The Duke's Willful Wife (3 page)

He didn’t even blink at her vehement rejection, but continued to stare at her steadily. 
“She’s in the intensive care unit.  She fell sick last week, but refused to see a doctor.  It became steadily worse until two days ago when she didn’t come down for dinner.  When my mother went upstairs to check on her,
Nonna Rennata couldn’t be revived.  We called an ambulance and by the time the doctors examined her, they explained that she’d had a series of heart attacks.”

Those two words spoken about the small, wonderful woman who had taken
Sasha
under her wing and treated her like a granddaughter struck her as painful.  “No!” 

Dante realized that his wife was genuinely upset by this, which confused him.  She’d always kept apart from the family.  He had no idea that
Sasha
cared one whit about his grandmother
even though the elderly lady had asked for Sasha repeatedly during her illness
.  “She’s stable,” he said quickly, but the pained expression in his wife’s eyes didn’t diminish. 

When she thought she could speak without her voice breaking, she asked,
“How long has she been in the hospital?

“Three days.”

With a slight nod, Sasha accepted this, berating herself for not already knowing and keeping in touch with Rennata more closely.  They communicated regularly via e-mail and text, but the communication was sporadic and Sasha only logged into her e-mail about once a week. 
“Is she still…?”

Dante’s mouth compressed in frustration and confusion.  “As I said, she’s stable.  But she’s been asking for you.”

That snapped
Sasha
out of her panic and gave her something to do, something
to help.  “Of course.  If Nonna needs me, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”  She was already walking towards the stairs to pack a bag.

“We can be airborne as soon as you grab your purse.”

That startled her.  She glanced out the window and cringed inwardly at the thought of flying in a helicopter. 
Her fear of flying had been a source of embarrassment and she’d kept that from Dante, who didn’t seem to have any fears.  But she’d only flown in planes which were much more reliable in her mind.  A helicopter ride brought up new and more terrifying issues she’d never faced while flying in Dante’s private
fleet of
jets. 
“Let me just pack some clothes,” she said, refusing to let the panic take over. She could deal with the fear
of flying
, even in a helicopter,
if it meant getting to Nonna Rennata more quickly
.  She’d
flown often
enough
in order to be close to Dante during their marriage and she hadn’t broken down
, she could get through this.

Deep breathing, imaging exercises, remember the “up” bumps in turbulence and not just the “down” bumps…most important, positive thinking.  The plane, or now the helicopter, is not going to crash and millions of people fly safely in planes every day. 

Sasha wasn’t sure about the number that traveled safely in helicopters, but she pushed herself to focus on packing.  Getting to Rennata.  That was the most important issue. 

Dante tried to halt her momentum but Sasha was already heading towards the stairs. 
“You don’t need clothes.  All the clothes you had at the house are still available to you.”

She stopped and looked at him with confusion.
  And thankfully it also distracted her from the upcoming flights.
  “
Those clothes I had during our marriage
?
”  She couldn’t claim that she’d bought them, but she’d definitely worn them to try and please him and placate his mother.  “
You didn’t get rid of them?”

“Of course not.  They are worth a small fortune.”

She squared her shoulders, wishing she didn’t feel the need to defend the cost of clothes she didn’t like and weren’t her style.  But something about the expression on his handsome face made her step back and shake her head. 
“Not my choice.  Your mother bought most of those for me.
  I never asked for nor wanted most of them.
”

He sighed and shrugged slightly, his expression changing from the subtly accusatory to the unconcerned. 
“She probably bought whatever she thought was appropriate for you.  Can you get your purse?  We need to be in the air as soon as possible.  I don’t want Nonna to be wondering where you are.  Any stress could cause a problem
so we should hurry
.”

That shook her to the core
, all the fight knocked out of her at the possibility of hurting that gentle lady
.  “Of course,” she said and stood up straighter, forcing her mind to work faster.  “I need to get some
clothes.  I know there are designer clothes
at
your
house, but I won’t wear those ever again.”  She raced up the stairs before he could argue with her
or try and convince her that the clothes from their marriage were more appropriate than the items she felt comfortable wearing.  T
ossing
a couple pairs of
jeans and
a pair of
shorts into a suitcase
defiantly
,
she added
tee shirts, sandals, a few dressier clothes that
she preferred, and a casual sundress
just to irritate Dante’s mother
and she was ready to leave
.

It took her less than five minutes and she was pulling the small case back down the stairs.  “I’m ready,” she said and glanced around, wondering if there was anything she needed to do.  But since she’d only be gone for a day or two, she thought that anything she’d left hanging here could wait.  She grabbed her purse, her passport and made sure her cell phone was inside, then turned to follow Dante.  “
L
ead the way,” she quipped. 

Dante had always been fascinated by this woman although why he had no idea.  She had never fit his lifestyle, was too gregarious, too trusting and too undisciplined.  He lived his life with great deliberation,
requiring
order and schedule
to each part of his day
.  This woman lived her life on the edge of one emotion or another, feeling too much and reacting on those emotions.  Regardless, from the moment he’d met her, he had been drawn to her.  She was beautiful, no doubt about that.  Her figure had tormented him from the first time he’
d run into her, and he’d resisted her allure for all of
five minutes
before finally giving in and accepting that there was just something about her that he needed.  He certainly accepted the sexual need, that had been present from first sight. 

