At Dante's Service (10 page)

For a long while afterwards they lay replete in each other’s arms while the serene silence of the house closed around them and the outside world seemed far away. But at last Dante lifted his head and dropped a light kiss on her mouth, surprised by how reluctant he felt to disengage from Rebekah.

Her ex-fiancé was an idiot, he mused, as he shifted onto his side and trailed his fingers over her body. Rebekah was everything a man could want in a wife. It was almost a pity that he had absolutely no desire to try wedded bliss again, because she would be a strong candidate for the role of his wife.

Frowning at the disconcerting train of his thoughts, he rolled onto his back and curled his arms behind his head.

‘You know I’m not going to let you go,’ he murmured, watching her long hair spill around her shoulders as she sat up.

Rebekah tried to control the way her heart leapt at his surprising statement, and it was lucky she did because reality quickly doused her excitement as he continued,
‘I don’t know what Gaspard Clavier said he would pay you to work at his new restaurant, but I’ll better his offer. The Caribbean’s not all it’s cracked up to be, anyway.’ He reached out and touched one of her nipples, smiling when it instantly hardened and she drew a shaky breath. ‘If you carry on working for me I can promise there will be lots of perks,’ he drawled.

‘Mmm, but none that will further my career as a chef, I suspect,’ Rebekah said drily.

Not for the world would she allow Dante to see how much he affected her. He had made love to her with fierce passion but there had been an unexpected tenderness in the way he had kissed and caressed her and it would be easy to pretend that what they had just shared had meant something to him. Fortunately, her common sense reminded her that it had just been great sex, and probably for him it had been no different to sex with any of his previous mistresses.

Reclining indolently on the pillows with a satisfied smile on his lips, he looked like a sultan who had just been pleasured by his favourite concubine. His chiselled, masculine beauty made her heart ache, but his arrogant, faintly calculating expression sent alarm bells ringing inside her head. Dante was used to being adored by women and no doubt he expected that because she had fallen into his bed she found him irresistible and would agree to his every demand—including withdrawing her resignation. It was vital she showed him that their affair was on her terms.

‘One day I hope to open my own restaurant and my ambition is to gain the highest awards,’ she told him. ‘The chance to work for Gaspard will be an invaluable experience that I simply can’t turn down.’

He could count himself lucky that Rebekah was clearly not going to turn into a clinging vine, Dante told himself. It was good she understood he did not want a long-term relationship, and from the sound of it neither did she. He respected that her career was important to her. So why did he feel irritated and strangely let down by her casual attitude? He was tempted to pull her back into his arms and see how cool she remained when he kissed every inch of her body. The memory of how she had writhed beneath him a few moments ago when he had dipped his tongue into the honeyed sweetness of her womanhood had a predictable effect on his body.

But when he rolled towards her and saw her long eyelashes fanned out on her cheeks, a different feeling swept through him. Recounting how her fiancé had dumped her shortly before their wedding and gone off with her best friend must have been emotionally draining and it was no wonder she had fallen asleep. He had a whole month in which to sate himself with her beautiful body, he mused, as he settled her comfortably against his chest. No doubt he would have broken free from the spell she seemed to have cast on him by then.

Rebekah found that she was alone when she opened her eyes. Alone, but in Dante’s bed, and the indentation on the pillow beside her was a clue that she had not been dreaming and she had really spent all night in his arms. But where was he now? Had he left to give her privacy to get up, and would he expect her to be gone when he returned to his room? She wished she was more experienced in the rules of having an affair.

She was about to slide out of bed when the door opened and he strode into the room. Dressed in faded
jeans that clung to his lean hips and a cream polo shirt, he looked heart-stoppingly sexy and disgustingly wide awake, which made her painfully conscious that she had just woken up, even though it was—she glanced at the clock—
nine-thirty
, and sunshine was streaming through the half-open blinds.

‘I can’t believe I slept so late. You should have woken me. If you give me a minute to get dressed, I’ll go and make your breakfast.’

‘Stay where you are,’ he ordered. ‘I’ve made you breakfast for a change.’

She had been so focused on his handsome face that she hadn’t registered the tray he was holding. Her eyes widened when he set it down on her knees. On it was a pot of coffee, a plate of toast, butter and jam, and a plate covered with a lid. Lying on the napkin was a single pale pink rosebud, just unfurling and so exquisite that Rebekah felt a lump form in her throat.

‘I’ve never been served breakfast in bed before,’ she said huskily.

Dante’s smile stole her breath. ‘It was my fault you were so tired,’ he murmured with a wicked gleam in his eyes that made her blush. ‘I thought it was only fair to let you sleep in.’ He lifted up the lid covering the plate with the air of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. ‘I cooked scrambled eggs. I hope they’re done.’

