‘“Though she be but little, she is fierce,”’ quoted Duffy randomly as she petted him as much as he would allow, which wasn’t much. He had never been a touchy-feely bird although he was happy to sit on a family member’s shoulder if invited.
‘Whatever,’ she muttered, bracing herself and walking out onto the terrace.
‘Finally, you’re here,’ Gianni purred with more than a hint of sarcasm as he lounged back against the wall that separated the terrace from the lawn that stretched right to the edge of the natural woodland.
Gianni had changed since she had last seen him at the church hall. He had shaved and exchanged his suit for designer jeans and a casual shirt the rich green of a pistachio nut. He looked stunning. That shade brought out the bronze of his skin and the darkness of his hair. And his sun-kissed skin accentuated the smouldering dark gold of his gorgeous eyes. Her husband, only he really truly wasn’t hers, Jo reflected unhappily. He was a husband on temporary loan and that time element of a five-year maximum could well relate to his lack of trust in her and in other women.
She was to stay his wife for a minimum of five years but was that not really a clue that five years was the longest Gianni could see their marriage lasting? Or even wanted it to last? Certainly, that time limit was not something that Jo could manage to forget. Sadly, she couldn’t argue about that limit either, she acknowledged, not when she had agreed to that contract, her only thought being the saving of her family home. Unfortunately, once that five-year period had been mentioned, she had only been able to view their marriage as a very transitory affair, which Gianni could already see ending. And that aspect, when she had been doing nothing to avoid a pregnancy, could not give Jo any peace of mind.
Abigail bustled out with a tray of tea. Gianni waved away the offer of tea as a refreshment in favour of the whiskey glass in his hand, but Jo was thirsty and she poured herself a cup.
‘I have some things to say,’ Jo announced then, her lovely face pale, her eyes shadowed with tiredness, her expression unusually serious. ‘Sybil intended to look after the work at Ladymead, but my grandmother had a fall and Sybil had to cry off to take her to A & E for treatment. She’s okay. It’s only a sprain. But that’s why I was over there this morning. The jumble sale was something my grandmother had volunteered to do and I took care of it for her this afternoon.’
‘Jo...’ Gianni murmured tautly.
Jo set down her cup and saucer and stood tall. ‘No, let me speak first. You didn’t oncetellme that you wanted me to accompany you to New York. My family moved out of their home this week and they needed my help. There’s a big gap in trust between us, Gianni.’
Gianni angled his dark head back, eyes glinting in the sunshine as he frowned. ‘I disagree.’
‘If that’s true, why can’t you tell me who the love of your life was at university?’ she asked levelly. ‘Why can’t you talk freely about Fiona? Those are simple questions that people in a relationship would normally ask and have answered. That you refuse tells me that you don’t trust me...and that makes it hard for me to trust you as well. You are, after all, the man who stood back and let his father accuse me and question me about false allegations made against me.’
‘Federico wants a private meeting with you to apologise for his behaviour,’ Gianni interposed. ‘He phoned me about it over a week ago. He knows he was in the wrong and that he shouldn’t have interfered. We’d have heard about that tabloid article soon enough through your family.’
‘None of that changes the fact thatyoudidn’t have faith in me.’
His smouldering gaze narrowed, his strong bone structure clenching hard at that blunt reminder. ‘I thought we had already laidthatbusiness to rest.’
Colour flamed over her cheekbones. ‘Forgiving you doesn’t mean I forget how you acted,’ Jo pointed out defensively, her voice rising involuntarily. ‘Or how you’re acting now. As if I’ve let you down...as if I have no right to be loyal to my own family! As if sometimes life doesn’t force you to roll with the punches because you have to do the right thing. My loyalties were torn between you and them! Why can’t you understand that?’
Gianni set down his glass and reached for her, his hands dropping down on her shoulders. ‘Jo—’
Jo broke angrily free of his hold. ‘No! Right now, I’m going for a nap to make up for my very early morning start today and then I’m going to see my grandmother, where I will stay for dinner. I’ll see you later. Maybe by the time I return you’ll have started trying to see things from my side and not just your own!’
