Dante's Marriage Pact (14 page)

“And the gemologist?”

“Long gone.” He turned to look at her, his eyes empty of emotion. “I'm not sure anyone really believed me when I told them what happened.”

“Oh, Draco, no!”

“I'd always been the troublemaker in the family,” he persisted. “If I'd stolen them, the family preferred to turn a blind eye to my shame. If I'd been careless and allowed someone else to take them, then I was a fool. Of course, it didn't help that I had no business sneaking into the vaults in the first place.”

“How did you get in?”

Draco shrugged. “I lifted Primo's passkey.”

She winced. “Ah. I guess that didn't help matters, either.”

“Not at all.”

“And you've been searching for them ever since?”

He didn't need to answer. She could see it in his face, a
drive and determination every bit as ingrained as it had been in her grandmother. “There's only one left. But if we trace this latest stone back, I'll have the gemologist.”

“Will you be able to prove he's the one who took them?”

“Juice will.” Draco's expression hardened, became as ferocious as a dragon who'd just discovered his treasure had been stolen out from under him. “It would probably be best for all concerned if I stay well away from the man until after we've proven his guilt.”

Shayla studied the diamond again, wishing she had a pair of tweezers so she could get a better look. “This really is a beautiful stone. What's the clarity?”

“Flawless.”

“Really?” she asked, impressed. “Were they all like this one?”

Draco nodded. “All rounds. Ideal cut. All five carats or larger. All fire diamonds.”

She'd received enough training to know her way around gemstones, and come close to guessing the value of what he'd lost. “Dear heaven, Draco,” she murmured.

“Someone lived in style off them. One appears on the market every couple of years, though it takes several months before we find out about it. By then it's changed hands several times and is being offered as a legitimate sale item. This latest one was dumped within the last six to nine months.” He fished a loupe from his pocket, along with a diamond holder. “Would you like to have a look?”

“Thanks, I'd love to.” She carefully picked up the stone and studied it. Something about it nagged at her but before she could make the connection, Stefano began to fuss again. She frowned as she folded the diamond back into its paper liner, then lifted the baby from his carrier. “He's been doing this on and off all day.”

“Let me take him.” Draco eased Stefano into his arms and gave him an expert bounce. “Is he hungry?”

“I just fed him.” She ran her hand over his head. The instant she did, her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, God. He's burning up, Draco. Feel him.”

Draco's hand joined with hers and tension leaped into the muscles along his jaw. “Call Dr. Henderly.” He gave every appearance of calm, except for his eyes. She could see a bone-deep fear lurking in the depths, a fear that warned that she wasn't being a nervous new mother. Something was seriously wrong with their child. “Tell her we're on the way to the emergency room. I'll get the baby strapped into his car seat and pull the car around.”

The next several hours took on a nightmarish quality. The wait to see a physician seemed to take forever. Finally Dr. Henderly appeared and the pace kicked into high gear, speeding by so fast that Shayla had trouble keeping up. The medical staff checked Stefano from head to toe, then stuck an IV in his tiny arm while he screamed his objection.

More than anything she wanted to go to him, to hold him and protect him. Instead, she turned into Draco's arms. She could feel his tension and knew he felt every bit as helpless, holding himself in check through sheer raw nerve. The medical personnel ushered them out of the examination room while they ran a series of tests. Having to walk away from her baby was the most difficult thing she'd ever done. If it hadn't been for her husband, she'd have gone insane.

But he held her. Held her and gave her his strength. Murmured encouragement that gave her hope. Kissed her with a bone-deep passion that told her she wasn't alone and never would be. When they arrived at the waiting room, Shayla discovered that Draco had called the family. One by one they filtered into the area, lending their emotional support,
wrapping father and mother in a protective cocoon of solidarity.

At long last the doctor joined them. Her brows shot up when dozens of Dante eyes fastened on her, all filled with nervous dread. Draco's hold on Shayla tightened, a stalwart buffer, and she had a crazy image of a ferocious dragon planting himself between her and danger, determined to protect her from whatever came next.

