The Cost of Her Innocence

CHAPTER SEVEN



BETH WALKED PAST DANTE and headed for the kitchen. She was suddenly ravenous. She checked the fridge and withdrew a carton of eggs, two slices of ham, a chunk of cheese and the makings of a salad from the vegetable box. She placed them on the kitchen bench along with some herbs, and then took out the omelette pan and placed it on the hob.

‘Can I help?’

She had not heard Dante walk in, and glanced over her shoulder to find him right behind her. ‘No. You have done more than enough already,’ she said dryly. ‘And I thought I told you to leave?’

‘I have not eaten since I left London this morning. I suppose I could stop at the local pub for lunch. Bill seems a hospitable guy, and he obviously likes you. He told me where to find you. He’d probably appreciate being the first to know you are pregnant.’

‘No. I don’t want anyone to know—not until the pregnancy is confirmed by a doctor.’ Beth was clinging to straws, she knew. ‘Take a seat.’ She nodded her head towards the kitchen table. ‘I suppose I can feed you before you go. Cheese and ham omelette with salad is all I’ve got.’ She was babbling again, but Dante was too big and too close, and he made her very generously sized kitchen feel like a rabbit hutch.

‘Thanks.’

To her relief he moved to pull out a chair and sit down at the table.

Beth placed the salad bowl on the table, along with condiments and cutlery. Then she broke six eggs into a bowl, and in a matter of minutes had heated the oil in the pan and cooked the omelettes. Placing one on each plate, she crossed to the table and put them down, pulling out a chair to sit opposite Dante.

‘Enjoy,’ she said automatically and, picking up a knife and fork, cut into the fluffy omelette and ate in silence.

‘That was delicious,’ Dante said, and she looked up to see he had cleaned his plate. ‘You really can cook.’ A genuine smile indented the lines around his mouth, and there was a gleam of surprise in the dark eyes that met hers.

‘Don’t sound so surprised! My mother taught me and she was a brilliant cook.’ Beth’s eyes softened as she remembered. ‘Mum made the most gorgeous cakes—probably the reason I was a bit plump as a child.’ With food in her stomach and the shock of her situation fading a little, she smiled wryly. ‘But after she died the weight began to fall off.’

Dante’s breath caught at her gentle smile. ‘I am sorry you lost your parents so young, Beth,’ he said compassionately. ‘I didn’t realise your parents had died only a year before your trial. I understand how grief can make people behave irrationally....’

‘Oh, please stop. I don’t need false sympathy from you,’ Beth mocked, her shoulders tensing, her green eyes blazing at him. ‘And don’t insult my intelligence. I was innocent and I was stitched up by Bewick and his friend—and you made sure of it. Tell me, how many more innocent people have you sent to jail? Have you any idea?’

Dante prided himself on his integrity and his honour and was deeply insulted, but he was not about to argue with Beth when she was carrying his child. Instead he stated the facts. ‘None. You were found guilty by the jury, not me. As a lawyer, I did what I was hired to do—make the case to the best of my ability on the evidence presented by the police and witnesses, not just you. There was nothing personal about it and any other decent lawyer would have got the same result on the evidence. It was also my last criminal case. International commercial litigation is my specialty.’

Beth’s eyes widened incredulously on his darkly brooding face. ‘I was your last criminal case? That really makes me feel a whole lot better,’ she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘You said it without a trace of irony and you sound so plausible—but then that is your forte.’

‘You will think what you want.’ For an instant an expression she did not recognise flashed in the depths of his dark eyes and was gone. ‘In my experience women usually do.’

Beth shoved back her chair and stood up. ‘You are such a chauvinist,’ she said, and picked the plates up from the table.

‘Well, I don’t wash dishes,’ he quipped.

She almost smiled as she carried them to the sink, put in the plug and turned on the tap. Idly, she swirled the water around with her hand, then turned off the tap and added some liquid soap, mulling over in her head what Dante had told her.

Maybe he had a point when he said it was nothing personal. He probably spent most of his life in a courtroom and must have had hundreds if not thousands of cases. He could not possibly remember all the people involved.

