‘Beth, cara.’
She heard his voice and turned to see him walking towards her. Butterflies took up a war dance in her stomach and her breath caught in her throat. He was wearing a charcoal suit, white shirt and striped tie, and for such a big, powerfully built man he moved with the lithe ease of an athlete. He looked fabulous—but he also looked furious, she realised.
His hands caught her shoulders and a firm male mouth descended on her parted lips. She lifted a hand to press against the hard wall of his chest, but for some reason her fingers spread out over the soft silk of his shirt.
It was Dante who ended the kiss. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, but did you have to parade up and down the lounge?’
‘Parade?’ Beth queried, her green gaze flicking up over the hard planes of his handsome face, his smooth tanned skin and square jaw. She saw masculine strength and, surprisingly, bewilderment in his extraordinary dark eyes.
Dant
e shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I said that. You are an impossible woman, Beth.’ Taking her arm, he added, ‘Come on—let’s get out of here.’ And he marched her out of the airport so fast she almost had to run to keep up with him.
Five minutes later a chauffeur held open the passenger door of a sleek black limousine, and Dante told her to get in quickly.
Beth sat in the back, as far away from Dante as she could get. It was warmer in Italy than she had expected, and the cashmere dress had not been a good choice, so she was grateful for the air conditioning. She glanced across at him and the resentment she had bottled up since the last time she saw him got the better of her. ‘You gave me only days to prepare to come here for a holiday I don’t want, and now you race me out of the airport like a marathon man. What’s the rush?’
‘You have a doctor’s appointment and we are going to be late.’
‘What doctor’s appointment?’ Beth demanded, glaring at him.
‘The one I have made for you. Don’t worry—he is the top man in Rome.’
‘Wait a minute. I thought you said I was staying at your home in the country? In any case I can’t step off a plane and go straight to a doctor.’
A frown lined his broad brow. ‘Why not? The sooner you see a doctor the better. I want confirmation that the baby is fine before I take you to the countryside.’
‘Yes, I see your point,’ Beth said—and she did. He wanted to make absolutely certain she was pregnant before he married her. Well, that was fine by her. She didn’t want to marry him any more than he wanted to marry her. They were only doing it for the baby.
* * *
It was obviously a private clinic, and Dr Pascal was a lovely man who spoke English, much to Beth’s relief. He asked them both a few questions, and the only awkward moment came when he asked Beth if she knew of any hereditary illnesses in her family. For a moment she was lost for words.
‘My fiancée was adopted at birth,’ Dante answered for her, and reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. ‘So she can’t answer that.’
‘Never mind. I have enough information.’ He called a nurse in and asked her to take Beth to the examination room, and told Dante to wait in his office.
When Beth finally followed the doctor back into the office Dante leapt to his feet. ‘Is everything all right, Doctor?’ he demanded, not even glancing at her.
For some reason—maybe because it had finally sunk in that the baby was real—she felt hurt that he had not spoken to her.
The doctor smiled. ‘Everything is perfect, Signor Cannavaro—the baby is fine. You are a lucky man.’ He turned admiring eyes on Beth and then back to Dante. ‘Your fiancée is an extremely fit and healthy young woman about nine weeks pregnant. I have made an appointment for a scan in two weeks’ time.’
Dante showed no emotion as he thanked the doctor in Italian. They spoke for a few moments longer and then they left.
Beth slid back into the limousine and stared out of the window as it manoeuvred through the Rome traffic, oblivious to the city’s great landmarks, lost in her own thoughts. In the days since Dante had burst back into her life and she’d discovered she was pregnant she had not been absolutely certain that it was real, but now there was no doubt. A child deserved to be born with love, not this way, she thought sadly.
‘So there is no going back,’ Dante stated. ‘If you give me your passport I can complete the arrangements for a civil marriage in Rome in two weeks. Under the circumstances we will not inform friends or family until after the fact.’
Beth’s spine straightened, her eyes widening in shock. There was not a hint of softness or real emotion in Dante’s hard gaze. ‘Surely we do not need to rush into marriage? It makes more sense to wait until the child is born.’
‘Maybe with any other woman, but I am not taking a chance with you. You are a flight risk. You have already changed your identity once, you have no family, no employer, no real ties of any kind, and you are not exactly penniless. You could disappear at any time, and I can’t spare the time to track you down again.’
‘You—you...’
Beth spluttered furiously. ‘What is to stop me taking off after we are married? Or do you intend to keep me a prisoner for the next three years?’
‘Nothing so dramatic,’ Dante drawled in a mocking undertone. ‘Once we are married I would not have to waste my time looking for you. You’d be a missing wife and the forces of law would do it for me.’