Dante's Contract Marriage (7 page)

He stared, shocked. “My God.”

“It was a hideous tragedy. My family kept the worst of the details from me, but I read copies of the reports on the Internet.” It took her a moment to continue. “They said my grandfather was thrown clear of the car, but was badly injured. He died shortly before the rescuers found them. If they’d gotten there sooner, he’d have survived.”

“And your grandmother?”

“She was trapped in the car. Her spine was damaged. She rarely speaks of the incident. I gather the only thing that kept her going was my grandfather. He couldn’t get to her and she couldn’t get to him, but they encouraged each other for those two days.”

It made him see Penelope in an entirely new light. “How old were you when it happened?”

“Just a year.”

“So, you don’t remember your grandfather?”

“No.”

He covered her hand with his. “I hope you’ll find time to get to know Primo. I realize it won’t be the same, but maybe you can get a feel for what it would have been like to have had a grandfather in your life.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank you. I’d like that, even if it’s only temporary.” She stood, strain showing on her face. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll read for a little bit before turning in. It’s been a long day.”

“No problem.”

Silence descended on the cabin as night fell. The temperature dropped, bringing a refreshing coolness. When he finally decided to turn in he discovered that Ariana had fallen asleep on the love seat. He debated picking her up and carrying her to bed. But he couldn’t count on his self-control being strong enough to keep him from taking advantage of the situation. Stripping the blanket off the bed, he covered her with it. And then he turned away before he did something he’d regret.

The next several days passed in a similar manner. They ate, hiked, swam and threw fishing lines in the water. They told amusing stories about their family and discussed endless topics of interest. Lazz even managed to convince himself that their honeymoon getaway was spacious enough for two, though he noticed that they never stayed inside longer than absolutely necessary. Not while the bed remained the centerpiece of the cabin.

All the while they circled each other, pretending not to feel the sexual tension that grew with each passing hour of each passing day. It seemed to loom just over the horizon, like a storm rumbling in the distance. The worst hours were while he waited for Ariana to fall asleep on the love seat, hours during which he waged a private war to keep from scooping her up and putting an end to their stalemate.

Two days before they were scheduled to leave, he joined her on the stretch of imported sand by the lake. She sat curled up on a towel, hard at work on her sketch pad. He handed her a bottle of ice-cold water.

“Do you mind?” he asked, inclining his head toward her sketch pad.

“Not at all.” She handed it over, then cracked open the bottle and tilted back her head to take a long swallow of water.

Lazz forced himself to look away from that endless length of neck and the tantalizing curve of breast and focus on the drawings. There were page after page of them, mostly of the local flora and fauna. But his face had somehow found its way in there and in the most peculiar places. Peeking out from under a bush. In the spots of a fawn. On the tail of a fish. In the downy feathers of a duck. There was an irresistible whimsy to her art form that left him grinning.

“These are really outstanding. Very clever.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you ever thought of having a showing?”

She lifted a shoulder in a gesture that had become endearingly familiar over the past few days. “Not really.”

“Would your family frown on it?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…” She made a face. “My drawings aren’t to everyone’s taste.”

“Well, they’re to my taste.”

She held out her hand for her sketch pad. He started to pass it to her, but then surprised them both by taking her hand in his. The connection between them flared, hotter and stronger than ever before, mocking their efforts to keep it subdued. Lazz swore beneath his breath. He’d done everything he could to bury the attraction he felt, to keep it under control. But now it seemed to explode in great messy waves of need.

Ariana stiffened, as though sensing how close he’d come to the end of his restraint. “We can’t,” she whispered.

“Yes, we can. And yes, we will.”

“You say that as though I have no choice in the matter.”

“You have the choice of when and where. But this is going to happen. You know it. You just haven’t reconciled yourself to it yet.”

She snatched up her sketch pad and pencil. “We only have two more days, Lazz. We can hold out that long.”

“Possibly. But then what?” he pressed. “What happens when we return to San Francisco?”

“We’ll have more room.” She shot a frustrated glance at the cabin. “We won’t be living on top of each other like we are here. We can go our separate ways.”

