The Cost of Her Innocence

CHAPTER FIVE



BETH OPENED HER EYES to see the early-morning rays of the sun flooding the bedroom and stretched lazily. She looked across at the large windows that folded back to open almost the whole room to the balcony and the sea beyond and sighed contentedly. She loved this house, she thought, a soft smile curling her lips as she glanced around the master bedroom.

The cream-and-blue flower-sprigged wallpaper with matching curtains and bedlinen were a little faded now, as the master suite with bathroom and dressing room had been refurbished to Helen’s taste when she had been released from prison. Beth never wanted to change it as the room reminded her of her friend and gave her a feeling of serenity. It was her safe haven from the rest of the world.

A builder and decorator had completed the refurbishment of the rest of the house last week. The other three bedrooms on this floor had en-suite bathrooms now, plus the two bedrooms on the top floor. The house had never looked better, and the rental potential had increased significantly. Beth was quite happy with what she had achieved.

Sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she stood up and walked into the dressing room, collecting briefs and an exotically printed slip dress, and then entered the bathroom.

Yesterday she had received notice that her plans to convert the roof space of the garage into a two-bedroomed apartment had been passed. The builder was due to start in three weeks’ time.

With a sense of satisfaction she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. She had slept without dreaming of Dante Cannavaro or thinking of him the minute she woke up for a couple of weeks now, and her plan to exorcise him from her mind by having sex with him seemed to be working.

She had definitely made the right decision. She loved her new life—the freedom to work when she wanted to or walk out of the door and breathe the fresh sea air or take a swim and go surfing if the mood struck her. She had even acquired a slight tan, and for the first time in ages no longer felt she had to be careful or fearful of the past coming back to haunt her. She was her own woman, mistress of her own destiny, and Cannavaro had been shoved back into the box he had occupied for the last few years and was not worth thinking about.

She slipped on her briefs and dress and ran a brush through the tangled mass of her hair. Down here she never bothered with a hairdryer or the electric straightening tongs that had been a part of her daily routine in London in order to present a sleek, professional image. Much as she had liked her old job, Beth had not really enjoyed living in London. But she had fulfilled Helen’s wish and become a success. Now she was out of the rat race and hoping to be equally as successful in her new venture.

She had certainly made a good start, she thought happily. She already had a few bookings for next year, by which time the garage apartment would certainly be ready. She would have to work two days a week in the house when it was rented out, but that was no problem—and much preferable to working all week in an office.

An hour later, having fed Binkie and with a cup of tea and two slices of French toast in her tummy, Beth was ready to face the day. Janet was coming over at two with her daughter, and they were driving into town to shop before returning to the house for dinner.

Janet’s father had been employed on a part-time basis here for years, as gardener and caretaker, and Beth had met Janet the first time she’d visited. Now she considered her a friend. Janet had married young and had a four-year-old daughter called Annie. Tragically, her soldier husband had been killed in Afghanistan last year, and after his death Janet was back living with her parents. Sometimes Janet and Annie stayed with Beth for a night or two, and it suited them both.

Carrying her second cup of tea and her sunglasses, Beth opened the front door onto the long terrace that ran the length of the cottage, with steps down to the garden path and the road, with the beach and sea beyond. She sat down on one of the eight captain’s chairs and looked out over the bay. The sea was as calm as a millpond.

Blinded by the glare of the sun on the water for a moment, she blinked and put on her sunglasses—then blinked again as the roar of a car split the silence.

A big black Bentley...

She watched as the luxury car stopped in front of her gate and with a sinking heart recognised the driver as he opened the door and got out. Her heart sank further at the sight of Dante Cannavaro, standing surveying the bay.

His black hair gleamed like polished jet in the sunlight. Aviator sunglasses hid his eyes, but nothing could detract from the golden chiselled perfection of his features. His great body was clad in a black polo shirt open at the neck, and hip-hugging black jeans that clung to his muscular thighs and long legs like a second skin. He was strikingly attractive. Simply looking at the man was enough to make most women go weak at the knees.

