Her legs wobbly, Belle got out of the helicopter and merely sought the nearest cover to conceal her weakness. She darted behind a concealing tree and was horribly sick. A supportive hand tugged her hair out of the way and stroked her back.
‘You turned green while we were in the air. I knew you were ill,’ Dante admitted. ‘But I thought it better not to mention it...’
Her head swimming, Belle leant back against his lean, powerful body for momentary support. ‘How’s the deal coming along?’ she whispered, desperate to take his mind off what she had just done.
‘Eddie wants to sell the whole lot to me, not only Cristiano’s piece. I’ve agreed,’ Dante said succinctly. ‘I’ll turn the majority of it into a nature reserve, but I’ll keep my brother’s woods private.’
‘It’s a lovely way to remember him,’ Belle murmured softly.
‘On the way back we’re being dropped off at the cabin. I want you to see it,’ Dante told her. ‘We can drive home from there, so you won’t have to fly again.’
And there he was once more, being considerate when she least expected it, Belle thought painfully, resting her clammy brow against his shirt front, fighting to muster the courage to detach herself from him when she so badly wanted to cling. She breathed in the rich familiar scent of cologne and husky male and the combination made her head swim with longing. Of course, Dante would be in a good mood with Eddie having agreed to sell the land to him. He had got what he wanted out of their arrangement even if he hadn’t got what he wanted when it came to Belle. There was no way Dante could want their unplanned child. He had always been honest with her but now he would feel forced to prevaricate, for he could hardly admit the truth.
And she hadn’t admitted her own truths either, had she? Belle scolded herself as she joined their guests to admire the fabulous landscape from the hilltop. She tried to pinpoint the exact moment when she had fallen headlong in love with Dante. It had begun in Paris, long before she had even seen that her heart was at risk; it had begun when he opened up and told her about his brother and his family. Slowly but surely, she had begun to see that, much like her, Dante had not received the love he’d needed as a child and, because of that, he shied away from any hint of that emotion, automatically distrusting it.
Belle’s grandparents had loved her, but as she’d grown up she had felt increasingly guilty that her mother’s lack of interest had meant that her grandparents were forced to raise a child in their retirement years. Dante had only known his sibling’s love and, without being shown love, it was hard to trust enough to feel love. Yet for Belle, the more she had learned about Dante, the more she had loved him. It had been a slippery slope she’d raced naïvely down at dangerous speed, intimacy making her feel deceptively close to him when she wasn’t because he didn’t return her feelings.
* * *
Krystal and Eddie flew on to Florence for lunch while Dante and Belle were deposited in a forest glade overlooking a small tranquil lake. A two-storey wooden structure met Belle’s curious gaze. ‘It’s very modern,’ she commented.
‘When Cristiano first had it built it didn’t have electric or heating. He liked to come here to unwind after a demanding week at the bank. I talked him round and my company installed the windmill and the turbine in the stream and the solar panels.’ As Belle gazed around the tall woodland trees and savoured the tranquillity, she said, ‘Wasn’t it rude of us to leave Eddie and Krystal behind?’
‘No. Krystal said she’d seen enough countryside to last her a lifetime and Eddie wants to take her shopping to put her in a better mood,’ Dante retorted, unlocking the cabin door. ‘It’s not very large...’
Belle wandered into the cosy interior, surprised to see a picnic basket and a chilled bottle of wine awaiting them on the table near the stone hearth. ‘Who are these for? Where did they come from?’
‘The staff brought over food for our lunch. You have to eat,’ Dante reminded her. ‘Inside or outside?’
‘Outside,’ she said, glancing round the cabin, recognising that there was little to see but the walls and the furniture because it had been stripped of any personal possessions. ‘Anywhere there’s shade.’
Dante spread the rug. Belle removed her shoes and sank down cross-legged to investigate the contents of the basket and lift out plates. Breaking open a soft drink, she murmured, ‘It’s a beautiful place. Did you come here a lot to see Cristiano?’
‘Often,’ Dante said gruffly, poised between her and the sun, a lean, powerful figure with a shock of black hair and the golden eyes of a tiger. ‘He used to sleep outside on the roof during the summer and he made a point of not using the electric I had installed for him. He preferred lanterns. He was at peace here...at his best.’
‘The dogs must’ve loved it too,’ Belle mused, wondering why he had yet to sit down and why his lean, darkly handsome features were so tense.
‘We have to have a serious discussion,’ Dante informed her tautly.
‘I thought we were waiting until Eddie and Krystal were gone.’
‘Last night I realised it couldn’t wait any longer,’ Dante incised. ‘We have a child to plan for now.’
‘I’ll deal with the baby stuff,’ Belle parried firmly, nudging the filled plate she had prepared for him in his direction. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
‘Not really.’
An uneasy little silence fell.
‘It’s my child too.’ Dante, it seemed, was still set on making his point. ‘Naturally I want to be fully involved.’
Belle frowned. ‘Do you?’ she asked, her incredulity unhidden.
Dante crouched down lithely on a level with her, black denim stretching taut across his muscular thighs, and a current of hunger rippled through Belle, which she tried to suppress. ‘A child doesn’t have to be planned to be wanted,’ he murmured with assurance. ‘I want to marry you, Belle...’
‘No, you don’t,’ Belle told him with complete confidence, even as her heart squeezed tight with stress and heartfelt regret that that should be the case. ‘I know the gossip columnists went mad over you moving me into the palazzo with you only because you’re famous for being a commitment-phobe. A man with that outlook is unlikely to welcome a child into his carefree life, because there is no bigger or more lasting responsibility than a child. Please don’t tell me polite untruths to impress me.’
His stunning eyes shimmered, his wide, sensual mouth compressing. ‘I’m not trying to impress you. Everything changed when you came into my life—’
‘Yes, I screwed it up,’ Belle broke in sharply, steeling herself against his arguments. As she saw it, she was protecting them both from the possibility of making a terrible mistake. Marrying a man who only wanted to marry her because he thought he had to and who didn’t love her would be a disaster. ‘I fell pregnant. You feel responsible.’
A raw glitter lit his eyes. ‘I do not.’
‘You feel so responsible you’re willing to go against your own nature and offer a solution you have never wanted,’ Belle condemned tightly, anxiety and pain licking cruelly at her because she considered a proposal made out of pity and the conviction that she couldn’t cope alone truly humiliating. ‘But I am perfectly capable of returning to the UK and making my own life and bringing up my child.’
‘Of course, you are, but that’s not what’s best for either of us. I want to be with you. I want to be with my child,’ Dante bit out impatiently, angry that the dialogue was going even worse than he had expected. He hadn’t expected enthusiasm, nor had he expected the level of resistance she was giving him.
‘You should know me well enough to know that I would never try to keep you away from our child and that I will happily agree any reasonable access arrangements,’ Belle protested.
‘That’s not enough.’ Dante vaulted back upright, poured himself a glass of chilled wine and leant back against the cabin to study her. ‘I won’t give up on this, you know. I’m very stubborn when you challenge me.’