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However much Maria might disapprove of her, though, Julie could not fault her care of Josh.
Julie had been halfway through the poached eggs when Josh had woken up and started to cry, but before she had even had the chance to put down her knife and fork Maria had swung into action.
By the time Julie had finished her breakfast Maria had, under Julie’s anxiously protective watch, changed, fed, bathed and dressed Josh, whilst explaining in her hesitant English that she was a mother of five children, a grandmother of twelve and a great-grandmother of three. Julie was a convert to the efficacy of her maternal skills, and ready to do virtually anything to acquire Maria’s ability to soothe a fractious baby. Even more importantly and impressively, Maria had also managed to get Josh to feed steadily and happily.
‘It is because the little one know that I know what is right,’ Maria had told Julie firmly, when honesty had obliged Julie to confess how much she worried about Josh’s refusal to take all his feed.
‘He puts up the fuss because he is scared—because he knows that you are scared,’ Maria had unbent enough to tell her.
‘I just want to do what’s best for him,’ Julie had responded emotionally, so relieved to see Josh take all his bottle that she forgot that Maria’s loyalties would lie with Rocco Leopardi. ‘I love him so much.’
Maria’s watchful expression had softened a little then, and she had shaken her head, telling Julie calmly, ‘He knows that you love him. And he loves you. He watches for you all the time.’
They had exchanged tentative and cautious smiles, their relationship now on a shared footing of wanting to do their best for Josh.
What with wanting to make the most of the unexpected opportunity to get some valuable baby-raising tips from an expert, and the pleasure of watching Josh lying kicking and gurgling happily on his changing mat—a totally different baby from the fretful child she was used to—Julie hadn’t realised what time it was until Maria had reminded her, pointing out that the doctor would soon be arriving.
Realising that she only had half an hour to shower and dress, Julie had nodded her head gratefully when Maria had offered to take charge of Josh and take him downstairs with her so that Julie could get ready speedily.
Dr Vittorio had been shown up to her room at ten on the dot by Rocco, who had introduced them and then said that Maria would bring Josh back upstairs for his DNA test once the doctor had let Rocco know that he was ready.
When Rocco had described Dr Vittorio as their family doctor Julie had anticipated that he would be an older man, not someone who at the most was only in his very early thirties, a similar age to Rocco himself, although thankfully with a very different and kinder personality.
His kindness and his excellent English had put her completely at her ease.
So much so, in fact, that now that he had given her his early diagnosis of the cause of her symptoms she was able to shake her head and marvel in relief, ‘Is that all? I felt so dreadful that I was beginning to worry it could be something serious.’
‘Anaemia is serious,’ Dr Vittorio told her firmly. ‘Rocco tells me that you have not been eating?’
‘He has only known me a matter of hours, so how he can think he has the right to make that kind of assumption about me?’ Julie began heatedly—only to stop self-consciously when she remembered that Dr Vittorio was the Leopardi family’s doctor, and that meant his allegiance would be to them, and with it his sympathy.
‘You are a single mother with a young child. For Rocco that alone would be enough to bring to the fore his most protective instincts.’
The doctor was speaking as easily and openly as though what he had just said was the most acceptable comment in the world—so much so that Julie wondered if she might have misheard him.
But, as though he sensed her confusion, the doctor continued, ‘The death of the Princess shortly after Rocco’s birth affected all three of her sons, naturally, but especially Rocco. I can understand that you will feel that his concern is overly protective, and perhaps even an unwarranted interference,’ he acknowledged, ‘but the death of their mother has left its mark on all her sons.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Julie was forced to agree, swallowing against her own unwanted sympathy as she added, ‘I hadn’t realised that that was the case.’
The doctor gave a small, dismissive shrug.
‘There was perhaps no reason for Antonio to tell you. He was not, after all, close to his older brothers.’
In those few short words the doctor’s contempt and dislike of the dead man was made quite plain.
‘As for your anaemia, it is not unusual for a new mother to suffer from such a condition. The child was delivered several weeks short of full term, I understand?’
‘Yes,’ Julie agreed. ‘He was. He was delivered by Caesarean section.’
James had pleaded with Judy not to go ahead with the early Caesarean she had insisted she wanted, having claimed that ‘everyone’ had their baby a month early to avoid putting on too much weight, but she had refused to change her mind.
‘There were complications?’
Julie was getting into deep and dangerous waters now.
‘No, not really,’ Julie made herself admit.