Beth was glad she was sitting down, because her plan to rid him from her mind—which only earlier she had thought was working—had obviously not worked after all. Why, oh, why, she wondered despairingly, after twenty-seven years of hardly being aware of the sexual side of her nature, had she only got to see Dante Cannavaro for her pulse to race and her temperature to soar?

Filled with self-loathing at her reaction, she lifted her cup and took a drink of tea, trying to ignore him. She did not know what had brought him here and she was not going to ask. He certainly wasn’t a typical day-tripper. As a super-rich, sophisticated international lawyer, a luxury resort somewhere exotic was surely more his style.

* * *

Looking around, Dante was surprised by the beauty of the cove—and more so by the house. He had pictured some quaint old cottage as he had driven over the headland and down the cliff road to the harbour. He had called at the local pub to ask directions to the cottage of Miss Lazenby, and had been treated to a glowing tribute to Beth by the landlord. He had also been informed that the cottage was the best holiday rental for miles around, and a great little earner for Beth, and then told how to find the place. Dante had driven to almost the opposite end of the bay, as per instructions, and had been surprised.

The ‘cottage’ was a large white-rendered double-fronted house, with a wide terrace that ran the width of the building. Another balcony ran the length of the first floor, and in the roof was a third, complete with a flagpole and a telescope fixed to the glass guardrail. All the windows were virtually walls of glass that opened onto the respective terraces. It was in a magnificent position, looking straight out to sea, and set in about an acre of garden with a stone wall surrounding it. The road that ran between the house and the beach came to a dead end a few hundred yards farther on at the foot of the cliffs in a small car park.

Turning, Dante shook his head in amazement. Somehow he could not see the elegant redhead, the professional big-city accountant, settling down in a place that looked as if time had forgotten it. But then he had trouble seeing Beth as anything but naked beneath him, and knowing the mistake he had made was driving him crazy.

As for Faith Cove—if it had more than a thousand residents he’d be surprised.

Carved in the stone column of the house’s entrance gate was ‘The Sail Loft’ and, appropriately, a sailing dinghy was parked on the hard standing to one side of the house. A rack for surfboards with two in evidence stood beside it. On the other side was a long drive that led to a large garage at the rear of the property. The doors were open and her very distinctive Volkswagen was visible.

He was impressed. The land alone, situated as it was with spectacular views of the bay, had to be worth a good deal of money, Dante realised, never mind the house.

He tensed as he caught sight of Beth, sitting on the terrace, and surprisingly felt a moment of doubt. Ironically, he had arranged his schedule to have the month of September free to get married. Instead he had spent the first few days catching up on estate business and then supposedly relaxing. His housekeeper, Sophie, had made relaxing difficult, though. She was another woman who had already ‘bought the hat’ for the wedding that never was, and she’d spent most of her time giving him dire warnings that if he didn’t marry soon he would be lucky to see his children grow up. It was hard to argue with a woman who had changed his nappy as a child, and finally he had given up and gone to Rome where he’d accepted a new case. He’d had a couple of dinner dates with an old flame, determined to get on with his life, but it hadn’t helped....

Far from forgetting Beth Lazenby, as he’d intended, he had found she’d occupied his thoughts for the last eight weeks to the point of distracting him from his work—not something that had ever happened to him before. Women had their place in his life—usually his bed. But never in his head...

He had reread the investigator’s report on Beth and realised that Jane Mason had lost her parents only twelve months before her trial. He was surprised that her lawyer, Miss Sims, had not brought that fact up in court. Any good defence lawyer would have used the death of her parents as part of a character profile—troubled young lady who had lost her parents recently....

But then Miss Sims had not been a good lawyer. She had barely challenged anything he had said, and had stopped him on the way out to congratulate him, he recalled. Suddenly Dante found himself making excuses for Beth. Had he been too harsh with her? Alone in the world, she might easily have gone off the rails with grief... Not that it mattered. The evidence had been solid and the jury had found her guilty, he reminded himself. But he was a man always supremely confident in his decisions and he never second-guessed himself. The fact that Beth was making him do just that shocked him rigid. It had to stop.

