Untouched Until Marriage (2 page)

She recalled those first few terrible days after her mum had died. They had been living in London, packing for the move to Cornwall and the new life they had planned, when Liz had collapsed and never regained consciousness. Gino had only been three months old, and Libby had struggled to cope with her shock and grief while caring for her orphaned baby brother. Her friend Alice, a trainee lawyer, had been an invaluable help, but she had also warned Libby of the potential problems caused by Liz's death.

‘If your mum didn't make a will and appoint you as Gino's guardian, then technically he becomes the responsibility of the State, and Social Services will decide who should care for him,' Alice had explained. ‘Just because you are Gino's half-sister it doesn't mean they will automatically choose you.'

‘But I've helped to care for him since the day he was born,' Libby had argued, ‘especially when Mum was so tired after his birth.'

Liz's long labour had left her exhausted. At the busy hospital where Gino had been born no one had mentioned the potential dangers of deep vein thrombosis,
and when Liz had felt unusually breathless Libby had been unaware that it was a sign her mother had developed a blood clot which had lodged in one of her lungs.

Liz had died before the ambulance had arrived. There had been no time for mother and daughter to say goodbye, no chance for Liz to stipulate who should care for Gino, but Libby was utterly determined to bring up her baby brother and love him as her mother would have done. She had moved to Pennmar a week after Liz's funeral, to the shop they had set up with the money left by Libby's grandmother. Everyone in the village assumed that Gino was her baby. After Alice's warning that Social Services might take him from her, Libby had encouraged that misapprehension, and now she was reluctant to reveal the truth in front of Margaret.

She would explain the situation to Raul Carducci later, she decided, her sense of unease intensifying when she glanced at his hard face and saw no glimmer of warmth in his dark eyes. ‘Yes, I'm Gino's mother,' she said quietly, a shiver running down her spine when his expression changed from cool disdain to savage contempt.

He flicked his eyes over her, and Libby felt acutely conscious that she had bought her top in a charity shop and had made her skirt from an old curtain. ‘You are much younger than I had expected,' he said bluntly. He paused and then drawled softly, ‘I'm curious to know what first attracted you to my sixty-five-year old billionaire father, Ms Maynard?'

His inference was plain. Raul thought she was a gold-digger who had had an affair with a wealthy older man for his money, Libby realised, colour storming into her
cheeks. But she could not defend herself when Margaret had given up all pretence of searching in her handbag and was unashamedly listening to the conversation. Raul Carducci was an arrogant jerk, she thought angrily, her hot temper instantly flaring. ‘Forgive me, but I don't think my relationship with your father is any of your business,' she told him tightly, her eyes flashing fire.

She could sense that Margaret was practically bursting with curiosity, and she forced a casual smile as she turned to the older woman. ‘Thanks for taking Gino out. The doctor says that the sea air will help his chest.'

‘You know I'll have him any time.' Margaret paused and glanced from Libby to her foreign-looking visitor. ‘I could stay and mind him now, if you and the gentleman have things to discuss?'

Yes, and Margaret would waste no time sharing what she'd overheard with the rest of the village, Libby thought dryly. ‘Thanks, but I must give Gino his lunch, and I don't want to take up any more of your time,' she said brightly. ‘Could you put the ‘“Closed” sign on the door on your way out?'

Libby contained her impatience while a disgruntled looking Margaret ambled out of the shop, but the moment the older woman had shut the door she glared at Raul. ‘I assume there is a reason for your visit, Mr Carducci, and you are not here merely to make disgusting innuendos?'

The unfamiliar sharpness of her voice unsettled Gino. He gave her a startled look and his lower lip trembled. Libby joggled him on her hip and patted his back, still furious with the man who was looking down his arrogant nose at her as if she were something unpleasant on the bottom of his shoe.