To death, she thought as she stared at the congealed greyish mass on the plate.

‘The toast might be a little crisper than the way you make it.’

And considerably blacker, Rebekah discovered when she picked up a piece and saw the charred underside. ‘Everything looks wonderful,’ she assured him. She was
touched that he had gone to so much effort, especially when she noticed that his thumb was bleeding. ‘What happened to your hand?’

‘The rose put up a fight,’ he said ruefully. To tell the truth, Dante was faintly embarrassed by the moment of impulsiveness that had made him pick a rose from the garden for her. It was not the sort of thing he ever did. When he wanted to give flowers to a woman he instructed his PA to phone a florist and arrange for a bouquet to be delivered. It was a far less painful method, he mused, glancing at the tear on his thumb inflicted by a thorn. But Rebekah’s smile had made it worth it. He lowered his gaze to the creamy upper slopes of her breasts and wished she would finish eating so that he could push the sheet she’d wrapped around her aside.

‘How are the eggs?’

‘Excellent.’ Rebekah took a gulp of coffee to help the rubbery eggs slide down her throat. She picked up the rose and inhaled its delicate fragrance. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured shyly. Her heart skipped a beat when he leaned forward and dropped a light kiss on her mouth. The gentle caress wasn’t nearly enough. Greedily, she wanted more, and parted her mouth beneath his.

The sound of a car horn from outside made him reluctantly draw back and he stood and walked over to the window which overlooked the courtyard.

‘Nicole’s here. She phoned earlier to say she was coming over to discuss taking photos for your cookery book.’ Dante glanced at his watch. ‘I have a few things to see to this morning. But you can thank me properly later,
cara
,’ he drawled, his eyes gleaming with sensual promise and something else that surely could not have been tenderness, Rebekah told herself as she watched
him stroll out of the door. Don’t look for things that don’t exist, she warned herself, and went in search of a vase for the rose.

‘D
ANTE
must be very popular,’ Rebekah remarked to Nicole later that morning as she looked out of the kitchen window and watched another visitor to the Casa di Colombe walk up the driveway. ‘At least six people have paid him a visit today.’

‘They’re coming to his clinic,’ the American told her. She adjusted the angle of the camera on a tripod and checked the viewfinder. ‘That’s better; I can get a close up shot of the food.’

Rebekah wrinkled her brow. ‘What kind of clinic?’

‘Local people come to him for legal advice. Dante is a hero to many of the villagers. Some years ago they faced the threat of losing the land that they had farmed, in some cases, for generations,’ Nicole explained. ‘The company that owned the deeds to the land wanted to sell a huge area to a development company who intended to build a vast holiday complex here. Dante fought a legal battle to help the villagers win the right to buy their farms. He gave his services for free, and put up a lot of his own money to pay the legal costs. Not only that, but he lent many people the money they needed to buy their land without them having to pay any interest on the loans.’ She smiled. ‘So you see he’s highly respected
by everyone around here. The villagers know they can come to him with their problems and he will do his best to help them—and he charges them nothing for his advice.’

Nicole resumed adjusting the settings on her camera, and Rebekah returned to slicing up vegetables to put in a salad for lunch. The more she learned about Dante, the more it became clear that there was another side to the cynical divorce lawyer and heartless womaniser she had believed him to be. He was a man who clearly cared about other people, and who had cared about a woman in his past. What had happened to make him turn his back on relationships? she wondered.

She was still thinking about him when he walked into the kitchen a little while later.

‘Something smells good,’ he murmured, giving her a smile that made her heart flip. ‘I hope we’re going to eat the food after you’ve photographed it.’

‘Your timing’s perfect,’ she told him. ‘We’re almost ready to have lunch. It’s chicken breasts stuffed with wild mushrooms and mozzarella. I just need to add some onion to the salad.’

‘Oh … the smell of onion is revolting,’ Nicole muttered. She had suddenly turned pale, and dropped down onto a chair. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t gone mad,’ she said when Rebekah and Dante stared at her. She grinned at them. ‘I can’t keep it a secret any longer. I’m pregnant.’

Dante reacted instantly, pulling Nicole into his arms and giving her a hug. ‘That’s fantastic news! When is the baby due?’

‘In just over five months. I’m thrilled to bits, but the only down side is that I seem to get morning sickness at all times of the day, and I can’t bear the smell of certain
foods, especially onions.’ She glanced apologetically at Rebekah and gave a shocked cry. ‘Heck—what have you done to your hand?’

‘I wasn’t concentrating and the knife slipped. I’m sure the bleeding will stop in a minute,’ Rebekah mumbled as she wrapped a paper towel around the deep cut. She bit her lip as Dante strode over to her and caught hold of her hand to inspect the wound.

‘I think you’re going to need to have that stitched,’ he growled, his voice rough with concern.