Finally, yesterday morning, after a frustrating weekend, he had rationalised that there was nothing to be gained by waiting with the sword of Damocles hanging over his head. He needed to make sure Beth was definitely not pregnant before he got involved with another woman. His legal team could take care of work. His presence wasn’t essential until a client meeting on Wednesday.

His decision made, he’d taken a flight to London. He’d called Tony, pretty sure he would know where Beth was, but had got no reply. Then he’d called at her old apartment on the off-chance that she had lied about everything and was still living there. Only to be faced by a young man who said he had no idea where the last tenant had gone.

Finally he’d caught up with Tony late afternoon and discovered Beth had been gone for weeks and had set up in business for herself. But as her loyal friend Tony had refused to give Dante her phone number or her address at Beth’s specific request.

After checking the investigator’s report again he had found the address of her cottage and set off at the crack of dawn to drive here, confront her, and dismiss doubt and the woman from his life once and for all and get back to normal.

At least that was what he’d told himself. But now, as he looked at her exquisite profile and the contrast of her red hair against the ever-so-slightly sun-kissed skin of her bare shoulders, a basic, more earthy desire began to heat his blood.

* * *

Beth heard the click of the gate and glanced down to see Dante stalk up the path and leap up the steps to come and stand towering over her. He became a big black shadow against the sun and memories of the past came rushing back. Involuntarily she shivered. Whether it was because of the old dreams or the sex or both, she wasn’t sure. All she was sure of was that his physical presence disturbed her far too much for her peace of mind.

‘Good morning, Beth. Lovely place you have here—though a little hard to find. I’ve been driving since six and could join you in a cup of coffee,’ he declared, glancing at the cup in her hand as he sank down onto another captain’s chair.

‘It’s not coffee, it’s tea. And if you go back the way you came there is a small café next to the shop on the harbour. Try there,’ Beth suggested bluntly. Dante Cannavaro had said he would leave her alone. He had some nerve, turning up here.

‘Oh, come on, Beth. That’s not very hospitable after all we have been to each other....’ he drawled, and removed his sunglasses.

She saw humour in his dark eyes, and more as he let his gaze roam over her, lingering on the swell of her breasts beneath the cotton of her dress with undisguised male lust.

‘No way,’ she snapped, feeling uncomfortably warm. ‘You agreed we would never meet again. I’ve kept my side of the deal, so what’s your excuse for turning up here and breaking it?’ she demanded.

‘Extenuating circumstances—and strictly speaking you’re wrong. I never actually agreed to stay out of your life, only never to reveal...’ He paused, then continued, ‘My inside knowledge of you.’

Beth felt her eyes widen and the colour rise in her face at his choice of words, as she was sure he had meant it to. Without thought, she swung her hand in a swift arc to slap his face, but he caught her wrist.

‘Now, Beth, that is no way to greet an old friend,’ he drawled in a deadly low tone, and lowered her arm down to her thigh.

She tugged her wrist free but had more sense than to try to hit him again.

‘I had a pretty tough job finding you again.’

‘You shouldn’t have bothered. You are not welcome here,’ Beth said bluntly. Leaning forward, before she could stop him, he flicked off her sunglasses and his dark eyes clashed with her angry green.

‘That’s better, Beth. I want to see your reaction when I tell you the reason I am here.’

Beth went very still, her face expressionless, when really she was so mad she wanted to throttle him. But she realised his being here and his last comment sounded like a threat. She looked out to sea for a long moment to regain her composure and reviewed every one of her past encounters with him in her mind. She came to a conclusion. She slowly turned her head to glance up at his harsh, handsome features through the fine curtain of her lashes.

‘There is nothing that you can do or say to me that is worse than you have done already,’ she said with deliberate softness.

Amazingly, dark colour washed up his face and he drew back, his mouth twisting. ‘I sincerely hope not,’ he said cryptically, a frown creasing his broad brow.

Beth had the odd notion he was not only embarrassed, but worried.

‘But get me a coffee and I will tell you.’

