Pregnancy of Revenge Read online

  His head fell to her shoulder, his harsh groan of masculine satisfaction echoing in her ears. She felt the heavy pounding of his heart against her own, their sweat-slicked bodies still shuddering in the aftershock of passion. She let her hands rove possessively over his damp skin, knowing that Jake had proved once again on a physical level they were in perfect accord.

  Had it ever been that profound before? she thought dazedly. Her own aggression had sparked a fierce reaction in Jake, raw in its intensity, but with a phenomenal control he had excited her almost to the edge of oblivion and the final incredible climax had been the deepest, most potent fulfillment of all.

  Maybe their marriage could work after all...

  'Now you are truly my wife, mia amore,'' Jake said hus­kily, burying his face in her mass of hair. But his last words struck a jarring note in her mind.

  'Don't call me that,' Charlotte said sharply.

  'Why not? You are my wife.' Jake raised his head, his dark eyes smiling lazily down at her. 'I seem to remember we got married yesterday.'

  She saw the amusement in his gaze and the sense of be­trayal came flooding back. 'As if I could forget.' She turned her head away. It was not the wife she was objecting to, but the mia amore—my love. But she had no intention of telling him so. That he should use the term of endearment now, when he never had before, was like a knife to the heart. Their lovemaking had been so perfect, but remembering what he had revealed earlier made her want to weep.

  She was not his love, never had been, and never would be. She meant no more to Jake than any of the other women who had shared his bed. Less! Because he had as good as admitted he thought she was a greedy bitch, and he had only taken her out to get revenge.

  'Charlotte.' He lifted up on one elbow, and looked down at her, his dark eyes gleaming with gentle amusement. 'I know what is the matter. You never ate your breakfast.' He reached out and smoothed the tangled mass of blonde hair from her brow in a gentle gesture. 'My fault again. In your condition you need food at regular intervals.'

  'And who made you a doctor?' Charlie sniped back, his tenderness more than she could bear right now. But his re­action stunned her.

  'Oh, hell!' He glanced at his watch, the only thing he was wearing, and leapt off the bed. 'I have a meeting later this morning, but first you and I have an appointment with a doctor in exactly forty-five minutes. It won't take me ten minutes to get ready next door, and I'll make you a sand­wich—you can eat it in the car, because allowing for trav­elling time, you only have thirty minutes to get ready.'

  'You have some nerve!' He was standing there, unasham­edly naked, ordering her around, and Charlie was incensed. 'I am not going anywhere with you.' Her blue eyes blazed defiance. 'Just because we had sex, it does not mean you can tell me what to do.'

  'We did not just have sex, and we do not have time toargue yet again. And you are going to the doctor if I have to carry you there.'

  A naked man should not be able to look arrogant and threatening, but somehow Jake managed it, Charlie thought helplessly. 'What on earth for? I'm fine,' she asked, curbing her temper.

  Jake gave her a hard look, and lashed out, 'What do you think? To confirm the state of your pregnancy, of course. After all, that is why I married you.' He knew he was speak­ing in a moment of anger, but he had thought everything was back on track between them. Now, looking at Charlotte, he doubted it. 'You have twenty-five minutes,' he flung over his shoulder as he left the room.

  He could not have spelt out more clearly why he had married her if he had carved it in stone. And with that knowledge Charlie's heart turned to ice in her breast.

  Twenty minutes later, wearing a blue and white patterned chiffon slip dress that effectively skimmed the slight thick­ening of her waistline and ended just above her knee, teamed with kitten-heeled white pumps and a matching purse, she descended the glass staircase into the hall, where Jake was waiting.

  'A punctual woman.' Jake walked towards her and stopped at her side. 'And a very attractive one,' he compli­mented, subjecting her to a blatant masculine appraisal that made her tummy knot with tension. She hoped it was ten­sion and nothing more primitive.

  'If I have to see your doctor, can we go?' she said edgily.

  'Sure. Take this.' He handed her a baguette stuffed full of meat and wrapped in cling film. Then a strong hand spread across her back and ushered her out into the brilliant morning sun.

