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How he longed to go over to his new bride, to shower that pale, strained face with kisses, to make things better with just a smile. But this wasn’t a baby to be won over with a smile; this was a woman…
In every sense of the word, Rico thought, then attempted a retraction, mentally slamming closed a window that simply couldn’t be opened tonight.
He wanted to tell her—tell her what was in his heart—but surely now wasn’t the time. Catherine had enough to deal with, without clouding the issue with his pointless declarations.
A loveless marriage.
That was what they had agreed and that was how it must be. For now at least.
Yet no matter how he fought it, no matter how he tried to feign aloofness, still he found himself admiring those legs that seemed to go on for ever, silhouetted by her sheer stockings as she walked the length of the house. He took in the soft curve of her stomach, so much more appealing than the flat, concave gamines he usually dated.
But though he adored her with his eyes, they narrowed in concern as she made her way back to the entrance hall. She faced him head-on for the first time that day, and he couldn’t help but notice the dark smudges under eyes that had lost all their sparkle, the luscious hair tied back in a severe knot. Only her lips added a splash of colour, but even they seemed to have paled, and he ached, physically ached to take her into his arms and kiss away all the hurt, to somehow let her know that he understood the hell of today—the funeral, the awful confrontation with his family. But something in her stance told him he was neither wanted nor needed.
‘I’d better check on Lily.’ Even her voice seemed to have lost its fire. ‘Listless’ was the word that sprang to mind. Her eyes didn’t even flick to his as she headed for the stairs.
‘Jessica said she was sleeping,’ Rico pointed out. ‘Maybe it’s best not to disturb her.’
‘Jessica’s the nanny.’ Catherine shrugged. ‘I thought nighttime kisses and fairy stories were my department.’
‘Catherine.’ He came up behind her, taking the stairs two at a time till he stood beside her, one hand reaching for her shoulder. But he saw her stiffen before he even made contact and pulled it away. ‘You’ve just lost your sister, moved out of your home—’
‘And just got married!’ Her eyes glinted dangerously at him. ‘You failed to mention the fact we got married this morning, Rico. But then why would you? It was hardly the ceremony of the century.’
‘Which was what you wanted,’ Rico pointed out. ‘What you insisted upon.’
And it had been, Catherine conceded. But only to herself. She’d never been one of those women who’d dreamed since childhood about her wedding day, but a draughty, bland register office in the middle of the city, a ceremony snatched between meetings with lawyers and funeral preparations, certainly hadn’t been envisaged either.
‘I just didn’t expect it to be so—’
‘Look,’ Rico
quickly interrupted, ‘I know it wasn’t much of a wedding—I know that it was all a bit rushed. If you want, we can do it again—do it properly. When things have settled down we can have the wedding you want, the wedding you deserve. I’ll get my secretary to find you the best wedding planners; they can put you on to designers, anything you want…’
He was trying to help, Catherine told herself. Rico Mancini was used to waving a chequebook to fix things, used to plastering over cracks. But her pain ran too deep.
He simply didn’t get it.
He’d probably never get it.
The bland surroundings, the lack of grandeur, her crumpled clothes, the impassive celebrant—they didn’t matter a jot.
Had Rico only loved her, had his eyes adored her as he’d taken her as his wife, had his hand only reached for hers as they’d signed the register, the wedding would have been all she’d ever hoped for.
Her wedding would have been magical.
‘I’m going to check on Lily.’
‘Leave Lily for now.’ Rico was insistent. ‘Jessica seems very responsible and her room is just next door to Lily’s. Why don’t you come and have a drink?’
‘I don’t want a drink.’
‘Well, a bath, then.’
She gave a low laugh. ‘I would, except I don’t even know where the bathroom is.’
‘Catherine, please.’ She could hear an impatient note to his voice and gave a wry shake of her head—her allotted two minutes of understanding were clearly up.
‘What’s wrong, Rico?’ Accusing eyes turned to his, for even though she was as much a participant as Rico, a willing partner in the sham they had engineered, somehow she couldn’t help but blame him.
