Then Cesare had kissed her.
‘No, don’t go, don’t leave me. Promise?’
Anna, lying rigid, conscious in every cell of her body of the man lying feet away, sighed. ‘I promise.’
Jasmine gave a little grunt of satisfaction and looked from her left to her right. ‘This is fun.’
Over the child’s head the two adults exchanged glances. The gleam of humour she saw in Cesare’s drew a reluctant half-smile from Anna before she realised what she was doing and lowered her eyelids and compressed her lips into a straight line. The last thing she wanted to feel for Cesare was a rapport of any sort. It was essential for her to see him, and think of him, as the enemy.
After tonight this was more important than ever. The only way she was going to keep him at a safe distance and avoid any further kissing incidents was by thinking of him as a cold, arrogant automaton.
Didn’t do you much good tonight, Anna.
‘Sing to me, Uncle Cesare, the song you used to sing to Mummy when she was sad.’
And just when she thought it could not get more surreal Cesare began to sing. He had a good voice, a rich baritone. She didn’t understand the Italian words but the tune was soft and soothing.
Anna’s eyes drifted closed and when she opened them she was alone in the bed. The clock beside the bed read nine-thirty. She shot from the bed in one horrified leap.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS NOT his habit to spend the entire night with a woman. He preferred to sleep alone, so watching a woman while she slept was not something Cesare had ever done before.
Last night there had not been a lot else for him to do. He couldn’t slip away without the risk of waking Jas, who had crawled into his arms before she fell asleep. He couldn’t move, sleep still eluded him, so that left watching the woman sleeping feet away.
It was an alternative to counting sheep.
In repose the lines of wariness disappeared from her face. With her curls of rich auburn she made him think of a sleeping angel. Her face had the look of a carved statue, her skin as fine as alabaster and sprinkled with a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her delicate nostrils flared in time with each soft exhalation. Occasionally she would twitch, her blue-veined eyelids fluttering, her breath quickening. What did she dream about when her head thrashed against the pillow?
Was he her nightmare?
Even asleep, her moulded lips were a sensual miracle, a torment, a temptation, an invitation?
It was a long night. By the time Jasmine stirred he could have drawn Anna Henderson’s face from memory down to each individual freckle. The idea of sketching her out of his head was appealing but he lacked the talent. His talents lay elsewhere and so did hers. On the brink of reliving that kiss, he pulled back. Some thoughts were not decent with a child in the room. Holding a finger to his lips, he gave Jasmine a conspiratorial wink and nodded towards the sleeping woman.
Jasmine, a bright kid, caught on immediately and entered into the spirit of the game. Totally recovered, she ate an enormous breakfast and then begged to be allowed to go out to the stables to visit the new foal.
He had delivered her to the care of the same groom who had taught him to ride as a child and returned to the house. Entering the hallway, he turned his head in the direction of light footsteps.
‘Sorry to disappoint, darling, but it’s only me.’
Hard to pretend even to himself that his heart rate hadn’t kicked up an expectant beat in the face of Louise’s knowing look.
‘I was going to ask did you sleep well, but I can see you’ve had a rough night.’
Cesare, who had no intention of rewarding this fishing expedition, focused on the bags he had not noticed until now stacked by the front door.
‘Ah, yes, well, under the circumstances I hope you won’t be too heartbroken but I was invited to the party at Crachan. I expect you were too?’
He nodded.
‘Well, I knocked them back in favour of your company but given the... Well, I contacted Michael and told him I have an unexpected space in my social diary. You know what they say—one door closes and another opens.’ She pressed a kiss to his lips and came up smiling.
Cesare, who appreciated the lack of drama, walked her out to the waiting taxi.
* * *
Anna’s search had reached the kitchen when her mobile rang. She saw the caller ID and lifted it, heart banging, to her ear.
‘Scott?’
‘Mother and baby are fine. Annie weighed in at a whopping nine pounds and Rosie sends her love and kisses.’