‘It’s fine,’ she insisted tautly. ‘Just put a dressing on it for me.’ She managed to smile at Nicole. ‘I’m so pleased to hear about the baby,’ she said in a fiercely bright tone. ‘You must be over the moon. Try nibbling on a plain biscuit when you feel sick. It should help settle your stomach.’

Dante would not allow Rebekah to cook dinner that evening, insisting that she needed to give her hand time to heal. Instead, he took her to a charming little restaurant in the nearby town of Montalcino, where they ate bruschetta topped with roasted red peppers and olive oil, followed by a creamy risotto that was the best Rebekah had ever tasted.

Afterwards they strolled around the medieval walled town and explored the quaint narrow streets and the charming piazza. ‘It’s such a picturesque place,’ Rebekah said as they walked back to where Dante had parked the car. ‘We must be so high up. The view across the valley is spectacular.’

‘You’ll get a better view when we come back in the daytime.’

Dante glanced at her, relieved that she seemed more
relaxed this evening. His eyes fell to her bandaged hand and his jaw tightened. He had no idea what had upset her earlier, when Nicole had announced that she was pregnant. For some reason he recalled the strange way she had reacted at the christening party for James and Susanna Portman’s baby son. He was certain there was something in her past she had not told him. But there was no reason why she would choose to confide in him, he acknowledged. They were lovers, but at the end of the month they would leave Tuscany and go their separate ways.

It was what he wanted, he assured himself. He wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship and he’d already broken one of his rules and become more involved with Rebekah than he had intended. Experience had taught him that a woman with emotional baggage spelled trouble and his common sense told him to end his affair with her. So why didn’t he? he asked himself impatiently. Why was the idea of sending her back to England so unappealing?

When they got back to the house Dante discovered a message on the answerphone from his office in London. ‘I’ll have to check some information and send a couple of emails,’ he told Rebekah. ‘Why don’t you go up to bed and I’ll join you as soon as I can?’

She nodded and went upstairs. Pausing outside her bedroom, she briefly debated whether to sleep on her own tonight. She knew it was silly, but hearing about Nicole’s pregnancy had stirred up emotions that she had tried hard to bury and she didn’t feel confident that she could make love with Dante and pretend that he did not mean anything to her.

Why not enjoy what we have for as long as either of
us wants it to last?
he had said. But what if she wanted it to last for ever? Tonight, when her heart ached for everything she had lost, she did not want to face the truth that in a few short weeks she would lose him too.

Fifteen minutes later Dante entered his dark bedroom and paused to switch on a bedside lamp before he crossed to the balcony where he could see Rebekah’s outline through the voile curtain.

He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, drawing her against his chest. ‘Why are you out here?’ he murmured, pushing her long silky hair aside so that he could press his lips to the base of her neck. When she made no reply he turned her to face him and felt a cramping sensation in his gut when he saw tears shimmering in her eyes.

‘
Cara
, what’s wrong?’ he said urgently. He lifted up her bandaged hand. ‘Are you in pain? I knew I should have taken you to the hospital to have the cut attended to properly.’

She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t hurt. It was my own stupid fault anyway. I should have been more careful.’

Dante stared intently at her. ‘How come you know what to do to cope with morning sickness?’

She immediately stiffened and attempted to pull away from him, but he held her tight. The sight of a single tear slipping down her cheek touched something deep inside him.

Rebekah knew she was falling apart. A few days ago she would have been horrified to break down in front of Dante. But now … She thought about the breakfast he had made for her, and the rose he had picked and placed on her tray. It had been a kind gesture, nothing more,
but she felt instinctively that she could talk to him, that she could trust him.

‘I had a baby,’ she said in a low voice. She swallowed. ‘He … he died.’

Dante struggled to hide his shock. ‘I’m sorry.’ He knew the words were inadequate and he felt helpless. With an instinctive desire to try and comfort her, he stroked her hair and waited for her to continue.

Rebekah took a ragged breath. ‘I had awful morning sickness for the first few months. That’s how I knew how to advise Nicole.’

‘What happened?’ Dante asked gently.

‘My baby was stillborn when I was twenty weeks into the pregnancy. A routine scan revealed that there was no heartbeat.’ Her voice was carefully devoid of emotion, but Dante sensed how hard she was finding it to talk about the child she had lost and he drew her closer. ‘The doctors didn’t know why he had died, but I had been under a lot of stress and I read afterwards that that could have been a reason.

‘After the scan showed that the pregnancy wasn’t viable—’ she stumbled over the coldly clinical terminology that had been used by the obstetrician ‘—I had to go through an induced labour.’ She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the hot tears seep beneath her lashes. ‘The baby was perfectly formed. He was tiny, of course, so tiny, but absolutely beautiful. I held him and prayed that there had been a mistake, that he would take a breath.’