“And at night? When we’re lying in bed filled with want?”

She shuddered, and he could see her teetering, poised on the verge of tumbling. With an exclamation of frustration, she tossed aside the bottle of water and shot to her feet. “I’m going for a walk.”

He slowly stood. “You do that.” He pulled one of the cell phones from his pocket and tossed it to her. “But I’ll still be here when you return. And so will that bed.”

Without a word, she spun on her heel and walked away. But this time she looked back. This time he saw the coming surrender.

Lazz checked his watch for the umpteenth time. Damn it. Ariana had been gone for hours, and a call had just come through warning of an impending storm. He shot an uneasy glance toward the sky. Threatening clouds gathered with unnerving speed, descending on the peaks of the surrounding mountains in a great, boiling mass, like an army preparing to sweep down and invade the valley below. Lightning shot through the bruise-colored center of the storm mass.

He reached for the cell phone that was a mate to Ariana’s and punched in her number again. The last half dozen times he’d tried, the call hadn’t gone through. No doubt it had something to do with the approaching storm. This time, he was in luck. The call connected.

“Lazz?” he heard Ariana’s voice say. He also realized she was speaking in Italian, a dead giveaway as to her emotional state. He could barely hear her through the static. But what he did hear had his blood turning to ice. “I’m lost.”

He spoke swiftly, not sure how long the connection would last. “What direction were you heading when you left?”

“Along the stream away from the cabin. After a while there was a path that cut off to the right. There were these really gorgeous purplish-blue flowers. I wanted to sketch them. I just kept following the flowers. Then I fell down an incline and twisted my ankle. When I climbed back out I couldn’t find the flowers or the path or the stream or anything.”

He could hear the incipient thread of panic weaving through her voice. “Leave your cell phone on,” he instructed. “I’ll call Tolken and see if he can get a GPS lock on—”

The connection cut out and Lazz swore. No signal and no time. He needed to find Ariana and fast. First things first. If she’d twisted her ankle he’d have to wrap it. Some food and water would be helpful if they were caught out in the storm. He could use one of the backpacks he’d noticed in the boathouse, along with a couple of the rain slickers stored there. She’d also be cold from either fear or shock, so a sweater wouldn’t be a bad idea. Five minutes later he had everything he needed, including a pair of flashlights and a compass.

Jogging around the lake, he hit the trail that paralleled the stream just as the first boom of thunder rumbled down the hillside like cannon fire. He picked up his pace, keeping a sharp eye out for the path Ariana had indicated. He found it less than a mile along. The flowers she’d described trembled beneath a gust of rain-laden wind, but he paused long enough to check his compass before continuing on. He took off again, watching the path for any section that tumbled down a hillside. Unfortunately, since they were in the mountains, there were endless drop-offs.

A quick glance behind warned that the storm would break soon. The sky turned nighttime dark, and a curtain of rain cut him off from where he’d left the path along the stream. The curtain marched steadily in his direction. He continued onward, calling Ariana’s name as he went.

Five minutes farther along he came across a grassy expanse covered in a colorful banquet of flowers. On the far side of the area, the grass ended abruptly in a steep bank, where dirt and rocks mixed with uprooted flowers cascaded into a deep ravine. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that his wife had slid down the hillside into that dark pocket. He couldn’t say how he knew; he simply did.

“Ariana? Can you hear me?”

Overhead the storm broke, rain slamming against the ground so hard he couldn’t hear his own voice, let alone any response from Ariana. Cautiously, he climbed down into the ravine, slipping and sliding as the rain turned the dirt to an avalanche of mud. The instant he reached the bottom, his awareness of her grew stronger, along with the certainty that she’d been here not too long ago. He shone the flashlight around until he found the proof he needed, the spot where she must have landed. Part of a snapped pencil rested on top of a broken boulder, and the torn remnants of her sketch pad blew toward a narrow channel of water that cut the ravine in two.

After rescuing the sketch pad, he carefully circled the area a second time until he spotted where she’d climbed back out of the gully. Unfortunately, it was on the opposite side from where she’d fallen in, which explained why she’d been unable to find her way back to the stream.

