Dante's Marriage Pact (8 page)

Leticia sat down abruptly. “I can't begin to imagine what you're talking about. What decisions?”

“For one, whether or not I'm going to marry Draco and move to San Francisco with him.”

The words were barely out of Shayla's mouth before Leticia shot to her feet again. “I forbid it! I absolutely, unequivocally forbid it.”

Draco was so grateful, he was tempted to kiss the hideous old woman on her narrow, cotton candy-pink mouth. She couldn't have picked a worse comment to make if she'd tried, or one more guaranteed to drive her granddaughter in the exact opposite direction of the one she wanted.

Sure enough, Shayla's eyes narrowed. “You forbid?” she repeated softly.

Draco had to hand it to her. Despite her advanced years, the old broad could still do a fast backtrack. “Perhaps the word
forbid
was ill-advised,” she graciously conceded. “But, darling, you must think about what's best for the baby. And flying in your condition could prove dangerous. I'm certain your obstetrician would never agree to it. I suggest you wait until after the baby is born. Then you can go out and visit the Dantes with your—” she lifted her eyes heavenward, a
pained expression painted across her face “—little bundle of joy.”

It was the look that must have decided Shayla, a look that warned that Leticia Charleston would never forgive her granddaughter for having the temerity to give birth to a child half Dante. It also provided answers to several of Draco's questions, such as whether or not sleeping with him was part of a Charleston plot. Clearly, it wasn't.

Shayla turned to Draco, the pain in her gaze threatening to rip him apart. Though he rejoiced that Leticia had tipped the scales in his favor, he hated that she'd hurt Shayla in the process.

“When can we leave?” she whispered, her breath catching in a slight hiccup.

“That depends. How fast can you pack?”

“Wait!” Leticia aimed for entreaty and still hit demand. “Please, wait, Shayla. I don't want you to leave.”

“I understand, Grandmother,” she replied gently. “But you've said it yourself. I have to do what's best for my baby.”

“But you're the last Charleston in our family. You could have a son.” Leticia directed a fulminating glare at Draco. “Dantes have a history of shooting out sons like gumballs from a nickel machine. If you had a boy, he'd be a Charleston. Our name, our line, would continue.”

Shayla gasped in disbelief. “Is
that
why you told me Draco was married? Why you worked so hard to keep him from finding me and discovering I was pregnant? So I'd produce a Charleston heir?”

Leticia lifted a shoulder, somehow managing to imbue the gesture with a wealth of exasperation. “That might be one of the reasons on my list. It's not the first item, but it's on there, somewhere. I don't normally approve of illegitimacy, although considering the current benefits to our line, I am
willing to make a one-time exception. Even if the boy will be half Dante.”

“Very gracious of you,” Draco said carefully.

She turned on him like the viper she was. “Oh, get over it,” she snapped. “You found out in the nick of time, didn't you? You Dantes always find a way to win the day. So, go ahead and fly her out to California. Your family probably owns a fleet of private planes. Wave your hand and make one of them appear. With any luck the flight will force her into premature labor before you can drag her to the altar. And I'll still get my way…assuming the baby survives.”

“Why, you—”

“That's enough.” Shayla never raised her voice, yet sheer steel shot through her words, making them all the more powerful. “Grandmother has a point. Before I leave I should visit Dr. Dorling and have him determine the best way for us to get to California.” She fixed her grandmother with an unyielding stare. “But I am leaving. I will do what's best for my baby and right now that's Draco.”

“And if I refuse to sell the Dantes our mine?” Leticia stalked in Draco's direction though she was smart enough to stay well out of his reach. She gripped her wedding ring, tugging at the chain so hard he wondered if it would snap. “If I threaten to sell it to one of your competitors if you marry my granddaughter? What then?”

There was only one response to her threat, a response—given the circumstances—Draco couldn't resist using. “Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.”

“H
ow are you feeling?”

Shayla sighed. It must have been at least the twentieth time Draco had asked that question. From the moment they went wheels up, he'd watched her with all the ferocity of a fire-breathing dragon, as though he were guarding a treasure more precious than gold.

“I'm fine,” she assured both him and Dr. Dorling. How Draco had convinced her obstetrician to join them on the flight, she had no idea. No doubt it involved a sizable amount of money since the doctor had dropped everything to make the trip. “I feel great.”

Dr. Dorling checked the monitors and nodded toward Draco. “Everything is perfect, Mr. Dante. Good oxygen. Excellent heart rate for both mother and baby. Blood pressure right where it should be.”

Draco didn't appear the least relieved. Though he didn't pace, Shayla could feel his worry electrifying the space within
the luxurious confines of the Dantes' jet. “We should arrive in another two hours,” he muttered, digging his thumb into his palm. His Infernoed palm, she noted. “Not long now.”

“Draco…”

“It's all right, sweetheart,” he attempted to soothe in a voice overflowing with grit and tension. “The pilot has the coordinates for all the landing strips close to hospitals along our flight path.”

“Draco.” She waited until he gave her his undivided attention. “Would you please relax? The flight isn't making me nervous. The baby isn't making me nervous. The doctor and his machines aren't making me nervous.
You
are.”

