The Italian's Inherited Mistress

‘It was your idea, so we’re off to collect a puppy on the other side of the island where the last pug came from,’ Alissandru told her. ‘I could have had the dog delivered but there’s a litter and I thought you should choose, being a doggy kind of person, unlike me.’

Isla’s attention briefly strayed to Puggle, who was fawning at Alissandru’s feet in the hope of another titbit. ‘Are you starting to like him?’

‘I’m afraid not. He’s a shameless manipulator and a crawler into the bargain,’ Alissandru told her in disgust.

Isla laughed. ‘He doesn’t care what you think as long as you feed him. He’s a dog, not a human.’

The sound of her amuseme

nt animated the formal high-ceilinged room, bringing a warmer, lighter element into the atmosphere. Alissandru frowned at her as though she were a riddle he had still to solve. He could not recall a woman ever making less effort to impress him. She didn’t flirt or pout to hold his attention; she was happy to disagree with him and perfectly relaxed in his company. That resistance to being impressed made her an intriguing combination and a challenge. And although he was always exasperated by women who were clingy, he was keen to see Isla make more of an effort to attract him. Was that because no woman had ever made him work so hard for approval before?

He didn’t know and he didn’t much care. He was content to live in the moment. Isla wouldn’t be in Sicily for long and he would make the most of their time together, keeping their affair light, casual and fun until it reached its natural conclusion.

CHAPTER NINE

‘SO, YOUR FAMILY has always been rich and privileged,’ Isla gathered without surprise, for Alissandru’s awe-inspiring self-assurance was an integral part of his character. ‘My background is very different. I come from a long line of poor people. My grandparents on both sides were crofters and they barely scratched a living. My father qualified as an engineer and he might have done better if an aneurysm hadn’t killed him in his early thirties.’

‘Why did your mother’s parents raise you? Where was your mother?’ Alissandru interrupted, reaching for the wine bottle to top up her glass.

‘Trying to work two jobs down in London and take care of Tania at the same time. There was no way she could’ve coped with a baby, as well. She had poor health—she had kidney disease. There was never really any hope of the three of us reuniting as a family and living together,’ she pointed out wryly, covering her wine glass with her hand. ‘No more for me. In this heat too much would send me to sleep.’

‘I believe I could keep you awake,’ Alissandru teased, dark golden eyes settling on her with slumberous sensuality, sending warm colour flying up into her cheeks.

The remnants of a luxury picnic lunch spread in front of them, they were sitting in a meadow that gave them a bird’s-eye view of the Rossetti estate. A lush green collage of flowering orchards and vines interspersed with the silvery foliage of the olive groves stretched across the fertile rolling landscape below them. That morning Alissandru had given her a tour of the entire estate and, although Isla did not feel she had been especially active, she was now feeling ridiculously sleepy. Drenched in sunshine and warmth, she stretched her shoulders, frowning as her bra cut into her ribcage while, confined within the tight bra cups, her tender breasts ached. Had she put on weight? She supposed that was perfectly possible when they had eaten out so often. Even when they ate in at the palazzo, meals ran to several courses and the food was rich.

But gaining a little weight wouldn’t give her sore boobs, she reasoned ruefully. She had thought that was more likely to be linked to hormones and the failure of her menstrual cycle to return to normal and stay normal after her miscarriage. But how could she possibly consult a doctor here in Sicily about something so intimate when she didn’t speak the language? In the same way she had baulked at asking Alissandru to organise birth control for her. All such matters could surely safely wait until she returned to London...although by then she would no longer have any need for birth control, she conceded with innate practicality.

Ought she be doing a pregnancy test? For goodness’ sake, how could she be pregnant again? Apart from that one tiny moment her first night in Sicily with Alissandru, there had been no mishaps, no oversights. And yet sore breasts and absent periods were also the most common sign of pregnancy in a woman, she reminded herself worriedly, and there and then she decided that she would be perfectly capable of identifying a pregnancy-test kit in a Sicilian pharmacy. She would do a test simply to rule out that frightening possibility.

Alissandru rested back on one elbow watching her, wondering what she was thinking about that made her look so serious. He could barely credit that she had already been in Sicily for six weeks and that he had stayed with her that long, as hooked on the pleasure she gave him now as he had been at the outset. Six weeks had to be some kind of new record for him. But then Isla was intelligent and easy company and he had enjoyed seeing Sicily through her more innocent and less critical gaze. But when would the boredom, the itch to move on to fresh fields, kick in? He had also done the bare minimum of work since her arrival, an acknowledgement that disconcerted him.

