His Wedding Day Revenge

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

‘H OW DID THAT HAPPEN ?’ This time she didn’t need a deep breath; the question came naturally.

‘I fell while I was...’ He had told the story so many times. Including to the medical staff when he had arrived in the emergency room, but somehow the words wouldn’t come now. ‘My father punched me. I fell and hit my head on a...’

He stopped. It was the expression on her face that brought home to him what he was doing... Which was what, Draco?

He was not a sharer.

He did not require sympathy or, worse still, pity, so why the hell had he just told Jane a fact that he had never told anyone?

‘It was a long time ago and I was an extremely irritating kid.’

Jane sucked in a breath through flared nostrils. She knew that Draco’s father was dead, that his only close relative was a half-brother, a lovely skinny beanpole of a boy who she had met briefly the day before the wedding, but in that moment she hated that father with a teeth-clenching passion.

Her small hands clenched into fists of outrage until the words bubbling up inside her could not be contained and they escaped in a rush.

‘He beat you?’ she cried, disbelief and outrage throbbing in her voice.

Draco had regretted sharing the moment he’d opened his mouth, but he hadn’t been anticipating her dramatic reaction.

‘I had a late growth spurt, so not after that occasion.’ He’d been safe from his father’s increasingly dangerous mood swings. His father had not been the sort of man who would hit out at someone who could hit back. But he had been the sort of man who would hit someone smaller, so Draco had delayed starting university to make sure that the same didn’t happen to his little brother. ‘He drank himself into an early grave.’ And Draco never had made it to university. He didn’t feel the loss.

‘Good!’ she exploded, then caught his expression and refused to back down. ‘I’m sorry how that sounds but, well, I hate bullies!’ she hissed. Appropriate or not, her emotions could not be contained.

Draco contemplated her fierce expression, the sparking defiance in her green eyes, the hectic flush on her smooth cheeks, and found it hard to believe that he had once considered her a gentle, mild creature outside the bedroom.

The bride he had imagined would create no dramas. Except, of course, her exit from his life had hardly been without drama, he reminded himself drily.

Catching her full lower lip between her teeth, she lowered her gaze and looked at him through the mesh of her dark lashes. ‘I’m sorry if you don’t like that, but there it is.’

‘I wasn’t too keen on him either,’ Draco responded lightly after a long contemplative moment.

Jane didn’t respond. She was struggling with all her strength to escape the hypnotic tug of his dark stare until she reached the point where the necessity to do so didn’t seem so urgent, despite the warning bells ringing in her head.

‘I always assumed that you had a happy childhood,’ she mused, sounding confused as she settled back on her heels beside the sofa. They had been engaged to be married and they had never come close to sharing as much as they had now, when they were nothing to one another.

She shook her head against that deeply bleak thought and, pushing her hair back from her face, tangled her slim fingers in the glossy skein.

She didn’t mean to bring up the elephant in the room; it just happened as she blurted, ‘Why did you ask me to marry you, Draco?’

Draco’s response was equally uncensored. ‘I wanted to keep you in my bed for ever.’ How long before she had been in another man’s bed, the man who had given her a child? The question left him with an odd hollow feeling.

A solitary tear began to trickle down her smooth cheek as he watched, releasing an emotion that he refused to give a name to. He inhaled as it broke loose in his chest, creating a suffocating feeling.

Was she crying for her dead lover, the father of her child?

He leapt to his feet explosively, frustration etched into his lean features.

Jane chose the same moment to get to her feet, and, clumsy in her haste, she almost knocked the first-aid box over. At least it distracted her from the shameful fact that her sensitive pelvic muscles had gone into quivering spasm.

Their impetuous actions had brought them face to face.

Her breath hitched as he caught her face between his big hands and bent his dark head. She saw a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes and refused to allow her heavy lids to close. She would not surrender her control.

The alternative to losing control was taking charge, so she did. Bringing herself up on her tiptoes, she placed her hands around his face, feeling the rasp of light stubble, and she took control, fitting her lips to his.

For a split second he did nothing as he inhaled her scent and then he was kissing her back with a blind, relentless, consuming hunger. Little husky sounds of desperation escaped her throat and were lost in his mouth as the combative contact grew rougher and less disciplined, all heat and hunger.

Then it was over and they were looking at each other—glazed shock duplicated... She saw the moment the shutters came down in his black eyes and decided it was a good thing.

The last thing she wanted was some sort of post-mortem, not that the frustration thrumming through her body needed much analysis.