He followed in Ariana’s footsteps. Below him, the ravine rapidly filled with water, the narrow channel that bisected the ravine becoming a churning river of mud, rock and mountain runoff. Worse, the rain was turning the loose dirt beneath his hands and feet into a mudslide that threatened to send him right back down the hillside. He had no idea how long it took him to work his way to the top. By the time he hauled himself over the ridge, he was up to his eyeballs in mud and soaked to the skin, despite his rain gear.

“Ariana?” he shouted. She was close. He could feel her now. Hell, he could practically taste her.

Above the sound of the rain, he heard her faint cry. “Here! I’m over here.”

The beam from his flashlight cut through the gloom and landed on her. His wife sat huddled at the base of a towering pine, her knees drawn tight to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. He broke into a run. When he reached her side, he didn’t say a word. He simply pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

O
ne second Ariana’s mouth was cold and wet and the next it turned to liquid warmth. Lazz sank inward, driven to tell her without words everything he felt. Traces of his fear and concern made the kiss hard and urgent. He forked his hands into her damp hair while she met him kiss for kiss, the need for reassurance unrelenting.

Minutes slid by and the tenor changed, the embrace easing into a joyful mating. His relief at finding her alive and relatively unhurt blunted the edginess from moments before. It grew softer, gentler, as he drank his fill. Until passion pushed the kiss back into the danger zone.

The sharp crack of thunder and an answering sizzle of lightning brought him to his senses. Reluctantly, Lazz drew back. “Sit tight.”

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

Stripping off his slicker, he spread it across the branches directly above Ariana to provide some protection from the rain. He ducked beneath the temporary canopy and crouched beside her.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m cold. Scared. I hurt my ankle when I fell. But other than that, I’m fine.” Her eyes were huge and dark in her pale face, and her gaze clung to his, practically eating him alive. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Let’s see what we can do to fix you up.” He opened his backpack and pulled out the sweater and the extra slicker he’d brought for her. Helping her to her feet, he spread the slicker on the wet ground directly under their makeshift canopy. “Take off your shirt.”

To his surprise, she didn’t question him, let alone protest. She simple grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head and off. Without waiting for him to suggest it, she also removed her bra before taking the sweater and pulling it on. He had enough time—and was still male enough, despite the circumstances—to admire the beauty of her shape and to realize that reality far exceeded what he’d seen up to this point.

She sighed in pleasure. “I didn’t think I’d ever get warm again.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts. It’s a long hike back to the cabin.”

“Especially with my ankle the way it is.” Taking the hand he offered, she resumed her seat beneath the tree. “I can’t believe you found me.”

“I have a feeling finding you was the easy part.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We can’t go back the way we came. The ravine’s filling up with water.”

“Is there another path we can take?”

“Let’s hope so. I’ve got a fairly good idea which direction we need to go.”

“That’s an excellent start.”

He settled down beside her and grinned. “I like your confidence.” He dipped into the backpack again and pulled out a bottle of water and a candy bar. “Have something to eat and drink while I check your ankle.”

To his amusement, she devoured the chocolate with unmistakable greed, even licking her fingers to make certain she consumed every last morsel. While she sipped the water, he examined her ankle. Some nasty bruising and swelling, he decided, but not broken, thank God. And not as bad as he feared, though bad enough that it would make for a long and difficult return trip.

He dug into the backpack again and pulled out the bandage he’d unearthed in the emergency kit at the cabin. “I’m going to wrap your ankle with your shoe on to give it some extra support.”

“Good idea.” She flinched as thunder crashed overhead. “The storm’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“A little.”

“Is it safe to move?”

“Not for a bit.” He finished wrapping her foot and settled in next to her. “We’re in a pocket between two hillsides, under a stand of fairly short trees. Sitting here is better than being out in the open. I want to wait until the storm moves off a little and then see if we can’t make it back to the cabin before nightfall.”

She capped the water and handed it back to him. “Thank you for coming to find me.”

Did she think he wouldn’t? He tucked her close to help warm her up. “You’re my wife.”

“Not really.”

