STRIVING to look as though she had not passed a sleepless night waiting for the phone by her bed to ring or even the sound of a masculine footstep, Poppy knocked on her employer’s bedroom door and entered. ‘Tris said you wanted to see me.’
Still lying in bed, clad in an elaborate satin bed jacket, Daphne treated her to a rather glum appraisal. ‘Yes. It’s a shame about that uniform, though. I bet you it won’t fit the next nanny.’
Poppy stilled. ‘I’m sorry…er…what next nanny?’
With a sigh, Daphne settled rueful eyes on Poppy. ‘Santino had a little chat with me last night. Didn’t he mention it?’
Her colour rising, Poppy stiffened. ‘No.’
‘You just can’t work for us any more, luv. Once Santino told me that little Flo is his, I saw where he was coming from all right,’ Daphne continued with a speaking grimace. ‘Naturally he doesn’t want you running about fetching and carrying for my kids!’
‘Doesn’t he, indeed?’ Her face burning fierily at Santino’s most unexpected lack of discretion, Poppy was scarcely able to credit her own hearing.
‘It wouldn’t suit us either.’ Daphne gave her an apologetic look. ‘The point is, Harold and Santino do business together. You’re the mother of Santino’s kid and you working for us, well, it just wouldn’t look or feel right now.’
It was obvious that the older woman had already made up her mind on that score.
‘You don’t even want me to work my notice?’
‘No. Santino’s arranged for an agency nanny for what’s left of the weekend. He’s a decent bloke, Poppy…’ Daphne told her bluntly. ‘I don’t see why you should be angry with him for wanting to do what’s right by you and take care of you and that little baby.’
A minute later, Poppy stalked down the corridor and then down flight after flight of stairs until she was literally giddy with speed and fury. She arrived in a breathless whirl in the main hall. Santino appeared in a doorway. He ran his lethally eloquent dark eyes from the crown of the frilly hat perched at a lopsided angle in her thick, rebellious hair to the starched apron that topped the shadow-striped dress beneath.
‘Good morning, Mary Poppins,’ he murmured lazily. ‘Remind me to buy you more black stockings, but you can ditch the rest of the outfit.’
‘Yes, I can, can’t I?’ Poppy hissed. ‘Especially when you’ve just had me thrown out of my job!’
Striding forward, Santino closed a hand over hers and pressed her into the room he had emerged from. ‘We don’t need an audience for this dialogue, cara.’
‘I’m surprised you care! You had no trouble last night baring my deepest secrets to Daphne Brewett!’ Poppy condemned.
‘Why should Florenza be a secret? I’m proud to be her father and I have no intention of concealing our relationship,’ Santino stated with an amount of conviction that shook her. ‘And please don’t tell me that you’re breaking your heart at the prospect of taking off that ludicrous uniform!’
Poppy refused to back down. ‘It was a good job, well paid and with considerate employers—’
‘Yet the rumour is that the Brewetts still can’t keep domestic staff. Do you know why?’ Santino enquired sardonically. ‘Daphne. She’s wonderfully kind and friendly most of the time. But she can’t control her temper and she becomes much more abusive than the average employee is willing to tolerate these days. Haven’t you crossed her yet? It doesn’t take much to annoy her.’
Poppy paled, reluctant to recall the older woman’s worryingly sharp reproof the previous afternoon when she had been five minutes late getting the children downstairs with all their luggage.
‘But then you’ve only been working for them for a few weeks and she’ll still be wary, but I do assure you that if you had stayed much longer, you would have felt the rough edge of Daphne’s tongue. She’s famous for it.’
‘Well, I still don’t think that that gave you the right to interfere,’ Poppy retorted curtly. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘But unfortunately, you’re not the only person involved here. I want what’s best for all three of us.’ Santino surveyed her with level dark golden eyes, willing her to listen to him. ‘I don’t see the point in a further exchange of recriminations. Life’s too short. I also want to share in Florenza’s life. For that reason, I’m willing to ask you to marry me…’
Shock held Poppy still, but the way he had framed that statement also lacerated her pride. He was ‘willing’ to ask her to marry him? Big deal! Her first marriage proposal and he shot it at her when she was seething with angry turmoil at the manner in which he had attempted to take control of her life. Now it seemed that he had taken away her security so that he could offer her another kind of security. That of being a wife. His wife. Her lips trembled and she sealed them.
‘Possibly I messed up the delivery of that,’ Santino conceded as the tense silence stretched to breaking-point. ‘I do want to marry you.’
Poppy spun away to gaze out the window at the rolling parkland and mature trees that gave the priory such a beautiful setting. Of course, he didn’t want to marry her! In Daphne’s parlance, Santino was offering to do ‘the right thing’ by her. He had got her pregnant and he saw marriage as the most responsible means of making amends. He was really lucky that she wasn’t the sort of female who would snatch at his offer just because he was rich, successful and gorgeous. Or even because she still loved him, she conceded painfully.
Poppy flipped round to meet Santino’s intense dark scrutiny, her face tight with strain. ‘Our relationship has only been an ongoing catastrophe,’ she framed unevenly.
His jawline clenched. ‘That’s not how I would describe it—’
‘When you called on me at Tilly’s, you said pretty much the same thing,’ Poppy reminded him. ?
??I ended up on that sofa because you had had too much to drink and you regretted it. That’s no basis for a marriage and, anyway, I don’t want to be married to some guy who thinks it’s his duty to put a ring on my finger!’
‘Duty doesn’t come into this.’ Santino groaned in sudden exasperation. ‘We made love because I couldn’t keep my distance from you, because I couldn’t help myself, cara—’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Just looking at you burns me up. Always did…still does,’ Santino intoned, striding forward to close his lean hands round hers. ‘That’s not a catastrophe, that’s fierce attraction. If you hadn’t worked for me, we would have got together a lot sooner.’
‘I can’t believe that…’ But even so, it was an assurance that Poppy longed to believe.
Santino reached up and whisked the frilly hat from her hair and tossed it aside.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.
The sudden slashing smile that she had feared she might never see again flashed out, lightening his lean, dark features and yanking at every fibre of her resistance. He undid the apron, removed it with careful hands and put it aside, too. Then he unbuttoned the high collar of her dress.
‘You want me to prove how much you excite me?’ Santino enquired with husky mesmeric intensity, molten golden eyes scanning her with anticipation. ‘Ready and willing, cara mia.’
A little quiver of sensual response rippled through Poppy’s taut frame. ‘Don’t…’
‘Don’t what?’ Santino asked, flicking back the collar to press his lips to the base of her slender throat, sending such a shock wave of instantaneous response leaping through her that she let her head tip back heavily on her neck, her untouched mouth tingling, literally aching for the hungry heat of his. ‘Don’t do this…?’
He discovered a pulse point just below her ear and lingered there. She trembled, heard herself moan and she grabbed his jacket for support, feeling herself drowning in the melting pleasure she had worked so hard to forget. Then, he framed the feverish flush on her cheekbones with spread fingers and kissed her just once, hard and fast, demanding and urgent, leaving her wanting so much more.