‘So it was more a matter of convenience?’ The doctor made it clear that he disapproved with his small frown. ‘Such a major operation can affect the health of both mother and child, but I shall know more once I have the results of the blood tests.’
DrVittorio had been thorough; Julie had to give him that. He had taken enough blood from her to fill several small phials, taking swabs from inside her mouth as well—presumably because she had told him that she had had a heavy cold.
He had been professional and courteous, apart from that brief lapse when she had admitted that Josh had been delivered in a non-medically necessary pre-full-term Caesarean. He had to know, of course, that she was not sure if Antonio was the father or not, and that must colour his view of her even if he hadn’t shown it.
Unlike Rocco Leopardi, who had made it very plain what he thought of her morals—or rather what he assumed was the lack of them.
Was she being selfish in hoping that Josh would not turn out to be Antonio Leopardi’s child? No matter who had fathered Josh, she would still love him every bit as much as she did now, but for James’s sake she so much hoped that he was Josh’s father, and that in that way a little of him would live on in Josh. James had been such a kind, loving person, with so much to give. Even though he had fallen so desperately in love with Judy he had always been kind and caring towards her, Julie, never wanting to hurt her. But he had hurt her.
Julie didn’t want to think about that. It was easier and safer to focus on the anger Rocco aroused in her rather than the pain James had caused her. She could never imagine someone like Rocco Leopardi being so gentle with an unwanted ex-lover. He would have no compassion for a woman he no longer wanted in his bed or in his life, and yet when he did desire a woman Julie sensed that his desire would burn white-hot, driven by the kind of sensual sexuality that was still a mystery to her. But then she wasn’t really the kind of woman who ignited that kind of desire in a man, was she? She and James had been friends—good pals, who had enjoyed one another’s company, whose friendship had grown into love. With James Julie had felt safe from the awkwardness and the dread of mockery and rejection she had experienced so much growing up in Judy’s shadow.
During their teens she had had to learn to accept that boys wanted Judy and found her desirable, and that she paled in comparison—just as she had had to learn to put a brave smile on her face when Judy had mocked her publicly in front of those boys for her lack of allure and sexual experience.
When she had gone to university and Judy had gone to train as a beautician Julie had carried with her the hangups of her teens. Julie had met James when she’d started a postgraduate course. He had been doing the same course, but had been a year ahead of her—twenty-four to her twenty-two. He had laughed gently at her when she had explained self-consciously and uncomfortably to him that she was still a virgin and why.
Their lovemaking had been tender and caring, but somehow Julie had always felt conscious of trying not to overwhelm James with her own passionate need. She wondered now if that might have been because she had sensed deep down inside herself that, despite the fact that he had said that he loved her, his love had been more the feelings of a friend than a lover? Because she had feared even whilst she was in his arms that somehow she was not good enough, not worthy of a man’s real passion?
If James hadn’t felt passionate about her then a man like Rocco certainly wasn’t going to be, was he?
Julie was aghast at the speed with which her mind had summoned up such an inappropriate question. Why on earth should she want Rocco to desire her? She didn’t. Not at all—not even one tiny little bit. The very thought of being in his arms and his bed made her feel. Julie could feel her face starting to burn as she fought to reject exactly what it did make her feel.
She couldn’t imagine Judy feeling humiliated because a stunningly handsome and obviously sensual and sexually experienced man had seen her naked. Far from it. Her late sister would have been the first to take advantage of that kind of situation—she’d have been posing and preening and generally making sure that Rocco was so turned on by her body that he couldn’t resist her. Judy had been wholly confident about her own sexuality. Her attitude had been that men found her irresistible. They always had and they always would.
Sometimes Julie wished she could have a little of her sister’s self-confidence, although she shrank from the thought of sleeping around in the way that Judy had done. It would have been good, though, to be able to put Rocco in his place by knowing that she had the power to ensure that if she wanted to do so she could make him want her.
Not that she would have wanted that, of course. The mere thought of being in bed with a man like him, who could probably do things to a woman’s senses with just the touch of his hands on her naked flesh that she couldn’t even imagine, was enough to have her heart thudding in wary warning.
To her shock, Julie realised how far her thoughts had strayed from thinking how much she hoped that Josh was James’s son.
One thing she was determined on, though, no matter who had fathered Josh. She was his legal guardian and she was not going to give him up—to anyone.
‘What will I have to do, if I am anaemic?’ she asked the doctor, seeing that he had finished putting everything back in his bag.