Dr. Henderly shot them an encouraging smile. “It's strep throat. Very rare in babies his age, but we've been seeing a lot of it this month and considering how contagious it is…. Fortunately, you discovered it early, so try not to be too alarmed. We'd like to keep him overnight for observation and to give him fluids and antibiotics.” She focused on Shayla and Draco. “The bottom line is, he's going to be fine. Good catch, Mom and Dad.”

Shayla wanted to howl like her baby. Tears she'd fought to suppress rained down her cheeks. Beside her, Draco rocked her in place. “Shh. It's okay now. He's safe.”

She lifted her head, clinging to Draco while she struggled for sufficient control to address the doctor. “When can we see him?” she asked.

“Just give us a minute to get him up to isolation. He'll have to stay there instead of in the nursery since we can't risk his infecting any of the other babies. I'll send a nurse for you. She'll take you straight to your son.”

The instant she left, conversation exploded around Shayla, relief the predominant emotion. All the while, Draco held her and continued to whisper reassurances to her. She'd never have made it through the trauma of the past few hours if it hadn't been for him. He'd been an absolute pillar of strength.

And more, his family had come storming to the rescue, as well. She'd never experienced that before, never had an
extended family to help out in her moment of need. Well, other than her grandmother.

She realized something else, too. Something that shocked her to the core. She wanted Draco beside her. Needed him. She tried to picture what would have happened if she'd been living in Atlanta when Stefano became ill. She wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and clung. She'd have managed. For her child, she'd have done whatever it took.

But she'd have done it alone.

 

Stefano remained in isolation for two endless days before the doctor released him to return home. Though Shayla tried not to fuss throughout the ensuing days and nights, she couldn't seem to help herself, rushing to check on him every time he so much as squeaked. A week after the crisis, Draco caught her hand when she ran upstairs to the nursery for the umpteenth time.

“Enough,” he said, steering her into the master bedroom, a room and a bed they'd shared ever since she gave birth to Stefano.

“But I thought I heard—”

“You heard the same thing I did. A baby sighing in his sleep.”

“I need to check, Draco.”

“Look at me, sweetheart.” He waited until her gaze was fixed on his. “Would I willingly allow anything bad to happen to our son? For that matter, would I allow anything bad to happen to you?”

“No. Never.”

“Then stop. You've been a bundle of nerves this past week and I won't allow it to continue any longer.”

Her eyebrows shot upward. “Won't
allow?
”

He didn't back away from the word. “No. It's not good for you or the baby. Listen to me, Shayla. I grew up with four
male cousins and two brothers, not to mention a sister with a tomboy streak a mile wide. Accidents happen. I should know considering I broke my leg falling out of a tree.”

“Draco.” It clicked then. “The scars on your leg?”

“It was a bad break. It could have turned life-threatening. My parents stood right where we did, terrified, helpless. But afterward they found a way to let go. You can't protect Stefano from every bump and bruise that will come his way. And they will come. Worrying about the what-ifs in life won't help.”

“I know, I know. It's just—” She spared a swift glance toward the bedroom door…and Stefano.

“Will you smother him with worry? Will you clip his wings each time he tries to fly?”

His question hit home and hit hard. Take away Stefano's freedom, the way her grandmother had tried to do with her? Never! “It's just that he's so tiny and helpless.”

Draco smiled gently. “He'll always seem small and helpless. When he's one and wants to walk without you helping him. When he's three and wants to climb the slide by himself. When he's six and goes off to school without you. When he has his first sleepover with friends. When he goes on his first camping trip. When he leaves for college.” Draco gripped her shoulders. “Of course you want to protect him and make sure he takes those steps without putting himself in danger. But you have to let him take them. Do for our son what your grandmother refused to do for you.”

She saw it so clearly, understood it so painfully. “You're right.” She didn't want him to be. But he was.

