To Wear His Ring Again (13 page)

Isobel stopped in her tracks and stared. She caught sight of an elderly gardener pruning a hedge and walked over to him.

‘The roses are beautiful. It must have taken a lot of work to plant so many.'

His lined face creased into a smile. ‘Not for me.
Il Marchese
planted them for his
bambina
. He comes often. Not to the house. He sits there.' The old man nodded to the bench. ‘There is peace here.'

Isobel understood. The only sound was birdsong and the whisper of the breeze gently stirring the willow tree. The gardener moved away, leaving her alone to admire the roses that were just coming into bloom. All the bushes had pink buds, she realised. Pink for a girl. In the hushed stillness of the garden she thought she heard tinkling laughter. Her vision was blurred with tears and for a moment she was sure she glimpsed a little figure running along the path.

‘Arianna!'

She whirled round, but no one was there. The ache in her throat became unbearable and she sank down onto the bench and allowed her tears to fall.

‘I knew it was a mistake to come.' Constantin's voice, deep as an ocean, sounded close by. Isobel had been unaware that he had followed her from the house. ‘I knew you would find it too painful,' he said thickly. He sat down on the bench and pulled her into his arms, but said nothing more, simply held her and stroked her hair while she wept.

At last she lifted her head and scrubbed her wet face with the back of her hand. ‘I'm not only crying for Arianna. I'm sad because I didn't know how much losing her hurt you.'

She waved her hand at the rose garden. ‘You created this beautiful place in memory of our baby, but I had no idea that you cared. You were so distant, so...contained and unemotional. I needed you,' she told him in a choked voice. ‘I wish we could have grieved together. I was angry because I believed you didn't feel the pain I felt. I even thought that you hadn't wanted our baby. Why couldn't you have told me that you were sad too?'

‘I couldn't,' he said heavily. ‘I can't explain.'

‘Please try, because I want to understand,' she whispered.

Something flared in his eyes, but he turned his head away from her tear-streaked face and said nothing.

‘Diane said that you didn't cry at your mother's funeral. I don't understand. You were eight years old and I know you loved her. You keep the model sports car she gave you for your birthday locked in a glass cabinet.'

‘My father told me I mustn't cry,' Constantin said harshly. ‘He said that crying was a sign of weakness and De Severino men are not weak.'

‘So that's why your father didn't show any emotion when he stood at your mother's grave. Diane said...' Her voice faltered when he frowned.

‘Diane obviously said a damn sight too much.'

His mouth twisted. As Constantin had walked through the grounds of the chapel and heard Isobel weeping he'd felt a pain beneath his breastbone, as if his heart had splintered. His first instinct had been to leave her to grieve alone as he had done when she'd had the miscarriage. But something had made him turn back to her.
Are you going to keep running away for ever?
she had asked him.

Dio!
She had made him take a long, hard look at himself, and he had felt ashamed. Since he was a boy, he had believed that emotions were a sign of weakness. But who was the coward—brave, strong Isobel who was honest about her feelings? Or him, a grown man too scared to allow himself to feel the emotional highs and lows that were part of life?

‘Diane did not see what I saw.'

Isobel stared at him, shocked by the rawness in his voice. ‘What did you see?'

He shook his head and hunched forwards, his shoulders bowed. ‘I saw my father crying.'

Constantin was eight years old again, standing outside his father's study listening to the terrible moans coming from behind the closed door. He'd been scared that a
cinghiale
had got into the house and was goring his father with its sharp tusks. His heart had thudded beneath his ribs as he'd slowly pushed open the door.

‘On the night my mother was buried I heard strange noises from my father's study,' he told Isobel. ‘I went in and saw him rolling on the floor as though he was in agony.' Constantin let out a ragged breath. ‘Franco was crying in a way I'd never seen anyone cry before. I was just a child...and I was frightened. My father had told me that only weak men cried. He looked up and saw me and he was angry, shouting at me to go away. I ran to the door, but he called to me. “Now you know how cruel love is, how it brings a man to utter despair and misery.”'

Constantin could hear his father's voice. He glanced at Isobel and saw a mixture of shock and sympathy in her hazel eyes that tugged on something deep inside him.

‘The next day, my father was his usual, cold self. Neither of us ever spoke about what had happened, but I sensed he was ashamed that I had witnessed his breakdown. He sent me away to school and I saw very little of him when I was growing up. But the memory of him sobbing, and the realisation that love had reduced my proud father to a broken man, stayed in my mind. I was frightened by the destructive power of love, and how it could make a man weak. At eight years old I learned to keep my emotions locked inside me.'

