A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante Page 6

  Thomas threw his head back and laughed heartily at her expression. ‘I meant you can cook me another one of those delicious meals.’

  Rosa’s blush deepened, but she resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands. Of course Thomas wasn’t proposing she repaid his kindness with intimacy. Throughout the week she had stayed with him there hadn’t been even a flicker of flirtation from him. He had meant it when he’d told her that her virtue was safe with him on the first evening of their acquaintance, he hadn’t behaved improperly once. Rosa knew she should be thankful, especially after her awful experience with David, but she felt a tiny surge of disappointment every time Thomas didn’t take an opportunity to get closer to her.

  Gaining back control of herself, Rosa smiled. ‘Next time I’ll add less garlic.’

  It wouldn’t be quite so galling if Rosa didn’t feel her heart start pounding in her chest every time Thomas stepped in close to her. He was an attractive man, his body toned and muscular from the early morning swims and his eyes full of mischief and laughter. Rosa knew she never wanted to get involved with a man again, but Thomas tested her resolve sometimes. At least when he wasn’t ordering her around or teasing her.

  ‘Signora Felcini is coming to cook tonight,’ Rosa said. ‘So I’m sure I can persuade her to give me one last lesson before we leave.’

  The elderly Italian woman who came in to cook and clean for Thomas a few times a week had taken Rosa under her wing. She ordered Rosa around in rapid Italian and expected her to chop and help with the evening meal, but in return Rosa was treated to a lesson in rustic Italian cookery. In Rosa’s mind it was a fair exchange.

  ‘I have made arrangements for us to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Your family are causing a bit of a stir searching for you nearby, so I think it would be prudent to leave as soon as possible.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rosa said quietly.

  She still wasn’t quite sure why Thomas was helping her, it wasn’t as though he got much out of their arrangement, just trouble from the Di Mercurios and the expense of transporting her to England. Whatever his motivations Rosa was keen not to examine them too carefully; Thomas was her only hope now she was penniless and stuck so far from home.

  * * *

  Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow, adjusted the bandages on his hands and squared up to the punch-bag hanging from the branches of the sturdy olive tree. Quickly he hooked and jabbed, dancing lightly on his toes around the inanimate opponent.

  He’d learned to box at school, along with all the other sons of the gentry, classes where their wiry games master instructed the small group on the basics of boxing. Of course that had been no use for the real world and nearly four years ago, when he’d first been beaten and robbed on his journey through Europe, he’d vowed to learn to defend himself better. The first year of his travels he’d been attacked five times. It was unsurprising really. He was a well-dressed young man who needed to carry money with him—a prime target for any ambitious criminal. After each attack Thomas had retreated for a while, licked his wounds, then restarted his training with renewed vigour. He picked up techniques from the countries he visited, practised his defensive and attacking modes every day, and soon he no longer had to hide his modest purse on his person or avoid the more unsavoury areas of the cities he visited.

  Now training every evening had become part of his daily routine, just like the refreshing early morning swim in the lake.

  With one last high kick Thomas began unwrapping the bandages from his hands. He loved this feeling just after he’d exercised, the heady mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. Over the years he’d developed a deep-seated respect for his body and worked hard to keep it in top physical shape. Too many people took their physical health for granted, but he’d seen how quickly a man could be robbed of his ability to control his limbs, to walk, to run, to jump. He was determined to enjoy every minute he had conscious control of his muscles so he would regret nothing if and when the Hunter family curse struck.

  ‘Do you think...?’ Rosa said as she rounded the corner of the villa and came into view. ‘Oh.’

  Thomas had to hide a smile. She became so flustered whenever she caught sight of his bare skin, a deep flush spread across her cheeks and she seemed to lose her ability to speak for a few seconds. He liked to watch her rally, to refuse to give in to her embarrassment and try to continue as if nothing was amiss.

  Nonchalantly Thomas pulled on his shirt. No need to make the poor girl suffer any more than was necessary.

