A Vengeful Passion

скачать книгу бесплатно


The fish-out-of-water sensation she had often experienced in Vito’s radius four years previously returned to haunt her. This was not her world. The daughter of a man who ran a car dealership did not belong in such a rarified milieu, and if she had ever thought otherwise she had once received firm confirmation of her unsuitability from another Cavalieri. Not Vito…his mother. With the discipline of long practice she suppressed that most degrading memory. Somewhere she still had the cheque Elena di Cavalieri had left behind.

A manservant served the meal. Although Ashley had scarcely eaten from the hour of Tim’s arrest, she could only manage to push the food round her plate and sip at the wine. Vito, on the other hand, worked with well-bred restraint and no lack of appetite through each light course, unperturbed by her stony response to his conversational sallies.

Coffee was served in the spacious lounge. Ashley flung herself down on a feather-stuffed sofa. ‘Well, let’s hear it, then,’ she invited, tilting her chin in an upward thrust, ‘this strong motivation for wanting to marry me that required greater privacy.’

‘Naturally I’m not considering a lifetime commitment,’ Vito asserted from his stance by the fireplace. ‘But it has occurred to me that you could well be worth every pound your brother has cost me and more.’

‘How?’ she demanded baldly, tension tightening her muscles; she hadn’t a clue what he could be driving at and she hated the sensation of being in the dark. It seemed that she had been right. Clearly Vito did have a more devious reason than rampant desire for the outrageous demand that they unite in holy wedlock—unholy wedlock, she adjusted inwardly, reflecting on the sheer frequency and violence with which they had fought in the past.

Vito continued to study her with curiously intent golden eyes. ‘There is only one thing in life I really want which fate has so far denied me.’

‘The British Crown Jewels?’ Ashley gibed. ‘I can’t think of much else that you couldn’t contrive to buy.’

‘I want a child,’ Vito imparted, as if she hadn’t made that facetious remark.

The announcement hit her like a punch in the gut. It turned her to stone, freezing her usually expressive face, but she could feel the blood slowly draining away from below her skin, the sudden mad thump of an accelerated heartbeat and a twisting pulling of pain deep down in her stomach.

Could he know…could he possibly know about the child she had miscarried? A shred of sanity returned to soothe her. There was absolutely no way that Vito could know about her pregnancy back then.

‘You don’t have any children?’ She had to force the question from between dry, strained lips. For the past four years she had rigidly refused to think about the fact that Vito would most assuredly be fathering the children he had always admitted he wanted with another woman, the children she had flatly refused even to consider having with him.

‘Six months after our marriage, Carina became ill,’ Vito volunteered with visible reluctance. ‘She had leukaemia. With the treatment involved there was naturally no question of even attempting to conceive a child.’

Ashley was shattered. In the midst of her current plight, it had not even occurred to her to wonder how so young a woman had died, but she had dimly assumed it might have been a car accident, something like that. This was entirely different. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered dazedly, still too confused to put together what he was telling her.

‘Why should you be?’

‘Because I’m not a totally unfeeling bitch!’ Ashley lanced back at him furiously. ‘Is my sympathy less acceptable than other people’s?’

Pale beneath his dark skin, Vito released his breath in a hiss. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘Somehow it is.’

She was trying to put together what he had so far said. A glimmer of the truth threatened and she thrust it away, unable to believe that her own reasoning was leading her in the right direction. ‘What,’ she began a little unsteadily, ‘has the fact that you want a child got to do with me?’

‘I’m prepared to marry you so that you can give me that child.’

Ashley slid slowly upright in a movement lacking her usual supple grace. A dark, deep flush had overlaid her translucent skin. ‘You’re insane!’ she gasped.

‘I don’t see why it should be so impossible a request. It’s certainly not insane,’ Vito countered. ‘You’re absolutely perfect for the role of surrogate mother. You don’t want children of your own. After the child was born we would divorce and you would be free to continue your life as you wish without any interference from me.’

Ashley raked a shaking hand through her tousled hair and stared at him, wild-eyed with disbelief. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. It’s the most obscene suggestion I’ve ever heard! You could go out there and marry any one of a dozen women, I’m quite sure, and have a family the same way anyone else does!’

