The Brabanti Baby Page 8

  Spellbound, Eve captured the picture, her eye photographing every last detail and storing it in her memory, a souvenir to be taken out and looked at, again and again, in the years to come. No matter what other mementoes she acquired during her stay in Malta, this, she knew, would be among her most precious.

  At last, with the sky brightening and casting the first pale hint of day through the window, she stole to the kitchenette to prepare a bottle of formula and plug in the coffeemaker. When she returned to the nursery with the bottle, the scene remained exactly as she’d left it.

  “Gabriel,” she whispered, touching him lightly on the shoulder.

  He came to with a start, his blue eyes dark and unfocused as his gaze roamed the still-shadowed room before locking onto hers. At once, that same stunning, vibrant electricity charged the atmosphere and try though she might, she couldn’t tear her herself free of it. Instead she stood paralyzed, the slow, ponderous beat of her heart measuring the seconds.

  Finally he spoke, his voice rough as dark brown sugar. “Buon giorno, cara. Che ore sono—what time is it?”

  “Just after six.”

  “So late?” He stretched and rotated his shoulders, careful not to disturb Nicola. “No wonder my back aches. Is that coffee I smell?”

  “Yes.”

  “So…?” His smile was sleepy—and distractingly appealing. “Are you going to offer me a cup, or just stand there in that very fetching nightgown, and force me to beg?”

  Curbing the urge to shrink from his gaze, she said, “I was about to change Nicola and give her her morning bottle.”

  “Let me, instead.”

  “Even the diaper part?” She eyed him doubtfully. “I seem to recall that’s one aspect of fatherhood you weren’t too keen to experience.”

  “But I might as well get used to it, si?” He eased himself out of the rocking chair and went to the change table. “Pour us each a coffee, cara mia, and don’t look so apprehensive. You’ll hear me calling for help if I run into trouble.”

  She tilted one shoulder in agreement. Leaving him to it gave her the chance to find her robe and make herself look more presentable. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

  “There is no boss in this situation, Eve,” he replied, an undercurrent of reproof in his tone. “We are equals, with a vested interest in Nicola, and with far more else at stake than either of us first supposed. Hurry back. We have much to talk about.”

  When she returned, he’d managed the diaper and persuaded Nicola to take half the contents of her bottle. “Grazie,” he murmured, accepting the mug of coffee she placed at his elbow, but his attention was centered on the baby. “Tell me, Eve: in your professional opinion, is my daughter quite normal?”

  “Normal?” she echoed, perching on the rocking chair footstool with her coffee. “Normal in what way?”

  “Not only does she cry a great deal, she appears unnaturally weak to me. When I hold her like this—” he set down the bottle and supported Nicola in a sitting position on his lap so that he could coax a burp out of her “—look how her head bobs around, as if it’s in imminent danger of falling off.”

  Eve smothered a laugh. “That’ll stop as her neck grows stronger.”

  “So the books say. They also say that, by now, it should have happened.”

  “You’ve been reading baby books?”

  “Indeed yes. Why does that surprise you?”

  “Well, you weren’t exactly…enthusiastic about the idea of becoming a father, at least not in the beginning.”

  “And by what right do you arrive at that conclusion?”

  She realized at once that, for all his talk of their being equals, of there being a connection between them, in criticizing him, she’d overstepped the mark. His tone alone created a chill in the air, and never mind that his expression closed and his eyes narrowed with annoyance.

  But it was too late to retract her remark, and nor was she sorry. His initial lack of interest in Nicola nagged at Eve and was one reason she tried so hard to fight her attraction to him. She didn’t want to fall in love with a man who allowed business to come between him and his child.

  “For a start,” she said, trading him cool stare for cool stare, “look how long it took you to get around to asking to see her. Most men would have insisted on being present at her birth.”

  “Most men would have been informed when the birth was imminent. I was not told until after it had occurred.”

  “That’s not what Marcia told me.”