‘Before you say anything else, I'd better explain—' She broke off as Gino let out a wail and began to squirm in her arms. At ten months old he was surprisingly strong, and she struggled to hold him, dismay filling her when his cries turned into the familiar hacking cough that shook his frame. Immediately Libby's attention was focused exclusively on the baby, and she glanced distractedly at Raul. ‘I must get him a drink. Excuse me,' she muttered, and hurried through the beaded curtain into the back part of the shop.

She took a beaker of juice the fridge, but Gino was crying and coughing too much for him to be able to drink. He was still wearing his thick outdoor suit, and his face was turning steadily redder as he overheated. Frantically Libby tried to unzip the suit with one hand and hold a hysterical, wriggling Gino in the other, conscious that Raul had followed her into the room and was watching her efforts.

‘Here—let me hold him while you undress him,' he said abruptly, stepping forward and lifting the baby out of her arms before she could protest.

Gino was so startled that his cries subsided, but he was going through a particularly clingy stage at the moment and disliked strangers. Libby quickly tugged down the zip of his suit, waiting for him to renew his yells, but to her amazement he gave a little snuffle and stared fixedly at Raul's face.

‘You must have a magic touch. Normally he screams blue murder if someone he doesn't know tries to hold him,' she muttered, feeling faintly chagrined as she freed Gino from the suit and he did not even glance at her. ‘But Gino is a Gemini, and people born under that star sign are often very intuitive,' she added earnestly.
‘Perhaps he instinctively recognises that there is a connection between the two of you. You are his brother—well, half-brother,' she amended, when Raul's dark brows rose sardonically.

‘There is no blood link between us,' he informed her dismissively. ‘Pietro was my adoptive father.' He saw the flash of surprise in Libby's eyes and wondered why he had felt the need to reveal that he had no biological link to the father of her child. The idea that she and Pietro had shared a bed… He snapped a door shut on that particular image, infuriated that his eyes seemed to have a magnetic attraction to her breasts.

Elizabeth Maynard had been his father's mistress and had borne him a child; it was inconceivable that he could be attracted to her. He forced his gaze up from her lush curves, moulded so enticingly beneath her clingy top, and stared at her face, his body stirring as he focused on the perfect cupid's bow of her mouth. Irritation with himself made his voice terse as he said abruptly, ‘It's more likely the child was crying because he was scared you might drop him.'

‘Of course I wasn't going to drop him,' Libby snapped furiously. She snatched Gino back into her arms and held the beaker of juice to his lips, frowning when she heard the horrible rasping sound in his chest as he breathed. ‘I need to take him upstairs and give him his next dose of antibiotic,' she said edgily.

She glared at Raul who was leaning against her desk, unashamedly reading the financial report for Nature's Way. He dominated the small room, tall, dark and so disturbingly sexy that looking at him made her heart race uncomfortably fast. She hated the way he unsettled her and she wanted him to leave.

She crossed the room and slammed the accounts book shut. ‘Why are you here?' she demanded bluntly. ‘I read in the papers that Pietro had died. But that was more than six months ago, and in all that time no one from the Carducci family has ever been in contact.'

Raul gave her a look of haughty disdain. ‘That is hardly my fault. You did a runner from your last address without paying the rent, and it has taken this long to find you. I am not here through choice, I assure you, Ms Maynard,' he told her scathingly. ‘But my father stipulated in his will that he wanted his son to be brought up at the family home in Lazio—and so I have come to take Gino to Italy.'

F
OR
a few seconds Libby was too stunned to speak. Her friend Alice's warning reverberated in her head. ‘Your mother didn't appoint you as Gino's guardian, and although you are his half-sister, legally you have no rights regarding his upbringing.'

If Liz had known she was going to die, of
course
she would have appointed her daughter as Gino's guardian, Libby thought desperately. But, as Alice had pointed out, she had no proof of her mother's wishes. It was ironic that Pietro Carducci, who had not even acknowledged his son's birth, should have made provision for Gino in his will. If the matter went to court, it seemed likely that Pietro's wishes would be taken into account, and possible that Raul would be granted custody of Gino and be allowed to take him to Italy.