  A black limousine was waiting, and a man she had never seen before was holding open the rear door. Jake said some­thing in rapid-fire Italian and the driver responded, and gave Charlie a long assessing look.

  'Charlotte, cara, this is Marco.' Jake made the introduc­tion, and Charlie politely shook the man's hand—a hand that was the size of a gorilla's. 'He will take care of you when Tomas is not available.'

  'I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don't need a minder.' She shot Jake a fulminating glance.

  'Humour me, hmm?' His hand at her waist urged her into the rear seat of the car and he slid in beside her. 'And eat.'

  At least it gave her something to do instead of having to talk to Jake, and surprisingly the sandwich was quite good.

  The consultant gynecologist, Dr Bruno, whom Jake took her to see was a small, friendly old man with twinkling eyes. He spoke fluent English and Charlie liked him on sight. He told her he had known Jake for years, from the time his son Paulo and Jake were at school together. Jake was the god­father to Paulo's son and daughter, his much-loved only grandchildren.

  But she did not like him quite so much when the exam­ination was over and Jake proceeded to question him on her and the baby's state of health, and he answered in a great deal of detail Charlie could have done without.

  'Will you shut up?' Charlie hissed in exasperation and embarrassment as the older man turned to his desk to extract some booklets on pregnancy. 'It has nothing to do with you.'

  'The child has everything to do with me,' Jake com­mented with a sardonic lift of an ebony brow, and continued his conversation with Dr Bruno in Italian, which did nothing for Charlie's temper. At least before she'd known what they were saying, but now she had no idea.

  She heaved a sigh of relief when she finally stepped ontothe pavement again, but her relief was short-lived as Jake caught her hand and led her towards the limousine waiting by the kerb.

  'I know you have a meeting, so I think I'll have a look around the town, do some shopping,' she said lightly, bank­ing on the fact Jake would not argue with her on the busy pavement. She pulled her hand free.

  A muscular arm wrapped around her shoulders and Jake, his strong face taut, studied her with dark serious eyes. 'My home is not your prison, Charlotte, and I don't believe you will leave. Dave was right—you are an all-or-nothing kind of woman, and with you and I it cannot be nothing, as we will always have our child between us. So I am banking on the all when you get over the argument we had last night. Go shopping if you like.' His dark head bent and he brushed his lips against her hair. 'Marco will take you—and before you object, it's to make sure you don't get lost. This is a big city and you don't know your way around.'

  'That sounds like a jailer to me,' she said stiffly, but in her heart she knew Jake was right.

  Scornful dark eyes skimmed over her mutinous face. 'I thought we had reached an understanding this morning, but obviously I was wrong. Think what you like, you will any­way. But Marco stays.' Turning, he walked down the street.

  Charlie inwardly cringed at the scorn in his expression. It was painful to have to admit, but she no longer wanted to leave Jake. Knowing he had only married her because she was pregnant did not stop her loving him and she watched his departing figure with a mixture of anger and sorrow in her suddenly moist eyes.

  She didn't go shopping. She went back to the house— whether she would one day think of it as home, she didn't know.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHARLIE ate a breakfast of fruit and cereal in the kitchen with young Aldo and grinned at his exce
llent attempts to speak English. When he left for school her smile vanished. It was a sad reflection on her marriage that her best friend and the person she spent most time with was an eight-year- old boy. He finished school at one and after lunch they had taken to exploring the extensive grounds together. He had shown her his favourite place, a cave set in the cliffs at the rear of the house, and she had told him about the fun she had rock climbing at her home in England.

  Restless and on edge, Charlie rose to her feet, and with a thank you to Marta she carried her cup of tea outside to the small patio tucked away around the back of the kitchen. A pergola shaded the area, the crimson bougainvillea trail­ing over it giving Charlie the sense of privacy she needed, and she let the sweet morning air work its magic on her troubled mind.

  A week...she had been married a week today, but her wedding day seemed a lifetime away. The woman who had stood in the gardens of the Lakeview Hotel convinced it was the happiest day of her life was no more. A cynical smile twisted her lush lips. Love's young dream was just that—a dream. It had taken Jake to show her the truth.