Of course, that was what living in the moment entailed, he reminded himself bracingly and, since he hadn’t taken a proper break in years from his workaholic schedule, it made sense to make the most of his time with Isla because she would not be in Sicily much longer. She had already applied to join an educational course in London, which started in the autumn. He assumed that she was planning to stay the summer, but he hadn’t actually asked because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, and looking that far ahead would definitely give her the wrong impression.

Isla lay down, her drowsy gaze welded to Alissandru’s flawless bronzed profile, experiencing that revealing little kick in her pelvis that made her squirm, her body lighting up as if in search of him. That she couldn’t imagine life without him now terrified her. Fleeting moments of happiness had always been the norm for Isla, but the kind of effervescent happiness that Alissandru gave her was an entirely new departure for her. She had not slept alone a single night since they got together and if business or travel intervened, Alissandru was not above joining her in bed in the middle of the night or even at dawn. Either she slept in his giant carved mahogany four-poster bed or he shared her far less ostentatious double at his late brother’s house.

Recovering from being part of a couple and adapting to being alone again would be difficult for her. She had never imagined that togetherness developing when their affair began. She had assumed there would be days they wouldn’t see each other, arguments when they rubbed each other up the wrong way and needed a break. But she had assumed wrong because she was with Alissandru round the clock and he didn’t seem bored...yet. In addition, they had very few rows.

Dissension usually broke out when Alissandru tried to give her some ludicrously expensive gift and took offence at her refusal. He didn’t seem to grasp that she didn’t need presents to feel appreciated. She was much more impressed when he took the time to drive her up into some remote mountain village and walk her along narrow cobblestone streets to a tiny restaurant he had been told offered superlative but simple food, made of the finest, freshest ingredients. Or when he had taken her to see the Greek temple ruins in the beautiful valley at Agrigento even though he was not remotely interested in antiquity.

Yes, Alissandru was just chock-full of surprises, she conceded warmly. If he hadn’t told her she would never have guessed that he had originally planned to be a doctor, but that he had abandoned his studies after his father’s death because his parent had made some rather risky investments and the family finances had required a steady hand. That he had put his family’s needs first had shown her how much caring he was capable of, and that he missed his twin every day was also a fact that touched her heart because, quite honestly, Alissandru had had very little in common with Paulu, yet he had still managed to love and value his brother.

‘Just drop me at the house. I need to go to the pharmacy for...er...sun block,’ she told Alissandru as she climbed back into his sports car.

‘It’s a five-minute drive into San Matteo. I’ll take you,’ Alissandru insisted.

And Isla thought about arguing and then worried that that would only draw attention to any purchase she made. Buying a pregnancy test was ridiculous, she told herself irritably. There was no way she could’ve fallen pregnant again. Even so, it was wise to rule out the possibility, however unlikely it was, she reasoned.

San Matteo was a pretty little town with a charming piazza surrounded by several cafés that overlooked the old church and the central

fountain. Alissandru parked and said he would meet her at the bar next door to the pharmacy and she sped off. Recognising a pregnancy test on the shelf was not as much of a challenge as she had feared and she dug the package deep into her capacious bag and rejoined Alissandru with a smile on her face to enjoy a cold drink.

Driving past the palazzo, Alissandru glanced at the sleek car parked there and suddenly braked. ‘Fantino and his mother must be here for lunch. Why don’t you join us?’

Isla froze. ‘Your cousin...er... Fantino?’

‘Sì, you probably met them at my brother’s wedding. I’m not particularly fond of Fantino but our mothers are sisters and close,’ he explained wryly.

A chill ran over Isla’s skin at the mere idea of even being in the same room as the man who had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience in a manner that had taken her months to recover from. ‘No, thanks. I don’t like Fantino.’

‘You remember him?’ Alissandru’s voice emerged with an instinctive chill as he recalled what he had witnessed on the day of his brother’s wedding. Reminding himself that Isla had been a mere teenager at the time, he just as quickly strove to forget the memory again.

‘Yes, I remember him,’ Isla responded woodenly. ‘Just drop me back to the house...or I could walk from here if you like.’

His black brows drew together as he studied her pale, set face. ‘What’s wrong?’ he prompted.

Isla breathed in slow and deep and then saw no reason to withhold the truth.

‘Fantino assaulted me at the wedding.’

‘Say that again,’ Alissandru murmured more quietly.

‘You heard me the first time,’ Isla retorted curtly. ‘I don’t want to see Fantino or have anything to do with him.’

‘That’s a very serious allegation,’ Alissandru pointed out harshly.

‘Yes, and considering that he got away scot-free with what he did at the time, I don’t feel any need to justify the way I feel now. Please take me home.’