‘But you did care about our baby,' Isobel said softly. ‘You couldn't cry for Arianna, but you planted this garden for her.'

She stood up and walked among the rose bushes, leaning down to inhale the delicate perfume of the unfurling petals. Her heart ached. She felt unbearably moved by Constantin's admission that he could not show his emotions, but Arianna's garden was proof that he had shared her devastation at the loss of their daughter.

Constantin broke off a rosebud from a bush and handed it to her before he swept her up in his arms.

‘What are you doing?' Her breath left her body in a shaky sigh. The temptation to rest her aching head on his shoulder was too strong to resist.

‘What I should have done two years ago. I'm going to take care of you,
tesorino
,' he said softly. ‘I'm going to run you a bath, and I'm going to cook dinner for you—' he looked into her eyes, and Isobel's heart leapt at the sensual promise in his gaze ‘—and then I am going to make love to you.'

‘You can't carry me all the way back to the house,' she murmured. But he did, and when he entered the cool marble hallway of Casa Celeste he continued up the stairs to the master bedroom and into the en suite bathroom, where he filled the sunken bath with water and added a handful of rose-scented crystals.

His hands were gentle as he unbuttoned her shirt and placed it on the chair before he removed her skirt and underwear. She gathered her hair up and pinned it on top of her head, exposing her slender neck.

‘You're beautiful,' he said roughly. ‘I knew the moment I saw you that I was in trouble.' He turned to walk out of the bathroom, but she touched his arm.

‘After I lost the baby I felt angry when you suggested we make love because I thought it was proof that you didn't care.'

He shook his head. ‘I didn't know how else to reach out to you. Bed was the one place where we understood each other's needs perfectly, and I wanted to show you what I couldn't say with words. I knew I had failed you. I knew you wanted more support from me...' his voice became husky ‘...but the truth is that hearing you crying was something I couldn't deal with. When you pushed me away, I told myself it was no more than I deserved. I decided to wait until you gave some sign that you wanted me.'

Isobel glanced ruefully at her swollen nipples. Her breasts felt heavy and the sweet ache between her legs could only be assuaged by Constantin. ‘In case you've missed the signs my body is sending you, I want you,' she said softly.

His chest lifted as he drew a jerky breath. She looked heartbreakingly fragile and emotionally spent. ‘You need food, rest...'

She stepped towards him and reached up to brush her mouth lightly across his. ‘I need you.'

Luckily it was a big bath. He helped her step into the water and slid in behind her. She leaned back against his chest and sank deep into a world of pleasure, where nothing existed but the drift of his hands on her body as he caressed her breasts, cupping them and feeling their weight, before he moved lower.

‘Mind where you put that bar of soap,' she murmured and heard his husky chuckle in her ear as he dropped the soap and used his fingers in an intimate exploration that made her catch her breath. ‘Constantin...' Her voice was urgent as she felt her pleasure build. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs and she tried to turn towards him.

‘This is for you
, tesorino
.' He held her firmly in place and used his fingers to wicked effect while his other hand stole up to her breasts to tease each rose-tipped point in turn until her breathing quickened. He felt the sudden tension in her muscles, and he held her there, poised on the brink for a few seconds before sliding his fingers deeply into her to capture the frantic pulse of her orgasm.

Afterwards he dried her with a soft towel and smoothed fragrant oil over every centimetre of her skin, paying such careful attention to certain areas of her body that Isobel ached to take him inside her. Somehow they made it into the bedroom, and he placed her on the edge of the bed and stood between her legs, spreading her wide and sliding his hands beneath her bottom to angle her for his complete possession.

Their eyes met, held, and time stood still. There was no teasing gleam in his bright blue gaze now, just a stark need that touched Isobel's heart and made her think of the young boy who had stood beside his mother's grave and forced his lips not to tremble and his tears not to fall.

There were still many unanswered questions, but he had been right when he'd said that when they made love they understood each other perfectly.

There was no need for words. Their bodies moved in total accord and she arched beneath him to meet each powerful thrust as he drove her higher and higher. She sensed he was holding back, and his infinite care brought tears to her eyes. Tenderness was a new element to his desire and she loved him all the more for it, but what she needed right now was his hunger, his primitive need to claim her as his own.

There was no need for words. She told him in her evocative kiss that shook him with its innate sensuality exactly what she wanted from him. Passion, raw and honest and demanding a response she gave him with a willingness that rocked him to the depths of his soul as they climaxed simultaneously and tumbled together in a glorious freefall.

A long time later, hunger of a different kind prompted Constantin to head downstairs to the kitchen to prepare the dinner he had promised Isobel. They had picked up steaks and salad on the drive to the house, and the cellar offered a wide selection of vintage wines. He chose a fifteen-year-old Barolo, collected glasses and cutlery and set a table outside on the terrace overlooking an informal flower garden.