His mouth tightened. “You’re my wife,” he repeated, more strongly this time. “I wouldn’t leave you out alone in this.”

Ariana fell silent for a few minutes. Then she said, “I could feel you, you know. I could feel you coming for me.”

Just as he’d felt her. Lazz didn’t want to admit that what he considered instinct might have been enhanced by something else. Something more. Something that caused his palm to itch and desire to cling to him like a second skin. Something that made him want to sweep her into his arms and carry her to safety. To strip off her clothes and warm her with his touch. To complete what remained incomplete between them.

“You must have heard me,” he attempted to explain away her reaction. “Or seen the flashlight beam.”

She continued as though he’d never spoken. “I was afraid and alone. And then I sensed you coming, and the fear and loneliness melted away. I knew that if I just waited a few more minutes you’d find me. And you did.”

He wanted to deny her words, to deny the suggestion that whatever connected them might be The Inferno. The Inferno was a lie, the proof of that lie evident in his own parents’ marriage. His brothers might have been deluded into believing, into creating romantic fantasies out of plain, old-fashioned lust, but he was the most pragmatic of all the Dantes and he refused—refused—to allow his life to be controlled or dictated by a fantasy that could vanish as quickly as it had appeared.

“You gave excellent directions, Ariana. It wasn’t hard to find you. In fact, if you hadn’t gotten turned around when you fell into that ravine, you’d have found your own way back to the cabin. It was just bad luck.”

“Did you love her very much?” She waited a heartbeat before adding, “Caitlyn. Is that why you don’t believe me?”

“Caitlyn is Marco’s wife.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, I didn’t love her. Not really. Not the way Marco did.” He forced himself to admit the truth. “And not the way Caitlyn loves Marco.”

“But you believed she was your Inferno match, even if for a short time. You said you felt something for her once.”

He dismissed Ariana’s comment with a restless shrug. “Yes, I felt something. And I deluded myself into thinking it might be The Inferno and that she might be responsible. I was wrong.”

“You told me it happened in Marco’s conference room, the morning after they were married. The day I was there with my father,” she added pointedly.

“Yes.”

“But you still don’t believe in The Inferno, do you? You refuse to consider that maybe what you felt was for me and not Caitlyn.”

“I don’t believe, Ariana.” Thunder underscored his response. He continued to look at her, so she could read the truth in his gaze. “I never have and I never will.”

“You must sense something,” she insisted. “I can’t be the only one of us experiencing whatever this is.”

“It’s simple desire. We’re physically attracted to each other. We’re two people—two married people—confined in a limited space. To make matters more difficult, we made sex a condition of our marriage.”

Her lush mouth twisted into a wry, self-deprecating smile. “I believe I made no sex a condition of our marriage.”

“Am I sensing regret?”

Lightning sizzled from the sky, striking close enough to fill the air with a sharp, metallic scent. He felt rather than heard Ariana’s swift inhalation. And then she curled into him, burying her face against his shoulder.

“Yes, you sense regret,” came her muffled voice. “I regret every last one of those ridiculous conditions we agreed to. I regret not having met you instead of Marco all those months ago. I regret that our parents ever signed that hideous contract. I regret that the first time we touched, the first time we kissed, was standing at the altar on our wedding day.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Lazz held her close, wrapping himself around her so she stayed safe and warm. “I’ve always wondered why Dad drafted that contract. Do you have any idea?”

“None. If my father knows, he hasn’t said.”

“I find it odd that Vittorio agreed to Dad’s proposition. Was it just the money?”

She winced. “I’m sure that was part of it.” Pain bled into the words, and he realized that on some level she must feel as though her father had betrayed her, allowing avarice to outweigh his love for his daughter. “He said it was something your father told him that finally convinced him to sign, but he refused to explain what. He claimed it wasn’t the right time.”

Lightning flashed in the distance, and the thunder took a moment to rumble a response. Though the rain remained steady, it didn’t pound the ground the way it had only moments before. A deep gray seeped into the hillside, warning of the advent of dusk. Lazz stood and stripped the slicker off the branches above them. Shaking it out, he passed it down to Ariana.