Beth grimaced. He had not remembered her at the barbecue and probably never would have done if not for Tony’s joke about marrying her, which had made Dante suspect she was after his brother and his money. She, on the other hand, had recognised Dante the first time she’d seen him again in the street as the man who had haunted her dreams for years. So what did that say about her?

Strangely, it put things into perspective for Beth. The day she had left prison Helen had told her not to look back, never to let bitterness affect her new life... But at her trial Beth had fixated on Dante and blamed him personally for the result. She had hated him for years. Now she realised that, given the evidence against her, she would have got the same result with another lawyer. Not that it made any difference. Dante was still the supremely confident, arrogant man he had always been.

She rinsed off the plates and the pan and stood them on the drainer, then turned around at the sound of his voice. He had his cell phone to his ear and was talking in rapid-fire Italian, his other hand gesturing wildly. He looked and sounded so animated and so very foreign to her, and she felt an odd twinge in her heart.

He lifted his head, a smile still curving his lips. ‘Work,’ he said, and slipped the phone in his jeans pocket.

Beth caught her breath. She was tempted to smile back, and that frightened her. He was a handsome, charismatic man when it suited him, but she had seen the dark side of him—the clever, domineering and unbelievable bossy character—and she needed to get rid of him....

‘You know, Dante, I have hated you for years and now I realise it was a wasted emotion,’ she said, schooling her features into a blank mask. ‘You will never change and you are always right—which does not bode very well for the future of my baby. An autocratic father is the last thing a child needs. And I really think you should go now.’

‘I agree. But I want you to come with me. I don’t like the idea of leaving you on your own here.’

‘I won’t be on my own. I told you Janet and Annie are coming to stay and we are going out for the rest of the day.’ She flashed him a smile that did not reach her eyes. ‘Have a safe journey.’

Beth turned back to the sink and pulled out the plug, watched the water drain away.

She heard the scrape of a chair on the floor. Good, he was going.... Hopefully by the time she saw Dante again—if she saw him again—she would have a plan to deal with him. Maybe a monthly visit...something like that. Firmly settled in her new life, with people around her she trusted, the thought of having a baby was not so scary after all. In fact she was thrilled, and loved the baby already. Working from her own home was the perfect solution for a single mother. No nursery, no childcare and a great environment to bring up her child.

Beth picked up a teatowel and dried her hands and turned around to make sure Dante had left—only to see him standing in front of the table, his steely gaze focused on her.

‘I thought you’d gone.’ Her eyes clashed with his and a sliver of fear trickled down her spine. He still exuded an aura of firmly controlled masculine power, and yet she sensed something had shifted. She felt the heightened tension in the air, saw the hard resolution in his dark eyes, and resisted the urge to moisturise her suddenly dry lips.

‘I don’t take orders, but when I give them I expect them to be obeyed—something you will have to learn when we are married.’

‘Married?’ she parroted dumbly.

‘Yes, married.’

Beth was shocked rigid for a moment. To want to marry her after all that had been said between them—he must be crazy....

Stony-faced, she squared her shoulders and bravely held his gaze. ‘Let me make this very clear. I am not marrying you. I’d have to be out of my mind to marry a man who thinks I am a criminal or a femme fatale who preys on young men. And my opinion of you is as bad—if not worse. I don’t like who and what you are, let alone love you.’

‘I am not that keen on you as a wife,’ he said dryly. ‘But there is a baby to consider. As long as we are civil to each other and concentrate all our energy on giving the child the nurturing and love it deserves I don’t see a problem. We are sexually compatible, and in my experience lust is preferable to love—if love even exists, which I doubt.’

Beth felt the colour rise in her cheeks as images of her tussle on the sofa with him filled her mind—and the full-blown sex that had got her into this position in the first place....

‘That is the most cold-blooded argument for getting married I have ever heard, and typical of you,’ she declared scathingly.

‘No, it is eminently sensible. I want my child born legitimately and brought up in Italy, as I was, on the family estate. But I travel abroad a lot, and spend quite a bit of my time in London, so I don’t mind if you keep this house and stay here when I’m in the city. So long as you devote all your time to our child.’

His arrogant attitude infuriated Beth. ‘No. Marrying you is out of the question. It is never going to happen.’