  “Then Marcia lied. Again. In light of our acrimonious parting, I can understand that she might not want me at her side during the actual delivery, but I made it very clear that I would be on the first flight to New York the minute she went into labor. But she chose not to let me know until considerably after the fact. Nicola was a week old before I knew she’d arrived.”

  “If you’d really cared, you’d have gone to New York anyway, well before Marcia’s due date.”

  “And done what? Stayed in a hotel, waiting for the phone to ring? I suspect it wouldn’t have changed the outcome one iota. I’d probably still have been the last to learn I had a daughter.”

  “Not quite,” Eve said. “If I remember correctly, Nicola was nearly two weeks old before I heard the news.”

  “So Marcia didn’t want either of us around for the most important event in her life. I wonder why not?”

  “From everything I was led to understand, she was on bedrest for the last two months of her pregnancy and faced a difficult delivery. Her doctor recommended that, for the baby’s sake, she not expose herself to unnecessary stress.” Eve shot him an apologetic glance. “I’m afraid having you around would have made that impossible, Gabriel. By your own admission, things had arrived at a very unpleasant pass between you and her.”

  “Without question! But I’m no ogre, Eve. If I’d known there were complications with the pregnancy, I’d have declared a truce.”

  “Perhaps, given your history together, she didn’t think that was possible.”

  “You might be right.” He cast a troubled glance at Nicola. “I confess, I’m worried by what you’ve told me, Eve. Could it be that these difficulties you mention have affected my daughter’s development?”

  “She didn’t suffer brain damage during delivery, if that’s what you’re thinking. The hospital staff would have checked for any sign of that right away.”

  “I’m more concerned that Marcia might done something in the early stages of the pregnancy that wouldn’t be so immediately apparent—decided she didn’t want the baby, perhaps, and tried to get rid of it. I’m wondering if that’s why she waited so long to tell me we were expecting a child. She was in her second trimester before she shared the news with me.”

  “Marcia would never have tried to abort her baby,”

  She spoke with as much conviction as she could drum up, but Gabriel’s doubts started alarm bells ringing in Eve’s mind. She really didn’t believe Marcia would wilfully destroy a life, but she was a party animal, with a taste for alcohol and, by her own admission, occasionally indulged in what she called “recreational” drugs. Could she have inadvertently inflicted damage on her unborn baby, perhaps in the early weeks before she realized she was pregnant?

  Did that explain why Nicola was so irritable, and undersized for her age? According to her mother, she’d clocked in at a respectable six pounds, twelve ounces but it was Eve’s guess that she wasn’t much more than ten pounds now. Healthy babies usually doubled their birth weight by three months, yet at over four, Nicola was barely halfway there. Could she, God forbid, be suffering from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or the less damaging but equally devastating Fetal Alcohol Effects?

  If so, and Marcia knew it, that would explain her adamant refusal to come to Malta or allow Gabriel to visit her in New York. Because although hell might have no fury like a woman scorned, it wouldn’t begin to compare with Gabriel’s lust for vengeance if he learned his ex-wife was responsible for irreversible damage to hi
s only child.

  “I can almost hear the wheels turning in your mind, Eve. What has you looking so solemn?”

  “I’m thinking it’s just as well you decided to have a doctor take a look at Nicola,” she said. “It’s the only way to put your mind at rest.”

  “I have an appointment this morning with a child specialist. Will you come with us?”

  “If you like.”

  “Oh, I like,” he said. “I like very much the idea of you at my side. I’m looking forward to showing you off tomorrow night, and in the weeks to come.”

  “I don’t know why. I’m not glamorous and vivacious like Marcia.”

  “You seem to forget that Marcia turned out not to be the right woman for me.”

  “I’m not the right woman, either! Gabriel, we’re adults, not teenagers. We know better than to think…to let ourselves believe…”

  “What—that we have no future together? If that’s so, why are you trying so hard to convince yourself? Why not just laugh in my face, instead?”

