Bedded and Wedded for Revenge Read online

  ‘Fine,’ she responded unenthusiastically.

  He frowned again at her tone. ‘Look, Gemma, I understand this is difficult for you, but, after all, I am the one helping you, so the very least you could do is show some measure of enthusiasm.’

  She lifted her dark blue eyes to his. ‘I am looking forward to having the money that is rightly mine to do with as I wish. If I am showing a little less enthusiasm than you require at sharing my life with a man I can’t even remember, then I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do to change that. It was never in my plans to marry in the first place, but now I have no choice.’

  ‘What about children?’ he asked. ‘Had you also permanently ruled out that possibility as so many women your age seem to do these days?’

  Gemma shifted her gaze away from the questioning probe of his. ‘No…no…I had not personally ruled out having children.’

  ‘You planned to be a single mother?’

  Gemma wished she could change the subject, but she couldn’t think of a way to do it that wouldn’t raise his suspicions. ‘What makes you ask that?’ she asked instead.

  ‘It is clear to me you were only marrying Michael Carter to access your inheritance,’ he said. ‘He is paralysed from the waist down. One would assume he would have been unable to provide you naturally with the children you wanted even if you hadn’t planned on officially marrying him.’

  ‘How do you know I wasn’t in love with Michael?’ she asked, adopting a tone that was so close to what she had sounded like all those years ago it unnerved her even as much as it clearly angered him. She could see the tightening of his jaw and the way his eyes glittered darkly as they held hers.

  ‘The Gemma Landerstalle I remember did not have the space in her heart to love anyone but herself,’ he said. ‘You might have lost your memory, or at least a part of it, but you cannot have lost your personality along with it. I am sure there is still that heartless young woman residing inside that beautiful body even though you do your best to disguise it.’

  ‘Why would I try and disguise it?’ she asked with a flash of ire in her eyes.

  His expression hardened in cynicism. ‘Because you will do absolutely anything to access your father’s estate, won’t you, Gemma? Absolutely anything. Even commit yourself to a man you claim you do not remember, even going so far as to agree to have his child.’

  She sat in a stony silence, not wanting to reveal her true vulnerability. She reminded herself that it didn’t really matter what he thought of her. All she needed from him was marriage. She would force herself to be polite and keep him at a safe distance for as long as she could, but if he was convinced she hadn’t changed, then that was his problem, not hers.

  ‘You were even desperate enough to tie yourself to a man who couldn’t even be a man in your bed, a man who you were going to use to bring about your mercenary goal,’ he added in an embittered tone.

  Gemma stared at him in shock, anger finally coming to her rescue. ‘How dare you speak of Michael in such a way?’ she said as she struggled to her feet, knocking over her water glass in the process. ‘He is…is…’ She sat back down when she noticed the glances she was getting from the neighbouring tables, her fragile hold on her emotions slipping as the stinging tears sprouted from her eyes and began to slide silently down her cheeks.

  The waiter came over and discreetly removed the glass and replaced it with another one, refilling it before laying a white starched serviette on the spillage and moving away once more.

  Andreas had not expected to be moved by Gemma’s tears. He wanted to get to his feet and pull her into his arms and hold her against him and very nearly did so, except for the fact that she mumbled a quick ‘excuse me’ and made her way to the powder room before he could even rise to his feet.

  He watched her awkward progress and felt his heart contract painfully. He frowned as he took a sip of his wine, quietly savouring the hint of cinnamon and black cherries as he sat back in his seat, wondering if he was in his right mind getting entangled with her again after all these years. Most people would have moved on, but something in him insisted he revisit the past and put things right according to his standards this time around.

  It was a matter of pride—yes, but also honour. He had been devastated, his family shattered by her treatment of him and he had sworn he would have his revenge. He had finally been handed his chance, only to find the woman he had stoked his hatred for had seemingly changed, almost beyond recognition.

  But what if it was just an act to get what she wanted? The Gemma of the past would have stopped at nothing to get her way. He had personally experienced her ruthless disregard for his feelings. How could he trust the person she said she was now? She had lied before and would no doubt lie again.

  For all he knew her tears might have been an act for his benefit to keep him committed to seeing their marriage through. After all, a lot of money was at stake. She had a lot to lose if he didn’t hold to the deal.

  He wasn’t prepared to make himself that vulnerable. Not again.

  Not after the last time.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GEMMA came back to their table a few minutes later, her make-up perfectly restored, her cool composure indicating her temporary loss of control was now over.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Andreas said, assisting her as she sat back down. ‘That was unspeakably cruel of me to speak of your ex-fiancé in such a way.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said, not meeting his eyes. ‘It’s just Michael has a disability, an irreversible disability that is my fault. I have to live with that even though I don’t remember a thing about…the accident.’ She chewed at her bottom lip as if by doing so it would unlock her mind, but all it did was remove the lip-gloss she’d so recently re-applied.

  ‘Do you recall anything at all about that night?’ he asked after a moment.