Her heart was pounding with panic but one crucial thought stood out in Libby's mind. Raul believed that Gino was
her
baby. Clearly he had no idea that there had been two Elizabeth Maynards, or that the woman who had conceived Pietro Carducci's child as a result of their brief affair had died only a month after Pietro had passed away. She recalled the expression of disgust on Raul's face when he had asked her what had attracted
her to his older, wealthy father. He believed she was a gold-digger, but it was better he thought that than discovered that she was Gino's half-sister and had no legal claim on him, she thought wildly.

She frowned, suddenly remembering something Raul had said. ‘Why did you accuse me of owing rent on the flat where we—I,' she hastily amended, knowing she must hide the fact that she had lived in London with her mother, ‘lived before I moved to Cornwall? Of course I paid the rent.'

Raul's eyes narrowed at Libby's belligerent tone. He was not used to being spoken to in that manner by anyone, and certainly not by a woman. His staff, both at the Villa Giulietta and at Carducci Cosmetics, treated him with the utmost respect, and the women he mixed with socially tended to hang on his every word. To his mind, a woman's role was to make light conversation, to provide soothing company after a day of hard bargaining in the boardroom and to grace his bed so that he could enjoy mutually satisfying sex without the complications of emotional involvement.

Elizabeth Maynard—or Libby, as she called herself, would be a far from soothing companion, he thought as he stared at her mass of wild red curls and stormy eyes. Her mouth was set in an angry line that challenged him to kiss her until her lips softened and parted and allowed him to slide his tongue between them. He inhaled sharply, and it took all of his formidable will-power to ignore the dictates of his body and listen to the cool logic of his brain. She was Pietro's tart, who had had no compunction about seducing a much older man with
her nubile young body, and no way was the son going to repeat the mistakes of his father, Raul assured himself grimly.

‘Your landlord said that you were frequently behind with the rent, and when you moved away suddenly you left owing him several thousand pounds,' he said coldly. ‘Why would he lie?'

‘To get back at me because I refused to sleep with him, most likely,' Libby muttered bitterly. ‘He was a horrible old man. I used to take him the rent money regularly every month and he never missed an opportunity to try and grope me. He made it clear that he would reduce the rent if I “paid” him in another way.'

‘Are you saying you weren't tempted?' Raul queried derisively. ‘I assume you make a habit of sleeping with older men for financial gain. You certainly struck gold with my father,' he continued, ignoring her furious gasp. ‘Having his child was a clever move, which I guess you thought would ensure you a meal ticket for life. You thought right; it has,' he said contemptuously. ‘Pietro has granted you the right to bring up your son at the Carducci family villa, and take control of fifty percent of Carducci Cosmetics until Gino is eighteen.'

Raul gave a harsh laugh when Libby stared at him open-mouthed. He reached inside his coat and retrieved a sheaf of papers. ‘Congratulations. You've hit the jackpot,' he drawled sarcastically as he thrust the documents at Libby.

She stared dazedly at the first page and saw that it was headed ‘The last will and testament of Pietro Gregorio Carducci.' Conscious that Raul was watching her, she ran her eyes down the page until she came to a paragraph which stated that Gino's mother, Elizabeth
Maynard, should live at the Villa Giulietta, with all her expenses and living costs paid for out of the estate, until her son came of age.

It was astounding. She could barely comprehend it. But before she could read any further Gino made a grab for the documents. He was clearly fascinated by the white paper, and, remembering how he had shredded an important letter from the bank the previous day, Libby hastily handed the will back to Raul.

‘So you mean you want me to live in Italy with Gino?' she said slowly, relief flooding through her that Raul hadn't sought her out to take the baby away from her. Not that she would have allowed him to, she thought fiercely. Gino was the only person she had left in the world, and she was prepared to do anything to keep him—even if that meant pretending that he was her son.