His tone was hard and demanding again, and it set Beth’s teeth on edge. For a moment there she had begun to think that Dante was almost human. Big mistake...and not one she intended to repeat.

‘No,’ she said defiantly. ‘I remember what happened the last time you demanded coffee....’ She glanced up and caught the gleam of desire in his dark eyes that the memory of their last meeting had evoked and felt an answering surge of heat spread through her body. Stupid thing to say.... She lowered her eyes to try to gather her wits. But focusing on the open neck of his polo shirt was not helping her....

‘I did not invite you here, but obviously your investigator informed you I own this place,’ she said in a voice that was not quite steady. She ploughed on regardless. ‘I do not want you here. I have absolutely no interest in a single word you say. Is that clear enough for you?’

‘Yes, but it might be difficult,’ Dante said, looking down at Beth.

He felt a strange tightening in his chest as he did so. It was incredible how young, how innocent she looked, with her hair washed and left to dry in surprisingly silken waves. She wore no make-up, and was wearing a simple, brightly patterned summer dress that skimmed over her breasts and slender body. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra and stiffened, remembering the full firmness of her breasts and the erotic taste of her nipples in his mouth. He also remembered that thanks to him she was not physically innocent anymore—and, of course, the real reason he was here.

His mouth tightened grimly. He was angry for letting her obvious attributes get to him and, straightening up, dismissed the wayward thoughts from his mind, determined to get this over with quickly.

‘Look at me, Beth,’ he demanded, and watched her raise her head, her expression guarded. ‘This is a serious matter. Are you on the pill?’

‘No, of course not,’ she said without thinking.

‘In that case we might have a problem. It may have escaped your attention, but I did not use protection when we had sex. You could be pregnant, and if you are I need to make suitable arrangements.’

‘What?’ Beth cried, appalled, as the true reason for Dante being here registered in her mind. It had never occurred to her that she might get pregnant—how stupid was that? Would she never learn? Was she sentenced to go through life being made a fool of by this man? she wondered. ‘You didn’t use...?’ Of course he hadn’t. She hadn’t noticed, but he had just said so, and she suddenly had a hysterical desire to laugh.

‘No. It was my fault and I take full responsibility. I am prepared to take care of everything, all the monetary aspects, should the worst circumstance arise.’

‘You are unbelievable! You sound like a lawyer even when you drop a bombshell like that on me!’ Beth exclaimed, thinking the only thing that would be arising was her stomach if his suspicion was true. Because no way would she take a penny from Dante Cannavaro under any circumstance.

‘What can I say? I am what I am?’ He shrugged negligently.

Ignoring him, Beth swiftly thought back over the eight weeks she had been here and realised she had been so busy planning and working she hadn’t noticed she had missed her period. Suddenly Dante’s fear was a very real possibility. Her recent aversion to coffee, which Janet had remarked on when Beth had switched to drinking tea, now held a different connotation. But she hadn’t been sick—well, not physically. Though she had felt nauseous and had blamed it on the pervasive smell of the decorator’s paint that had filled the house for weeks.

The little colour she had leached from her face. The very idea filled her with horror; not the thought of a baby—she would love to have a child of her own, someone to love unconditionally—but with Dante Cannavaro as its father! To be connected to him for years by a child didn’t bear thinking about....

Then another even more disturbing thought occurred to Beth. What exactly was he offering to pay for—take care of?

She looked at him with dislike. ‘By “monetary aspects” do you mean you will pay for an abortion if I am pregnant?’ she asked.

‘Is that what you want?’ he prompted, his hard face expressionless.

‘No, never,’ she said instinctively.

‘Good, because if that was what you wanted I would have done everything in my power to convince you otherwise. So, are you pregnant or not?’

She turned her head to stare out to sea again, suddenly very afraid. Dante was a powerful, clever man, and very persuasive—as she knew to her cost. If she was pregnant, and if she had a healthy baby and he decided to claim custody, where would that leave her? She was probably worrying unnecessarily, but Dante was a lawyer, and she had no doubt he was ruthless enough to use her past history against her in court. What chance would she have of keeping the baby herself?

