Your Scheming Heart Page 14

  The warm creature inside her expanded. "All right," she whispered. "Don't let go."

  He rubbed his cheek against her hair and then she felt a soft kiss pressed against her forehead.

  Her eyes shut tight as a mysterious wash of emotion rushed through her.

  "Lie with me," Vincenzo said.

  "What?" Her eyes popped open again at his naked words.

  "Just to lie down." His hand passed gently over her hair. "That is all."

  She pulled back enough to look up at him.

  His gaze down at her was simple, sober. He really meant that all he wanted was to lie down together, nothing more.

  The warmth in her chest swelled. "All right." She barely recognized her own voice, it sounded so soft. "Just to lie down."

  Taking her by the hand, Vincenzo led her to one of the beds. Without drawing back the cover, he sat down and didn't even take off his shoes as he scooted back. She didn't take off her shoes, either, as she sat next to him.

  The light from the faraway bathroom hit only one side of his face. His eyes were very dark, very serious. "This way," he said, and took her by the waist.

  "What?" Sabrina started as he pulled her down to a lying position. "Oh." Understanding, she turned so that her back was facing him. His hands crossed over her waist, pulling her against his chest and legs. She fit very nicely into the warm cradle he made.

  "There," Vincenzo breathed, obviously well satisfied. "That is good."

  Yes, it was good. Very good. His arms locked across her front, just under her breasts, pinning her body against his hard strength. But she didn't feel caged or hemmed in. She felt...protected.

  Sabrina's eyes drifted closed. For a little while she wouldn't think about anything, she decided. Not what this meant or didn't mean or how it would affect the future. For a while, she'd just relax. She could feel him breathing by the expanding and contracting of his chest against her back. She began to breathe rather steadily and slowly herself.

  Sabrina wasn't sure how much time passed before she woke up. It was still night-dark outside the drawn curtains and the bathroom light still shed its fluorescent glow from down the hall.

  Lying in the relaxed state with which she'd fallen asleep, she would have been happy to stay in the warmth of Vincenzo's embrace, but the waistband of her jeans was starting to cut into her stomach and the underwire of her bra was piercing her ribs. She needed to get into something more comfortable.

  Carefully, she unlocked Vincenzo's arms from around her front. Fast asleep, he didn't resist or even stir. Breathing out slowly, Sabrina eased herself from the bed.

  Standing, she looked back at him. He lay loosely curled, his hair rumpled against the bedspread over the pillow, the lashes dark against his cheeks.

  A curious warmth filled her chest. There was something vaguely threatening, though, as well as peaceful in that warmth. The sensation didn't mesh well with what she knew to be her basic nature. Frowning at the thought, Sabrina turned away.

  She found the suitcase that lay at the foot of the other bed, opened it up and withdrew a clean, oversized T-shirt. With the shirt clutched in her hand, she shot another glance toward the opposite bed.

  Vincenzo remained sound asleep. Gratefully, then, she unsnapped her jeans. It only took her a few seconds to get out of the confining clothes, sitting on the floor to work off her jeans and then quickly unbuttoning her shirt. It was a wonderful relief to divest herself of the bra.

  Kneeling on the floor, Sabrina had just pulled the clean T-shirt over her head when she became aware of a subtle change in the quiet room. Pulling her head out of the neck of the shirt, she checked the opposite bed again.

  Vincenzo hadn't moved. He lay in the same relaxed position as before. But Sabrina could see a glimmer of light beneath the dark lashes. Very quietly, he'd been watching her.

  She put a hand to her forehead and nervously brushed back her hair. It would be cowardly to look away, she decided. And besides, she wasn't some naive little girl to get flustered just because a man had seen her without her shirt on. All the same, her heart began beating very fast.

  He didn't say a word, just kept watching her. In the air an increasing electric charge grew between them. Before, they'd lain in each other's arms like innocent children. Now there was nothing either innocent or childlike in the several feet of distance that separated them.

  It's different now, Sabrina thought, with an oddly pleasant panic. He was not watching her, waiting for her, as though he were a married man. That obstacle no longer lay between them. As she knelt there, her bare legs getting cold, Sabrina wondered if there were any barriers left at all.