  She bit her lip and looked away, unable to deal either with his forthright gaze, or the uncompromising certainty she heard in his voice.

  “You see? You cannot, because you know that I speak from my heart, and that yours hears what it says.” When she still didn’t reply, he resumed feeding Nicola and said, “I’m very glad Marcia sent you in her stead, Eve. You’re the one who should be this child’s mother. Do you ever think about getting married and starting a family?”

  “Occasionally. I think every woman does, at one time or another.”

  “Is there someone special in your life? Someone you could see filling the role of husband and father to your children?”

  She thought of Will Powers, the doctor she worked with at the clinic. They’d started dating about a year ago and settled into a comfortable, companionable relationship with sometimes-sex, no expectations, no pressure— and no spark.

  Good thing neither of us is looking for a serious commitment, Eve. Don’t know about you, but after thirty-six hours straight at the clinic, I’m too drained to get into anything heavy.

  Absolutely.

  Want to rent a movie tonight, and send out for pizza?

  Sure. I’m too tired to cook.

  Your place or mine?

  It doesn’t matter….

  It didn’t matter. But it should. “No, there’s no one special.”

  “There is now,” Gabriel said. “Now, there’s me.”

  “Well? What’s your verdict, Dr. Bianchi?” Gabriel sat forward in the chair, coiled with tension.

  Eve knew how he felt. Her breath had been in her throat throughout the specialist’s lengthy examination. Carmelo Bianchi had come highly recommended by a friend of Gabriel’s who’d worked as a pediatric resident under the doctor. Bianchi’s research in infant development had resulted in a wing of a children’s hospital in Rome being named after him. He was the best Malta had to offer.

  Pocketing his stethoscope, he handed Nicola to Eve. “We’ll talk in the other room while the signorina dresses the bambina.”

  “We’ll talk here,” Gabriel advised him. “Whatever you have to tell me can be said in front of my lady.”

  My lady? Oh, he had a way with words that reduced a woman to putty in his hands!

  “Va bene.” The doctor propped one hip on the edge of the examining table, chucked Nicola under the chin, and was rewarded with a wet, gummy smile. “Of course, until we receive the results of the blood tests, I can’t give you the complete reassurance you looking for, signor, but I can tell you with reasonable certainty that your daughter shows no sign of serious abnormalities. Yes, she’s small for more than four months, and not as strong as many other babies her age, but this isn’t necessarily significant. No two children grow at the same speed. Some are walking at ten months, others aren’t ready until they’re well past a year. Some are sitting at six months, others not before eight or even nine.”

  “What about her crying, the interrupted sleep at night?”

  Bianchi laughed. “She is an infant, Signor Brabanti! She hasn’t learned to tell the time and doesn’t yet know that the night is supposed to be for sleeping. If she’s hungry or uncomfortable, she’ll cry, regardless of the hour. I can prescribe something to help her through this stage, if you like, but again, there are no fixed rules for how soon such phases might last. I know of perfectly healthy, normal two-year-olds who still don’t sleep through the night.” Gabriel looked so appalled that the doctor burst out laughing again and added, “If it’s of any comfort to you, I know of few who don’t outgrow the habit eventually.”

  “That’s some consolation, I suppose!” Gabriel inhaled deeply, and blew out a long breath of relief. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Doctor. I’m sorry if we’ve wasted your time.”

  “Don’t misunderstand me,” Bianchi interrupted. “I’m not seriously concerned about your daughter, but I’m not entirely happy with her, either. If you hadn’t told me, I’d never have guessed she was nearly four and a half months old, which leads me to wonder if what she’s being fed disagrees with her, possibly because she’s been switched too suddenly from mother’s milk, or possibly because the mother wasn’t able to supply her with enough milk in the first place. Hungry babies don’t gain weight as they should, and they cry much more than their well-fed counterparts.”