  Gemma shook her head. ‘A little bit…I sort of have flashes occasionally…but not much of it makes sense. I had an argument with my stepmother, but I don’t remember what it was about. We’ve had so many arguments in the past it’s hard to recall any of them in any sort of detail.’

  ‘Does Michael remember anything of the accident and what led up to it?’

  ‘Not a lot,’ she said. ‘He too was in a coma, but for much longer. They weren’t even sure he was going to…to survive.’

  ‘Were you and Michael dating at the time?’

  Gemma almost laughed out loud and would have done so if she’d been able to remember how to. It had been so long since she’d felt amusement.

  ‘No, Michael wasn’t into women, if you know what I mean,’ she answered. ‘He didn’t come out about it until very recently. It wasn’t until his father died about a year ago that he felt free enough to share it with others.’

  ‘But you have always known?’

  She met his eyes briefly. ‘It’s a term we Australians use,’ she said. ‘It’s called Gaydar, you know…as in radar.’

  His lips twitched with a smile. ‘How long have you known him? I don’t recall him being one of your many suitors ten years ago.’

  ‘No…I didn’t know him then…’

  ‘How did you meet?’

  Gemma hated recalling the night she’d met Michael. It brought back so many distressing memories, and if it hadn’t been for how he had helped her the night of her birthday party she would not have nurtured the relationship as she had.

  ‘We met at…at a party,’ she answered, keeping her eyes well down. ‘He was partnering an acquaintance of mine. We…got to chatting and I felt comfortable with him. Although our backgrounds were quite different we still shared a lot in common. We had both grown up from a young age without a mother. Compared to a lot of other people I knew at the time he seemed…a little more genuine.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I don’t know…I guess I felt he wasn’t just being my friend because of my wealthy background. It’s hard, you know…’ she lifted her eyes back to his momentarily, trying not to
reveal her discomfiture as she continued ‘…working out who likes you for who you are or what you can give them.’

  ‘So what happened to the host of adoring men that followed you around like lap dogs all those years ago?’ he asked.

  Gemma lowered her gaze to the food that had been put in front of her and wondered if she could summon up either the energy or appetite to do it justice. ‘You know what they say about fair-weather friends,’ she said as she made a token effort by picking up her cutlery. ‘They’re there for the good times but not for the bad.’

  ‘Yes, you are indeed right,’ Andreas agreed. ‘Once people know you have money they treat you very differently.’

  Gemma wondered if he was obliquely referring to her. She had rejected him ten years ago and yet here she was promising to be his wife.

  She gave him a tentative glance. ‘You intimated earlier that my personality cannot have changed…you said I was heartless or words to the effect.’

  ‘I should not have spoken to you like that,’ he said, a little frown of remorse bringing his dark brows together. ‘It is in the past, the past you cannot remember. It is hardly fair to bring it up. It has nothing to do with the future—our future.’

  Gemma looked at him for a moment. She knew they could have no future, certainly not with the past lying between them as it did. And once he found out the truth about her he would no doubt find some way to make her pay for her mendacity.

  She stared down at her water glass with its beads of condensation trickling like crystal tears down the sides.

  ‘Have you worked since the accident?’ he asked into the silence.

  ‘Sort of…’ she answered, glancing up at him again. ‘I work at a women’s refuge centre but I’m not on the payroll. It’s mostly staffed by volunteers.’

  She expected him to show some element of surprise on his face, but he simply took a sip of his wine before commenting, ‘That must be very demanding but no doubt rewarding work.’

  Her eyes fell away from his again. ‘It is demanding at times but I can’t live for ever without an income. I intend to give it up as soon as I get my father’s estate.’

  Gemma was conscious of his studied gaze as it rested on her. She was aware of him in a way she had not been of any man. She was uneasy with him as indeed she was uneasy with most men other than Michael, who had posed no threat. Something about Andreas Trigliani made her blood race in her veins and her heart begin to thump unevenly, and it had very little to do with fear at what he could do to her but more to do with what she could be tempted to feel for him if she let her guard down around him. Although he had changed physically, she could still see the gentle, caring nature of the Andreas of ten years ago even though he appeared to be making an effort to conceal it from her. She felt it in his touch, the warmth of his fingers, unlike anything she’d experienced before. It made her flesh ache to feel more of him, to run her hands over him, to explore his hard contours, to trace his sensual mouth with her fingertips to see if it would soften at her touch…

  ‘Why did you choose to work at all when you are an heiress to a fortune?’ he asked, instantly jerking her away from her thoughts.

  ‘I wasn’t sure I was going to be an heiress,’ she said. ‘My stepmother was doing her best to ensure I was written out of my father’s will.’

  ‘But she did not succeed.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So in spite of how you felt about him, your father loved you after all,’ he said.

  Tears pricked again at the backs of her eyes, but this time she refused to allow them to flow freely. She stared at the blood-red rose on the table and forced her tone into one of hard detachment. ‘He had a strange way of showing it, the terms of his will being a case in point.’

