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‘I didn’t think it was necessary. Brownie assured me she remembers all the original colours.’ Solo shrugged. ‘I thought that would do for now as I remember it being very attractively decorated.’
He had been talking to Brownie behind her back, and that hurt. Solo had taken over her home and now the loyalty of the one person Penny trusted above all others.
‘Later we can discuss any alterations that need to be made, perhaps a new nursery.’ At her arrested gasp a glint of amusement flickered in his grey eyes. ‘You must consider the possibility, Penny, as you so succinctly pointed out we took no precautions.’
‘Well, if it ever happens again, you better make damn sure you do.’ Penny hated him for stating cold, hard facts. It was all his fault she might be pregnant.
The amusement vanished from his eyes. ‘Oh, it will happen again, and again, of that you can be sure,’ he stated emphatically, shooting her a penetrating glance. ‘As for protection, if the thought of having my child so horrifies you—’ his mouth thinned in a tight, ominous line ‘—I suggest you wait until we see what nature intends this month, and then I will introduce you to my doctor, and you can take the pill.’
If Penny had not known better, she would have thought she had deeply offended him, but she quickly dismissed the idea. He had made it very plain their relationship was strictly sexual, and of a temporary nature. With Tina in the background it could never be anything else. Why the thought depressed her, she didn’t dare question.
‘We don’t have to get married,’ she said quietly.
‘Yes, we do.’ Solo eyed her with cool implacability. ‘I was born a bastard and no child of mine will suffer the same fate.’
‘I thought your parents were dead!’ Penny exclaimed.
‘My mother is, she died when I was ten; my father, I have no idea. He was an American sailor, and my mother a whore.’
‘That’s terrible,’ Penny murmured, her tender heart aching as she pictured Solo as a small boy without family. ‘I can’t imagine not having a home and family.’ She lifted green eyes moist with sympathy to his. ‘It must have been awful for you.’
‘No, it was the making of me. The streets of Naples were my home. As for family, who needs one? Neither your father or your stepmother were particularly kind to you, or you would not be here now. Save your pity for someone who needs it,’ he declared callously. ‘Yourself perhaps, because you are still going to marry me. The arrangements have been made, and I will not be made to look a fool in my home town.’
Penny said nothing. But the insight into his upbringing or lack of it had a profound effect on her troubled mind. She could not get the picture of a young Solo having to fend for himself out of her mind. He had every material thing a man could want, wealth, power, stunning good looks, a home. A home filled with perfect objects, and who could blame him for collecting only the best, when he had started life with nothing? No wonder he had insisted on marriage, any child of Solo’s would have everything the world could provide.
She cast him a surreptitious glance through the thick fringe of her lashes—but would the child have love? He was so cold, so controlled, but, beneath the hard exterior was he capable of love? As a teenager she had once thought so; he had been light-hearted and had made her laugh, for a few short weeks they had had fun… Later he had made her cry. Perhaps it was not impossible to recapture something of the past.
But for the duration of the meal the conversation was limited to generalities.
Later, acting as though he were a tourist guide, Solo showed her around his home. She stared in amazement at the paintings in the main salon. She recognised a genuine Matisse, and her eyes boggled at the exquisite oriental china, the bronze statues.
His collection of objets d’art was eclectic, but everything the genuine original. He had not been joking when he had told her he collected only perfect objects. His home was beautiful, and she told him so after leaving a purpose-built gallery that housed modern art, a Picasso and Jackson Pollock just two of about twenty.
‘You are like a human magpie, Solo.’ She slanted a smiling glance up at him. They were in his study, and even the desk was magnificent, made of polished walnut, and the silver and crystal ink set had no modern use but was perfect all the same.
His lips curled sardonically. ‘If by that you think I am a thief…’ he gripped her arm just below the elbow, his fingers biting into her flesh ‘…let me disabuse you of the notion. Everything I have I have bought legitimately, and that includes you.’
Then he pulled her into his arms, crushing her breasts against his hard, muscular chest, moulding her slender thighs and stomach into the rocklike contours of his body. He lowered his head and his hard mouth covered hers.
Penny could not move, so she did the only thing possible and clung to his wide shoulders as he kissed her with a deep, burning, angry passion.
At last he lifted his head and moved back and her legs trembled, her breathing ragged. ‘I never meant…’ She suddenly realised the insensitivity of her comment with a background like Solo’s and wanted to apologise, but he didn’t give her the chance.
‘Shut up, Penny, and listen.’ His chiselled features impassive, his expression was hard. Walking around the desk, he said, ‘I have the pre-nuptial for your signature. Read it, and I think you will find I have not robbed you, then sign,’ he commanded cynically.
Penny looked warily at the papers he slid across the desk, rubbing her arm—she would probably have a bruise there tomorrow—then picked up the document.
‘More than generous,’ she said flatly into the long silence and signed it.
Penny’s wedding day dawned bright and clear. Anna insisted on doing her hair—apparently she ha
d been a hairdresser in her youth—and swirled the blonde tresses into a fantastic concoction on top of Penny’s head. The final touch was a number of tiny rosebuds from the garden inserted in the soft curls.
Penny glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and hardly recognised herself. The strapless dress lovingly clung to her slender body, the tiny pearls glinting in the sunlight. She slipped on the short jacket with the pearl-studded stand-up collar, and she had never felt so elegant. The three-inch high-heeled matching shoes helped.
The ceremony at the civic hall was thankfully brief. Anna and Nico were the witnesses, and half a dozen other people appeared. Solo introduced her but she was too numb with nerves to take in their names. Penny stood still as a statue at Solo’s side as he signed the necessary documents, and she took the pen from his elegant fingers and added her own name where he indicated, and it was all over. It seemed unbelievable to Penny that a few words in a language she barely understood had changed her life.
She glanced up at the man who was now her husband looking as cool and remote as ever. Dressed in an expertly tailored pale grey business suit and looking for all the world as if he had just concluded another business deal. Which she supposed in a way was what their marriage was.