The mingled scents of jasmine and night-scented stocks greeted Isobel as she sat down opposite Constantin. Her heart fluttered madly like a trapped bird beneath her ribcage as she stared at the jewellery case he placed in front of her. The yellow diamond solitaire he had given her when he had asked her to marry him, the day after she had told him she was expecting his baby, lay next to the plain gold wedding band she had pulled from her finger before she had rushed out of the house in Grosvenor Square two years ago.

She lifted her eyes to his, silently questioning him.

‘I would like you to wear your rings again
,
Isabella,
'
he said levelly.

He did not embellish the statement with flowery phrases, or say that he loved her, but she had not expected him to. Maybe he would never be able to share his feelings in words, but hadn't he shown her when he had made love to her with tender passion that he believed they shared something special?

But was it enough? She bit her lip. ‘My career...?'

‘Will, I'm confident, continue to go from strength to strength. I listened to the Stone Ladies' latest album while I was making dinner, and there is no doubt that all the members of the band are talented musicians, but you especially,
cara
. You have an exceptional voice.'

He was blown away by her talent, Constantin thought to himself. Isobel had a gift for singing and song writing, but when they had been together he'd been jealous of the time she spent with the other band members and he had not been supportive or understood why having a career was so important to her.

He picked up her wedding ring and felt her hand tremble as he slid the gold band onto her third finger. Her diamond engagement ring caught a moonbeam and sparkled with fiery brilliance that reflected the fire in her eyes.

‘Food,' he said huskily, uncovering the serving plates where he had piled the grilled steaks. ‘Something tells me I'm going to need plenty of protein for strength and stamina tonight.'

‘Believe it,' she told him sweetly. ‘You have two years to make up for.'

The sultry gleam in his eyes heightened Isobel's anticipation, as did his murmured, ‘I will endeavour to give you complete satisfaction,
tesorino
.'

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
HE
SEQUENCE
OF
EVENTS
was familiar. The sound of raised voices at the top of the tower. He looked up and saw his father and stepmother. Lorena was falling, screaming—and then her screams stopped. There was so much blood. It was on his hands as he knelt beside her, rolled her over and saw that it wasn't Lorena, but Isobel, lying lifeless on the ground. And now he was standing on the balcony at the top of the tower, stretching his hands towards Isobel. There was blood on his hands.

* * *

No!
Mio Dio
,
no!

Constantin jerked upright, panting, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts like a marathon runner pushing himself towards the finishing post. He ran a trembling hand across his brow and turned his head slowly, almost scared of what he might see on the pillow beside him. The pale gold of dawn's first light drifted through the half-open curtains and played in Isobel's hair. Her face, flushed rose-pink in sleep, was serene and so lovely that his stomach muscles clenched. There was no blood, and she wasn't lying in a crumpled heap at the base of the tower. He had been dreaming.

Taking care not to wake her, he slid out of bed and walked across to the window. The bedroom overlooked the courtyard. The bloodstains that had covered the cobbles beneath the tower had long since been washed away, but the images in his head,
Dio!
He would never forget what he had witnessed when he had been seventeen, Constantin thought grimly. He would never forget watching his father stretch a hand towards Lorena seconds before she had fallen. His nightmare, like all his other nightmares, was a warning. What if he was truly his father's son? What if he had inherited the monstrous jealousy that had turned Franco into a murderer?

He looked back at Isobel, sleeping peacefully and unaware of the danger she was in. But he knew. He had known from the first night that they had become lovers and he'd had his first nightmare that he should never have got involved with her.

He stood by the window for a long time, lost in his dark thoughts that the sun, rising high in the sky, could not lighten. Isobel stirred but fell back to sleep. Her exhaustion wasn't surprising after they had spent all night pleasuring each other. Constantin closed his eyes and pictured her slender body poised above him as she had lowered herself onto him; her sweet smile as she had taken him deep inside her and their two bodies had become one.

The sound of a car driving into the courtyard below pulled him back to the present. His uncle was early for their meeting. He paused on his way out of the room to look at Isobel. His resolve hardened. The time had come for him to take control of his future.

* * *

Isobel stretched languorously and felt a pleasurable ache in certain muscles. Her entire body tingled, especially her breasts and between her legs where Constantin had devoted his lavish attention. Her face grew warm as she recalled vividly the many and varied ways he had made love to her the previous night. She turned her head towards the empty pillow beside her and wished she had woken in his arms. But the clock told her that the morning was nearly afternoon and he had obviously decided that she needed to sleep in after their energetic night.