‘But I don’t want another wife.’ Vito cast her a grim smile. ‘Not a “forever and ever” wife. It would be wickedly unfair of me to marry another woman purely and simply to have a child. I could not sustain such an empty pretence of a relationship—’

‘But you evidently don’t consider it wickedly unfair to do that to me!’ Ashley interrupted tempestuously.

‘There would be no pretences in our relationship and, in any case, you are scarcely in the normal run of your sex. You don’t even like children. You have never had any intention of tying yourself down to such a responsibility or of risking your career by taking time out to have a family. You told me all that quite unforgettably four years ago.’

She wanted to scream at him that she had been nineteen years old and as opinionated and untried in her convictions as most teenagers were. Her shrinking distaste from the very idea of pregnancy had been formed while she watched her mother’s health dragged down by a countless succession of miscarriages in pursuit of the son her father had been so selfishly determined to have.

‘You have years ahead of you in which you could marry again,’ she flung at him tautly.

‘But I may never meet someone I wish to marry. Apart from that possibility,’ Vito rejoined, ‘I have no desire to be an elderly father. My father was nearly fifty when I was born, and now he’s dead. We were never close. There was too big an age-gap.’

He had never told her that his father had been so much older. Elena di Cavalieri must have been at least thirty years her husband’s junior. Ashley’s mind shifted away from the side-issue, which was so much more easy to consider than the absolutely impossible proposition Vito was putting before her. A hysterical laugh fluttered in her throat. Dear God, if only he knew that he had so nearly become…but then, it hadn’t been so nearly, she reminded herself, thinking of how tragically short-lived her pregnancy had been and then reflecting in the same almost hysterical vein that, if Vito knew the female gynaecological history of her family, she would be the very last woman he would have approached with such a demand!

‘I never dreamt you would even consider me worthy of such an honour as providing you with an heir,’ Ashley delivered, terrified that her perilously thin control would splinter into shards in front of him. ‘Not with the opinion you have of me.’

Vito’s hard mouth tightened. ‘You are physically very attractive, mentally very bright, and morally very courageous.’

Ashley was beginning to shake. ‘You mean I score straight As as a potential cuckoo-type mother but fail all along the line as a woman!’

‘I don’t believe I said that.’ Vito watched her with veiled eyes.

‘But that’s what you meant!’ Ashley lashed back at him painfully. ‘You think a real woman puts a man before everything else in her life, including herself!’

‘All I do know is that in your case,’ Vito breathed harshly, ‘I was not the man capable of persuading you to make the smallest compromise or sacrifice on my behalf.’

Ashley loosed a high-pitched laugh. ‘A small compromise? A small sacrifice?’ she echoed. ‘Move to Italy, give up my studies and all hope of ever having an independent career, marry you against my most basic instincts and then proceed to produce progeny with rabbit-like efficiency! All those months you pretended that you understood how I felt—’

‘I was being remarkably patient and tactful,’ Vito incised.

‘You were being bloody devious and dishonest!’ Ashley countered.

‘I was compromising my own convictions in an attempt to save our relationship,’ Vito bit out between clenched teeth. ‘There were times I wanted to shake you until your teeth rattled! There were times I wanted to use physical force to make you listen to me! Times I wanted to get inside your head and rearrange the circuitry into some form of normality—’

‘I always said the only sort of real woman you could cope with would be a housekeeping robot!’ Ashley spat, grabbing up her bag. ‘I’ve had enough of this, and I wouldn’t like to tell you exactly what I think of your baby-boom proposition, although I would dearly like to tell you what to do with it!’

‘You walk out of that door and your brother goes to prison!’

Ashley froze with her hand reaching out towards the door and slowly swung back. ‘You bastard!’ she gasped strickenly, recalled to reality again with a nasty jerk when for a few minutes there it had almost been like old times, when they had fought hammer and tongs, no insult too low to be utilised, no theme too sensitive to employ.

‘I am what you made me,’ Vito responded very softly, a dark brilliance simmering like the start of a summer storm in the back of his fierce gaze. ‘The guy who gave you fabulous sex but no deeply unsatisfied longing for a permanent commitment.’

Ashley snatched up her abandoned coffee-cup and threw it at him with an unrepeatable word. ‘How dare you talk to me like that?’ she seethed.

