“I know that I will not.”
“Not what?”
“Ever be disappointed by your prowess as a lover, Randall.”
He preened, taking her words at face value. He managed to say in a severe voice, “You mustn’t talk like that, love, it is not at all proper, and you tempt me beyond reason.”
“You don’t look tempted beyond reason.”
He laughed. “If there were not people strolling close by, I would forget myself and let you understand me.”
“The problem is, Randall,” she said, each word distinct, “that I do understand. Did you know that a woman cannot divorce her husband for adultery? She has not the right. The husband, on the other hand, can do whatever pleases him, and if his wife is unfortunate enough to take a lover, the husband can not only divorce her, he has the right to keep her children and all her money. In short, if a wife does anything to displease her husband, she can end up in the street without a penny to her name.”
He eyed her carefully, wondering what the devil was on her mind. “The laws are perhaps unfair,” he said, “but I assure you, Giana, that such a circumstance would never apply to us.” He tried to laugh heartily. “I trust it is not your intention to ever take a lover, my darling.”
“Oh no, never would I do that. I simply wondered if you were well-versed in a husband’s rights.”
He shrugged elaborately. “I know only that it is a husband’s responsibility to care for his wife, to protect her and keep her pure and unsullied by the mundane concerns of life. And, of course, to love her with all his heart.”
“I see,” she said, frowning thoughtfully.
“It is nothing for you to be concerned about, sweetheart. I have decided our wedding can be held in early October. Earlier, if you wish it. And for our honeymoon, I had thought of Greece. We could hire a yacht and sail the islands.”
“It sounds like a costly proposition.”
So that was it. Her damned mother had convinced her that he wanted only her money. “Giana, believe me,” he said with passionate sincerity, clutching her hands tightly, “I love you, only you. I would not care if we stayed in my rooms for our honeymoon, so long as we were together. It is all I have ever wanted and all I will ever want. I will work hard to support you, my love. Your mother will discover that I am no lackadaisical fellow to hang on her bounty.” He patted her hand fondly as one would a precocious child’s. “And even though you tell me that you understand about a man’s needs—well, you will find out on our wedding night how much I need and desire you, Giana.”
“You are fluent, Randall, terribly fluent.”
“I do not know what you mean.”
“You say all the right things, and so very well, as if you had rehearsed them in front of the mirror.”
His jaw tightened in anger. “What is this, Giana? Why are you speaking nonsense? Are your affections so easily engaged that you found another in Italy? Do you no longer love me?”
“I never loved you, Randall.”
He rose quickly and strode jerkily back and forth in front of her, slapping his riding crop against his boot. She saw Vittorio Cavelli for an awful instant, raising his riding crop, his face mottled with fury as he stood over the cowering Lucia. “You lie. You are trifling with me, madam, a man who sincerely loves you.”
She shook her head clear of the memory, and forced herself to look up at Randall. Odd, she thought, how his face lost much of its beauty twisted with anger. She admitted to a moment of fear of him and his riding crop, but shook it off. “Do you use the crop on women, Randall, when you are making love to them?”
“Ah, now you would accuse me of being a wife beater?”
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“No, I did not say that. After all, you have never been married.”
Randall managed to gain control of his temper. She had heard of the opera dancer, he must face it. Her damned mother must have had him followed, and now the little chit was toying with him, wanting him to confess all and beg her pardon, likely on his knees. But what was this nonsense about his riding crop? He dropped the offending crop to the ground and sat down beside her again. “Giana,” he said his gray eyes clouding with pain as they held hers, “there is no other woman, save you. A man—well, a man sometimes has needs, before he is married, of course. I do not know what your mother told you, but I saw the girl because I was so very lonely for you. She is nothing to me, Giana, and I sent her away long before you returned to England. You are the only woman I will ever want or love.”
Giana wanted to giggle. The vain, strutting peacock thought she had found out about a tawdry affair.
“Do not apologize, Randall. I understand about men’s needs, truly I do. What I do not understand is why only men are allowed to have them.”
Why was she pushing him, he wondered frantically, and speaking openly about sex, and a woman’s needs, for God’s sake?
“As I told you,” he said hoarsely, “when we are wed I will teach you about pleasure, yours and mine. You must believe me, my love. After you are my wife, I will never have need of another woman.”
She wanted to tell him that what he had said made not a whit of sense, but she knew that to continue on was needless, in fact cruel of her. But it was he who was the cruel one, the one who had purposefully sought her out, played on her dreams. Dear God, he hadn’t even had the good sense to stay out of another girl’s bed until he had her safely wed to him. She rose swiftly to her feet and looked down at him.