“Here, put this on.”

“Are we leaving?” she asked in relief.

“We’re going to give it a shot.” He checked his compass. “I’m hoping we can parallel the path on the other side of the ravine. The stream shouldn’t be too far along. Once we find that, we’ll be back to the cabin in no time.”

After donning the slicker they’d been sitting on, he searched the underbrush for a sturdy branch Ariana could use as a walking stick. Then he slung the backpack over one shoulder while bracing his wife with the other. It had taken him a mere five minutes to traverse the distance from the stream to the ravine. Returning to that spot took a full thirty.

Pain and weariness lined Ariana’s face as they rested on a mossy boulder near the stream. “I would never have made it without you. Thank you.” She regarded the stone-strewn path ahead of them, and her chin set into a determined line. “What do you say we tackle this next part before it gets any darker?”

“I’d say you were pretty damn amazing, Mrs. Dante.” He dug in his backpack for another candy bar and handed it to her. “Eat this first, and then we’ll push off.”

It took them two more hours to reach the cabin. Ariana’s legs buckled mere steps from the porch, and Lazz swung her into his arms. “Just another minute,” he reassured, “and I’ll have you in a nice hot tub.”

She moaned in response. “Who knew I’d want to be any wetter than I already am. But a hot bath…”

He shoved open the front door and carried her inside. “With bubbles.”

“Stop. You’re killing me.”

He reached for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing happened. “Hell. It just figures.” He gently set Ariana down, helping her balance on her one good foot. “Looks like the storm knocked out the power.”

“No bath?” she asked with surprising equanimity.

“There should be enough hot water,” he reassured. “And as soon as I get the generator going, there’ll be more than enough.”

Using his flashlight to guide him, Lazz carried her through to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Sure enough, hot water came pouring out. He upended a jar of bath crystals, watching with interest as they exploded into bubbles. Then he shone the beam of light in Ariana’s direction. She stood awkwardly on one leg, laughter dancing in her dark eyes.

“Too much bubble?”

“A bit,” she conceded.

“Do you need help getting in?”

“You sound entirely too hopeful.” She shook her head. “If you’d leave me one of the flashlights, I should be fine.”

“I can do better than that.” He shone the light toward a trio of squat candles grouped on the tile ledge that surrounded the tub. “Will that do?”

Her sigh of pleasure was answer enough. “Perfect.”

He left her to it while he powered up the generator. To his relief, it started with ease. Finally, he went to the freezer and removed a bag of frozen corn, poured two glasses of wine and returned to the bathroom. He paused outside the door.

“Cover up with bubbles. I’m coming in.” He heard a feminine yelp, followed by a soft splash. Grinning, he pushed open the door. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

“Maybe this will help.” He handed her the wine. “Rest your ankle on the edge of the tub.”

“Corn?”

“Frozen corn.” Draping it across her ankle, he headed for the shower stall and began to strip.

“What are you doing now?” Nervousness cascaded through her voice. She glanced over her shoulder and then whipped around again. “You’re taking your clothes off.”

“True.” He paused deliberately. “I’m wet, filthy and tired. I’m taking a shower, assuming there’s any hot water left. And if there’s not, I’ll be wet, cold and tired. But at least I’ll be clean.”

“Yes, of course,” she murmured in Italian. “I wasn’t thinking.”

He smiled. Did she have any idea how much she gave away when she switched languages? “I could always join you in the tub,” he suggested.

“Or not.”

“There are enough bubbles in there for two. And considering the size of that thing, there’s more than enough room for both of us.”

She sank lower in the tub. “You choose the oddest times to display your sense of humor.”

“Huh. I could have sworn I was being dead serious.”

He turned on the shower and braced himself. To his relief, it wasn’t as bad as he feared. Lukewarm, at best, but the illusion of warmth lasted long enough for him to scrub down. Once he’d dried off, he regarded his wife. Only the top of her head was visible above the dissipating layer of bubbles, not to mention one shapely leg.

He grabbed a stack of towels and piled them within reach of the tub. “I’m going to start a fire. Are you okay?”