  That was when suddenly, abruptly, he sat up.

  In reflexive retreat, Sabrina fell back from her knees to her rump.

  Ignoring her bit of nervous clumsiness, Vincenzo ran both hands through his hair. "Get into bed, Sabrina," he ordered in a night-husky voice. "I will be back in a moment."

  She made no move to get up, her weight caught between her rear end and the palms of her hands behind her. "Uh... What are you going to do to me?"

  He smiled, as though he could hear the way her heart was pounding. Squatting down to her level, he reached to cup her cheek with his hand. "It is my turn now. I'm going to take care of you."

  Then he got to his feet and strode toward the connecting door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Take care of her? The words swirled inside Sabrina with decidedly sexual meaning. To her horror, she felt a warm, longing ache in her belly.

  No, no, no. It was one thing to have gone soft enough to feel guilty about hurting his feelings. It was something similar to have enjoyed lying down together in some sort of mutual comfort deal. But it would be something else entirely to sleep with him.

  He was still the mark.

  But it took her too long to get to her feet, too long to bite her nails and then cross to close and lock the connecting door.

  Vincenzo was there before her.

  She drew in a sharp breath as his hand closed over hers on the doorknob. All he was wearing were some pajama bottoms. She was immediately aware of the rough mat of dark curls across his chest and how the skin beneath those curls stretched tautly over steel, male muscle. The pajama bottoms might have been silk and paisley, but he was all man.

  His dark eyes were commanding as his fingers curved over hers. "Come to bed."

  "I—" Sabrina coughed out her hoarseness and tried again. "I don't think that'd be a good idea."

  A faint smile edged his mouth. "I'm not going to make love to you, Sabrina."

  "No?" The utter unexpectedness of this declaration threw her.

  "No. Neither one of us is ready for that. Come to bed, tesoro." Taking her hand, he led her to the bed where they'd already lain together. This time he pulled back the sheet.

  She hesitated as he climbed into the bed. "Well, what are we going to do then?" Oddly, she sensed a greater danger than sex in whatever he had planned.

  Gently he pulled her onto the bed. "I want to hold you, Sabrina, and you need me to kiss you."

  She released a small laugh. "I do?"

  "Oh, yes." With less resistance than he should have met, he got her under the sheets. Once there, he put his arms around her. "I know just what you need."

  Sabrina had to close her eyes against the wonderful warmth that stole through her. "What makes you so smart?"

  He laughed softly and rolled her half beneath his weight.

  She might have felt threatened by the maneuver, might have felt caged. Instead she felt...cherished. Lord, this was so strange.

  "I have been thinking, Sabrina." Looking down at her, he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes.

  "That must have been hard work for you."

  He smiled and bent to kiss the tip of her nose. "Naturalmente. Very hard. But for you I do my best."

  Sabrina was doing her best not to respond to his warmth, to ignore the lovely sensation of the hard body beneath the soft silk of his pajamas. But th
e physical sense of him wove together with a sticky web of tenderness to create a dangerous spell around her. She felt she was...losing herself. And hardly caring.

  "I have been thinking," Vincenzo went on. He brushed his lips against the left corner of her mouth. "About why I met you, why you met me."

  "Lord help us."

  "Precisamente. Dio." He kissed the right corner of her mouth. "I believe I met you so you could help me feel pain." She stirred beneath him and he held her closer. "No," he protested. "This is not bad, Sabrina. I needed to feel that pain. It was necessary...healthy. I needed you for that. Now, why you met me," he said. "I have to think harder."

  She looked up and met his eyes. It was at that moment, for all the tenderness of his touch, for all the softness of his voice, that she understood something elemental.

  He was waging war here. He wanted something from her, something she'd be damned if she gave him.

  Trust.

  While Sabrina stiffened, he lowered the dark lashes over his eyes. "I believe you met me, Sabrina, for the opposite reason, no?"

  "No," she stated firmly.

  He ignored her denial. Instead he leaned close and placed his lips gently, exquisitely against hers. "You met me," he murmured against her mouth, "so that I could release you from your pain."