But seeing her now with her ragged duffle bag and her eyes once again alight with purpose and determination, he remembered how much he’d wanted to posses her, to control her and place his stamp of
ownership on her.  She was like a
beautiful, delicate and rare hummingbird flitting wherever she needed to be
.  If she liked
a place
, she would return.  If she didn’t, she was strong enough to fly away with a taunting glimpse of heaven. 

He cursed under his breath as he followed her across the field of weeds and overgrown grass  towards the helicopter, his eyes drawn to her long legs, picturing those legs wrapped around his waist as they had so many times in the past.  No woman had ever gotten to him like this one had.  And he resented that she still had power over him, even knowing what he knew about her morals
, his body still wanted to melt into her and his mind wanted to possess her
. 
Unfortunately, he’d found out that her morals were
non-existent
, a character trait that should have eliminated his desire for her
. 

It just went to prove that a man’s body was controlled by what he saw, and not what was underneath.  He could ignore this attraction though.  He had more evidence than he had the first time he’d tried to fight it and he would win this round
no matter how lush and sultry her body appeared to him
. 

He resisted the urge to
help her by
put
ting
a hand to her round derriere as she climbed into the luxurious helicopter.  His hands burned when she slipped slightly and they automatically reached out to steady her.  Fortunately, he pulled back quickly enough and she was able to right herself
without his assistance
.  She stepped into the helicopter and took one of the
plush,
leather seats, sitting back and closing her eyes. 

As soon as he was seated, he nodded to the pilot, indicating that they could take off immediately.  The pilot
acknowledged the nod and efficiently
started the rotors
so
the noise picked up
dramatically
, until the doors were closed
and all the noise was suddenly cut off
.  The interior was completely sound proof so unlike other helicopters, one could talk in a normal voice without the sounds of the
engine
or rotors interrupting or needing
microphones
for communication. 

Dante
sat back and was about to make a phone call, but his eyes, which had been avoiding
Sasha
’s face, accidentally caught her hands.  He was startled to realize that her fingers were gripping the leather arm
rests
, her knuckles white with the effort to hold onto something solid.  Unwillingly, his eyes moved upwards to her face, noting that her eyes were closed, her teeth clenched and her whole body was tensed for….whatever it was she anticipated happening. 

Crash and burn?  Probably.

Horrible drop?  Definitely a possibility in her mind.

“You’re afraid of flying?” he demanded, watching her whole body tense even more tightly.  If she was any tighter, she would snap, he thought. 

She peeked out of her eyes, then closed them tightly, her lips compressed so
forcefully
they were white just like her knuckles.  She didn’t pay him any attention, just focused on whatever was going on in that fertile, creative brain of hers. 

“I would have thought if you’d taken me on, you weren’t afraid of anything,” he commented.

No reaction.  She was completely tuned out to everything.

“How is your painting coming along?” he asked, watching her carefully.  “Are you working on anything significant now?”

One eye popped open and she looked across the small space at his handsome face.

Sasha
didn’t want to open her eyes, but there was something in the tone of his voice that broke through. 
She looked carefully, noticing that they were still on the ground so she could react quickly, then get back to her personal mantra that had gotten her through so many other flights. 
She didn’
t really like the whole flight but i
t was the take offs and landings that
really
got to her.  She knew it wasn’t rational since a
plane ride
could crash at any time but there was something
terrifying about the takeoff,
and the landing was only mildly less scary in her mind.

“Nothing significant
,
”
she gritted out, then closed her eyes and refocused.  He was trying to reduce her down, to break her but she wouldn’t let him see that she was going to start crying.  She would not scream
out her terror.
  She would focus and keep repeating her words, reminding herself that flying was safe, that so many people did it every day, every hour and she needn’t worry so much. 

Dante wasn’t going to relent.  He watched her carefully, looking for some sign that she might be okay but all he saw was increasing anxiety
and despite the fact that he wanted to be immune, he couldn’t sit through this, seeing her so worried
  “Y
ou’d obviously been painting something
right before I arrived
.  What was it?
  Or was it so horrible that you’re ashamed of the piece?  I would have thought someone with your talent wouldn’t be embarrassed by anything.
”

If only to get him to be quiet so she could concentrate,
Sasha
thought back to the portrait she’d been working on the previous day, one which she definitely wouldn’t tell him about.  It wasn’t any of his business anyway.  “I was doing a portrait yesterday.”  No details, she told herself. 

After a moment’s pause
to see if she would expound,
he
prompted
,
“I thought you didn’t like doing portraits.  I remember some tripe out your emotions gett
ing in the way of the
other person’s
features.”

Her eyes snapped open and she glared across the short expanse of luxurious helicopter space between them. 
“It wasn’t tripe, you heartless bastard,” she gasped, furious despite herself.  “And what would you know about art anyway?  Bought any paintings lately?  Probably not.  That would require you to feel something other than an instinct for profit.”  She sneered and closed her eyes once again, leaning back against the soft leather of her chair.  But her eyes popped right back open.  “And one other thing.  There’s no
‘
tripe
’
about feeling emotions when one paints.  It’s one of the reasons my paintings sell so well.  And yes, I was doing a portrait.  Why I was doing something like that is none of your business anymore.”