‘That will depend on how severe your anaemia is. You will certainly need iron tablets, and I think perhaps some of our good warm Sicilian sunshine might do you some good—although you will have to wait a week or so longer for that. Shall I tell Rocco that I am ready to test the little one now, with your agreement?’
Julie nodded her head, watching him as he walked over to the door and then opened it, disappearing through it only to return within a matter of minutes, accompanied by Maria, who was carrying Josh, and Rocco.
Josh was wide awake, his face breaking into a wide smile the minute he saw her.
Julie’s heart melted with love.
‘He is still a bit underweight,’ she told the doctor defensively as she thanked Maria and took Josh from her.
She’d already told him about Josh’s post-birth health problems.
The doctor nodded his head, but he was concentrating on checking Josh over.
‘He is a little small for his age,’ he agreed, before asking Julie to hold Josh whilst he did the DNA test.
A few seconds later, watching as he swabbed the inside of the baby’s mouth, Julie’s heart gave an uncomfortable little thud.
That was how you took a sample for a DNA test? Had the reason he had swabbed the inside of her mouth been because he intended to test her DNA? That he might do so had never occurred to her. What did it matter if he did? she asked herself. She and Josh were related, after all.
Related, yes, but she was not Josh’s mother. How accurate would the DNA test be? She didn’t dare ask. But Rocco, it seemed, did.
‘How accurate an indication of the child’s paternity will this test be, and when will we have the results of it?’ he asked the doctor.
‘It will be accurate enough to make it clear whether or not Antonio is the little one’s father,’ Dr Vittorio answered him, smiling at Julie and thanking her for holding Josh steady for him. ‘And I should have the results through within a week.’
Julie couldn’t, of course, ask if he was testing her, and if it was possible to establish her relationship to Josh from the swabs he had taken. They would be suspicious if she did. And besides it didn’t matter anyway, did it? She was Josh’s legal guardian. But Rocco thought that she was Josh’s mother, and she wasn’t.
So what? It wasn’t her fault that Rocco had got things wrong, was it?
She could have and perhaps should have told him the truth in London.
The Leopardi family were obviously used to getting their own way and making their own rules. If Josh was Antonio Leopardi’s son then it might suit the Leopardis merely to have Josh’s legal guardian to deal with and not his birth mother. Instinctively Julie knew that if Josh was Antonio’s son then the Leopardis would do everything in their power to bring him up as one of their own, despite Rocco’s assurance to her that he and his brothers considered the mother and baby bond sacrosanct. After all, she was not Josh’s mother.
The doctor, Rocco and Maria had all gone, and Julie was free to put Josh down on the beautiful baby mat she had found, along with all the other expensive baby equipment, in the room off her own bedroom which had been fitted out as a nursery.
Josh loved lying on his back, and having the freedom to kick and wave his arms in a room warm enough to allow him to do so in comfort. Julie kissed his bare tummy, and laughed when he tightened his fingers in her hair, gently releasing them. He was smiling up at her so happily. Emotional tears filled her eyes. He was James’s child. She was sure of it.
‘You're so precious—do you know that?’ she told him, adding softly, ‘And your daddy would have loved you so very much.’
‘Whoever his daddy actually was.’
Julie’s heart lurched and rolled into her chest wall with a crash that seized her breath.
She hadn’t realised that Rocco had come back, and that he was now standing in the doorway between the nursery and her bedroom. His voice was as hard as diamonds on glass, and able to penetrate her defences just as easily.
‘You may think that I want your half-brother to be Josh’s father because your family is rich, but the truth is that I hope he isn’t,’ she retaliated fiercely, as soon as she could speak.
‘Liar. If that was the truth then you wouldn’t have made contact with Antonio to tell him that you were pregnant, and you certainly wouldn’t have accepted £25,000 from him to buy you off. There’s no point in denying it. The cheque went through Antonio’s bank account.’
Judy had taken money from Antonio Leopardi? She had never said anything about that to Julie. But then that was typical of Judy, and she would have known how much Julie would have disapproved. All Judy had told her was that Antonio Leopardi didn’t want to know that she was pregnant, and that she intended to tell James that the baby was his, having broken off their engagement just before she had gone to Cannes, but knowing that James adored her and would take her back. Which of course he had.
‘Strange and extremely clever, the way you’ve reinvented yourself as such an adoring mother—ready to go without herself in order to benefit her precious child.’
