‘It’ll be sad,’ Nicki ventured, and Shannay inclined her head, then sought to offer a distraction by suggesting a swim in the pool.
It was a warm day, with no breeze to riffle the tree-leaves, and together they donned swimsuits, lathered on sunscreen cream, then gathered up towels, alerted Carlo as to their whereabouts, and wandered down to the pool.
Nicki was like a fish in water, diving, floating, and showing her swimming prowess with a credible crawl … for a young child.
It was fun to play, to splash, laugh a little and temporarily relax her guard.
‘Daddy!’
Shannay turned slowly in the direction Nicki indicated, and saw Marcello’s tall masculine figure walking the path through the grounds towards the few marble steps leading to the pool and its surrounds.
Attired as he was in a short black towelling robe with a towel slung over one shoulder, his intention to join them was obvious, and she tried to ignore the unbidden convulsing sensation deep inside.
She didn’t want to feel like this, and hated her body’s traitorous reaction. It wasn’t fair to be constantly reminded of the sensual heat that coursed through her veins in remembered passion.
With every passing day it became more intense, the memories disruptive. The nights were worse when she lay alone in her bed, so aware of his presence as he slept in a suite not far from her own.
Did he sleep easily, or did he lie awake as she did, caught up in emotional hunger?
Enough, a silent voice taunted.
Yet being here, in his home and his constant company, attacked her defences and seriously eroded them.
There was a part of her that wished he absented himself in the city each day, instead of utilising the benefits of modern technology to keep in touch with the business world from home.
Although she had to accept he had reason enough to rearrange his life in order to spend as much time as possible with his daughter.
Now here he was, about to shrug off a robe and join them in the water.
Wearing, Shannay noted with a quick glance, a very respectable pair of black boxer swim shorts.
Her heart rate accelerated at the sight of his powerful frame with its fluid flex of muscle and sinew, and his eyes caught hers for a few timeless seconds before she deliberately shifted her attention to Nicki.
‘Daddy, watch me swim.’
He did, slipping into the water and applauding his daughter’s efforts as Nicki went through her paces.
Shannay was conscious of the brevity of her maillot, cut high at the hip and a halter-neck plunging to a deep V between breasts a little fuller since Nicki’s birth.
Had he noticed?
Oh, for heaven’s sake … stop, she cautioned in silent castigation. What are you thinking?
Yet the warmth of his touch as he’d cradled her close in the limousine had stirred something deep inside, reminding her too vividly of everything they’d shared … and never would again.
So get over it.
‘Nicki is a beautiful child,’ Marcello opined quietly. ‘Obedient and unspoilt. You’ve done well with her.’
She looked at him carefully. ‘A compliment, Marcello?’
‘Is it so difficult to accept I might offer you one?’
He was close, within touching distance, and she stilled the almost irresistible urge to move away.
‘In the circumstances, yes,’ she stated coolly, and heard a faint drawling quality enter his voice.
‘Perhaps it is wise to ignore circumstances.’ His pause held a weight of meaning she chose not to explore. ‘And attempt to move on.’
‘I was doing fine,’ Shannay offered sweetly. ‘Until you dragged me here under threat.’ With that, she used breaststroke to glide effortlessly away and did her best to ignore him.
Difficult, when Nicki sought his attention at every turn, laughing with delight as he splashed her, then allowed her to catch him.
He was good with her. Kind, playful and clearly her idol.
Daddy peppered her conversation with tremendous regularity, and she squealed as he lifted her onto his shoulders and ascended the tiled steps leading out from the pool.
Maria served tea in the sala, together with a nutritious evening meal for Nicki, whose bedtime was gradually being extended to conform with local custom.
Where Shannay predicted difficulties, none appeared to exist. Nicki had slipped happily into her new lifestyle, accepting the changes with surprising ease.
Instead she was the one having problems as ambivalent emotions invaded her being, causing increasing turmoil with every passing day.
‘Mummy’s turn tonight,’ Nicki declared as Shannay tucked her into bed and picked up a book of fairy tales, aware Marcello had taken a chair close by.
It was hard to shut him out as she endeavoured to focus on reading the story of the princess and the pea.
He was there, a physical entity impossible to ignore, and she was conscious of his hooded gaze, the sheer dynamic presence of the man.
Nicki listened with rapt attention, valiantly fighting sleep until her eyelids drifted down and her breathing settled into a slow even rhythm.
Shannay carefully closed the book, checked the bedcovers, the monitor and night-light, then she paused in the doorway before closing the door softly behind her.
Marcello followed, and she turned at the same time he did and brushed against him.
An automatic apology fell from her lips, and she moved quickly to widen the distance between them as they both traversed the gallery leading to the staircase.
‘Nicki is fortunate to have you as a mother.’
A flippant response rose in her throat, and didn’t find voice. Instead she uttered a quiet, ‘I can’t imagine my life without her.’
Dark eyes swept her features as they began descending the stairs. ‘There is a solution.’
Something took hold of her emotions and turned them upside down. ‘Such as?’ She paused as they reached the spacious foyer.
‘Stay.’
Shannay closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘With you? I don’t think so.’
‘It’s a large house. You would have an enviable lifestyle. And never need to be parted from Nicki,’ he added.
Shannay was suddenly icily calm. ‘Define enviable?’
‘An unlimited expense account. Jewellery. Any vehicle you care to name. A personal bodyguard. Everything the wife of a very wealthy man can provide.’
She wanted to hit him. ‘You think I care about a collection of designer gowns, the Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos, jewellery?’ She paused for breath. ‘Attending the opera, the theatre, charity fundraisers in all their various guises, glittering first nights, that parties are my ultimate choice in entertainment?’ She was filled with pent-up anger, and unable to prevent it from spilling over. ‘Live in this mansion, give my time to charity committees and become the exemplary wife in and out of the bedroom? You think any of that is important to me?’
Marcello regarded her with a degree of amusement. ‘Not even the bedroom?’
‘No.’ And knew she lied.
His voice became dangerously soft. ‘Then, perhaps you’d care to elaborate?’
She tilted her chin a little and seared his dark