The cup smashed harmlessly against the edge of the fireplace but the contents spattered Vito’s jacket. It served him right, Ashley thought furiously. Vito had always seemed to have the opinion that it was somehow beneath him to duck when she threw things.

‘You know, my father once assured me that a gentleman never hits a lady,’ Vito murmured half under his breath. ‘Therefore I should feel quite free to retaliate. After all, there is no individual worthy of the title of a lady currently in this room.’

‘You lay a finger on—’ Ashley broke off as a quiet knock on the door prefaced the entry of the manservant with the offer of a second cup of coffee.

‘Thank you,’ Vito stated straight-faced. ‘But I’ve had all the coffee I can handle.’

As the door shut, a powerful hand closed round one of Ashley’s wrists and yanked her bodily forward, her slender five-foot-two-inch figure suddenly twisting away from his proximity in dismay.

‘Let go of me!’ she seethed, and when her demand was ignored something snapped inside her. Determined to break that controlling hold, she went wild, arms flailing, legs kicking. Vito lifted her off her feet with frightening strength, shook her once in mid-air, making her feel maddeningly like a rag doll, and brought her down again in a similarly controlled landing.

‘If you want to behave like a wild animal,’ Vito intoned in even addition, ‘I will be more than happy to supply you with a cage.’

Shocked and winded by the merciless speed of his response, she clashed with glittering golden eyes. The collision left her breathless. The final token struggle, she conceded dully, was over. Not surprisingly, she had lost. She had never won many points with Vito. If she was strong-willed and stubborn, Vito was doubly so. With a knife at his throat, Vito would disdain retreat. His temperament was as fiery as her own but his was controlled by the cool of intellect, not by passion. And in any confrontation he would always triumph on the ruthless edge of that streak of cruelty that was uniquely his. And now it seemed that he had her precisely where he had always wanted her…absolutely and irrevocably within his power.

Abruptly her thought-train was broken by the awareness that Vito had not yet freed her from his hold. Forced into rawly intimate acquaintance with every sleek, hard angle of his lean, muscular length, she attempted to edge out of reach. An imprisoning hand splayed across her hipbone, reinforcing the physical contact she was suddenly desperate to avoid.

‘Leave me alone!’ she demanded wildly.

Ruthless fingers knotted and twisted into the tangled fall of her hair, tipping her head back.

‘You’re behaving like an—’

‘An aroused male?’ Vito vented a low-pitched laugh that did something inexcusable to the level of support offered by her knees. ‘But I am. Very aroused.’

‘V-Vito…no!’ But he had already pressed his mouth hotly to the tiny pulse flickering wildly in the hollow of her throat and she moaned, beginning to tremble like someone caught unexpectedly in a violent storm. Somewhere in the bemused reaches of her brain she was recalling that she had this one weak spot where Vito was concerned. When he touched her…oh, God, when he touched her! The tip of his tongue delved provocatively between her mutinously closed lips and withdrew again.

A choked whimper broke low in her throat, sudden raw and delicious tension of a different kind jerking her every muscle tight, driving every single rational thought from her swimming head.

Involuntarily her whole body was reaching up and out, reacting to the lure of an anticipation that dug painful claws of need into her flesh. Slowly, unbearably slowly, so that her hands clutched pleadingly at his broad shoulders, he brought his mouth down to the now opened invitation of hers.

He kissed the same way he made love: with fire and passion and unholy sexual intensity. Her every skin cell came alive in one gigantic whoosh of feeling. Her skin was clammy, her breasts were swelling and her nipples were pinching into aching tightness. Liquidity ran in a river of drowning weakness through her limbs and she would have sagged if he hadn’t been holding her upright. For long timeless moments, she was in a hot, swirling darkness where only the primitive demands of her own body held sway. He moved against her, lithely erotic as a jungle cat, letting her feel the thrusting evidence of his masculinity. She gave up on the unequal fight and folded into the heat and hardness of him, abandoning herself to the savage potency of his hunger as he swept her off her feet and carried her out of the room.

‘Take the rest of the day off.’

She heard that. She heard him speaking to someone. That penetrated the haze of passion even as she registered that Vito sounded most unlike his usual cool, controlled self. Some physical sense of where she was penetrated as he brought her down on some unyielding horizontal surface, and her eyes flew wide open, trained to his darkly handsome face above hers, taut and flushed and determined with the force of a hunger she too well understood.