the lake, the woods and most importantly the manor—his very own regal residence, the ultimate symbol of having left his past well and truly behind.
No one would be able to take it off him. No one could toss him out on the street in the cold and wet. No one could deny him a roof over his head.
When he was a child he had dreamed of owning a place such as this. His very own fortress, his castle and his base. His home.
Godfrey had known how important the manor was to him: it was the first place he had felt safe. The first place he had put down roots. The first place he had discovered friendship and loyalty. Within these walls he had learned all he needed to learn in order to make something of his life. Before he had come here he had been close to giving up. He had gone beyond the point of caring what happened to him. But Godfrey had woken something in him with his quiet, patient way. He hadn’t pressured him to open up. He hadn’t bribed him or coerced him in any way. He had simply planted the seeds of hope in Edoardo’s mind, seeds that had grown and grown until Edoardo had started to see the possibility of changing his life, becoming something other than a victim of circumstance and cruelty.
He was no longer that pitiful child with a constant fear of abandonment, with no one to turn to, with no one to love or be loved. He was no longer that brooding, resentful teenager with a chip on his shoulder.
He depended on no one for his happiness.
He had no need of anyone but himself. He was totally autonomous. He didn’t want the ties and responsibilities that other people saw as a natural part of life. Marriage and children were not something he had ever pictured for himself. Life was too fickle for him to chance it. What if the same thing happened to him as had happened to his father—his life cut short in its prime and his wife and child left to fend for themselves as best they could, easy prey for the scurrilous, conscienceless predators out there who would do anything to get their hands on money for drugs and drink?
No. He was fine on his own; perfectly fine.
Bella was in the kitchen stacking the dishes into the dishwasher when Edoardo came back in. It was a domestic scene he wasn’t used to seeing. She had never been one to lift a finger about the place. She had grown up with a band of willing servants to cater to her every whim. He had always thought her father had been far too lenient with her. She had never had to work for anything in her life. It had all been handed to her on a silver plate with the Haverton coat of arms emblazoned on it. She had flounced around issuing orders as if she was already lady of the manor, even as a small child. Not even as an adult had she ever considered the sacrifices Godfrey Haverton had made to provide a secure future for her. She hadn’t even had the decency to be by his side as he drew his last, gasping breath.
He had been the one to watch Godfrey pass from life to death.
He had held his frail hand and listened to the sounds of the breath slowly leaving the old man’s rail-thin body.
He had been the one to close Godfrey’s eyes in final rest.
He had been the one to weep with grief at losing the one person on this earth who had truly believed in him. He had sworn on Godfrey’s death bed that he would do the right thing by him and protect Bella. He would make sure she stayed out of trouble until the guardianship period was over. He would not let her waste her father’s hard-earned money. And in the meantime he would continue to restore Haverton Manor into the grand old residence Godfrey had loved so much, thus keeping a part of his mentor and friend alive.
Bella closed the dishwasher and straightened, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. ‘I was going to make some coffee,’ she said. ‘Would you like some?’
Edoardo couldn’t help a little lip curl. ‘You mean you actually know how to boil water?’
She pursed her mouth and tossed the dishcloth she had been holding on the sink. ‘I’m trying to be nice to you, Edoardo,’ she said. ‘The least you could do is meet me halfway.’
‘Nice?’ He gave a rough sound of derision. ‘Is that what you call it? You’re sucking up to me to get what you want.’
‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you told me about your parents—about being orphaned so young. I didn’t understand how devastating it must have—’
‘Cut it, princess,’ he said savagely.
Her smooth forehead crinkled in a frown. ‘But surely talking about it would be helpful?’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he said. He reached for the coffee grounds in the pantry and slammed them down on the counter. He filled the percolator with water, spooned in the coffee and switched it on, his hands clenching the counter until the tendons on the back stood out starkly against his tan. Was she never going to give this up? What was it about women that they had to know everything? To talk about everything? He wanted to block it out, not dredge it up all the time.
He wanted it to go away.
He needed it to go away.
The percolator hissed and spat in the silence.
Edoardo heard her move across the floor. She had such a light, almost silent tread but the hairs on the back of his neck lifted all the same. He felt her just behind him. He could smell her perfume. It danced around his nostrils. If she touched him, his control would snap. He could already feel it straining on its tight leash. It felt like a wild beast being held back by a thin, rusty chain. One of these days one of those fragile, corroded links would break.
He heard her draw in a small breath and then she spoke his name, softly and hesitantly. It was like a caress on his skin. It made every pore react as if a soft feather had brushed over him. ‘Edoardo?’
He waited a beat before he turned around and looked down at her. Her beautiful heart-shaped face was up-tilted and her big brown eyes were soft and dewy, her rosy lips full and moist. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ he said with a cynical look. ‘You always lay on the charm when you want something. I’ve seen you do it to your father hundreds of times. But you’re wasting your time. It won’t work with me.’
Her expression soured. ‘Why must you be so … so beastly?’ she asked.
‘I won’t be manipulated by you or anyone,’ he said. ‘I made a promise to your father and I’m going to keep it.’
‘I want to get married here,’ she said, throwing him a combative look. ‘I’ve dreamed of it all of my life. My father would have wanted it. You can’t say he wouldn’t.’
Edoardo thought of the highbrow, vacuous crowd she would have swarming around her like bees around a honey pot. The press would besiege the place. They would crawl over his private domain like ants at a picnic. His private sanctuary would become party central. And, if that weren’t enough, he would have to watch Bella smiling up at some toffee-nosed man who—he could almost guarantee—only wanted her for her money. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He wouldn’t have wanted it, otherwise he would’ve left you the manor in the first place.’
She narrowed her eyes to hairpin-thin slits. ‘You’re doing this deliberately, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘All that talk of wanting me was rubbish. You don’t want me at all. You want the power. It turns you on, doesn’t it? You get off on it. You just want the rush it gives you to have me squirming in the palm of your uncivilised hand.’
Edoardo