She couldn’t go on, and buried her face in Dante’s shirt as painful sobs tore her chest. ‘It shouldn’t hurt so much after all this time—’ she wept ‘—but it does. I would give my life to hold my little boy again, to see him open his eyes and smile at me.’

‘Dio, cara,’
he said roughly, ‘who says it shouldn’t hurt? Who says you shouldn’t cry for your son?’

Dante’s voice caught in his throat. He had thought he knew all about pain and loss, but Rebekah’s raw grief made him ache for her. He sank down onto a chair and pulled her into his lap, rocking her as though she were a small child while she cried out the storm.

A long time later, when she was calmer and the tremors that had racked her frame had subsided a little, he asked the question burning in his brain. ‘Was Gareth the baby’s father?’

‘Yes, but he didn’t want our child.’ Rebekah pushed her hair back from her tear-streaked face. ‘I found out I was pregnant two weeks before we were due to get married. Although we hadn’t planned to start a family straight away, I assumed Gareth would be pleased. But he was horrified, and that’s when he told me he had been having an affair with Claire for months and wanted to marry her, not me.’

Dante frowned. ‘Surely he offered to go ahead with the wedding once he knew you were expecting his child?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure what I would have done if he had. I felt utterly betrayed by his relationship with Claire, but I suppose for the sake of the baby I would still have married him. But there was no question of that. Gareth didn’t want me or the baby and he …’ She broke off, still struggling to accept how the man she had believed she loved had treated her.

‘He asked me to have an abortion. When I refused he got angry and said I had no right to go ahead with the pregnancy when he didn’t want the child. It turned out that he had told Claire he had stopped sleeping with me,
which was almost true,’ she said heavily. ‘I’d thought we were both stressed about the wedding and that was why he had been avoiding having sex with me. But there was one night when he’d had a few drinks and we ended up in bed, and that’s when I conceived.

‘All Gareth was concerned about was that Claire would be furious if she found out that he had lied to her. He was desperate for me to get rid of the baby—’ her voice shook ‘—so desperate that he offered to pay me to have a termination.’

Rebekah gave a bitter laugh. ‘He had inherited a large sum of money from his father. He knew I’d dreamed of opening my own restaurant, and he said that if I ended the pregnancy he would buy a place and set me up in business.’

‘That’s why you were so upset about the clothes I bought for you,’ Dante said, understanding now why she had reacted the way she had done. ‘You leapt to the assumption that I was trying to persuade you to be my mistress.’ He shook his head. ‘In my job I’m often appalled by the way clients treat people they supposedly once cared for, but I’m stunned that your fiancé tried to bribe you to get rid of your baby.’ He felt a surge of angry disgust for the Welshman. ‘What a bastard!’

‘I couldn’t believe Gareth could be so heartless,’ she admitted painfully. ‘I thought I knew him. I thought he was an honest, honourable man who would make a good husband and father, and discovering that I had been so wrong about him made me question my judgement.

‘The following months were awful,’ she continued dully. ‘I didn’t tell anyone what Gareth had done but, as news of my pregnancy became public, he put more pressure on me to have an abortion and pretend I had
miscarried. We had some terrible rows and I’m convinced the baby must have been affected by my tension and the stress I was under.’ She twisted her fingers together, her voice shaking. ‘After I had lost the baby, Gareth came to visit me in the hospital, and he said he was sorry our child had been stillborn. But I knew he wasn’t sad. I knew he was relieved and I couldn’t bear to talk to him or be anywhere near him. That’s why I went to London—to get away from all the memories.’ She dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘But memories are inside you and you can’t leave them behind,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll never forget my baby.’

‘Of course you won’t,’ Dante said softly.

Rebekah gave him a surprised look, taken aback by the compassion in his voice. She had expected him to tell her she should put the past behind her, which was the advice she had been given by the few close friends who knew what had happened.

‘Your child was a part of you, and losing him must have been agonising. But he lives on in your heart,
cara
. As for the excuse of a man you were once engaged to—’ his face hardened ‘—all I can say is that you deserve so much better than him, and he did not deserve you.’

‘Gareth and Claire are married, and now they have a baby,’ Rebekah said dully. ‘I feel as though I lost everything, and I don’t know how I will ever be able to trust someone enough to have a proper relationship.’

‘I’m not surprised you feel like that.’ It was exactly how he had felt after Lara had ripped his world apart, Dante thought to himself.

Rebekah sighed. ‘But I’ve got to try. I want a long-lasting marriage like my parents have and I hope one day to have another baby.’ She gave Dante a ghost of a
smile. ‘It’s tempting to lock my heart away and never risk getting hurt again, but that’s cowardly, isn’t it?’