‘There’s more to being a good mother than buying expensive baby clothes,’ Julie defended herself.
‘Yes, and the first of those things is knowing who your baby’s father is. Unless, of course, you do know but you are keeping quiet about it in the hope of getting more money. If that’s the case let me warn you that you’re wasting your time. I’ve already told you what the terms of any deal will be for any child proved not to be Antonio’s.’
‘How typical of a man like you that you think of everything in terms of money. What I want for Josh can’t be bought.’
‘A man like me?’
He had left the doorway now and was striding towards her like some dark avenging Lucifer, intent on her destruction. Julie scrambled to her feet to stand protectively in front of Josh.
‘You, of course, are an expert on the male sex, aren’t you? So tell me. What exactly is a man like me?’
He was standing too close to her. Far too close to her.
‘You’re arrogant and … and selfish. You think that all that matters is what you want, and that just because you want—’
‘Just because I want what? You? Is that what you think?’
Julie was horrified. How on earth had the situation got so out of control so quickly?
‘No, of course not,’ she denied. The way he was looking at her and the silence he was maintaining unnerved her, and so fatally she rushed into it, adding frantically, ‘Why should you want me? I—’
‘You what? You want me to want you? You want me to tell you that every centimetre of you is now committed to my memory and engraved on my sexual responses? That in future I shall never be able to look at or touch any woman without comparing her to you? That from now on the pattern of woman carved on my desire is your image? Is that what you want?’
Without waiting for her response—which was just as well, Julie acknowledged inwardly, because she was in no state to think or say anything after hearing what he had just said—he continued dryly, ‘Of course such things come at a price, don’t they? And for that price I am sure that you would be very willing to assuage my longings and help me expunge those images. We are not, after all, talking of anything here other than a very basic form of lust.’
His voice was soft and mocking, and yet underscored with something age-old, man to woman, that was recognised deep within her. Recognised and responded to, Julie admitted apprehensively. She wanted to run from him, from the unwanted senses deep within her that he had aroused. But—dangerously—even more she wanted to stay. She abhorred what he was saying, and yet a wild, wilful something deep inside her wanted, if only for once, to be the kind of woman who would respond easily to such a challenge and enjoy arousing and sharing his lust—who would feel triumph in having aroused it and who would satisfy it and then walk away from it and from him without a single second of guilt or regret.
Very few women walked away from a man like this one, Julie suspected. It would be very empowering to be a woman who could do so. Judy could have done so, of course—but would she have? Would any woman if she thought—If she thought what? That she could tame Rocco and keep him?
What kind of foolish thoughts were those? In Rocco’s eyes wasn’t she already that woman she had just been describing mentally to herself, since he believed that she was her sister? What would it be like for once in her life to live that role? To know the power of being a woman who gloried in her sexuality and who used it to get whatever she wanted. What would it be like to walk that other road, live that other life, and know her sexuality?
Was she mad? She had other far more important things to think about than finding her own sad, repressed sensuality. She had Josh to think about and to protect.
Rocco gave her a heavy-lidded look of slanting sensuality that heated her blood, spreading arousal through her body unstoppably, like a swift floodtide flowing swiftly under the drag of a full moon. Inescapable and undeniable, it took her and possessed her, running wild and free within her.
‘Nothing to say?’ he challenged her.
It would be his fault if she took up his challenge. And he owed her something, didn’t he, after the way he had behaved towards her? Why didn’t she just take what she wanted? Her heart thumped unsteadily with the enormity of her own unfamiliar thoughts. What she wanted? She didn’t want him, did she? No, of course not. But there was a temptation there—a fierce, yearning surge as volcanic as Etna itself, demanding expression. Maybe so. But it could not be allowed that expression, Julie warned herself sternly.
What she was thinking was far too dangerous, and a form of madness. Perhaps it was a symptom of her anaemia, she thought shakily, like the weakness in her legs and the pounding in her heart.
‘No, I have nothing to say,’ she answered him. ‘You are not Antonio, after all.’
What on earth had she said that for?
‘No, I damned well am not.’
The quietly savage words told her all she needed to know about the extent of her folly—and her danger.
She tried to sidestep it—and him—but it was too late. He caught her as easily as he had lifted and carried her the previous night, his hands curling round her upper arms, making it impossible for her to escape.
‘You might think you are being very clever, taunting me, but I promise you that I shall extract full payment.’ His voice was harsh against her skin, grazing its sensitivity with needle-sharp darts of warning.