The diamond on her finger glinted as it caught a sunbeam, and she could not hold back a smile of pure happiness. Last night Constantin had returned her engagement and wedding rings to their rightful place, and today was full of hope and promise for the future.

She heard his voice from the study when she went downstairs, and guessed he was speaking on the phone. Deciding not to disturb him, she continued into the kitchen in search of a caffeine fix. The percolator was bubbling. Her eyes flew to the man seated at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. She recognised him as Constantin's uncle, Alonso, whom she had met briefly when he had been a guest at their wedding.

He stood up as she entered the kitchen and proffered his hand. ‘Isobel, I am delighted to find you here at Casa Celeste with your husband.' Alonso spoke in a thick Italian accent.

His words sent a little jolt of surprise through her until she realised that he was looking at her wedding and engagement rings on her finger.

‘I'm glad to be here with Constantin,' she murmured as she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table.

‘So, all is well with you and Constantin and you are reconciled. That is good news. The board of DSE are pleased that he has put an end to his playboy image and the newspapers now portray him as a respectable married man. It's amazing what a little coercion can do.'

Isobel set her coffee cup carefully back in its saucer. ‘Coercion?' she said faintly. ‘I'm not sure I understand.'

‘But yes, I prompted my nephew, I...how do you say in English? I gave him a little push to encourage him to resume his marriage.' The elderly man smiled at her. ‘I think I do you the favour, hmm? I told Constantin that I would appoint him as Chairman of the company only if he mended his wild ways and returned to his wife.'

‘When...' she swallowed, trying to stem the nausea that swept through her ‘...when did you tell Constantin this?'

He shrugged. ‘I know the exact date. It was the fifteenth of this month, my seventieth birthday. I told him that I wanted to retire and I was considering making his cousin Maurio Chairman unless Constantin could convince me that he was ready to commit to DSE by honouring his commitment to his marriage.'

The
sixteenth
of June had been the date of the fund-raising party in London where the Stone Ladies had performed, and later Constantin had kissed her very publicly on the dance floor.

Functioning on autopilot, Isobel drank the rest of her coffee, grimacing as she swallowed the bitter grounds at the bottom of the cup. Constantin had told her that he'd changed his mind and wanted to give their marriage another chance the evening
after
he had been given an ultimatum by his uncle to return to his marriage or lose the chairmanship of DSE.

She had been such a fool! She felt as if the spark of life itself had drained out of her, and her coffee cup slid out of her numb fingers and clattered onto the saucer.

‘I can't believe it,' she whispered.

Alonso chuckled, blithely unaware of the bombshell he had dropped. ‘
Sì,
for me also it is hard to believe I am seventy. I am looking forward to spending more time on the golf course now that Constantin is to be Chairman.' He looked concerned when he noticed how pale she had gone. ‘Are you ill?'

Isobel scraped her chair on the tiled floor as she staggered to her feet. ‘I feel a little...
nauseato
.'

‘Ah.' Alonso nodded. ‘
Un bambino,
perhaps?'

Sweet heaven! Her heart missed a beat. Fate would surely not play such a cruel trick as to give her a child now, when she had proof of Constantin's duplicity, she tried to reassure herself as she hurried out of the kitchen. But thudding inside her head was the knowledge that she had left her contraceptive pills behind at her flat in London when Constantin had driven her straight from the hospital to the airport and they had boarded his jet to fly to Rome. When they'd had sex she had completely forgotten that she was not protected.

She was halfway across the hall, marching towards the study, when the door opened and he emerged.
‘Tesorino.'
His smiled faded when he saw the grim purpose in her expression.

‘Don't
tesorino
me!' she snapped, but her eyes absorbed his male beauty; the sculpted angles of his face, and his powerful body clothed in sun-bleached jeans that clung to his hips and a cream cotton shirt open at the throat to reveal a fuzz of black chest hairs. She would love him until she died and the knowledge fuelled her anger.

‘I want the truth.'

He raised an eyebrow, but beneath his nonchalance she sensed that he was as tense and watchful as a jungle cat stalking prey.

‘I have never lied to you, Isabella
.
'

‘Did you ask me to give our marriage another chance so that your uncle would appoint you Chairman of DSE instead of your cousin?'

Isobel's question echoed around the marble hall, and it seemed to Constantin that the air trembled as it waited for him to reply. He watched dust motes dance in a shaft of sunlight streaming through a window, while his mind relived the nightmare he'd had about her. The sun touched Isobel's hair and bathed her in a halo of golden light, and as he stared at her lovely face he suddenly knew what he must do.