  Gabriel threw a glance at Eve. “We don’t know that she was ever on mother’s milk to begin with.”

  The doctor’s expression betrayed nothing, and all he said was, “A pity. If the supply is there, it’s unquestionably the best thing for the child.” He reached for his prescription pad and scribbled on it. “I recommend this brand of formula. It’s expensive, but—”

  “That’s not a consideration. Whatever my daughter needs, I’m able to provide.”

  “Bene. Then try this for a week, then bring her back again and we’ll see how her weight’s doing. And this—” he tore off another sheet and scribbled again “—is the prescription I mentioned. Give her the drops as directed and let me know how she responds.”

  “We will.” Gabriel stood up, and offered his hand. “Thank you again, Doctor.”

  “There’s one more thing. You say there were complications during the latter stages of pregnancy and at delivery.”

  Again, Gabriel glanced at Eve. “That’s our understanding, yes?”

  She nodded, aware that the doctor watched the exchange with some interest before turning his attention to Nicola again. “And she is staying with you for the summer?” he inquired, offering her his finger to clutch. “Possibly as long as two months?”

  “That’s correct,” Gabriel said.

  “Then I’d like to have copies of her medical records sent over, just to be sure I’ve not overlooked anything of significance.”

  “I’ll see to it immediately.”

  Afterward, as they drove away from the clinic, Gabriel said wryly, “Can you believe it? Nicola didn’t cry once, the whole time we were in there, and look at her now, sleeping like…”

  “A baby?” Eve supplied.

  He reached across and caught her hand. “Made me look like something of a fool, didn’t she?”

  “Not a bit,” she said, pure pleasure tingling the length of her arm. “You looked exactly like what you are—a concerned father—and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “What about Bianchi? What did you think of him?”

  “I found him to be very thorough and think he’s absolutely right to want to take a look at Nicola’s medical records. You can be sure he’ll follow up on anything he suspects might be out of the ordinary. My only question is, do you think Marcia will agree to send them to him?”

  “She’d better,” Gabriel said grimly. “I’ve about had it with her cat-and-mouse games. She might as well have dropped off the face of the earth, for all I’ve heard from her.” He squeezed Eve’s hand. “But enough about her. My friends are very much looking forward to meeting you at tomorrow night’s p
arty. I hope you feel the same way.”

  “Yes,” she said. But it was a lie. If his other friends were anything like Janine De Rafaelli, she’d just as soon never meet any of them!

  Raising her fingers, he kissed them. “Don’t worry, they’re not!”

  “Not what?”

  “All like Janine.”

  “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

  “It’s that connection between us, cara,” he said smugly. “It tells me everything there is to know about you, and the more I learn, the more I like.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  EARLY on Friday evening, Beryl showed up to lend a hand getting Nicola ready for her debut into society.

  “You’ll find the signor’s friends a mixed bunch, everything from displaced royalty to government bigwigs,” the housekeeper told Eve, running a soft-bristled baby brush over Nicola’s thatch of hair in an effort to get it to lie flat. “Most are nice enough, but there’ll be a few who’ll treat you as if you’re last week’s fish left out too long in the sun. Ignore them is the best advice I can give you. As long as you’ve got him on your side, he’s all you need.”

  Eve smoothed a nervous hand down the dress. A sleeveless chiffon shift, patterned from neck to hem in delicate blue and mauve roses over a plain blue underslip, it had struck her as the ultimate in elegant simplicity when she’d bought it in Chicago for the gala opening of an art gallery. But would it measure up to Maltese high society? “If they’re anything like the woman I met on Tuesday…”

  “The Contessa De Rafaelli, you mean?” Beryl gave a disparaging snort. “Don’t let the title fool you. That one’s nothing but a jumped-up nobody—a butcher’s daughter from Sheffield who didn’t know which fork to use until she married the Count. She doesn’t fool the people who matter—those in the know can always tell the difference between crass and class.”

  “Yet Gabriel considers her a friend.”