‘As I see it there are only two options. We get married or I take you to court for sole custody of the child—which will be a long, drawn-out process that could go on for years, and you know I will win eventually. You choose.’

Beth felt as if all the air had left her body and she stared at him in horror. He meant it. She recognised the cold, implacable determination in his voice.

‘That is no choice at all!’ she exclaimed and, taking a steadying breath, she tilted up her chin, just as determined as Dante. ‘My mother—whoever she was—abandoned me as a baby in a hospital emergency department. Much as I loved my adoptive parents, I would never give up custody of my child. But I certainly would not fight you in court after the last time. I’m not that stupid. I know what a devious devil you can be and I have little faith in your sort of justice. As for marrying you? Spending the rest of my life with you does not bear thinking about.’

Dante had not realised she was adopted. The investigator had not gone that far back. But in her last comment his fertile mind saw a way to get what he wanted...

‘Then don’t think about the rest of your life. Nothing lasts for ever,’ he stated with a cynical arch of a black brow. ‘And though I am not in favour of divorce, under the circumstances I am prepared to make allowances. If by the time the child is three—old enough to really know its parents—you find married life intolerable, I will give you an amicable divorce with shared custody of the child. In fact I will draw up a prenuptial agreement stating as much.’

Beth’s eyes widened a fraction. Her first thought had been to dismiss marriage out of hand, but now Dante had surprised and shocked her. Had he said it deliberately? she wondered, and studied him for a moment. His expression was watchful but not malicious, she decided. A wry smile played around her lips. He was so insensitive, so self-centred, that he did not recognise the irony in offering her a divorce after three years. Her prison sentence had been three years....

‘A marriage with a get-out clause you mean?’ she said, and amazingly she found herself considering it. She had done one prison sentence because of him, and got out after eighteen months. Who was to say she could not get out of the marriage sentence sooner? While loving her child she could be the wife from hell. Making Dante’s life a misery would be sweet revenge for all he had put her through....

He continued to look at her with that unwavering dark gaze. ‘Yes, exactly as I stated.’

Beth wanted the best for her child, and though she hated to admit it Dante’s offer was probably the best she was going to get. She would not have to stay in Italy all the time, as he had said. He spent quite a lot of time travelling all over the place with his work. Dante might be the biological father of her baby, but she couldn’t see him being a hands-on father. In fact she might not see much of him at all, she realised. She glanced around the kitchen, her brain ticking over.

‘Do I have any choice?’ she questioned cynically.

‘You know the alternative. Is that what you want?’

‘No, definitely not,’ Beth said. She could see no other way out....

Dante caught her shoulders and stared grimly down at her.

‘Then make up your mind. What is it to be? Yes or no?’

‘Then yes, I suppose,’ she said fatalistically. ‘But I want an iron-clad pre—’

A voice cut her off.

‘Hey, Beth—that is some car outside. Do you know whose it is?’ Janet asked as she walked into the kitchen with Annie. She stopped dead, her gaze settling on Dante, still holding Beth.

‘No,’ Beth said quickly. ‘Yes, I mean. This is...’

She stopped as Dante dropped a swift kiss on her lips, let go of her and moved to Janet.

‘Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dante, a very close friend of Beth’s, hoping soon to be much more. You must be Janet,’ Dante said smoothly, and Beth stared open-mouthed with shock as he smiled and took her friend’s hand. ‘Beth has told me so much about you. It is a pleasure to finally meet you and your adorable little girl, Annie.’

‘Oh...oh, hello,’ Janet stuttered. Overawed by his formidable presence she turned huge blue eyes on Beth. ‘You dark horse, Beth. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.’

‘We met years ago and renewed our relationship earlier this year, but Beth likes to keep me hidden,’ Dante declared outrageously. ‘While I want her to come to Italy for a holiday to show her my world and persuade her to marry me.’

Beth could not believe the glib devil, and watched as he bestowed a megawatt smile on Janet the like of which she had never seen before.

‘Ah, a Latin lover—I should have guessed.’ Janet turned to her, and much to Beth’s chagrin she blushed. ‘Beth, I can’t believe you never once mentioned this gorgeous man. I can’t say I blame you. If he was mine I’d keep him to myself as well.’ She grinned and glanced admiringly back up at Dante.