Draco had always been able to turn her into a person she hardly recognised. It had once felt like freedom; now it felt like loss.

‘Well, that was stupid.’

She never allowed herself to wonder what would have happened if her doctor’s appointment had fallen after they had married, because she knew. His life since then had proved he was a man who played the field and got bored quickly.

She was aching for something that had never existed, which made her angry, mostly at herself. He had never said he loved her, just that he wanted her, and by now that lust would have turned to boredom. Idiot, she chided herself, focusing on the reality, which was that he had lost no time replacing her in his bed and she was no longer the woman who was seduced by a man telling her he needed her, he wanted her... Even if that man did have a voice that ought, if there was any justice, to be illegal.

‘Pleasurably stupid.’ He looked down. She barely came up to his shoulder, so fierce, so hot, she did more with a kiss than he had ever imagined possible. ‘That’s why I proposed, cara .’

In other words, just sex.

It was really hard at that moment to remember that she needed more than sex. Actually she didn’t even need sex; she needed a quiet, neatly ordered life.

Draco and neat and ordered were a contradiction in terms.

‘Oxymoron,’ she said out loud, then fielded his quizzical look with a shrug. ‘I’d be flattered if it weren’t for the fact that your version of for ever, according to what I have read, is about a month,’ she said, taking refuge from the ache inside her in the not very pretty truth.

If she hadn’t been such a besotted innocent she would have realised at the time that a highly sexed man like Draco, a man who had women throwing themselves at him, would never have been satisfied with one woman.

‘The wedding...it wasn’t planned. I never intended...’ she began before her voice trailed away. ‘Just think about all the money you saved on a divorce,’ she completed with a laugh that had a fake, hollow sound even to her own ears.

‘You signed a pretty tight prenup.’

‘Oh, God, so I did. I’d forgotten about that!’ It had not been important. She hadn’t even read it.

‘You think I would have cheated on you?’

Unbelievably he sounded angry. ‘Call it a wild guess,’ she shot back.

Her anger faded into something far more complex as she watched his eyes drift from her face to her heaving breasts, or actually maybe not so complex, in fact totally basic. She had not kissed another man, let alone had him touch her, since her aborted wedding day.

After the first few months of her existing in a limbo state between misery and more misery, a medical emergency had broken the cycle of despair.

Her endometriosis had flared up, and the acute attack, with pain on another level from the chronic discomfort she had grown accustomed to, had hospitalised her.

As luck would have it, the hospital had been making a push to lower its gynaecological waiting lists and paying private clinics to slash the queues.

Jane had found herself part of this scheme and transferred to a clinic where her keyhole laparoscopy had been performed the very next day. Just in time, the surgeon had said. High on painkillers at the time, she hadn’t asked, Just in time for what? And later she hadn’t wanted to know.

The procedure to remove the plaques that had been causing her so much pain had been a success, though she had been warned that this was not a cure and in the future a hysterectomy might be the only solution left to her.

Jane had decided not to think too far ahead. This was a reprieve and she had no intention of not taking advantage of it. Cure or not, without the chronic pain her life was changed and for the better. She felt as if she’d been given a second chance—if not to have her own children, then she could work with them.

Her job at the care home had been on a zero-hour contract but that had not been an issue and there were never zero hours in the understaffed sector. The flexibility had meant she could fit in her hours around her pre-nursing college course, the first step on her way to fulfil her new ambition to be a children’s nurse.

She’d had a purpose again.

But so much for plans—they were as fleeting as happy endings. Her life had changed again when there had been the knock on the door and the terrible news. She knew she would never be the mother that Carrie would have been, but she was damned sure she was going to try.

She was a mother now and there was no room in her life for the chaos that came with Draco, even had that particular door been open.

‘I think you should go. Shall I call someone for you?’ she asked, glancing at his head.

‘I’m fine.’

Mattie chose that moment to wake and his angry shout drifted down the stairs.

‘Your son?’

‘Matthew... Mattie...’

‘How old?’

‘He’s seven months. He was eight weeks when...’

He watched the look of loss spread across her face and it hit him. The eight weeks she spoke of, or couldn’t, was when the baby’s father had died.

‘If you’ll excuse me... I should go.’

He gave a quick tip of his dark head and without another word was gone. Jane leaned back against the door, her hand pressed to her lips. I kissed him!