He blew out a sigh, then smiled, two deep grooves denting his cheeks. It was the smile that did her in. But then, it was his smile that had coaxed her into his bed in the first place. His smile. The burn of his touch. That odd sizzle and jolt when they'd first touched, a sensation that refused to go away, even after more than nine impossibly long months.

He crossed to join her, sliding in beside her and tucking her close. She closed her eyes, absorbing his warmth and allowing the steady beat of his heart and quiet movement of air in and out of his lungs to lull her toward a peaceful limbo. These days she lived in a haze of exhaustion, not to mention feeling uncomfortable and awkward, able to nap at any given moment, though with the constant kicks from the baby, never for long. Her life had changed in monumental ways, and all because of the man who held her safe and secure within his arms.

Years before she'd formulated a plan for her life, one she finally implemented during her stay in San Francisco. She'd been so excited beforehand, seen the possibilities so clearly, without anticipating how her impulsive actions the night she met Draco would ultimately change her life. That had been brought home during those first two months in Europe when
her longing for him had been keen and sharp. Months during which pain and loss outweighed the thrill of achieving her ideal job.

Oh, she loved translating for Derek. Adored her employer, one of the kindest, most understanding men she'd ever met. When she'd realized she was pregnant, he'd kept her on as long as he could. But eventually the whispers and suspicion that he'd fathered her baby had interfered with his business negotiations. Plus, the first five months of her pregnancy had been rough, her morning sickness closer to all-day sickness. Finally, she'd decided it simply wasn't safe or healthy to be globe-trotting around Europe during her pregnancy. So, she'd returned home.

She refused to regret the sharp turn her life had taken thanks to that one night with Draco. Regrets weren't part of her nature. And now, once again due to the man who held her so securely in his arms, her life was about to take another acute turn, one she didn't think she could handle.

Draco tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and she shivered at the touch. “What are you thinking about?” he murmured close to her ear.

“About what will happen when we reach San Francisco,” she replied readily enough.

“Nothing very dramatic. I'll take you home once Dr. Dorling is satisfied that you're stable. And then you'll rest.”

She made a face. “That's not what I meant.”

“We can discuss any other concerns tonight. There's no hurry.”

“Yes, there is and you know it.” She rubbed her belly, felt the tautness. Knew the baby had dropped low in her womb, eager to escape the safety of its nest. “This cake is just about baked.”

She felt his chuckle against her cheek. “Did you just call our baby a cake?”

A reluctant laugh sighed from her. “I guess I did.”

He bent down and kissed her. Maybe if the kiss had been like before, hard and hungry and filled with a desperate edge, she'd have been able to resist. But it wasn't. He soothed her with his taking, calmed her with gentleness, roused her with tenderness, branded her with a kiss that caused all others to pale in comparison.

“Well, that got her heart rate and blood pressure up,” Dr. Dorling observed. “You might want to save that until after we land.”

Reluctantly, Draco pulled back. His tawny eyes glittered like antique gold, filled with a want that echoed her own. “You think there's a lot we need to resolve,” he told her in an intimate undertone, low enough that the doctor couldn't overhear. “But that kiss tells me there isn't as much to discuss as you might think.”

When she opened her mouth to argue, he shook his head. “Close your eyes, Shayla. Let go and sleep. We'll worry about the future later.”

“We?” she murmured.

Naturally, he got the last word, something that she was beginning to realize he excelled at. “Since it's our future, it concerns the both of us.”

The quiet beep of the machines joined in tempo with the reassuring beat of Draco's heart. It proved the perfect sedative, sending her off into an easy sleep filled with the most romantic of dreams about a dragon and a princess and sweet rescue. But it vanished like fairy dust the instant the pitch of the jet engines changed. She opened her eyes, blinking in confusion.

“We're starting our descent,” Draco informed her. “We should be home in a little over an hour, depending on traffic.”

Home
.

She assumed he meant his home and wondered how she'd
feel about staying there. Like a guest? Like an intruder? She'd wanted her own place for more years than she could count, a nest she could burrow into and feather with the bits and pieces that would make it distinctly hers. Now that possibility grew less and less likely.

The minute they touched down at a small regional airport outside of the city, Dr. Dorling gave her a final examination. As soon as he cleared her, she thanked him for all his time and assistance. He gave her the name of a colleague who agreed to take over her care from this point forward and was expecting her visit bright and early the next morning.

Draco handed the obstetrician a first-class ticket that would return him to Atlanta on a commercial flight and they all exited the plane. While the doctor headed off to San Francisco International Airport in one car, another car, complete with driver, awaited to take them home—wherever that was.

“Sausalito,” Draco said, as though reading her mind. “Not far from Primo and Nonna.”

“I thought you lived in the suite where we—”

She broke off abruptly. Where they'd made love. Where she'd conceived their child, though she hadn't known it at the time. Where she'd created a connection that continued even after all this time, gaining in strength with each passing day. But she couldn't say any of those things aloud, not when the driver might overhear them.

“I don't live at the suite,” he explained. “I just stayed at Dantes while my house was under construction. The designer put the last few touches on the place yesterday, so I haven't seen the final product.” He smiled at her. “We'll get to do that together.”