  ‘Yes?’ he asked.

  Rosa wasn’t an innocent, her growing bump attested to the fact that she’d been intimate with at least one man, but Thomas had the feeling that despite the fact she was soon to be a mother she wasn’t actually well acquainted with the pleasures of the flesh. For a moment his body tensed at the idea of being the one to make her moan and sing out with pleasure, but quickly he pushed the thought away. They had a long journey ahead of them together, he needed to be in control of himself and banish these intriguing but unwelcome fantasies.

  ‘Do you think we should eat outside?’

  Thomas nodded. It was their last night at the villa and he wanted to watch the sunset over the lake one last time.

  Together they set the table and, whilst Thomas poured the wine, Rosa brought out the dish she had prepared with Signora Felcini. As always it looked and smelled delicious; Thomas could detect hints of rosemary and garlic and a garnish of lemon sprinkled over lightly cooked fish.

  As he sat down and watched her serve up the fish and accompanying vegetables he was struck by what an idyllic domestic scene this was. For many men this was all they desired: a good-looking woman as a companion, someone to run their household whilst they amused themselves with other pursuits. Even Thomas, with his deep-seated desire to travel, had to admit there was a certain appeal to the idea. Rosa would make an ideal companion. She was interesting to talk to, good-natured and kind. Of course he wasn’t looking for someone to settle down with, but he wondered if she might be able to solve another problem for him.

  He had just picked up his fork and tasted the first mouthful of the delicious dish in front of him when he heard a commotion coming from the front of his villa. At first, as he listened to the raised voices and clatter of feet on the road, Thomas assumed it was drunken travellers making the racket, but as the voices came nearer he felt his muscles tense and his senses heighten.

  There was a hammering at the front door of the villa and Thomas just had time to see Rosa’s knuckles turning white as she gripped the table before he was on his feet and moving inside.

  ‘Stay out of sight,’ he instructed quietly, in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Rosa nodded and wobbled out of her chair before grasping the cane she was still having to rely on if walking more than a few paces.

  ‘Englishman!’ an angry voice called out in English with a thick accent. ‘We know you’re in there.’

  Thomas suppressed the grin that was trying to break out on his face as he strode to the door. Already he could feel the energy coursing through his body, the anticipation of the confrontation making him feel alive. He never went looking for trouble, but Thomas couldn’t deny he enjoyed the feeling he got when the odds were stacked against him in an encounter such as this.

  Just as the hammering began again Thomas threw open the door with a flourish and flashed his most charming and infuriatingly calm smile.

  ‘What can I help you fine gentlemen with this evening?’ he asked, making sure he caught the eye of each man in turn. In total there were five; five small and wiry Italian men who looked as though they’d smelled blood and were eager for some more.

  ‘We know you have her,’ the man at the front of the group said.

  ‘Who do I have the pleasure of talking to?’ Thomas asked.

  ‘Antonio Di Mercurio.’

  �
��Ah, the lecherous one.’ Rosa had told him much about her stay with the Di Mercurio family over the past week and Thomas was intrigued to match the characters to faces. ‘That would make you two Piero and Michele.’ He gestured to the other two young men roughly the same age as Antonio. ‘And you must be Luca and Luigi, these fine gentlemen’s fathers.’

  ‘Where is my niece?’ one of the older men snarled.

  ‘Rosa? Oh, she left days ago. Decided to take a ship to India, I think, or was it the Caribbean? I know it was somewhere far from here so she would never have to see the people who had kept her prisoner again.’

  ‘Prisoner? We’re her family. You’re the one who’s abducted her, stolen her from our care. Brought her to live in sin with you.’ This was from Antonio again.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Thomas said calmly, his thoughts returning to his dinner cooling on the terrace, ‘tell me how you think this little expedition of yours is going to end?’