The shame was mingled with an illicit thrill of excitement. Her body was still tingling from his touch, and just thinking about the hard imprint of his aroused body sent a pulse of heat through her pelvis.

She breathed slow and deep, trying to gather her scattered senses, then Mattie yelled and, reminded of her priorities, she felt a sharp stab of guilt and flew up the stairs.

Jane almost forgot the printout of her itinerary for the next three weeks and turned back to the cottage to grab it off the table, pushing it into her carry-on bag.

She knew the departure and arrival times, but the details had not included the airline she was travelling on. When she had emailed a request the person she was corresponding with had told her she would be met at the airport with tickets and further details.

She had decided that, rather than book a transfer, it would be more economical to hire a car, which would be waiting for her when she arrived at the rather obscure Italian airport. Her satnav had given her a route that appeared to avoid any major built-up areas and suggested it would take her two hours to get there.

‘You’ve got everything this time?’ Grace teased as she got in the car. Mattie was already ensconced in the back seat next to Grace’s teenage daughter, who was great with him.

‘Definitely sorry about that, but you wouldn’t believe what a nightmare it is packing for a baby.’

Grace laughed and nodded to the rear-seat passenger. ‘Oh, I would, and it doesn’t get any better, I promise you. This one always wants to take her entire wardrobe,’ she joked, ignoring the indignant ‘Mum’ from the back seat.

‘Nervous?’ Grace asked as they drove along.

Realising she was chewing her fingernails, a horrible habit she had kicked ages ago, Jane gave a self-conscious grimace and hastily withdrew them, glancing at her neat, clear-polished nails before putting them firmly in her lap.

‘I’ve never been to Italy before.’ It seemed strange to think that she had once been planning on spending the rest of her life there. She hadn’t even considered how difficult that would be or suggested that she accompany Draco on one of his overnight trips home. Her level of acceptance now seemed bizarre to her. ‘And I’ve never been here.’ Jane looked around curiously. It felt different from any airport she had been to. There was no parking issue, for starters, and they pulled right into a space outside a small terminal building. ‘I’ve never heard of it before.’

‘I’ve never been here either, but a friend did their flying course from here and obviously I’ve never been in a private jet.’

‘Private jet!’

Grace looked amused by her horrified expression. ‘Didn’t you realise? Want to get your pilot’s licence or need a stop-off point from your end-of-the-garden helicopter pad, this is your go-to airport. It avoids the congestion over London.’

‘But I’m not booked on a private jet.’ Her initial confidence wavered as she saw a suited figure approaching the car, flanked by two women who looked corporately slick.

Grace unfastened her seat belt.

‘Looks like you have bagged the company jet, lucky you!’ her friend said, nodding to the logo on the side of the jet on the runway.

Jane followed the direction of her friend’s stare while in the back the youngster bounced excitedly and pleaded, ‘Send us loads of photos for me to post.’

‘Oh, God, no!’

From the back seat the teen piped up, ‘How is this bad?’ before a glare from her mum reduced her to silence.

Sensing her friend’s horror, Grace said cheerily, ‘I think you’ll find you are. It’ll be a fantastic opportunity to meet some of the others on the course ahead of time, scope out the talent,’ she suggested with a mock leer.

‘Mum...?’ This time the reproach came with a giggle.

Jane rolled her eyes, but asked herself if it would be so bad to discover someone nice and normal, not to mention safe, to have some fun with. An image inserted itself in her head of someone who was neither nice nor normal, and as for safe!

‘I have no time for men. I have Mattie.’ Jane almost choked at the way her prim response sounded, but it was true, and a lot better than admitting Draco was a hard, no, impossible act to follow. Because he made you so happy, mocked the ironic voice in her head.

‘Being a mum is not like taking the veil, Jane.’

‘Oh, God, gross, Mum!’ the teen in the back seat responded, covering her hands with her ears.

‘I know things didn’t work out for you last time.’

Jane sighed. She really regretted that extra glass of wine at book club, but at least her confidences had stopped at, ‘I was engaged once—it didn’t work out.’

It was a bit disorienting to have the reception party not only help unload her luggage but coo over Mattie and stay with her as she moved smoothly through Customs.

Wow, she thought as they settled in their seats in the empty cabin, this was travelling, but not as she knew it! She glanced through the window, wondering when the other passengers were going to board. Was she early?

It wasn’t until they were in the air that the penny dropped: there were no other passengers!

She was confused. Had other people cancelled, or was this Draco showing her what she had missed by not marrying him?

