A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [67]
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘I should have thought that it would be obvious just what’s going on!’ Terrie flung at him, her voice high and tight with hostility. ‘And as for what I think I’m doing—I think I’m packing and leaving. What do you think?’
‘I think that you’re damn well not going anywhere. Not without some sort of explanation. Some reason why…’
‘A reason?’ Terrie echoed cynically. ‘You want a reason?’
‘I think you owe me one.’
‘I owe you nothing. Nothing at all. So you needn’t think you can order me around—demanding this and demanding that. I’ve nothing to give you. I came here and stayed with you because you insisted on it. And now I’m leaving—end of story.’
‘No.’
Gio could only shake his head in rejection and confusion. He could almost believe that in the middle of the night, while he had been deep in the sleep of exhaustion created by the after-effects of their passionate lovemaking, someone had crept into the house and taken away the Teresa he knew. Leaving behind a clone of her, someone who was identical in looks, but totally different in personality. ‘No. I’m not having that. You know why you’re here! You know what our agreement was. That you would stay for four weeks—’
‘Or until we were sure that I wasn’t pregnant,’ Terrie inserted coldly. ‘I believe that was what we agreed on.’
‘Teresa, what the hell are you talking about? Just what do you mean?’
‘Exactly what I said…’
Terrie’s hands tightened on the clothes she held, crushing the material convulsively.
‘You invited me here to make sure that there was no—repercussion from our night together in the hotel. Well, you can rest assured of that.’
She tossed the dresses down, heedless of the way they fell roughly into the case. The grey eyes blazed like burning stars, brilliant in her pale face. And it was only now that he saw how her cheeks were streaked with the barely dried traces of tears.
‘I’m not pregnant,’ she declared starkly.
Gio’s English totally deserted him.
‘Come?’ he said. ‘Come te dice? Teresa…’
What was happening? How had they come from the glorious, wonderful night they had shared to this? And why had she been weeping? If she was as determined to leave him as she seemed, then what in hell had upset her?
‘Do you want me to say it again?’
Did she have to repeat it? Terrie thought miserably, blinking back the bitter tears that threatened. Wasn’t it bad enough that it was true? She knew that she should be feeling some relief, a sense of gratitude that, now that she knew what his true opinion of her was, at least she wasn’t carrying his baby too. At least she could get out, without that cruel reminder of their brief affair.
But the truth was that relief was the opposite of what she felt. That inside she was dying of loss and desolation. And if she could have done she would have welcomed any reminder of the man she loved so desperately. But she had been denied even that.
‘My period started this morning. There—is that blunt enough for you? I’m not pregnant with your child, so you have no obligation to me. You don’t need to look after me or support me—or—or anything. Four weeks, we said—and if at the end of that time I wasn’t pregnant then I could go on my way and there’d be no f-further complications.’
For a terrible second the tears welled up again, almost defeating her. But she swallowed them down fiercely, forcing herself on.
‘But in the end you didn’t have to wait the full four weeks—isn’t that lucky? I’m not pregnant, so you don’t have to waste any more time on me. I’m leaving.’
‘No!’
‘Yes.’
She couldn’t face him any more so she swung back to the wardrobe, grabbing another handful of dresses. But when she turned to deposit them in her case it was to find that Gio was beside her, reaching for the clothes and wrenching them from her hands.
‘I said no. You’re not leaving,’ he roared, stuffing them back into the cupboard and slamming the door on it. ‘At