  None of the men spoke and Thomas nodded in satisfaction. Although he’d led a private life here in Italy his reputation was still whispered about by the young men in the taverns. He was not a man to be trifled with, no doubt why the Di Mercurios had taken quite so long to approach his residence and demand Rosa back, and why there were five of them when ordinarily one would do.

  ‘Turn around and return home and we will say nothing more on this matter.’ Thomas even managed a friendly smile. One of the younger men recoiled, stepping back on to the foot of another family member.

  ‘We will go to the magistrate,’ Luca or Luigi threatened.

  ‘That is not a good idea,’ Thomas said slowly and quietly. He had learnt long ago that men responded to a low, quiet threat more than a shouted one and he saw the evidence again today as the Di Mercurio men huddled together for a few minutes, arguing fiercely in hushed voices.

  ‘Rosa,’ Antonio shouted eventually, craning to see over Thomas’s shoulder. ‘You are on your own. The family washes its hands of you. Go gallivanting about Italy with this scoundrel if you like, we no longer care. But just remember you will never again have the protection of the Di Mercurio name.’

  Thomas watched as the Di Mercurio men each gave him a particularly dirty look, one of the older ones holding his eye and spitting on the ground by his feet.

  ‘Good evening to you all,’ Thomas called cheerily, before turning back into the house and closing the door behind him.

  He almost laughed as he caught sight of Rosa in the corner of the room holding her cane aloft as if it were a weapon, but then saw the expression on her face. He crossed over to her with long, quick strides and instinctively took her into his arms, feeling her shudder with relief as he pulled her to him.

  As he held her close, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair and feeling the pounding of her heart through both their chests, Thomas felt a momentary pang of desire. Not for Rosa—well, not exactly—but more for this lifestyle, this experience. Part of him longed to have a woman and maybe even a child to look after, someone to put above all else, someone to cherish and protect. He knew that was never in his future; he couldn’t bear finding a woman he loved, marrying her and then having to watch her watch him suffer through the illness that might strike at any time. It wasn’t fair and he wasn’t that cruel.

  Not everyone marries for love, the small voice in his head whispered.

  It was something he had been contemplating for a while, but up until now it hadn’t seemed possible. He could marry, find a kind and patient woman to give his family name to, someone he could take home to his mother and leave as a companion for the lonely older woman. It wasn’t a great romance, but many of his contemporaries had married for far worse reasons.

  As Rosa’s head sunk to his shoulder the idea gripped hold of him and wouldn’t let go. He could marry her, protect her and her unborn child, and rid himself of the guilt he felt at leaving his mother behind whilst he travelled the world in one swoop. It was madness, but maybe no more so than any other paths in life.

  Chapter Seven

  Rosa frowned as Thomas darted forward to take her hand and help her down from the carriage. He was being attentive, too attentive, and it was making her nervous. They had been travelling for three days, long dusty days spent in the carriage watching the scenery pass by, and for those three days Thomas had been the most perfect of travelling companions. He’d held doors for her, assisted her at every opportunity and organised their accommodation without her having to lift a finger.

  ‘We’ll rest here for the night,’ he said, gesturing to the ramshackle coaching inn by the side of the road.

  Rosa nodded, knowing she didn’t have much choice in the matter. The whole journey had been taken out of her hands. Thomas had seen to it that she never lacked any possible comfort, but hadn’t consulted with her on the details of their route across northern Italy to Venice. She knew she shouldn’t complain, that was how things had to happen, but it was beginning to irk her to have all her decisions made for her.

  ‘Have a rest before dinner,’ Thomas instructed and Rosa felt herself stiffen.

  ‘I think I’ll go for a stroll,’ she said, just to be perverse. Truly a lie down sounded heavenly and, despite being cooped up in the carriage for most of the afternoon, Rosa felt weary all the way down to her bones, but she refused to let anyone tell her what to do with her life ever again. For twenty years she had acquiesced to her mother’s every wish, followed every rule, only to be thrown out and disowned after one single mistake. Never again would she allow Thomas or anyone else to make her decisions for her.