  An astonishing wave of emotion crashed through her. Boldly, she claimed, "I don't have any pain."

  His lips touched hers again, clinging.

  Her defenses started to crumble. It incensed her. He shouldn't be able to win so easily. For so many years she'd worked so hard: to stay strong, be tough.

  "Don't cry," he whispered.

  Startled by the plea, Sabrina only then felt the hot moisture running down her cheeks.

  "Tell me," he urged. "Tell me what hurts you so."

  He was winning, Sabrina thought. She closed her eyes against the frightening prospect of defeat.

  "It was the family," Vincenzo theorized. "What did they do to you?"

  Her resistance was shattering. She heard herself confess, "They took my baby."

  She hadn't expected the shock that ran through him. It was like a fifty thousand volt charge. "A baby," he queried hoarsely. "Sabrina, you had a baby?"

  "Yes." Sensing his momentary weakness, she raised her lashes to look up at him. "Do you believe me?"

  His expression went baffled. He couldn't know why this might be a subject of contention. "Of course I believe you. What happened? How did they get your baby?"

  Seeing how badly he was hit, Sabrina sensed a shift in the battle. She hadn't been defeated yet. She could keep her tough. When she pushed at him, he fell away to let her sit up.

  "You want the story from the beginning?" She raised an eyebrow.

  "Of course." But he watched warily as she got out of the bed.

  It occurred to Sabrina that, far from a liability, her miserable story could be an excellent weapon against the result Vincenzo wanted.

  Trust. She didn't give hers to anybody.

  Smiling tightly, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him. He lay half propped on his hands on the bed, staring at her. Oh yes, this could work very nicely indeed. She would outline to him, in clear detail, how firmly entrenched was her position. She didn't give in, not in any way, to anybody.

  "It was all perfectly legal." Her voice sounded so controlled, almost flippant, she thought, pleased. "I was underage and besides, I'd signed all the papers."

  His dark gaze intensified. "For an adoption?"

  She nodded. "That's right. Only things didn't happen the way I'd expected. Not the way I'd been told they would."

  He didn't shift from his awkward, half-propped position. "What were you told?"

  Sabrina felt a deep sigh escape her and looked to the side. Vincenzo had been right about one thing. There was pain here, still raw and unhealed. "You have to understand I was a different person back then. Completely different. Naive, trusting. Eager to please." She brushed a hand over her hair and turned toward the windows.

  "Who was the father?"

  His question surprised her. Jimmy's part in it seemed minor, after all that had happened later. "He was another kid at the orphanage." Sabrina laughed softly, remembering. "My opposite in every way. Jimmy was wild, he lived to make trouble." Much later, Sabrina discovered that poor rebellious Jimmy had died crashing a car he'd just stolen.

  "Did he hurt you?" Vincenzo asked.

  Interested by the steel edge in his tone, Sabrina glanced back at him. "No. No, he didn't. He was sweet to me, actually. We were both lonely. Two lonely, desperate children. And like children, we didn't foresee the consequences of what we were doing."

  "You became pregnant."

  She nodded. "Understand, I'd never done anything wrong in my life. I'd been too afraid to. I'd been afraid of losing what security I had, living there. So, to slip up the first time, at age fifteen, with something so...enormous— I was terrified."

  "They were nuns." Frowning, Vincenzo stunned Sabrina once again with his incredible memory. "Nuns would not abandon a woman with child."

  "No, they didn't abandon me. You're right about that." Sabrina's smile turned bitter. "They had something far more clever up their sleeve."

  "They suggested the adoption." Vincenzo's frown deepened. "For a girl of your age that would not have been an unusual suggestion. You were against the idea?"

  Sabrina pressed her lips together. "They'd sent Jimmy away. I didn't like that. I wanted to talk to him. So I said no."

  He was watching her with such riveted intensity that Sabrina had to look away. She faced the windows again, arms crossed tightly under her breasts.