  ‘Yes, it is indeed an unusual arrangement,’ he commented. ‘But then he was an astute businessman who liked to cover all bases.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed with a cynical twist to her mouth. ‘His little caveat that the marriage must last at least six months before the entire estate is finalised clearly demonstrates his lack of trust towards me.’

  ‘You will still be a considerably wealthy woman on the day of our marriage,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So what will you spend it on?’ Andreas asked, his gaze running over her simple black dress and lack of jewellery.

  ‘I have some investment plans,’ she said. ‘I want to set myself up so I don’t have to think about a career.’

  ‘Tell me about your reasons for working at the refuge centre.’

  She gave him a quick glance from beneath her lashes as she reached for her water glass. ‘I didn’t do that well at school. I didn’t qualify for medicine as my father had hoped or even for the most basic university degree.’ She ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass absently as she continued. ‘At first I started working there to annoy my father. He suggested I work at the hotel, you know, in management or something, but I refused. I knew he would be disappointed that his only child had aimed so low, but once I started working at the women’s shelter I really began to enjoy it.’

  ‘What did you enjoy about it?’

  ‘I enjoyed seeing women who had suffered turn their lives around…the children too, especially the little ones who were often so bewildered by what had gone on in their lives.’

  ‘I can see you will be a wonderful mother when the time is right,’ he said with yet another of his unreadable little smiles.

  Gemma had to look away. She could imagine what an adoring father he would be. She knew most Italians valued family very highly. He was clearly no different. Why else was he tying himself to her, an heiress he assumed could give him what he wanted? Not the broken woman she really was.

  ‘I have also enjoyed keeping in contact with one or two women who’ve managed to rebuild their lives,’ she said, more in an attempt to shift her thoughts from a subject she found unbearably painful. ‘Not many keep in touch, but one in particular has become a close friend.’

  ‘Tell me about her.’

  She knew it was probably asking for trouble to drift into such dangerous waters, but something about his quiet graciousness had got beneath her normally rigid guard. She didn’t want to reveal her real reasons for claiming her father’s inheritance, but neither did she want Andreas to think she was totally without feeling as indeed she had been towards him ten years ago.

  ‘It’s not easy for women to leave a partner who has turned violent,’ she said. ‘People just assume the woman should up and go, but it’s so complicated when young children or even pets are involved. It often takes many attempts before the final severance of the relationship occurs. Also, the involvement of police and protective services put a lot of women off. They often feel they won’t be believed or will be criticised for going back time and time again. It’s not as simple as everyone thinks.’

  Andreas watched the flicker of emotions pass over her still-beautiful face and his heart tightened in spite of all she had done to him in the past. He had hardened his heart for so long, intent on revenge, and yet meeting her again after all this time had taught him that people were not always as they seemed.

  She had apparently developed a social conscience, which was perhaps not all that surprising considering what life had dished up to her.

  She carried the guilt of maiming a man for life.

  Michael Carter was without the mobility he had taken for granted a few short years ago and Gemma Landerstalle was responsible for it. Although they had both been thrown from the car, the accident investigation report had declared her the driver. She had been charged with negligent driving and even though she had faced a short prison sentence her father had somehow influenced the judge to wholly suspend it and offer her bail instead. But though she claimed she had amnesia it was clear she carried the guilt of her past in some small measure, it was written on her face, she carried it on her body, reminding him of a bruised, fragile orchid in the crush of a hand too insensitive to her delicate needs.
r />   ‘Do you remember much of your mother?’ he asked.

  She gave him a rare smile. It was small, hardly moving her mouth at all, but it was still a smile and he couldn’t help feeling as if he would like to see it more often.

  ‘Yes…she was beautiful and smelt like perfume all the time,’ she said. ‘She had blonde hair like me—mine is a bit darker and straighter, but she always looked so elegant.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Gemma hated this part. The explanations that everyone wanted and she was so loath to give. Her mother’s short, beautiful life reduced to a random illness that could have been prevented if help had been sought in time.

  ‘She died of a ruptured appendix.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘In this day and age?’

  ‘It was eighteen years ago,’ she said, meeting his eyes briefly. ‘Septicaemia set in and it was too late by the time my father noticed how desperate things had become. Her organs began to shut down and there was nothing anyone could do.’

  ‘So that is why you have always had such ill feeling towards your father?’ he guessed. ‘You held him personally responsible for your mother’s untimely death?’

  ‘No…it was just one of those things,’ she lied, knowing that a thin thread of red-hot anger had woven its way through her life for what she had missed out on because her father had been too busy concentrating on building his own particular empire rather than considering his wife’s needs. Her mother had paid the price for his neglect, and Gemma was still in some measure, even now, paying for it too.

  ‘It must have been very hard for you growing up without your mother during your adolescence,’ he said. ‘Was your stepmother able to bridge the gap at all?’

  ‘My stepmother relished the role of being a surrogate parent,’ Gemma said with an unhappy expression. ‘She took on the responsibility with an avid enthusiasm that would have impressed anyone.’

  ‘Except you,’ he put in, yet again demonstrating his inbuilt percipience.