'He needed to be given something to do, something to focus his mind on, that is all,' Romano said quietly. 'He is a Vittoria. It is not in his nature to sit around and twiddle his thumbs.'
'It's not in a Bellini's nature either,' Grace piped up again, before a slight groan and some heavy breathing told the two in the front that the conversation was finished.
Once they were at the hospital the medical machine took over, but when Grace was established in a private room a nurse came to tell Claire that she was wanted. 'I understand the husband, he is on his way?' the rotund middle-aged woman asked quietly, with a polite nod at Romano, who was sitting in the small waiting room, legs outstretched and seemingly relaxed. But he wasn't. Claire knew he wasn't. Quite how she knew, she wasn't sure, but this calm, composed air was an act
. She knew it. 'If your husband does not mind waiting, Signora Vittoria would like to see you.'
'He…I'm not married. This is a friend of Signor Vittoria,' Claire said stiffly, her cheeks flaming. 'You'll wait for Donato?' she added as she turned to face Romano. 'The policeman who was manning the phone at his office was going to find him straight away. He was out somewhere talking to one of the security people, so he shouldn't be long.'
'Of course I will wait,' he said quietly, the dark eyes expressionless as they looked into hers and his aura of cool remoteness sitting on him like a cloak.
How could one man be so…complete? she asked herself painfully as she followed the nurse out of the room and into the gleaming white corridor outside. Didn't he let anything touch him any more? He was so contained, so in control. She had never met anyone who had such command of themselves and their emotions. It wasn't just intimidating, it was frightening.
He wasn't going to be able to take this. Once he was alone Romano sprung up out of his seat, his teeth clenched and his body taut as he strode across to the small, narrow window and stared out into the darkness beyond.
He had dreamt her, breathed her, tasted her for weeks… It was a physical thing, dammit, it was just a physical thing—and as such could be dealt with. The thought was hot and fierce.
He thrust his hands deep into his pockets, his black leather jacket and black jeans emphasising the dark aura that permeated from the powerful frame like an icy cold cloud.
Why hadn't he gone out and got a woman—any woman—to relieve the ache inside him? he asked himself savagely. There were any number he knew who would be only too willing to fall into his bed, so why hadn't he behaved as she expected him to behave, dammit? She credited him with as little finesse in these matters as a stud stallion, she had made that clear from day one, so why didn't he kill this ridiculous craving in the age-old way? This was a body thing, an annoying and inconvenient irritation. That was all it was. He knew it— hell, he knew it in his head, so why didn't his body take notice?
A sudden noise from the corridor outside caught his attention and he swung round to face the door, but when it remained closed he turned back to the darkness outside the window, his thoughts moving off at a tangent now. He should be thinking about Grace and Donato at a time like this, not of his own needs. What sort of a friend was he anyway? He shook his head angrily. After all they'd gone through, all they'd suffered, everything had to be all right with these babies—had to be. Anything else was unthinkable.
Unbidden, a sweet little face topped by silky black curls formed on the screen of his mind. Paolo, Donato's first child, who had been so loved and so cherished, and whose death had caused such devastation. They had grieved for him and they still grieved, they always would, and although the twins wouldn't take his place they would help to soothe the ache he knew Grace and Donato still lived with.
He glanced at his watch, his eyes narrowing as he saw that some thirty minutes had elapsed since they had arrived at the hospital. Where the hell was Donato anyway? He'd give it another five minutes and then—
The door opening brought him swinging round to see Claire entering with a tray holding two cups of coffee. 'Donato's here. He's gone straight in,' she said shortly.
'And Grace?'
'She's OK. They think it will be an hour or two yet before she gives birth. She…she's in a lot of pain,' she added, so quietly he only just caught what she had said, 'but they appear to think that's normal.' She hadn't meant to say that last bit, it had just popped out of its own volition.
'Hey, come on.' He wasn't distant now. His voice was warm and husky as he moved swiftly to her side, taking the tray from her hands and placing it on the coffee-table before enfolding her into his arms. 'This is all new territory to me and you, but do not forget they have been through it before. Everything will be all right.'
'You don't know that.' Her stomach was churning violently, but to her chagrin she knew it was less out of worry for Grace—real though her anxiety was—and more because of the terrible enchantment of being held so close to the big male body she had dreamt about every night for weeks.
'This is a first-rate hospital and the facilities are second to none,' he said softly, resting his chin on the top of her head as he shaped her against his frame, moving in such a way that her hands crept round his waist as he snuggled her into him. 'Grace is young and healthy, and the babies are a good weight…you only have to have seen Grace over the last weeks to know that,' he added with wry amusement.
'But they're early—'
'Two, at the most three weeks,' he countered tenderly, 'which is nothing with twins—especially when the mother resembles an elephant!'
'Romano!' But she was laughing now, and as she relaxed against him, shutting her eyes for a moment and breathing in the heady fragrance of clean male skin and expensive aftershave, he felt his loins tighten and swell, and after a moment moved her from him to look down into her face.
'Is that coffee you brought in with you?' he asked lightly. 'Because I could certainly do with a cup.'
'Oh, of course.' He had retreated again, gently this time, kindly even, but just as implacably as before, she thought numbly, feeling the rebuff right down to her toes. And that hug—it had clearly meant as little to him as if he'd been hugging his grandmother. Whereas she… She had felt the contact in every nerve and sinew, and a few other places she could well have done without. It was humiliating, embarrassing to feel this way about a man who barely knew she existed. But at least he couldn't read her mind, he didn't know what she was feeling, and she'd rather die than let him guess.
For the first hour after they had drunk their coffee Romano was the suave, amusing companion he had been on one or two other occasions, exerting himself to keep her entertained and her mind off what was happening a few rooms away. And although she was aware it was a facade that he had perfected it was nevertheless engaging. As time went on, however, she noticed his eyes moved more and more often to the door until, some two hours and thirty minutes after they had entered the hospital, Donato made an appearance.
'Is everything all right?' They had both risen to their feet, but even as Claire asked the question she knew everything was not all right. The information was there to read in the set of Donato's face and the tightness of his mouth.
'They are talking about the possibility of a Caesarean.' Donato's voice was calm; his eyes were anything but. 'The first baby, the one already in the birth canal, is not coming as it should, and Grace is getting tired.'
'Oh, Donato…'
'Please, do not worry, Claire.' Donato was quick to reassure her, but all three of them knew his heart wasn't in it. 'She is in the best place for any decisions that need to be made. Look, I must get back, but I just wanted to say that if you two want to go home…'