  "Then they got clever." Her eyes narrowed at the folds in the curtains. "Extremely clever. They called me to the Mother Superior's office. I thought this was it, they were going to kick me out. Instead I met Robert and Jane Castlewright."

  Sabrina closed her eyes as she remembered that meeting, the anxious, eager expressions on the Castlewrights' faces. How very nice they'd been to her. "They were a young couple, good-looking, obviously well off. And they wanted a child."

  Sabrina had to stop to rub a hand over her face. Never in her life had she received the type of eager affection that Jane and Robert Castlewright had poured out toward her. She'd been intoxicated by it, bewitched. "Well, Vinnie, they had a deal for me, a deal I couldn't refuse. It was beyond my wildest dreams."

  In Italian Vincenzo said something swift under his breath. "I can guess what this deal was," he said darkly. "They claimed you could still see the baby after it was born."

  "Better than that. I could take care of the baby. I could be its nanny. For as long as I wanted. My whole life, if that suited me." Pain swept through her as she recalled her naiveté, her ridiculous, youthful trust. But as the pain wounded, scraping old scars, it seemed to pass on through, and then fade. Sabrina blinked, confused.

  Quickly, she struggled to recapture the hurt, the betrayal. "I spent the months of my pregnancy at their house on Long Island." She needed to remember those agonizing emotions in order to win the war. "They acted like I was part of the family, Robert, Jane, and Robert's parents. All they must have wanted was to watch over my health habits, but I took it all at face value." And she'd never been happier in her life.

  "What happened when you had the baby?"

  She turned around to smile at him. "What baby?"

  His brows drew down. He had to be smelling defeat. Once he heard the last of it he'd know he'd been beaten. A person who'd been through what Sabrina had couldn't be asked to trust again, to feel, to care.

  "I didn't have a baby," Sabrina told him. "At least, that's what the nurses claimed when I woke up in the hospital. I'd been in a terrible accident, they claimed. My pelvis had been hit. My head, too. That's why I was confused."

  Vincenzo didn't say a word, simply stared at her. For once Sabrina couldn't properly translate the expression on his face.

  She looked away. "I had a good idea what was going on, but I h
ad to see for myself. So I slipped out of the hospital that night." The pain had been terrible. Simply walking had taken all her will and determination. "Somehow I made it all the way out to the big house on Long Island." Closing her eyes, Sabrina could see again the black iron gates, could see her fists close around the bars, shaking them, demanding entry.

  "They called the police. The police!" Sabrina halted, struggling to pull herself back together. When she went on she was tense but under control. "They sent a bunch of them. Police. And some medical types in white jackets. They grabbed onto me." Sabrina shuddered. "Hands. So many hands. Someone stuck a needle in my shoulder. Tranquilizer, I guess."

  It was an effort to turn her head to meet his eyes. But this was the coup de grace and she wanted to see his admission of full and final defeat when she delivered it. "I woke up," Sabrina calmly stated, "in a mental hospital."

  She saw shock. That was just what she'd wanted, exactly as she'd planned. What she hadn't planned was the incredible lightening inside of her as she stood there, facing him. Layer by layer, chunks of heavy steel seemed to lift from her body.

  It was her armor—abandoning her! No! That wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to work the other way around. The story was supposed to remind her, the memory was supposed to keep her hard and cold and detached.

  As for Vincenzo, his eyes didn't register the surrender she'd expected. Instead she saw a surprising understanding in their glimmering depths. Beneath that understanding was the clear, quiet sheen of triumph. He thought he'd won!

  "Sabrina." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and then held out his hand. "Come to me."

  No. Sabrina backed away. At least, she meant to back away. In truth she simply stood where she was, swaying. No, he couldn't have won! Didn't he understand?

  "I understand," he claimed, as though he knew her distress. "Come."

  She swayed some more, fighting the urge to walk into his arms. How could she want that? Hadn't she learned a damn thing all those years ago?

  Apparently not, because before she knew it, she'd walked over and Vincenzo's lean strength closed around her. She found herself pulled into his lap. Panic was what she should have felt, dismay and horror at her weakness. Instead she pressed her fists and the side of her face against his chest and let him cradle her in his arms.