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‘Take it easy. It’s hot and you’re pregnant,’ Cesare intoned.
‘For goodness’ sake!’ Lizzie snapped. ‘I’m only a tiny bit pregnant!’
In silence, Cesare rolled his eyes at that impossibility. He had all the consolation of knowing that he was reaping what he had sowed. Lizzie was not naturally either moody or short-tempered. In fact, in spite of her troubled childhood she had a remarkably cheerful nature, he conceded grimly. At least she had had a remarkably cheerful nature until he had contrived to destroy everything in what had to be an own goal of even more remarkable efficacy.
Primo greeted them at the front door and spread it wide. ‘Workmen are still finishing off the utility area,’ he admitted. ‘But I believe the house is now presentable.’
Wide-eyed, Lizzie drifted through the tiled hall, which had been painted white, and moved on into a spacious reception room furnished with pieces that were an elegant mix of the traditional and the more contemporary. French windows draped with floral curtains opened out onto a terrace overlooking a secluded sandy cove. The view down the slope of a path through the trees to the beach was incredibly picturesque and unspoilt.
She walked through the house and as she peered into rooms some of her tension began to evaporate. In the wake of her mother’s unappreciative descriptions, she was surprised to discover that it was actually a very attractive house and full of character. A room with a bathroom had been prepared for Athene’s use on the ground floor. Lizzie mounted the stairs, which had wrought-iron ornamental balusters and a polished brass handrail. A bedroom had been sacrificed to provide en-suite bathrooms. Everywhere had been freshly decorated and kitted out, fabrics stirring softly in the breeze through open windows.
‘What do you think?’ Cesare asked from his stance on the landing.
‘It’s magical. I can understand why your grandmother never forgot this island. It must’ve been a wonderful house for kids,’ she confided.
‘Soon our child will follow that same tradition,’ Cesare said gruffly.
‘Well, possibly when he or she is visiting you. I won’t be here as well,’ Lizzie pointed out, quick to puncture that fantasy.
Cesare hovered in the strangest way, moving a step forward and then a step back, lashes suddenly lifting on strained dark golden eyes. ‘And what if I wanted you to be here as well?’
‘But you wouldn’t want that,’ Lizzie countered with unwelcome practicality. ‘You will either have remarried or you’ll have a girlfriend in tow.’
‘What if I don’t want that? What if I want you?’ Cesare shot at her without warning, unnerved by that veiled reference to the divorce that would be required for his remarriage.
Lizzie lost colour, wondering what he was playing at, wondering if this was some new game on his terms. ‘But you don’t...want me, that is. You made that quite clear last night.’
‘I do want you. I want to stay married,’ Cesare bit out almost aggressively. ‘Last night, you took me by surprise and I was confused. I made a mistake.’
Lizzie shook her pale head slowly and studied him in angry wonderment, temper stirring from the depths of the emotional turmoil she had been enduring since he had blown all her hopes and dreams to dust. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this. First you ask me for a business-based marriage, then you ask me to give our marriage a try and then you tell me we don’t have a real marriage. As I see it, that’s pretty comprehensive and not open to any other interpretation!’
She swivelled on her heel and deliberately walked past him to enter the room on the other side of the landing.
‘I’m trying to say I’m sorry and you’re not even listening!’ Cesare growled from behind her.
‘You can’t apologise for what you feel...neither of us can,’ Lizzie parried curtly as she lodged by a window, hoping to look as though she were entranced by the view when in actuality all she could think about was escaping this agonising going-nowhere conversation with Cesare, who seemed not to have the first clue about how she might be feeling. ‘I’m going to get changed and go off and explore.’
‘Alone?’ Cesare exclaimed.
‘Yes. I like my own company. I had to—I worked alone for years,’ she reminded him doggedly, walking past him on the landing, relieved when she saw the cases being carried upstairs into the master bedroom. ‘I realise once Athene arrives tomorrow it’ll be “game on” or whatever you want to call it...but could we...please not share a bedroom tonight?’
‘Why are you not listening to anything I’m saying?’ Cesare demanded in apparent disbelief. ‘You won’t even look at me!’
Lizzie had only felt free to look at him when he was hers. Now that he wasn’t any more, she didn’t want to fall victim to his essential gorgeousness all over again. Not looking was a form of self-defence, she reasoned wildly.
‘Lizzie...’ he breathed in a driven undertone.
Lizzie stiffened, tears prickling behind her wide eyes. ‘I can’t afford to listen to you. You upset me a lot last night and I really don’t want to talk about that kind of stuff. It’s pointless. I’m not really your wife. I may be living with you—’
‘Expecting my child!’ Cesare slotted in with greater force than seemed necessary.
‘But you didn’t choose to marry me because you cared about me, therefore it’s not a proper marriage,’ Lizzie replied as she reluctantly turned back to face him. ‘And in your own immortal words everything else we’ve shared can be written off as “just sex”.’
Cesare flinched at that reminder, his pallor below his bronzed skin palpable. ‘I care about you now. I want to keep you.’
‘I’m not a pet, Cesare...’ Lizzie stared at him and frowned. ‘Are you feeling all right? You know, you’re acting very oddly.’
Goffredo’s one-word piece of advice returned to haunt Cesare. ‘I’m fin