  She never saw him during the day, and dinner was pretty much a silent affair, or a battleground. Jake tried to make conversation but she replied with icy politeness, or with a bitter sarcasm that was totally alien to her usual sunny nature, until, finally exasperated with her, he retired to his study to work, and she retired to bed.

  They shared a bed, but she was beginning to think it was for appearance's sake only, to prevent gossip among the staff. Once or twice she had awakened in the night to find his arm around her, but they had never made love since the morning after their disastrous wedding night. It was painful to have to admit, but she missed the intimacy.

  She could see no clear end to the emotional mess she had made of her life unless she learnt to accept her marriage on Jake's terms. Probably thousands of couples lived in a love­less marriage for the sake of the children quite successfully. Would it be so bad?

  Sighing, Charlie drained her cup of tea. It couldn't be any worse than what she had now, and it was her own fault. She could not forget the anger and hurt she felt, and it showed. Then there was her unborn child to think about—but wor­rying wasn't going to help either of them, and with another sigh she replaced the cup on the table and leant back in her chair. The silence had a therapeutic effect on her, and slowly she felt herself begin to relax, but that feeling did not last for long. A shadow fell across her face and she looked up to see Jake's tall frame leaning against a timber pillar of the pergola.

  She was shocked. He came to bed late and was always gone when she woke up in the morning. But today was different—Jake was different, the cool control of the past week no longer evident. Instead his mouth was tight and she felt the vibration of his underlying anger across the space between them.

  'Shouldn't you be out making millions?' she said sarcas­tically. 'Instead of disturbing my peace and quiet.'

  'I'm flattered I disturb you, Charlotte, but don't worry, I am not stopping. I have no desire to spend any more time than I have to with a sulky, immature girl.' Then, surpris­ingly, in an uncontrolled gesture he ran a frustrated hand through his thick dark hair. 'What the hell is the matter with you?' he demanded harshly. 'This constant sniping that passes as conversation from you has to stop. Can't you lighten up occasionally, or don't you have a sense of hu­mour any more?'

  'My sense of humour is still intact, thank you.' Anger was her only defence, but her words lacked their usual force. 'But after discovering on my wedding night that my hus­band did not love me but married me out of a desire for revenge and the child I am carrying, it is hardly surprising humour deserts me around you.'

  'Love,' he sneered. 'Dio, you are great at throwing that word around like a talisman, but it seems a pretty poor emo­tion to me that can't forget the slightest misdeed. Not even a deed—a wayward thought is enough,' he added bitterly. 'Give me honor and respect any day.'

  Taken aback by his outburst, Charlie tried to defend her­self. 'At least I believe in love.'

  'You probably have to cling to the illusion with a father like yours, who had no honour or respect for women, mar­riage or anything else,' he said scathingly.

  She went pale as his harsh words sliced into her and she linked her hands together on the table to stop them shaking as she recognized there was some truth in what Jake said. With the exception of herself, her father had respected no one, not even himself. He had drunk, smoked and drugged himself to death by the age of forty-six. She drew in a long shuddering breath, finally forced to accept that her dad had loved her in his own way, and that way had included ig­noring her for the first eleven years of her life and, if Jake was to be believed, lying about her to his lady friends. Not the perfect love she dreamed of, and maybe that was her problem—she had expected too much.

  Jake bent over and grasped her chin so she was forced to look at him. 'You have told me countless times you love me, but what you really felt for me, cara mia, for the first time in your life, was a lust for sex.' His other hand curved around her breast. 'And you still do.'

  'No.' Her voice faltered to a halt and her mouth ran dry. His dark, handsome face was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, and she looked away quickly, but not fast enough to stop her stomach curling tightly, and her breast hardening beneath his hand.

  Jake's wide mouth curved in a cynical smile and he straightened up. 'Who's lying now, Charlotte?' She went from white to red, and he laughed. 'Still blushing.'

  'Oh, shut up.' Her frustration boiled over and she lifted her glass to throw it at him. He grasped her hand.