‘I can't think of anything I'd like less,' Raul said, in a coldly arrogant tone that made her feel about two feet high. ‘But unfortunately I have no say in the matter. My father clearly stated his wish that Gino and his mother should live at the Villa Giulietta.'

Libby glanced at her baby brother and felt her heart melt when he stared solemnly back at her with his big brown eyes. His light olive skin and mass of dark curls spoke of his Italian heritage, but he had her mother's smile, she thought, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Liz had adored her baby for the few short months she had spent with him. It seemed so desperately cruel that Gino had been robbed of his mother before he'd ever had a chance to know her, but she would take Liz's place, Libby vowed silently. Her little brother was her
only link with her mum. She loved him just as deeply as if he was her own child, and she was determined to do what was best for him.

But would taking him to live in Italy, with Raul, who clearly resented his half-brother, really be in Gino's best interest? she brooded. Her doubts increased when she glanced at the autocratic features of the handsome Italian. ‘We have things to talk about,' she said hesitantly. ‘Perhaps we could meet in a day or two…'

Raul frowned impatiently. ‘I don't have a day or two to waste hanging around here. And anyway, what is there to discuss? My father named Gino as his heir, and I can't believe you would turn down the chance to get your hands on his inheritance. Presumably you deliberately fell pregnant in the first place so that you could demand a massive payout in child maintenance?'

‘I did no such thing,' Libby retorted angrily. Although he did not know it, Raul was insulting her mother, not her, and if she hadn't been holding Gino she would have slapped that arrogant smirk off his face. Far from deliberately falling pregnant, Liz had been utterly shocked when she had discovered that she had conceived a baby as a result of her holiday romance with a charming Italian.

‘Gino was unplanned, it's true, but he was very wanted,' she told Raul huskily, remembering how Liz's shock had turned to delight that she was going to be a mother again. ‘My mo—' She stopped in her tracks and continued hurriedly, ‘Your father was informed of Gino's birth, but he never acknowledged his son and I never expected anything from him.'

Raul gave a disbelieving snort. ‘My father was an honourable man who would never have turned his back on his child.' He frowned as a thought occurred to him. ‘When was Gino born?'

‘The seventh of June. He's ten months old now.'

‘Pietro was very ill by June of last year, and he died in August,' Raul told her flatly. ‘An inoperable brain tumour had been diagnosed the previous October and it grew rapidly. Did you know about his illness?' he asked Libby sharply.

She shook her head. Pietro must have fallen ill soon after her mother had returned from the Mediterranean cruise she had won. The cruise on which Liz had fallen in love with a gorgeous Italian, she had confessed to Libby, with a faintly embarrassed smile after all she had said over the years about the unreliability of men and the foolishness of losing your heart to one.

Liz had been devastated when she had heard nothing more from Pietro after the cruise—especially when she'd discovered that she had conceived his child. ‘I've done it again, Libby,' she'd said tearfully, when she had emerged from the bathroom clutching a pregnancy test. ‘I trusted a man and now I'm left with his baby—the same as happened with your bloody father. You'd think I'd have learned that all men are selfish bastards, wouldn't you?'

Libby had hated Pietro for hurting her mum, but according to Raul his father had returned to Italy from the cruise to learn that he was terminally ill. Perhaps he hadn't felt able to confide such devastating news to Liz, she thought, her heart aching for her mother and the man she had loved. When Liz had written to her lover to tell him of Gino's birth Pietro had been weeks from
death, and maybe hadn't had the strength to reply. But surely the fact that he had included Liz and Gino in his will meant that he had cared for her mum after all?

Gino had been sitting quietly in her arms, but now he began to cough again, his chest heaving with the effort. ‘I thought you said he was due some medication?' Raul commented, his frown deepening. He had as much experience of children as he had with aliens from another planet, but this baby sounded seriously unwell.