“The past is over.” Draco gathered her into his arms, his voice lowering. “Focus on right here and now. Stefano is safe and sleeping in his crib, dreaming whatever delightful fantasies babies dream. He saw the doctor only yesterday and she said the infection was gone. Let go now. Take time for yourself.”

Time for herself. It sounded wonderful. She released a gusty sigh. “What do you suggest I do with all this time for myself?”

He paused, his gaze filling with unmistakable passion. “Be a wife instead of a mother.”

S
hayla knew what Draco wanted. If she were honest with herself, she wanted the same thing every bit as much. Unable to resist, she surrendered to her need. Utterly.

He must have read the hunger in her eyes, the acceptance in the sway of her body. Blatant desire burned in his eyes, fast and desperate. She heard the rumble in his throat, low and powerful, and knew when he made love to her this time it would be unlike any other. And she was right.

A quick tug and he had her. A quick rip and he yanked her blouse open and off her shoulders. Shock held her in place while a liquid heat exploded deep in her belly.

“I want you. Not slow, but fast.” He stripped away her bra. “Not gentle, but rough.” Her slacks and panties were hauled down her legs. “And hot. And thorough. And all night long.”

He swept her up and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced once, naked and tousled and more aroused than she could
ever remember being. He peeled off his own clothes, shredded them in his haste, tossed them aside. She couldn't think straight, didn't want to think. Just feel. Yield. Allow herself to spin helpless and free along whatever path he chose to take them.

He was on top of her before she could draw breath, snatching a kiss full of pent-up fire and demand. His mouth devoured her, but she wanted to be devoured. To be taken. To have his hands on her and his body in her and The Inferno burning, burning, burning until there was nothing left of either of them but the fire.

“Do it now,” she demanded, practically weeping in her desperation to have him. “I've waited for you. Waited for nearly a year.”

“Forty-seven weeks and two days.” His eyes glittered down at her like liquid gold. “But not another minute longer.”

She parted her legs for him while he gathered up her hips, lifting, opening. Then he mated their bodies in one swift act. She closed around him, wrapped him up with arms and legs, and moved. Oh, how she moved, catching his rhythm and driving him higher and harder.

The blood pounded from head to heart to the very core of her and she trembled, felt the earthquake grab her. Shake her. Grab at him. The scalding, turbulent pressure building with only one place to go. It sent her rocketing to a shimmering, glittering place where stars exploded and the heavens wept. She bowed back, tight, then tighter, while he took her over and over. And she reached, found that unbelievable delight and seized it, knowing all the while that she'd never, ever be able to find it anyplace else but with this man.

Shayla muffled her shriek against his shoulder, clinging to that moment of wonder with all her strength, while Draco followed her up and over, roaring his pleasure. She glided then, slid into the aftershocks that pulsated through her in a
glorious, endless stream. It took long, endless moments before she could gather enough breath to speak. “Now
that's
what I call a hallelujah moment,” she informed him in a dreamy voice. “Please tell me you have an entire chorus of them.”

He choked on a laugh. “Oh, yeah. All saved up and ready to go.”

“How soon?”

“Just let me catch my—”

She rolled over on top of him, captured the last of his words with a demanding kiss. She couldn't seem to help herself. This need, this overpowering want, was still so new to her. She didn't think she'd ever tire of it. But tonight she'd give it her best effort. She trailed downward, exploring freely, delighted with his response to her efforts. Peering up at him, she grinned.

“I see you have the second chorus ready to sing. Why don't you hum a few bars and I'll follow along.”

He glanced down. “That isn't a chorus, sweetheart. It's a whole damned symphony. And I plan to have you play every last note.”

And she did.

 

Draco woke in the dark of night, Shayla held safe and secure within his arms.
Great speech, Dante
. No question that his darling wife needed to hear every word of it—the importance of letting go. But the time had come to heed his own advice. He'd held on to Shayla for weeks, finding excuse after excuse to keep her caged, even though he'd filled her cage with every manner of temptation.

How could he demand she allow their son to fly when he kept her wings so carefully clipped?