  Thomas looked around sceptically. ‘A walk? Here?’

  Rosa followed his gaze and had to admit it maybe wasn’t the most picturesque of spots. Their journey had taken them through rolling hills and towering mountains, past shimmering lakes and lush fields, but this little spot by the coaching inn was far from pretty. On the edge of a small town, the air was thick with the smell of manure and smoke and the buildings that lined the road were in various stages of disrepair. A stray dog wandered aimlessly down the middle of the road, sniffing at the heaped piles of rubbish and every so often letting out a mournful whimper.

  ‘I need to stretch my legs,’ Rosa lied, cursing her stubbornness. She could be heading towards a comfortable bed and a short rest before the evening meal, but instead she was going to have to pretend to want to explore the town.

  Thomas regarded her for a moment through narrowed eyes and then shrugged. ‘If that is what you desire. I will enquire about rooms for the night and then I will escort you.’

  It was too much. Rosa wanted to scream, to grasp him by the shoulders and shake him until he told her why he was being quite so obliging. Before they had set out on their journey he had been kind, certainly, and extremely generous offering to escort her back to England, but he had teased her, joked with her. He would have wheedled out the real reason Rosa had refused to rest within a few minutes of light probing. She didn’t know why he had changed, but it was making her feel uncomfortable, as if he wanted something from her.

  As Thomas walked away Rosa stifled a sigh. If only it were as simple as him wanting her, but there hadn’t been any suggestion that he found her remotely attractive. She glanced down at her growing bump and had to smile; she supposed her days of attracting eligible young men were well and truly over. Despite pretending not to care Rosa knew this was more difficult to adjust to than she had initially thought. Sometimes it was nice to be wanted, to be desired. From now on she would be either a fallen woman or a mother, neither of which were thought of as conventionally attractive.

  That still left her with the question of what it was exactly that Thomas wanted.

  She watched him disappear into the coaching inn and waited for a few minutes, feeling her dissatisfaction grow. She wanted to kick something, vent her frustration, but with her ankle still paining her from time to time she knew it wasn’t a ver
y sensible idea.

  When Thomas hadn’t emerged after five minutes Rosa turned her back to the inn and started to wander away. He could easily catch her up and she was still in view of the inn, it wasn’t as though anything untoward would happen to her just a few paces down the road.

  ‘Pretty flower for a pretty lady,’ an old woman croaked as Rosa walked past her.

  ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t any money,’ Rosa replied, smiling kindly at the elderly woman, and started to turn away. She spoke slowly, testing out each word in her head before articulating it.

  ‘Never mind, my dear, it pleases me to brighten up the day of a pretty young thing.’

  The old woman levered herself up from the battered chair she’d been sitting in and approached Rosa, taking her firmly by the arm and looking up into her eyes.

  Rosa struggled not to squirm under the piercing nature of the stare and gently tried to pull away.

  ‘You’re troubled, my dear, it doesn’t do for a woman with child to be so worried.’

  Rosa glanced down, wondering if her pregnancy had reached the stage where it was obvious to passers-by on the street.

  ‘Come, let us see if we can’t relieve you of some of those worries.’

  Without really meaning to Rosa felt herself following the elderly lady in through a crooked wooden door and taking a seat on an upturned wooden crate. There was something mesmerising about her companion, almost hypnotic, and Rosa felt herself begin to relax as the woman bustled around preparing a pot of tea.

  ‘I really should be getting back,’ Rosa said as the woman poured water into a battered old kettle.

  The old woman didn’t reply and Rosa wondered if she had even heard her. It would be extremely rude just to get up and leave, but she didn’t really know what she was doing in this stranger’s house.

  ‘You worry about your future,’ the old woman said. ‘And the future of your unborn child.’

  ‘Doesn’t every woman worry about her future? Every mother worries about her child.’