There was no doubt it was a comfortable way to travel, especially with a baby, who lapped up all the attention from the cabin crew who pronounced him beautiful, but, and she knew it was probably irrational, she felt resentful.

She felt as though she were a puppet who no one had bothered to consult, so no change there. Don’t ask, just lavish luxury and she will stay in her box!

But Jane was no longer happy in her box! And she couldn’t wait for an opportunity to prove it.

The transfer at the other end was equally smooth. There was no juggling baggage, no issues at all until she was shown the waiting limo.

This was an opportunity with neon sign directions.

The entourage that had followed her exchanged glances and looked nonplussed and alarmed when she shook her head and told them, channelling polite but firm, ‘I’ve got a hire car. I’m driving myself.’

This was a cue for a lot of ultra-alarmed looks and some waving of hands, which, when she stuck to her guns, eventually became helpless Latin shrugs tinged by worry.

It struck Jane as a big fuss about nothing.

‘Right, Mattie, let’s do this!’ she said with false jollity when she got behind the wheel of what the online details had described as a compact hatchback.

Compact was generous and the way the person handing over the car had sternly told her that any damage would incur severe penalties seemed a bit over the top, considering the number of dents and dings in the paintwork.

She also found and disposed of several crisp packets and a crushed soft drink can under her seat, which maybe explained the incredibly low price of the hire. Still, so long as it got her there and it wasn’t far. She took comfort from the logistics.

Though not far in miles, the road was scary—there, she’d admitted it—and had to have doubled the distance.

There were several times during the journey when she regretted her decision to refuse the taxi service offered, especially when she had to pull over on a really lonely road to change Mattie’s nappy and feed him, glancing over her shoulder at every shadow and sound. When Mattie had subsided, replete, her supply of food exhausted, Jane found herself hoping that the stock of baby food offered by the organisers was more realistic than the description of the hire car.

If not, she was in serious trouble!

The satnav, while accurate and indispensable, had chosen the shortest route, but maybe, she began to realise, not the easiest one.

Of course, the views were incredible, or they seemed that way on the rare occasions she took her eyes off the road for a split second. Those occasions were few and far between because she really didn’t fancy driving off the edge of a mountain or ending up in a ditch.

Talk about white-knuckle ride!

When Jane saw the first sign bearing the name of her destination she gave a sigh of relief and felt some of the tension edge out of her rigid, aching shoulders. By the time she reached the massive wrought-iron gates that took her off the public highway she had passed three more signs and the tension was back.

At least when she’d been focused on not driving off a cliff she hadn’t been thinking about what would happen when she did arrive, and now she was.

She drove towards the huge, elaborate gates wondering what you did to get inside—ring a bell?

There were no bells that she could see and it all seemed rather grand. Was there a trade entrance?

‘Oh!’ She actually leapt in her seat then laughed at herself as the gates silently opened. Of course, there were cameras, she thought, trying not to imagine the anonymous eyes watching her as she drove through and began the last leg of her journey.

If this was a driveway, it was not what she thought of as one. She had driven a good half-mile along a mercifully bump-free road through dense forest when the sunken lights alongside the verge burst into life, illuminating the road ahead and revealing an area of manicured parkland with the blue shadowed mountain to one side and the sparkle of sea to the other.

‘Oh, wow!’ she breathed and she cranked down the window a crack to inhale the salt and pine scent of the air.

It became less a breath and more a gasp when the palazzo came into view. Obviously she had looked it up but the generic photos online did not come close to the full open-mouth impact of this first glimpse, even though she hadn’t been expecting a small cottage. But this... The sheer scale of the building standing before her made a statement—presumably something along the lines of ‘We are rich and powerful! Do not mess with us!’

If so, it communicated the message well!

Set against the backdrop of dark sea and the first streaks of crimson from the setting sun, it made that statement even more dramatic.

She took in the symmetrical rows of deep identical windows on three levels, the huge baroque porticoed entrance and the impressive sweep of steps that shone white in the fading light.

Would she get a chance to see inside?

This was where Draco had said they would bring up their children. The recollection seemed even more surreal now she was seeing the place, though only as a visitor.

She hesitated, taking her foot off the accelerator as she approached a fork in the road. One quite obviously led up to the house; the other she presumed led to the buildings she could just about make out behind the distant bank of trees and shrubbery.

She had turned the wheel to head away from the palazzo when the figure stepped out of nowhere...one minute there was no one there, the next he was there.