She stirred in his arms, snuggling closer to his warmth,
and he gritted his teeth. Just the mere idea of losing her, of having her live apart from him, just about gutted him.

He wanted her. Needed her. Adored her. Would move heaven and earth if it meant giving her happiness. He closed his eyes, feeling the unrelenting pull of The Inferno. The last tiny barrier fell.

He loved her, loved her beyond measure.

And because he loved her, he'd set her free.

 

Shayla awoke to Stefano's predawn squall, signaling his need for breakfast. He'd actually lasted an hour longer than usual. Cautiously, she eased from Draco's embrace, hoping he'd sleep through his son's impatient cries.

Entering the nursery, she lifted Stefano from his crib and nestled him close. She carried him to the rocking chair and gently rocked while he fed. As always, her gaze traveled around the room and she couldn't help but smile. Every time she sat here she saw some new bit of whimsy, either something she'd overlooked until then, or some little detail that Draco had slipped in without her noticing.

She loved these moments with her son. Sweet, fleeting occasions that would be over before she knew it. It gave her time to think. To quiet her thoughts and slow life's rhythm. To enjoy the now and simply feel. And while she sat and rocked, she considered what Draco had told her the night before—the importance of letting go.

It had struck a serious nerve with her, not just because of her son but because of herself. Until last night she'd thought if she were released—let go—it meant she'd be free. Back on that fateful night when she met Draco, she believed that if she fulfilled her obligations to her grandmother, she would take the job with Derek and experience that freedom. And yet… All during those first months overseas, Draco consumed her every waking thought. And as soon as something had gone
wrong, where had she gone? Back to her roots. Back to her family ties.

“Back home,” she murmured.

She'd never been free of those ties and never would. How foolish to think otherwise. There might be many things about Grandmother Charleston that bothered her. But when push came to shove, that's the person she'd turned to in her moment of crisis. And she realized something else, as well. It would have been Draco if she hadn't been told he was already married. Because she was tied to him not just through their child, but with body and heart and soul.

She closed her eyes and faced facts. She didn't want to be free, not if it meant living without Draco. Oh, she could find a certain level of contentment if she lived in some small, cozy apartment with Stefano. But she wouldn't be happy. Because the truth was she loved Draco, loved him beyond measure and for all of time.

She opened her eyes and looked around the nursery he'd created. Thought about all that he'd done over the past two months. Her gaze landed on the bare stretch of wall behind the crib and an idea occurred to her. An idea that might express her heart's desire and prove to Draco that she'd only know true freedom if it was in his arms.

 

“You heard me, Sev. I want the suite for Shayla and the baby.”

“I heard you. I just don't like what I'm hearing. How long will they be staying at the suite?”

“I don't know. As long as it takes.”

“Look, whatever you did, just apologize. It's not worth having her move out.”

“I didn't do anything,” Draco snarled. “And before you ask, no, we're not having marital problems.”

“Sounds like marital problems to me. Wives don't just up
and move out of their home and away from their husband without a damn good reason. And they especially don't do it a few short weeks after giving birth. The way I see it,
you
must be the reason.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “Look. I made a promise to her when we married, okay? And I intend to keep it no matter how much I'd rather— No matter how much it—” Hurts. Kills him. Rips him to shreds. He closed his eyes and swore. “Can they use the suite while I find them a suitable house or not?”

Sev's sigh came long and rough. “Sure. If there's anything I can do, let me know, will you?”

“You'll be the first one I call.”

 

Shayla rested the phone between shoulder and ear while she wrestled a diaper around Stefano's pumping legs. “Actually, I called to ask for a favor.”

“Anything,” Ariana answered promptly, her voice carrying a hint of her Italian origins. “Name it and it's yours.”

Stefano's onesie came next, something her son was intent on keeping off his little squirming body at all costs. Shayla smothered a laugh as she struggled to dress her son and speak at the same time. “The mural,” she managed to say. “You painted it, didn't you? I recognize your style from the Mrs. Pennywinkle books you write and illustrate. It's absolutely stunning and I can't thank you enough for all your hard work.”