Beth silently groaned. Janet was a great friend, but hopelessly outspoken. ‘You don’t understand...’ she began.

‘What’s to understand? A holiday in Italy sounds great to me—and the man hopes to marry you! Accept quickly, before he changes his mind.’

‘I can’t just take off to Italy. I can’t leave Binkie, and the builders are going to start on the conversion soon.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Binkie. And as for the conversion—you can have at least two weeks holiday before it starts.’

Somehow, ten minutes later, Beth found herself standing by the Bentley with Dante, her future more or less decided.

He kissed her—for Janet’s benefit, she guessed—then told her he would call her the next day to confirm arrangements. He already had her house phone number, and he gave her his card with a list of numbers where she could contact him. She supposed she should be grateful he did not whisk her away there and then. At least she had a couple of days to think of an alternative.

By the time Beth went to bed that night she was exhausted, but her head was filled with the events of the day and she could not sleep. Janet had asked her umpteen questions but Beth hadn’t had the heart to tell her that she was pregnant. In fact she was having a hard time accepting it herself. As for Dante saying he was hoping to persuade her to marry him—she didn’t know why he bothered prevaricating.... He had left her no choice but to marry him.

Beth called Clive the next day and told him she was going on holiday to Italy for two weeks. She hadn’t the nerve to tell him the truth, and was still hoping it would all miraculously go away. She told him she would ring him when she got back, but he said he was going away himself on a three-month lecture tour around the universities in Australia, and somehow Beth felt more alone than ever.

* * *

It was two o’clock on Friday afternoon when Beth stepped off the plane in Rome. She was met by a uniformed gentleman who whisked her through Customs, telling her that her baggage would be taken care of, and ushered her into a VIP lounge, informing her that Signor Cannavaro was to meet her there.

Beth had never flown first-class before—in fact she had only ever flown four times. Nervously she smoothed the oatmeal cashmere dress she wore down over her hips and looked around. There were a few business types, but no sign of Dante. With a bit of luck he might have changed his mind and she could go back to England straight away, instead of in two weeks’ time as Dante had agreed.

* * *

Dante’s meeting had run on for longer than he’d expected, and the traffic to the airport was horrendous. He stopped at the open door of the lounge at the sight of Beth, walking down the room. She was wearing a long-sleeved sweater dress that followed every seductive line of her body to end above her knees, and high-heeled shoes accentuated her fabulous legs. She looked sensational, and a vivid image of those legs wrapped around his waist, his body buried to the hilt in hers, filled his mind.

He took a deep, steadying breath to control his raging libido and moved forward, noticing that every other man in the place was watching her. For a moment he saw red....

* * *

Beth was beginning to wonder if Dante really had changed his mind. There was still no sign of him and she looked again at her wristwatch.

‘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.

Dante 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.’

Beth sucked in air. She wanted to kill him, but she couldn’t even trust herself to speak.

‘We will marry in two weeks, as I said, and I will fly back with you to London on Sunday and introduce you to my mother as my wife. Then we will return to your cottage in time for the builders’ arrival on Monday...agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ Beth murmured, her face expressionless. She opened her bag, withdrew her passport and handed it to Dante. Her fingers brushed his and she flinched. For the first time since Helen had died Beth felt like crying. Hormones, she told herself, and took a deep breath.

‘Are you all right?’ Dante queried, dark brown eyes narrowing on her face. ‘You look tired.’

‘Yes. You heard the doctor—I’m fine. But it is good of you to be concerned.’ If he noticed the sarcasm in her voice she didn’t care. All she cared for was the baby.

The rest of the journey was conducted in almost complete silence. Beth was simmering with resentment at the position Dante had put her in, which was not helped by the self-satisfied look on his handsome face....

‘Beth, wake up—we have arrived.’

Her eyes fluttered open and she realised she was held in the protective curve of Dante’s arm, her head on his chest. Then she shot up and smoothed the skirt of her dress over her thighs, mortified that she had fallen asleep on him, and—worse—that she had enjoyed the comforting feeling.