  'That is more like the exuberant girl I first met.' He grinned, instead of the sulky silent shrew of the past week.' Dragging her to her feet, he added quietly, 'we could have a good life together, all three of us.' He slanted a glance at her stomach. 'With a bit of goodwill on both sides.'

  She opened her mouth to say, never, and closed it again.

  'Wise woman,' Jake murmured gruffly, and pulled her against his hard body. She saw her own need reflected in his dark eyes and relaxed as his mouth closed over hers in a kiss that was achingly tender. A whole week without the taste of his lips on hers was in her response, and when he finally released her she was left swaying and breathless.

  'Your hair is a mess,' Jake commented as he brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. 'But don't worry, we are dining out tonight, and my PA, Sophia, is waiting to meet you in the house. She has kindly offered to take you to town to shop, get your hair done, whatever you women do.'

  Slipping his hand in his pocket, he held out a wad of money and a credit card in her name. 'Take this.'

  'I don't need your money.'

  'I know, and I will never forgive myself for once sug­gesting otherwise. So take it to save my soul.'

  'That's a bit extreme,' Charlie said with a chuckle and took the money.

  'There now, that didn't hurt.' Raising one hand, he lightly tapped her cheek. 'You have finally found your smile again, Charlotte. There is hope for us yet.' Grasping her hand, he led her back through the kitchen and into the hall.

  Charlie took one look at the small elegant brunette wait­ing in the hall and felt terrible again. The woman was im­maculately clad in what was obviously a designer suit, and Charlie felt like a scruff in comparison in a simple yellow sundress. It didn't help that Jake smiled at the other woman and said something in Italian whereupon they both laughed, and then turned to look at her, still grinning.

  'Charlotte, cara, this is Sophia, my right-hand woman, and I could not do without her.' Smiling down at the beau­tiful woman, he added, 'Sophia: my wife, Charlotte.'

  Reluctantly Charlie moved forward and took the small hand the other woman held out to her. She said rather stiffly, 'How do you do?' and wondered just exactly how much Sophia did do for Jake. Did it include sharing his bed? But as the woman smiled at her Charlie was struck by the warmth and kindness in her eyes.

  'I have to go,' Jake said. 'Tomas w
ill drive, and Marco will accompany you to carry your purchases so you will be safe in Sophia's hands, Charlotte.'

  'Safe or secured?' Charlie shot back automatically, and felt even worse as she watched a tide of dark colour flood up Jake's face as he moved towards her, and curved a hand around her neck. He was right: she was turning into a shrew.

  'Both,' he murmured, his dark head swooping to capture her mouth in a deeply possessive kiss. Only when he felt her quivering response did he trail his lips to her throat, nuzzling her neck. 'Don't you dare try to make our private battle public ever again, or you will live to regret it,' he whispered in her ear before straightening up and smiling down at her. The humour did not reach his eyes. 'Let Sophia show you around, listen to her advice and try to enjoy your­self—hmm?' Swinging on his heel, he slammed out of the house.

  'Phew.' Sophia wiped her brow with the back of her hand. 'Talk about sparks flying, and I thought my husband and I were bad.' She grinned up at Charlie. 'But you shouldn't be too hard on Jake. He is bound to be a bit over- protective with the woman he loves. Now let's hit the shops.'

  Charlie replaced the receiver, a bittersweet smile on her face. Talking to Jeff had restored her spirits a little. It was good to know the hotel was running smoothly and was wait­ing for her when and if she returned. Even though it did mean lying to Jeff that her marriage was running just as smoothly. But all that was about to change, she hoped.

  While bathing and dressing for dinner she had come to a decision: she was going to give their marriage a chance. She knew it was partially the result of Jake's passionate kisses this morning, but more than that—his derisory comment about a love that would not forgive the slightest misdeed or even thought had hit home.

  Jake was late. He had told her to be ready by seven, and she had been waiting for over ten minutes already. She was nervous, and she strolled into the family sitting room—a misnomer if ever there was one, she thought wryly, glancing around the elegant lounge. Perfectly presented but soulless was a more accurate description, much like her marriage, and it was up to her to do something about it.