He shrugged. ‘
Mea culpa
. I assume you have spoken to Alonso, so it would be pointless for me to deny it.'

The world rocked beneath Isobel's feet but through sheer force of will she remained standing. She wanted to hurt him as she was hurting, and her hand shot out to connect with his cheek, leaving a scarlet imprint of her fingers on his skin. He flinched, and she felt sick with shame. She abhorred physical violence and she hated herself for her betraying loss of control.

‘You bastard,' she choked. ‘I suppose you returned my rings last night knowing that Alonso was coming to Casa Celeste today.'

In her mind she heard Diane Rivolli at the Bonuccis' party.
Constantin would go to any lengths to claim the chairmanship of DSE that he thinks is his birthright.

She tugged her engagement ring and wedding band off her finger and hurled them at him one at a time.

‘You keep them,'
she said hoarsely. Her throat felt as if she had swallowed glass. ‘I don't want them. Maybe in the future you'll fool another woman into thinking that you do actually have a heart rather than a lump of stone in your chest, and you can give them to her. But sooner or later she'll discover that there's nothing but an empty, emotionless void where your heart should be.'

The rings bounced off his chest and flew up into the air. The yellow diamond glinted in the sunlight before the two rings fell back to the ground and skidded across the marble floor. Isobel did not see where they landed. She spun away from Constantin and flew across the hall. His car keys were on the table and she snatched them up on her way out of the front door.

‘
Isobel!
For Christ's sake be careful,' he shouted after her, sharp urgency in his voice. ‘You're not used to driving such a powerful car.'

It was typical that he was more concerned about his car than her, she thought bitterly as she thrust the key into the ignition. The engine roared into life, and when she touched the accelerator pedal the car shot forwards so fast that the tyres spun and sent up sprays of gravel. Tears choked her. Her marriage had been a farce from the start, and now it was over for good.

* * *

The sports car was a strong-willed beast that needed to be firmly controlled and as Isobel negotiated the sharp bends along the narrow road leading from Casa Celeste she focused on staying alive. But with every mile that she drove away from Constantin the pain inside her intensified until she could barely breathe and she could no longer hold back her tears.

After a narrow shave with a cart being pulled along the road by a donkey, she turned off into a small village and parked in the central square that was deserted in the middle of the day when the sun was at its hottest and the villagers retreated to their houses.

She cried until her chest hurt. She had been such a fool. When Constantin had told her a few days ago that he had not only married her because she had been pregnant, she had actually believed him. Anger burned in her gut. She wanted to rip his heart out as he had ripped out hers. She wanted him to suffer as she was suffering, but he never would because he was made of stone. He had deliberately and cold-heartedly used her to gain the chairmanship of DSE. He had seduced her and made love to her, he'd even gone to the length of asking her to wear her wedding ring again—
but it had all been lies
!

She stuffed her fist into her mouth to hold back her cry of pain. She would never, ever forgive him for his cruel deception. Why hadn't she gone ahead with the divorce when he had first asked her, instead of clinging to the stupid hope that he might actually care for her? Memories of her father's lack of interest opened up an old wound. She hadn't been good enough, clever enough—simply not enough for her father, who had loved her brother but not her. It was bitterly ironic that Constantin, the only man she had fallen in love with, had never loved her either.

Wearily, Isobel dug out a tissue from her handbag and wiped her eyes. What had she expected from Constantin? He had told her that he found it difficult to show his emotions, but the truth was that he only cared about one thing and that was DSE. He was driven, ambitious and utterly ruthless.

She took a ragged breath, and was about to turn the ignition key to restart the car when she pictured in her mind the rose garden he had created in memory of their baby. He had chosen pink rosebuds for Arianna, and he had dug the garden himself, laboured long and hard to make a place of beauty and peace where he could sit and remember a little girl who had never lived but had a special place in his heart.

Those were not the actions of a ruthless man, Isobel conceded. She bit her lip, remembering how he had taken care of her after she had been attacked by the stalker. He had been determined to protect her, and had even hired a bodyguard, even though she had told him not to.

But it had been in his interest to protect her, she reminded herself. He had needed to show his uncle that he had reconciled his marriage, and she had just been a pawn in his ambition to take control of DSE...hadn't she?

It was too hot inside the car for her to think straight. She climbed out of the vehicle and locked it. The luxurious sports car was very noticeable in the village square, and a group of small boys were staring at it with wide-eyed fascination. Perhaps all boys loved sports cars, Isobel thought as she walked over to the shade of an oak tree. She remembered the model car that Constantin's mother had given him for his eighth birthday and which he kept locked in a cabinet as if it were as priceless as the crown jewels.