight of his powerful frame with its fluid flex of muscle and sinew, and his eyes caught hers for a few timeless seconds before she deliberately shifted her attention to Nicki.
‘Daddy, watch me swim.’
He did, slipping into the water and applauding his daughter’s efforts as Nicki went through her paces.
Shannay was conscious of the brevity of her maillot, cut high at the hip and a halter-neck plunging to a deep V between breasts a little fuller since Nicki’s birth.
Had he noticed?
Oh, for heaven’s sake … stop, she cautioned in silent castigation. What are you thinking?
Yet the warmth of his touch as he’d cradled her close in the limousine had stirred something deep inside, reminding her too vividly of everything they’d shared … and never would again.
So get over it.
‘Nicki is a beautiful child,’ Marcello opined quietly. ‘Obedient and unspoilt. You’ve done well with her.’
She looked at him carefully. ‘A compliment, Marcello?’
‘Is it so difficult to accept I might offer you one?’
He was close, within touching distance, and she stilled the almost irresistible urge to move away.
‘In the circumstances, yes,’ she stated coolly, and heard a faint drawling quality enter his voice.
‘Perhaps it is wise to ignore circumstances.’ His pause held a weight of meaning she chose not to explore. ‘And attempt to move on.’
‘I was doing fine,’ Shannay offered sweetly. ‘Until you dragged me here under threat.’ With that, she used breaststroke to glide effortlessly away and did her best to ignore him.
Difficult, when Nicki sought his attention at every turn, laughing with delight as he splashed her, then allowed her to catch him.
He was good with her. Kind, playful and clearly her idol.
Daddy peppered her conversation with tremendous regularity, and she squealed as he lifted her onto his shoulders and ascended the tiled steps leading out from the pool.
Maria served tea in the sala, together with a nutritious evening meal for Nicki, whose bedtime was gradually being extended to conform with local custom.
Where Shannay predicted difficulties, none appeared to exist. Nicki had slipped happily into her new lifestyle, accepting the changes with surprising ease.
Instead she was the one having problems as ambivalent emotions invaded her being, causing increasing turmoil with every passing day.
‘Mummy’s turn tonight,’ Nicki declared as Shannay tucked her into bed and picked up a book of fairy tales, aware Marcello had taken a chair close by.
It was hard to shut him out as she endeavoured to focus on reading the story of the princess and the pea.
He was there, a physical entity impossible to ignore, and she was conscious of his hooded gaze, the sheer dynamic presence of the man.
Nicki listened with rapt attention, valiantly fighting sleep until her eyelids drifted down and her breathing settled into a slow even rhythm.
Shannay carefully closed the book, checked the bedcovers, the monitor and night-light, then she paused in the doorway before closing the door softly behind her.
Marcello followed, and she turned at the same time he did and brushed against him.
An automatic apology fell from her lips, and she moved quickly to widen the distance between them as they both traversed the gallery leading to the staircase.
‘Nicki is fortunate to have you as a mother.’
A
