The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding by Jennifer Blake Read Free Book Online Page B

reached her. “Carita is a twin?”
    “As you say, though not identical. Carisa is—” He stopped in
an abrupt return to discretion. Amanda would discover the difference soon
enough.
    “That’s why you were so furious with Jonathan just now,” she
said slowly, “because what he has done may require you to make a decision about
which will live, your sister or her baby.”
    She understood him a little too well for comfort, he
thought. He met her eyes with hard intensity, and when he spoke his voice
carried the iron of ancient tradition. “That is why I would like to kill him.
That’s why I may well kill him if Carita does not live.”
    “You can’t mean it.”
    Down the hall, the young dark-haired nurse walked out of
Davies’s room and turned to give them an indignant stare. Nicholas made no
answer to Amanda Davies’s protest, but released her with an abrupt, open-handed
gesture and stepped back. Inclining his head, he indicated that she should
precede him along the corridor.
    ~ ~ ~
    He didn’t, couldn’t intend what he’d said,
Amanda told herself as she walked beside Nicholas. He was a sophisticated,
modern businessman fully integrated into the electronic world. His threat
against Jonathan was a figure of speech, not a vow based on some old-fashioned
idea of vengeance for a wrong.
    And yet something in his voice left her cold and aching
inside. The look on his face made her wary of being anywhere near him.
    The exit they took from the hospital was not the same one
where they’d entered, but lay beyond a small, rather barren courtyard. It
decanted onto a quiet side street that was almost deserted at this hour. At
least, the only traffic seemed to be workmen or residents heading for their
jobs. There was no sign of the paparazzi.
    Nicholas had taken out his phone as they walked, punching in
a number and issuing a brief order. They stood less than a minute before the
limo rounded a corner and glided to a stop in front of them.
    “If you don’t mind, you can drop me at a hotel,” she said as
they pulled away from the curb. “Anything will do as long as it’s not too far
away or too expensive.”
    The Italian made no answer but sat staring out the side
window. For all she could tell, he might not have heard her.
    The driver did, and apparently understood English, for he
glanced up into the rearview mirror. He looked back toward the street ahead of
them, then into the mirror again as if awaiting an order. When it did not come,
he cleared his throat. “ Signor, signorina , a suggestion?”
    Nicholas replied then in a brief spate of hard-edged
Italian. Reaching for a small knob on the arm beside him, he held it while a
screen of smoked glass closed off their back section from the driver. He returned
his gaze to the street scenes beyond the windows.
    She really did need to learn the language, Amanda told
herself in irritation. As it was, she had no idea if Nicholas had reprimanded
his driver for speaking out of turn or given directions to a hotel already
selected for her.
    She should question it, she knew, but could not find the
energy. It seemed just as well to wait and see.
    It wasn’t that she was intimidated by the man, certainly
not. It was simply that he was a stranger and she was shut into a confined
space with him at the moment. Given the state of his temper, it seemed best not
to provoke another argument, even if she had the heart for it.
    She glanced at him, wondering a little at his silence. His
appeared remote, completely unfamiliar in the dim light that was now
pink-tinged with the beginnings of sunrise. She was aware again, as she had
been off and on in the past hours, of his diabolical attraction. The flutter it
caused in the pit of her stomach was beyond exasperating, as was the near
compulsion she felt to stare at him.
    He sat in somber contemplation, as if turning over some
knotty problem in his mind. And so he might be, considering the serious weight
of his responsibilities. His hair looked