Slammed by that criticism, Gianni made no attempt to hold her back and he watched her stalk back into the house, proving that she was as close to losing her temper and screaming at him as he had ever seen her.
Bemused by that raging comeback from peaceful Jo, of all people, Gianni groaned out loud. Should he follow her? Or wait, let her have a break and allow the dust to settle? The truth was that he didn’t honestly know what to do because he had never been in a relationship long enough to have arguments, unless he counted his time with Fliss, and Fliss had never once argued with him about anything. So, that somewhat unreal experience was of no help whatsoever.
He had been in a bad mood when he flew home, he conceded grudgingly. It galled him to admit that he had been unreasonable, possibly even selfish. But he had been. He had missed her in New York. He had wanted her by his side. Only he hadn’t been prepared to admit that to himself. Getting mentally attached to Jo had never been part of his plan. How naïve had he been to believe that he could marry a woman without making the smallest adjustment to his new lifestyle?
All his adult life, Gianni had believed that he had to have complete control over his emotions to protect himself and, until Jo had appeared in the church on their wedding day, he had fully believed that he had achieved that feat. But little by little, Jo had infiltrated his life on every level. Sexual attraction was no longer Jo’s main appeal. He expelled his breath slowly, wondering why he had such a powerful need for her presence, her company, her validation.
Jo raced upstairs, walked to the master bedroom and stripped off her dress, which she now loathed. She had seen how Gianni looked at that dress and she knew it hadn’t passed muster. It could go to a charity shop. From now on she would wear her new wardrobe. She slid into the comfortable bed with a sigh. She would have made more effort if she had known that Gianni was coming home that afternoon. There she had been wearing a comfortable but shapeless dress and wearing no make-up. She winced.
Gianni was accustomed to the company of beautiful, well-groomed women, many of whom would be willing to invite him into bed regardless of the wedding ring on his finger. Why did she care? What difference would it have made? Had she looked more alluring, would he have scooped her up in his arms and kissed her breathless? Jo rolled her eyes. No, he had been too annoyed with her. She muffled a yawn and, tucking her cheek into the pillow, closed her heavy eyes. Why, oh, why was she so extraordinarily tired?
Gianni studied Jo intently while she slept. Once again, she hadn’t been looking after herself, he decided worriedly. She had blue shadows beneath her eyes and there was a hint of frailty to her fine bone structure. Abigail had admitted that Jo didn’t eat very much and usually ate on the run, always rushing from point A to point B to cover her various obligations. And he had made her feel bad. A trip in the yacht would do her the world of good.
Jo felt much better when she awakened and stepped straight into the shower to freshen up. She donned a flowing blue sundress with a designer label and slipped on a toning cardigan to cover the cooler evening temperature. Keys clutched in her hand, she climbed into the brand-new four-by-four Gianni had gifted her to drive it for the first time and turned it down the manicured drive slowly before, gathering confidence, she headed for the village and her family’s temporary home.
One step in the door of the low-ceilinged house, she learned that Gianni had already visited and had brought flowers to her grandmother. He had also, apparently, reiterated his suggestion that her relatives simply move in with them at Belvedere for the duration of the work being done at Ladymead. Her grandmother had politely refused, once again voicing her conviction that newly-weds needed their own space.
Liz Hamilton looked reasonably well after her ordeal, her bandaged foot resting on a stool. But she looked exhausted and every year of her age. Jo’s heart clenched tight. Since her sister was out of action, Trixie had cooked and dinner was a vegetarian feast.
‘Gianni is worried about you,’ Sybil remarked. ‘He thinks you look very tired.’
‘I’m fine. We’ve all been run off our feet with the move this week,’ Jo protested. ‘He fusses.’
‘And so he should. He’s your husband,’ her grandmother said staunchly. ‘It’s his job to look out for you.’