Beth looked back at Dante and considered lying. She had loved her adoptive parents, and had no idea who her biological parents were. All she knew was that as a baby she had been left in a sports bag in the emergency department of a hospital. Her mother had never been found. With her own lack of a true identity she knew instinctively that there was no way she could refuse her own child the right to know its father.

‘I don’t know. It’s too early to tell,’ she said calmly. It wasn’t really a lie, there could be other reasons why she was late, but offhand she could not think of one.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

He rose to his full intimidating height and Beth swallowed hard.

‘You are an intelligent, adult woman—you must know if you have missed menstruating.’

‘I am not the ridiculous one here,’ she shot back. ‘I have some excuse, but for a man of your age and experience to forget protection is ridiculous.’

‘Point taken.’ Dante grimaced. ‘But you still have not answered my question. Have you missed your period?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not regular anyway,’ Beth said, and immediately wished she had told an outright lie. But she had been so shocked at the thought of pregnancy, and Dante had been so blunt, she had not had time to think things through properly and had simply reacted.

‘I don’t have patience and I am a busy man. I need to know now, so I can rearrange my schedule if I have to without too much inconvenience. I have a meeting in Rome at midday tomorrow as it is. When I arrived in London yesterday I expected to find you there—not miles away in the middle of nowhere. You said there was a café? Come, I need a coffee.’ He reached out a hand. ‘And if there is a pharmacy we can get a pregnancy test at the same time and settle the matter now.’

Beth’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you crazy? I could never buy a pregnancy test in the chemist here. Everyone knows me and it would be around the village in a flash.’

‘So we will go to the nearest town.’

Beth tried to argue with him. What man in his right mind went looking for a woman after what had been basically a one-night stand and demanded a pregnancy test? The nearest town was a forty-minute drive away, and she was going there this afternoon with her friend Janet and her daughter anyway. She would get one then.

But he was not prepared to wait. Nothing she said would deter him, and ten minutes later she was sitting in his car.

Silently seething in the passenger seat, Beth watched as he walked around the bonnet and slid into the driving seat. She caught the male scent of his aftershave as he closed the door, saw his chiselled profile, the slight darkening of his firm jawline and the sensuous mouth. Hastily she dropped her gaze, but the denim pulled tight across his thigh so close to hers was no help. Everything about him was so masculine... Her heart skipped a beat and it was hard to breathe. He affected her senses in every way, and yet he was the last man on earth she should be attracted to.

‘Nice car. What happened to your Ferrari? Tired of it already?’ Beth asked snidely. Anything to take her mind off the sheer physicality of the man and her own troubled thoughts.

‘You happened,’ Dante shot back.

‘What do you mean, I happened?’ Beth queried.

He turned in his seat to look at her, a rueful smile twisting his lips. ‘After I left your apartment I was driving back to my place when it suddenly struck me what I had done—or, more precisely, not done. It was just as big a shock to me then as it was to you today, and for the first time in my life I ran into the back of a truck at a red light and buckled the front of my car.’

‘You hit a truck?’ Beth exclaimed, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘With your new Ferrari?’ She knew that Dante loved his cars, and it gave her great pleasure to realise he was just as likely as the next man to crash his car.

‘It is back in the factory in Italy being repaired—which is why I am driving the Bentley. I was in America until ten days ago, and I meant to pick it up when I got back to Italy. I never got time.’

‘You seem to have plenty of time to come here,’ she said flatly.

‘Yes—but only because I made a mistake with you. I do not like indecision of any kind and I am not prepared to wait any longer. It is essential that I know if you are pregnant. If you are I will need to make some readjustments to my life and so will you. We are in this together, Beth, whether we like it or not.’

Dante had ended on a serious note, and Beth looked away as he started the engine and they moved off.

He was right, she thought fatalistically. Better to find out now. Though in her heart of hearts she had a growing conviction that she was. If the pregnancy was confirmed she was going to have to deal with Dante Cannavaro...and, given her past experience with the man, the thought did not fill her with confidence....