“It is kind of you to say.” Warmth filled Ariana's voice. “When I stepped into my grandmother's shoes, my publisher was not sure readers would enjoy my more whimsical style.”

“Personally, I love it. But…I wonder if I could hire you to add to the mural for me as a wedding gift for Draco. I'd like a final scene painted on the wall behind the crib, a personalized
scene. With Stefano arriving so soon after the ceremony I never had the opportunity to give him anything.”

“This mural, it is for love?” Ariana asked.

Shayla lifted her son off the changing table and carried him to the rocking chair. Collapsing into it, she couldn't help grinning and allowed her happiness to radiate into her voice. “Very much so.”

“Then consider it done. Now tell me what you want.” When Shayla finished describing her idea, Ariana sighed. “I am so sorry, but I am not the one you need for this project.”

Shayla hesitated, fighting to conceal the extent of her disappointment. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. However, I do know someone else who would be the perfect artist. Tell me, have you ever heard of Jacqueline Randell Blackstone?”

“The name sounds familiar….” If only she could remember where she had heard it before.

“Perhaps you would recognize her other name. Jack Rabbitt.”

“Jack
Rabbitt?
” Shayla flat-out adored her storybooks. And the glass desktop Jacq had painted for her husband, Mathias, one featuring the fairy-tale creatures from her stories, was downright famous. “You
know
her?”

Ariana laughed. “Know her? She and Mathias will be flying in from Seattle this weekend. They stay with us whenever they visit. We are all the best of friends. I am sure she would be delighted to finish the mural.”

It took Shayla a second to control the wobble in her voice and she hugged Stefano close, drawing comfort from his warm little body. “Thank you, Ariana. It would mean the world to me.”

“My pleasure. After all, we are family, yes?”

“Why, yes.” Now it was her chin wobbling. “Yes, we are.”

And that said it all.

 

Shayla glanced over at her husband and smiled. “So, where are we going?” she asked.

“To Dantes'.”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he said it and he spared her a swift glance. For some reason that look bothered her. Perhaps it was the tarnish that darkened his hazel-gold eyes. Or the taut set of his mouth and jaw. She couldn't begin to imagine the problem, just that there clearly was one.

“Oh, okay,” she replied calmly, deciding to hold fire.

Hadn't she decided to live in the “now”? To not worry about tomorrow, but focus on today? She spared her husband another swift glance. Unfortunately “now” didn't look all that great.

He parked in the underground garage in a spot with his name stenciled on the wall in front of it. After Draco unbuckled Stefano, they crossed to the elevators. Listening to their footsteps echo against the cement brought back vivid memories of the morning after the Eternity reception when she'd made a similar walk in this exact same garage. It also reminded her of the night they'd spent together—the results of which were in the portable car seat Draco carried. For some reason she found the memory disturbing.

“Why are we here?” she couldn't help but ask.

“I want to show you something.”

She could tell she wouldn't get more out of him until he was good and ready. They arrived at the bank of elevators and just like the night of the reception, he ushered her into the car and keyed the panel for the penthouse level. And just like the night of the reception, he escorted her to the suite they'd shared nearly a year before. Only this time he didn't carry
her
over the threshold, but their son. How odd to recall
that long-ago self and her plans for the future, a future far different from the one fate had determined for her.

“Okay, Draco. Enough with the surprises.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I want to know what's going on.”

He carefully placed the baby out of harm's way, then turned to face her. With the windows at his back she didn't have a hope of reading his expression. “We made a pact before we married. Do you remember?”

She stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“You asked for your own place as part of our agreement. I'm simply fulfilling the terms of that agreement. You can stay here for the time being while we find you a suitable house or condo. I have the name of a realtor who'd be happy to work with us.” He shot a hand through his hair, the only outward sign that he wasn't as cool and collected as his voice suggested. “Work with
you,
” he corrected.