‘He is.' Concern for Gino overrode Libby's reluctance to invite Raul up to the flat. ‘You'd better come up,' she muttered.

‘What's wrong with him?' Raul demanded when they reached the first floor landing.

Libby paused with her hand on the living room door. ‘He had an illness called bronchiolitis, which is fairly common in babies, but he developed pneumonia and was very unwell. He was in hospital for a few weeks and now he can't seem to shake off this cough. The doctor said that the living conditions here don't help,' she confessed, recalling how the GP in the village had warned her that the mildew growing on the damp walls of the flat produced spores which Gino inhaled and were the worst thing for his lungs.

She pushed open the door, and stifled a groan at the scene of chaos that met her. Raul Carducci's unexpected visit had made her forget the disaster that had occurred the previous evening, when the bulge in her bedroom ceiling had given way and rain water had gushed through. Luckily, her friend Tony had been there. They had been sharing a bottle of wine while Libby had talked over her financial worries and the likelihood that she would have to close Nature's Way, and together
they had grabbed her belongings and carried them into the sitting room, out of the deluge that had flooded her room. Tony had managed to block the hole to stop any more water pouring through, but he'd got soaked to the skin and had had to change into the sports gear that he kept in his car.

Her canvases were stacked against the sofa and her clothes heaped on the floor. Her underwear was on top of the pile, Libby noticed, flushing with embarrassment when she saw Raul's eyes rest on the numerous pairs of brightly coloured knickers. He glanced slowly around the room and she knew he was taking in the peeling wallpaper and the blue mould which had appeared on the wall again, despite the fact that she constantly scrubbed the area with fungal remover.

There had been so sign of damp when she and Liz had viewed the shop and flat the previous spring. Then, the place had seemed bright and airy, newly decorated, and with the windows flung open to allow the sea breeze to drift in. It was only during the wet winter that Libby had realised the rooms had been wallpapered to hide the patches of mildew.

She was irritated by the expression of distaste on Raul's face. It was clear from the superb quality of his clothes that he was very wealthy, and no doubt his home in Italy was a palace compared to the flat, but it was all she could afford—and actually even that was doubtful, she realised dismally when she remembered the letter from the bank that had informed her they would not increase her overdraft.

‘Sorry about the mess,' she muttered. ‘My bedroom was flooded last night and we piled all my things in here.'

‘We?' Raul looked pointedly at the baby in Libby's arms.

‘My friend Tony was here.' She followed Raul's gaze to the three empty wine bottles and two glasses on the coffee table, and watched his expression change from distaste to disapproval.

‘Looks like you had quite a party,' he drawled.

Surely he didn't think they had got through three bottles of wine in one evening? ‘Tony works in a bar and he brings me old wine bottles. I decorate them with decoupage and sell them at craft markets,' she explained. ‘I'm an artist, and so is Tony,' she added, when Raul said nothing, just studied her with cool disdain in his eyes. Rebellion flared inside her. Why on earth did she feel she had to explain herself to this arrogant stranger?

Gino was wriggling to be set down. Libby's arms felt as though they were about to drop off from holding him and, distracted by Raul's brooding presence, she lowered the baby onto the floor and hurried into the tiny adjoining kitchen to fetch his medicine.

Gino immediately crawled over to the coffee table and reached towards one of the wine bottles. Raul grabbed him seconds before he pulled the glass bottle down on his head. The flat was a death-trap, he thought disgustedly as he swept the baby into his arms and stepped over the piles of junk on the floor to stand by the window. And there was an unpleasant musty smell in the room—caused, he guessed, by the fungus that was sprouting on the walls.

What was Elizabeth Maynard thinking of, bringing up her son in such appalling conditions? A pair of men's jeans was hanging over a chair, and he wondered if they belonged to the barman-cum-artist Tony, who had been
here the previous night. Was he her lover? And, if so, what role did he have in Gino's life? Was he a stepfather to the child, or did Gino have a variety of ‘uncles'?