“I'll enjoy that.” She hesitated. “Do they know about me?” she whispered, sparing the driver another uneasy glance.

Draco must have picked up on her concern because he leaned forward to give the driver directions to his house, then engaged the privacy screen. “It's soundproof,” he reassured before picking up the conversational thread again. “I assume you mean, does my family know about you? No, not yet. I didn't want to say anything until we've had time to discuss our options and make decisions about the future.”

“I guess you won't be able to keep me hidden for long.” She touched her belly to include the existence of their baby. “Not if your family is as close-knit as you say.”

He appeared remarkably unconcerned. “I'm hoping it won't take us long to decide what's best for the three of us.”

“You think that's marriage.” No question there. He'd made that fact abundantly clear.

He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “What can I say? It's how I was raised.”

She glanced out the tinted window. She couldn't argue the point. It was how she'd been raised, too. “There's one serious problem with your plan.”

“Name it and I'll see if I can't solve it,” he replied promptly.

“Solve it,” she repeated. She swiveled to face him. “Fixing problems. Finding a way to make sure the roadblocks are removed so you can get from Point A to Point B. That's a core part of your personality, isn't it?”

He didn't deny it. “It's one aspect, yes. I also protect what's mine and do whatever is necessary to recover what's taken from me, whether that takes months…” A darkness flitted through his gaze. “Or years.”

She shivered, his expression shooting a chill of dread down her spine. “Is that what I am to you? A possession to be recovered?”

His voice deepened, roughened. “Recovering you is like
recovering a missing piece of myself. Without you, I'm empty. And I suspect you are, as well.”

Her throat closed over and she stared at him mutely.

He cupped her face and feathered a kiss across her mouth. “More important, I'll do everything within my power to protect you and our baby. To protect you, provide for you, to try to make you happy.”

Shayla snatched a deep breath. “And what about the roadblocks that are in our way?” To her relief, her voice sounded fairly normal, not revealing a trace of the hunger and longing that shot through her.

“What roadblocks?”

“Marriage, for one.” She steeled herself, then gave it to him straight. “How do you clear the roadblocks so that we fall in love with each other? Because that's the only reason I'll marry you.”

He froze, every scrap of emotion wiped from his expression. He didn't reply. He simply reached for her hand and interlaced it with his, allowing The Inferno to speak for him. And speak it did.

The want roared through her, blistering hot and filled with urgent demand. It didn't matter that she was heavy with his child or that they'd been parted since last summer. Whatever connected them, whether lust or something more, something she couldn't bring herself to recognize, it hadn't dimmed over time. She longed for him on every level, felt the tug at her heart and fought against the emotions that threatened to entrap it. Whatever this feeling, it wasn't love. After so short a time together that would be impossible.

“It's just physical,” she insisted beneath her breath. “It isn't real.”

“It's a start,” Draco replied implacably. “For the sake of our child, we should give it a chance.”

She closed her eyes, exhaustion and worry sapping her energy. “You don't understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

She hated to strip bare the more painful details of her life, to allow someone to poke and prod indiscriminately at what she preferred to keep private. But Draco deserved that much. She focused on him, her emotions seeping free of her self-control.

“You've met my grandmother, so you can probably imagine how long and hard I've had to fight just to maintain my own identity, to keep from turning into her image of who Shayla Charleston should be.”

“It must have been difficult for you.”

She could see the bitter comments piling up behind that single, curt observation and appreciated his restraint. “Almost impossible,” she confirmed. “I couldn't give an inch or she'd take the proverbial mile.”

“Sounds like Leticia.”

“Yes, well…” She twisted her hands together. “I lived at home while attending college. It wasn't ideal since my grandmother knew my schedule and expected me to adhere to it.”

To her relief, he read between the lines. It wouldn't have been difficult considering she'd been a virgin when he took her to his bed. “I imagine that had a serious impact on your social life.”

“I had no social life,” she admitted. “Living at home—or rather, with my grandmother—prevented me from enjoying the full college experience.”

“Then why do it that way?”

Shayla shrugged. “Because it was cheaper,” she said simply. “As a result, I formulated a series of goals for my future that helped get me through college. I couldn't implement them right away, but at least I had them. They were like shiny
Christmas presents waiting for the right time and place to be unwrapped.”

He regarded her curiously. “Why couldn't you unwrap them right away?”

Shayla sighed. “Grandmother spent the last of her money on sending me to college. She had dreams of her own. Dreams for rebuilding Charlestons and our chain of jewelry stores. I don't know how she planned to finance it, since she hadn't discovered the fire diamonds at that point. But I was supposed to run the business.”

“I gather that didn't appeal to you?”

She shook her head. “That wasn't the real issue. After everything she'd done for me, I'd have stepped up. I took the courses she requested so I'd know enough to tell a good stone from a bad and recognize a fake. Accounting and business courses, as well. But, I don't have the temperament for either, let alone management. And I have zero artistic flare. In other words, I'd be utterly useless helping to rebuild Charlestons. We'd have only ended up bankrupt again. It took a long time before my grandmother came to terms with that fact. To be honest, I'm not fully convinced she has even now.”